“Ilya, it seems your communication problems are continuing at very inopportune moments,” he chided.
“I apologize, Jack. I don’t know what’s hap--”
“So where were we?” interrupted Jack. “You were about to stand down your forces.”
“I’m not sure that’s where we were, Jack. I mean, with yourselves and China both being at heightened states, it is only appropriate we also remain in a similar state.”
“Hmmm, that’s most definitely not the answer I was looking for, Ilya. In fact it is a very disappointing and alarming one. May I remind you that we are the ones with spilled blood here?”
“Not of our doing, Jack.”
“The evidence on the table suggests otherwise, Ilya.”
“It’s wrong information, Jack, and as soon as your people start to relax, our forces will reciprocate.”
“I need more than that, Ilya. I have a plane down, I need you to offer me something.”
The wave from the end of the table alerted Jack to another update from his analysts.
‘He’s under duress and he’s not in control’
they concluded. Jack read the card with little surprise. He had met Ilya many times, even before he was president, and knew him to be a decent man. Ilya’s disappearance and subsequent reactions to the crisis were very out of character.
Jack shook his head, the weight of the situation bearing down on him. “It looks like the evidence from the crash scene is going to be vital for both our nations,” said Jack. “You won’t mind if I leave this call and concentrate our efforts, would you?”
“Of course not. Any assistance we can offer is merely a phone call away.”
“Thank you, although in this instance, perhaps it’s best if the crash scene were left solely to us. In the meantime, if you were to relax your forces, I would reciprocate.”
“Understood,” replied Ilya sincerely, praying that Dmitry would do just that.
Jack killed the line and looked around at the sullen faces before looking back at the threat board. DEFCON 2 was lit boldly. He rose from his seat and walked towards the door. He turned again to the threat board. The implications of being at that level were frightening. Being at that level for potentially weeks as they searched and examined the crash scene would in itself probably lead to war.
“Take us to three,” he announced, heading for the door.
A sigh of relief filled the room behind him, although it was still the highest level since a brief spell during the 9/11 attacks and was about to result in a massive relocation of troops and equipment to bolster the US’s defenses. However, at least the weapons wouldn’t be cocked and locked at DEFCON 3.
“Wait!” called the youngest and lowest ranked member of staff in the room, not raising his eyes from the screen before him.
All eyes spun towards the young lieutenant who manned one of the information stations. The look of shock and horror at his behavior towards the Commander-in-Chief was not hidden by the military members present in the room. The civilian members’ horror was reserved for the information that had led to the young soldier stopping the president in his tracks.
“What’s wrong, son?” asked Jack, walking towards the young lieutenant, whom he knew, no matter what he was to impart, was in for the roasting of his life when he left the room.
The lieutenant said nothing; he just pointed towards one of the 50-inch screens that adorned the wall of the Situation Room. All heads turned as one. The picture sent an audible gasp and subsequent silence throughout the room.
A mushroom cloud of smoke rose high into the sky of what the news channel reported to be South Dakota.
“An earthquake in the order of 5.2 has been recorded in the area,” said the lieutenant somberly.
Jack turned to Rick, whose fingers were racing across a calculator. “Anything from 20 to 500 kilotons depending on the height of the explosion,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.
Jack knew that the kilotons referred to the equivalent amount of TNT required to cause the same scale of explosion. He also knew 20 kilotons was the size of the bomb dropped on Hiroshima to end World War II and 500 kilotons was the average size of a Russian warhead in their smaller missiles. Rick Holland’s reference to height was simply that a missile exploding at ground level caused far greater shockwaves through the earth, while one detonated above the earth, an airburst detonation, caused fewer shockwaves but far greater damage across a wider area.
Silence descended once more as the repercussions of what had just been described hit home before a cacophony of noise exploded. Orders were being barked throughout the room.
Jack remained silent, watching the cloud rise ever higher above his country. A country he had sworn to protect and defend. He knew the US’s military capability better than any man in the room. He had been the ultimate head of the armed forces. He now sat above even that exalted position and had the intelligence community below him as well. This made no sense. No sense at all.
“Silence!” he shouted and turned to all in the room.
Conversations stopped mid-word as all waited for their president to tell them what needed to be done. The look of desperation showed that even the most senior of his staff believed they thought this was it.
Armageddon.
Before Jack could speak, the doors to the Situation Room burst open and four Secret Service agents rushed in. “We must get you to the bunker, Mr. President,” said Frank, the lead agent.
“Stand down, I’m going nowhere,” Jack barked with such command that the most highly trained bodyguards in the world stopped as one. Even the president did not have the power, in theory, to overrule their duty to protect him. However, Jack was a man who knew how to take command of a situation like no other; it was a position he had not found himself in for years and it was a position that had him smiling to himself. He hadn’t lost it.
“DEFCON One?” asked the Secretary of Defense.
Jack shook his head. “Not DEFCON One! Some fucking answers would be good before any of you trigger happy idiots get us all killed.” He pointed to the screen. “Why no warning? Where exactly is that? What was the target? How big was the explosion and most importantly, who the hell did it?”
As everyone realized he was waiting for the answers, the cacophony of voices returned. This time a more coordinated approach had taken over the room with a few voices taking the lead and barking out directions. It took less than five minutes for the Secretary of Defense to be in a position to call for silence.
“Mr. President, we believe this was not a missile. No evidence of any projectiles were picked up by our warning systems and everything is functioning as it should. As soon as we know more, we will update you.”
