GAMBIT
Copyright © 2008 Karna Small Bodman
This edition published by Regnery Fiction in 2018. Originally published by Forge in 2008.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.
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eISBN 978-1-62157-851-2
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CONTENTS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
CHARACTERS IN CHECKMATE
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
CHAPTER SIXTY
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
CHAPTER SEVENTY
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
GAMBIT
BY
KARNA SMALL BODMAN
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Welcome to the new and revised international thriller, Gambit, the sequel to my first novel, Checkmate. In this story, the country is once again facing a national security crisis with enormous and frightening consequences. And, once again, the White House turns to Dr. Cameron Talbot for answers.
Continuing to be inspired by programs first announced by President Ronald Reagan, “Cammy” rushes to update systems and technologies to today’s standards, while Col. Hunt Daniels of the White House National Security Council staff searches for the culprits.
In researching this scenario I am indebted to contacts at Northrop Grumman, the Airline Pilots Association, Aerospace Industries Association as well as members of the military and the United States Secret Service for their assistance.
I also want to thank the staff of Regnery Publishing for giving me the opportunity to update and edit the original story of Gambit and make it available to fans of political and international intrigue everywhere.
I hope you will enjoy the four stories, Checkmate, Gambit, Final Finesse and Castle Bravo, along with my new thriller, Trust but Verify.
“Gambit” – n. In chess, an opening in which a player sacrifices a piece to gain a favorable position.
CHARACTERS
IN CHECKMATE
THE PRINCIPALS
Lt. Col. Hunt Daniels, Special Assistant to the President for Arms Control and Strategic Defense
Jayson Keller, Vice President of the United States
Dr. Cameron Talbot, Senior Project Director, Bandaq Technologies
WHITE HOUSE STAFF
Claudio Del Sarto, Special Assistant to the President for Central and South American Affairs
Austin Gage, National Security Advisor
Stockton Sloan, Deputy National Security Advisor
MEMBERS OF THE CABINET
William Ignatius, Secretary of Defense
Trenton LaSalle, Secretary of Transportation
Franklin Thorne, Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security
BANDAQ TECHNOLOGIES STAFF
Stan Bollinger, Chairman and Chief Executive Officer
Melanie Duvall, Vice President of Corporate Communications
Sarah McIntyre, Staff Scientist
OTHERS
Lt. Col. Pete Feldman, Old friend of Hunt Daniels
Nettar Kooner, Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of Sterling Dynamics
Derek Winters, Senator from Vermont
CHINESE NATIONALS
Wen Hu, M.I.T. Scientist
Zhang Li, Army General
Colonel Tsao, General’s aide
Wai Yongping, San Francisco agent
PROLOGUE
Clear blue skies. Clear blue water. Not a harbinger of things to come. Captain Doug Purcell strolled on board Enterprise Air Flight 155 and glanced over at the three flight attendants preparing the cabin.
“Hey, Sandy. Glad to see you on board. Feeling okay about this?”
The young woman looked up, forcing an unsteady smile. “After those other two crashes, I can’t say I’m excited about any of this. But …” she raised her outstretched hands and shrugged, “… guess we have to keep up a good front. I’ll tell you one thing though, we don’t have any children on board this flight.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. I wouldn’t let my kids fly these days. Hell, I wouldn’t let my wife or anybody else in my family fly, but we’re not supposed to say that publicly, of course.”
Doug moved into the cockpit, hung up his jacket, stowed his
kit bag to the left of his seat, checked his headset and the flash light, emergency manuals and in-route charts and began to run through a few of his own check lists on his side. He checked his oxygen mask and smoke goggle and tuned the Nav receiver to the appropriate frequency for the departure procedure from the airport.
“Finished the walk-around, flight plans are fully loaded and the ATIS says the weather and NOTAMS are good to go,” the first officer said as he slid into the right hand seat. “We’ve got good winds. Guess that’s better than an ill wind,” he muttered.
“I just have to figure the odds,” Doug said.
“The odds?”
“Well, yeah. Thousands of flights. Two explosions, or whatever the hell happened.”
