Fifteen years, Caesar thought.
Fifteen years, he had waited.
And now, at last, it had happened.
It hadn't been easy. There had been several false
starts--including one who had made it to the election as a
vice-presidential candidate, only to lose in a landslide. Four
others had made it to the New Hampshire primary, but then
failed to secure their parties' candidacy.
And of course, you always had some--like that Woolf
fellow--who would quit politics before they had even begun
to truly explore their presidential potential. It was an extra
expense, but no matter. Even Senator Woolf had served a
useful purpose.
But now ...
Now, it was different ...
Now, he had one ...
HIS THEORY HAD BEEN BORN OUT OF A VERY SIMPLE FACT.
For the last forty years, every American president bar
two has hailed from two very elite clubs: state governors and
federal senators.
Kennedy, Johnson and Nixon were all senators before
they became President. Carter, Reagan, and Clinton were all
state governors. The only exceptions were George Bush Sr.
and Gerald Ford. Bush was a member of the House of Representatives,
not the Senate, and Ford's rise to the Presidency
stands in a category of its own.
But, as General Charles Russell had also discovered,
men of influence were also men of extremely unpredictable
health.
The ravages of their political lifestyles--high stress,
constant travel, chronic lack of exercise--often took a great
toll on their bodies.
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And while getting the transmitter onto the heart of a sitting
President was nigh on impossible, given the narrow
source of American Presidents--senators and governors--
getting it onto a man's coronary muscle before he became
President wasn't out of the question.
Because, after all, a man is just a man before he becomes
President.
THE STATISTICS FOR THE NEXT FIFTEEN YEARS SPOKE FOR
themselves.
Forty-two percent of U.S. senators had had gallbladder
surgery during their time in office, gallstones being a common
problem for overweight middle-aged men.
Of the remaining fifty-eight percent, only four would
avoid some sort of surgical procedure during their political
careers.
Kidney and liver operations were very common. Several
heart bypasses--they were the easiest operations during
which to plant the device--and not a few prostate problems.
And then there had been this one.
Halfway through his second term as governor of a large
southwestern state, he had complained of chest pains and labored
breathing. An exploratory procedure performed by a
staff surgeon at the Air Force base just outside Houston had
revealed an obstruction in the Governor's left lung, detritus
from excessive smoking.
Through a deft procedure involving state-of-the-art
fiber-optic cameras and ultra-small wire-controlled surgical
instruments called nanotechnology, the obstruction was removed
and the Governor told to quit smoking.
What the Governor did not know, however, was that
during that operation the Air Force surgeon had attached a second piece of nanotechnology--a microscopic radio
transmitter the size Of a pin-head--to the outer wall of the
Governor's heart.
Constructed of evanescent plastic--a semiorganic material
which, over time, would partially dissolve into the
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outer tissue of the Governor's heart--the transmitter would
ultimately take on a distorted shape, giving it the appearance
of a harmless blood clot, thus masking it from discovery by
any observation techniques such as X-rays. Anything larger
or more regularly shaped would be detected on an incoming
President's first physical, and that just couldn't be allowed to
happen.
As a final precaution, it was inserted into the Governor's
body "cold"--unactivated. The White House's AXS-7
antibugging system would detect an unauthorized radio signal
No.
Activation would occur later, when the time was right.
As usual, at the end of the procedure, one final operation
was performed: a fine-grained plaster mold of the Governor's
right hand was made.
It would also be necessary, when the time came.
THE GUARDS CAME FOR HIM TEN MINUTES LATER.
Cuffed and chained, General Charles "Caesar" Russell
was escorted from his cell and taken to the waiting plane.
The trip to Indiana passed without incident, as did the
somber walk to the injection room.
The record would later show that as he lay spread
eagled on the injection table like a horizontal Christ, his
arms and legs bound with worn leather straps, the prisoner
refused to take the last rites. He had no last words, no final
expression of remorse for his crimes. In fact, throughout the
whole pre-injection ritual, he never said a word at all. This
was consistent with Russell's post-trial actions--indeed, his
execution had been fast-tracked because he had lodged no
appeals of any kind.
The military tribunal that had sentenced him to death
had said that so heinous was his crime, he could never be allowed
to leave federal custody alive.
They had been right.
At 3:37 p.m. on 20 January, the grim procedure took
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place. Fifty milligrams of sodium thiopental--to induce
unconsciousness--was followed by ten of pancuronium
bromide--to stop respiration--and then, finally, twenty milligrams
of potassium chloride to stop Russell's heart.