Jack outwardly relaxed. The worst case scenario was eliminated, it was not a first strike by Russian missiles.
“Where,” continued the Secretary of Defense, “is Elk Point, South Dakota, population around 2,000. Nearest large area is Sioux City, Iowa, about 25 miles to the Southwest. Elk Point is home to one of the largest oil refineries in the country,” he said, watching as those in the room who had not already been made aware of this fact relaxed.
Jack watched smiles break out across the room. He slammed his fist onto the table in front of him, startling everybody in the room, including himself as a surge of pain shot through his wrist, which he managed to hide.
“This isn’t a fucking coincidence people. We have at least a 20kt explosion in one of our cities and we are fucking pleased?” he bellowed, nodding for the Secretary of Defense to continue.
The secretary once again addressed a grim-faced audience. “The president is correct, first estimates are 20kt, as this was a ground explosion, and we are anticipating the deaths to be between 30 to 50. This is a very modern, highly automated plant, only opened in 2014 and run by a skeleton crew.
“As to the who, I’m afraid we have no idea as yet. We’ve been unable to get word from the plant for obvious reasons and the chances of any staff on duty surviving what we believe to be the largest refinery explosion in history are slim.”
“I want answers, yesterday, people!” Jack demanded as his Blackberry, set to Do Not Disturb, began to ring loudly.
“Remain at DEFCON Two?” asked the Secretary of Defense.
Jack looked at his Blackberry, considering the secretary’s question. The danger of staying at such a high state was tantamount to declaring war. However, the thought of such an explosion being a coincidence and not a part of a more coordinated attack was unlikely. The Russians were sneaky fuckers and he must maintain a strong stance. He nodded his head as he answered the call.
“Mr. President, I have the FBI director for you,” announced the president’s PA, Joan, the only person who could override his Do Not Disturb setting. A click announced she had connected him before Jack had a chance to protest or accept.
“Mr. President,” the FBI director began without preamble, “I have terrible news. A massive explosion has taken place in South Dakota.”
“Yes, I’m watching the video feed just now,” replied Jack.
“It’s about your cousin, Victor…” continued the FBI director.
“Oh God! Was he caught in the blast?” exclaimed Jack.
Victor was the black sheep of the family and had been run out of the Army by Jack, court-martialed for the misappropriation of weapons. He hadn’t thought about nor heard Victor’s name in over 15 years. The son of his father’s cousin, he wasn’t even that close a relation, and certainly not close enough to overly concern Jack.
“Uh,” the director hesitated, “not exactly, sir.”
“What exactly?” pressed Jack.
“He caused it, sir,” blurted the director.
“Sorry?” said Jack in shock. “Would you please clarify?”
“Victor is the head of a survivalist group in the Midwest. It seems they got it into their heads that Armageddon was coming and initiated their survival plan, part of which involved securing a few tankers of fuel to maintain their generators and vehicles for the future.”
“And?”
“A team we had watching them tried to stop the theft from the Elk Point refinery and a gun fight ensu--”
“Hold on!” commanded Jack, placing the phone on mute and standing up to leave the Situation Room for a second time. Turning to the Secretary of Defense he said, “I’ll explain more later but take us to DEFCON three. Elk Point is not your concern, the FBI have it.”
He walked out of the room, and he could almost hear the gasp of relief as all realized they would see their families again. Something that, twenty minutes earlier, had seemed highly unlikely.
Jack unmuted the call. “Who fired first?”
“That’s not clear at this time,” replied the director nervously.
Jack didn’t press it further. The FBI director’s discomfort spoke a thousand words.
“Casualties?”
“None. The gunfight seemed to trigger a chain reaction that took some time to activate. All of our agents and the survivalists escaped unharmed. Our agents had to back off as a result of overwhelming firepower from the survivalists.”
“Christ, they got away?”
“I’m afraid so, Mr. President.”
Jack shook his head. Although one thing was true, the explosion hadn’t been a coincidence, it
had
been as a result of the alert. Survivalists were well connected. They would have been fully aware that the US had raised its readiness to DEFCON Two and without any obvious attacks in process, like 9/11, it wouldn’t be a huge leap to consider it was linked to the US ambassador being shot down between Russia and China. Two fairly major players in survivalist scenarios.
“Victor’s a second cousin and there is no love lost, so do your worst. I won’t be interfering but for Christ’s sake, no Waco’s please!”
“Of course, Mr. President, although we’ll need to find them first.”
“You have no idea where they are or where they’re headed? How many tankers did they steal?” asked a somewhat incredulous Jack.
“I’m afraid we don’t, and they have four tankers,” replied a thoroughly embarrassed FBI director. The president’s meaning was not missed. How could they lose slow moving tankers? They weren’t exactly easy to hide.
“Best of luck,” replied Jack with some disdain, before hanging up, already considering possible replacements for the FBI director.
Victor King turned the key for what he knew would be the last time. He had planned for this day for many years and finally his vision was coming true. The phone call from an ex-Army buddy was the one he had predicted and preached to his followers. The Cold War was not over, there had merely been a thaw. As America downsized her arsenal, the Russians were secretly building theirs. DEFCON Two meant only one thing, the rockets would be flying soon and Code Red had to be implemented with immediate effect. The innocuous tweet would have thousands of families across the US mobilizing and implementing their survival plans. He had hit ‘send’ and packed the final pieces of his kit.