“Sounds like Flight 800 all over again. I never really believed the explanation on that one, did you?”
“Not sure. But that was a long time ago. They’ve fixed the fuel tanks, so these latest crashes don’t make a lot of sense. Nothing showed up on any radar … anywhere.”
“I know. That’s what makes it so weird. Anyway, guess we’d better get hustling here. I can’t wait to get to Chicago. My wife’s planning some sort of birthday bash for the twins this weekend.”
“Look, everybody’s up in arms about those two crashes. NTSB doesn’t have a clue, and we’re getting cancellations right and left. This run from Logan to O’Hare used to be packed.”
“I know. At least we’ve got a few risk-takers. And speaking of our passengers …” he closed the door, turned on the seat belt sign and cued Sandy to make her announcement.
The first officer then read off the check list and Doug began the routine. Hydraulic pumps-High, Pressurization-Set, Fuel pumps-On. They quickly went through the two dozen items, got on the intercom to the ground crew and heard, “Captain. We’re all cleared. We’ve pulled the chocks. All doors are closed. We’re ready for pushback.”
Doug contacted ground control and was issued his taxi instructions, “Enterprise one-five-five, taxi to runway four right, via Alpha to Bravo. Wind is zero-five at twelve.”
He then switched to tower frequency and said, “Enterprise one-five-five ready for take-off.”
“Roger, Enterprise one-five-five. Cleared to take off runway four.”
“Enterprise one-five-five cleared to go,” Doug responded as he taxied to the runway. Once in position, he turned the transponder and exterior lights on, put his hand on the throttles and advanced the power toward the takeoff setting. As he accelerated down the runway, the co-captain called out, “Eighty knots.” Then, “V-one … rotate.”
“Positive rate, gear up.”
He heard the radio call from the tower, “Enterprise one-five-five contact departure control on one-one-nine-point-four-five.”
“Roger. Switching to departure. Good day.” Doug turned to his co-captain, “Flaps up.”
The co-pilot took the flap handle and moved it to the up position and then, as commanded, began the after take off check list as the aircraft began the initial climb to its cruising altitude.
In the main cabin, Sandy sat in her jump seat, gazing out at the morning sun as its rays peaked through a few wispy clouds on the horizon. “Sure is a gorgeous day,” she said to the attendant next to her.
“Sure is. By the way, is that a new ring on your finger?”
Sandy held out her left hand and stared at the solitaire diamond in the simple Tiffany setting. “Yes. He gave it to me on our last stop-over in Chicago. We were having dinner at the Drake Hotel. That’s where he usually stays when he’s on his business trips. Anyway, right in the middle of the Cappuccino, he pulls out the little blue box and voila. Can you believe it?”
The other woman sighed. “You are so lucky. I have to admit I’m envious. Is he going to meet you when we land?”
Sandy hesitated. “You mean if we land?”
“Oh c’mon, kiddo. How long have we all been flying? So there were a couple of accidents. They happen. We know that. Relax. This is a pretty short hop. We’ll be there in no time and you and Mr. Right can go back to the Drake and … make plans.”
Captain Purcell checked his watch. Eight AM. An on-time takeoff, he mused as they headed east into the sun. He thought about the water below and pictured a weekend on their small powerboat docked at Belmont Harbor. If his daughter’s soccer team ended up winning the championship, maybe they could take a couple of the girls out for a spin to celebrate. He began to bank left and head toward Chicago when suddenly he felt the plane shudder. “What the hell was that?” he shouted to the co-captain.
“Jesus. What’s happening? Look! Fire indication on the left engine.”
The plane began to bank harder to the left. The chime sounded four times. Doug pushed the button and heard Sandy screaming. “We have an explosion … a fire … passengers injured … wait … oh my God!”
Sandy’s left hand was pressed against her forehead, the diamond creating a jagged prism of light as the sun reflected through the shaking windows. She continued on the intercom, her voice now coming in sobs, “Loss of cabin pressure … masks are down … the cabin is filling with fog … wind noise … pandemonium … can’t help them now.”