At 3:40 p.m., three minutes later, Lieutenant General
Charles Samson Russell was declared dead by the Terre Haute county coroner.
since the general had no living relatives, his body was
taken from the prison by members of the United States Air
Force for immediate cremation.
At 3:52 p.m.--twelve minutes after he had been declared
officially dead--as his body was being rushed
through the streets of Terre Haute, Indiana, in the back of an
Air Force ambulance, two electroshock defibrillator paddles
were applied to the dead General's chest and charged.
"Clear!" one of the Air Force medical personnel yelled.
The General's body convulsed violently as a wave of
raw electric current shot through his vascular system.
It happened on the third application of the paddles.
On the electrocardiogram monitor on the wall, a small
spike appeared.
The General's heartbeat had resumed.
Within moments, it was pulsing at a regular rhythm.
As General Russell well knew, death occurs when the
heart is no longer able to deliver oxygen to the body. The act
of respiration--breathing--oxygenates a person's blood,
and then the person's heart delivers that oxygenated blood to
the body.
It was the supply of re
oxygenated blood coursing
through Russell's arteries that had kept him alive for that
crucial twelve minutes--blood that had been biogenetically
crammed with oxygen-rich red cells; blood which during
that twelve-minute period had continued to supply Russell's
brain and vital organs with oxygen, even though his heart
had stopped beating--blood which had been supplied to the
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General during the two transfusions that had been required
after his unfortunate beatings at Leavenworth.
The military tribunal had said that he would never leave
federal custody alive.
They had been right.
while all this was happening, in a stark empty cell in
the Departure Lounge at Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary,
the rickety old television remained on.
On it, the newly crowned President--smiling, ecstatic,
elated--waved to the cheering crowds.
O'Hare International Airport,
Chicago, Illinois
3 July (Six months later)
they found the first one at o'hare in chicago, sitting
inside an empty hangar at the farthest reaches of the airfield.
A regulation early morning sweep with an electromagnetic
reader had revealed a weak magnetic signal emanating
from the suspect hangar.
The hangar had been completely deserted, except for
the warhead standing in the exact center of the cavernous interior
space.
From a distance, it looked like a large silver cone about
five feet tall mounted on a cargo pallet. Up close, one would
recognize it more easily as a conical warhead designed to be
inserted into a cruise missile.
Wires sprang out from its sides, connecting the warhead
to a small upwardly pointed satellite dish. Through a clear
rectangular window set into the warhead's side, there could
be seen a luminous purple liquid.
Plasma.
Type-240 blast plasma. An extremely volatile quasi
nuclear liquid explosive.
Enough to level a city.
Further investigations revealed that the magnetic signal
that had been detected inside the hangar was part of a
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complex proximity sensor array surrounding the warhead. If
anyone stepped within fifty feet of the bomb, a red warning
light began to flash, indicating that the device had been
armed.
Lease records revealed that the empty hangar belonged
to the United States Air Force.
Then it was discovered that according to the airfield's
log books, no Air Force personnel had set foot inside that
hangar for at least six weeks.
A call was made to USAF Transportation Command at
Scott Air Force Base.
The Air Force was vague, noncommittal. It knew nothing
about any plasma-based warheads at its civilian hangars.
It would check with its people and get back to O'Hare
ASAP.
It was then that reports came flooding in from around
the country.
Identical warheads--all of them surrounded by magnetic
proximity sensors; all with fold-out satellite dishes
pointing up into the sky--had been found inside empty Air
Force hangars at all three of New York's major airports:
JFK, La Guardia and Newark.
And then Dulles in Washington called.
Then LAX.
San Francisco. San Diego.
Boston. Philadelphia.
St. Louis. Denver.
Seattle. Detroit.
Fourteen devices in all, at fourteen airports across the
country.
All armed. All set. All ready to go off.
All they were waiting for now was the signal.
FIRST CONFRONTATION
3 July/ 0600 Hours
THE THREE HELICOPTERS THUNDERED OVER THE ARID DESERT
plain, booming through the early morning silence.
They flew in tight formation—like they always did
... shooting low over the tumbleweeds, kicking up a tornado of
sand behind them, their freshly waxed sides glinting in the
dawn light.
The giant Sikorsky VH-60N flew out in front—again,
like it always did—flanked on either side by two menacing
CH-53E Super Stallions.
With its pristine white roof and hand-polished dark-green
flanks, the VH-60N is unique among American military helicopters.
It is built for the United States government in a high
security "caged" section at the Sikorsky Aircraft plant in Connecticut.
It is non-deployable—meaning that it is never used
in any operational capacity by the United States Marine
Corps, the branch of the military charged with its upkeep.
It is used for one thing, and one thing only. And it has
no replicas on active duty—and for good reason, for no one
but a few highly cleared Marine engineers and executives at
Sikorsky can know all of its special features.
Paradoxically, for all this secrecy, the VH-60N is without
a doubt the most recognized helicopter in the Western
world.
On air traffic control displays, it is designated "HMX-1,"
Marine Helicopter Squadron One, and its official radio call sign
is "Nighthawk." But over the years, the helicopter that
ferries the President of the United States over short-tomedium
distances has come to be known by a simpler
name—Marine One.
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Known as "Ml" to those who fly in it, it is rarely observed
in flight, and when it is, it is usually in the most demure
of circumstances--taking off from the manicured
South Lawn of the White House or arriving at Camp David.
But not today.
Today it roared over the desert, transporting its famous
passenger between two remote Air Force bases located in
the barren Utah landscape.
Captain Shane M. Schofield, USMC, dressed in his full
blue dress "A" uniform--white peaked hat; navy-blue coat
with gold buttons; medium-blue trousers with red stripe;
spit-polished boots; white patent leather belt with matching
white holster, inside of which resided an ornamental nickel
plated M9 pistol--stood in the cockpit of the Presidential
helicopter, behind its two pilots, peering out through the
chopper's reinforced forward windshield.
At five-ten, Schofield was lean and muscular, with a
handsome narrow face and spiky black hair. And although
they were not standard attire for Marines in full dress uniform,
he also wore sunglasses--a pair of wraparound anti
flash glasses with reflective silver lenses.
The glasses covered a pair of prominent vertical scars
that cut down across both of Schofield's eyes. They were wounds from a previous mission and the reason for his operationatcall-sign,
"Scarecrow."
The flat desert plain stretched out before him, dull yellow
against the morning sky. The dusty desert floor rushed
by beneath the bow of the speeding helicopter.
In the near distance, Schofield saw a low mountain--
their destination.
A cluster of buildings lay nestled at the base of the
rocky hill, at the end of a long concrete runway, their tiny
lights just visible in the early light. The main building of the
complex appeared to be a large airplane hangar, half-buried
in the side of the mountain.
It was United States Air Force Special Area (Restricted)
7, the second Air Force base they were to visit that day.
"Advance Team Two, this is Nighthawk One, we are on
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final approach to Area 7. Please confirm venue status," the
pilot of Ml, Marine Colonel Michael "Gunman" Grier said
into his helmet mike.
There was no reply.
"I say again, Advance Team Two. Report."
Still no reply.
"It's the jamming system," Grier's copilot, Lieutenant
Colonel Michelle Dallas, said. "The radio guys at 8 said to
expect it. These bases are all Level-7 classified, so they're
covered at all times by a satellite-generated radio sphere.
Short-range transmissions only, to stop anybody transmitting
information out."
Earlier that morning, the President had visited Area 8, a
similarly isolated Air Force base about twenty miles to the
east of Area 7. There, accompanied by his nine-man Secret
Service Detail, he had been taken on a brief tour of the facility,
to inspect some new aircraft stationed in its hangars.
While he had done so, Schofield and the other thirteen
Marines stationed aboard Marine One and its two escort
choppers had waited outside, twiddling their thumbs underneath
Air Force One, the President's massive Boeing 747.
arguing over why they hadn't been allowed inside the main
hangar of Area 8. The general consensus--based solely on
wild unsubstantiated gossip--had been that it was because
the facility housed some of the Air Force's top-secret new
airplanes.
One soldier, a big-smiling, loud-talking AfricanAmerican
sergeant named Wendall "Elvis" Haynes, said that
he'd heard they had the Aurora in there, the legendary low
orbit spy plane capable of speeds over Mach 9. The current
fastest plane in the world, the SR-71 Blackbird, could only
reach Mach 3.
Others had proffered that a whole squadron of F-44's--
ultra-nimble, wedge-shaped fighters based on the flying
wing shape of the B-2 stealth bomber--were stationed there.