Doug heard the screams of sixty-two souls as he realized a hole had been blown in the wing root and fuel was pouring out. The shouts from the cabin continued. “We’ve been hit. We’re all going to die! Help me. Help me. Please.” Plaintive cries were mixed with screams of terror as Sandy’s voice was heard over the din. “Captain. It’s total chaos.”
The master caution light was on. They were losing hydraulic pressure fast. “Holy shit. What the hell?” the co-pilot yelled. “We’re losing control.”
Doug shouted, “Full right rudder. Pull up. Pull up. Raise the nose.” He called out to Departure Control, “Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! Enterprise one-five-five is declaring an emergency. We’ve been hit. We’ve lost control.”
“What do you mean you’ve been hit?” the departure controller exclaimed. He turned to his supervisor. “No other aircraft in the area.”
The supervisor stared wide-eyed at the radar panel. He saw nothing but Enterprise Air plummeting down. “Good God! Oh my God! Enterprise one-five-five. Departure … over … Enterprise one-five-five?” No response.
Doug struggled as fire burned through the main spar, then the left wing buckled and collapsed. The plane began to roll and spiral downward. He gripped the throttles with white knuckles. There was nothing he could do. A picture of his wife, her long brown hair flying in the breeze flashed through his mind. He closed his eyes and whispered, “Lorri … I love you!”
CHAPTER ONE
THE WHITE HOUSE
The VH-60N helicopter dubbed Marine One hovered over the helipad on the South Lawn of the White House. The impressive craft with two-hundred square feet of interior space housed a large cabin, lavatory, along with the latest communications equipment and missile defense systems. With seating for fourteen passengers, it was, in fact, a flying Oval Office.
When the pilot landed, a fold-down stairway was extended. In his new chopper, the president of the United States never had to duck down when making photogenic arrivals.
He gave a subtle sign to the pilot who nodded imperceptibly. It was the signal to keep the five flared rotor blades turning, thus drowning out the shouts of the gaggle of newsmen straining behind a rope rail at the Diplomatic Entrance to the White House.
“Mr. President … Mr. President …”
“Who shot down our planes?”
“Was it al Qaeda?”
“Were they missiles? Nothing on radar …”
“Did you feel safe flying today? Air Force One has systems. But what about Americans on planes
with no protection?”
The president pointed to the rotors, cupped his ear in an I can’t hear you gesture and hurried through the doors to the Diplomatic Reception Room. He walked past the painted murals on the curved blue walls and hurried into the hallway where his chief of staff was rushing to meet him.
“Is she here?”
“Yes, sir. She’s in the Oval along with the vice president and Austin Gage.”
“Good. Let’s get the hell over there.”
Dr. Cameron Talbot jumped up from the plush white couch as the president entered the room. She pushed a strand of strawberry blond hair back behind her headband and straightened the skirt of her navy blue uit.
Vice President Jayson Keller was standing near the white fireplace next to the national security advisor, Austin Gage. They had greeted her when she arrived and asked her to sit down for a few moments while they went over their notes. She had met Austin Gage some months ago and saw that the erudite advisor was clad in his trademark pin striped suit.
This was her first encounter with Keller, the charismatic second-in-command, and she could see why many had dubbed it the kangaroo ticket during the election. More strength in the hind legs. The VP exuded a kind of confidence most politicians had to practice constantly to stay in the game.
The president nodded to the two men but walked directly to Dr. Talbot and extended his hand. “Thank you for coming over on such short notice. Sorry I was a bit delayed on this trip. Our pilots are taking all sorts of circuitous routes these days. Please sit down. We need to talk.”
He set his briefcase on the polished mahogany desk and pulled up a green striped side chair. The two others sat on the couch across from Dr. Talbot and opened their leather notebooks.
“Now then,” the president began, “We all know the country’s in an uproar over these plane crashes. Damn terrorists, or whoever they are, have pulled off a hat trick, and the market’s down five-hundred points in the last three days. The Airline Pilots’ Association is clamoring for new systems to protect our airliners, and nobody seems to know, yet, what’s bringing down the planes.” He turned to his NSC advisor. “Austin, anything new from your people?”