The Trident Deception (41 page)

“Designate Sierra three-five as Master One,” Humphreys announced.

The submarine’s XO complied and a moment later reported, “Estimated range to Master One based on bottom bounce is thirty thousand yards.”

Humphreys acknowledged and was about to give orders to the Helm when Wilson gently grabbed his arm and nodded toward the aft corner of Control.

The two men crammed themselves between two equipment consoles as Wilson spoke quietly. “I want you to communicate with the
Kentucky
first via underwater comms. I know what your orders say, but as long as we stop them from launching, that’s what matters.”

Humphreys considered Wilson’s words for a moment, then replied, “I will not give away our stealth advantage. The
Kentucky
may be a ballistic missile submarine, but her tactical systems are equivalent and her weapons are superior. Our only advantage is our stealth. I won’t give that up.”

“The
Kentucky
won’t attack, Brett. I guarantee it. Malone didn’t fire on a
Virginia
-class that came within a thousand yards. He won’t shoot. Trust me on this.”

Wilson’s eyes conveyed his desperation as Humphreys contemplated his friend’s request. Finally, he replied, “All right. But if the
Kentucky
shows the slightest sign of aggression…”

Wilson clasped Humphreys’s shoulder. “Thanks, Brett.”

Humphreys turned toward the Watch Leader. “Come to course zero-zero-two, ahead full.”

Looking at the Weps, Humphreys ordered, “Open outer doors, tubes One through Six.”

67

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

41 MINUTES REMAINING

With Hendricks standing in her foyer, gift bag in hand, Christine turned away, hiding the smile that had formed on her lips. He had chosen this awkward time, in the middle of a crisis, to broach the subject of a renewed relationship. Looking for a reason to explain her sudden turn away, she straightened a few pieces of mail she had tossed onto the kitchen counter two days ago.

Christine turned around, startled by Dave’s presence. He was only three feet away now. His eyes were determined, every trace of indecision gone. She eyed the gift bag in his hand, curiosity replacing the sudden fright. “So what do you have there? Something for me?”

Hendricks stared at her for a moment, his face emotionless. Then his features softened into a friendly smile. “Yes, something especially for you.”

Christine tilted her head. “Are you trying to get back into my good graces? Start over?”

“Something like that.”

Looking down, she tried to catch a glimpse of what was in the bag. “Don’t keep me in suspense. Show me what you’ve got.”

“In a minute. But first I need to explain.” He reached up and caressed the side of her face with the back of his fingers. He lingered on her cheekbone, then slowly slid his fingers across her lips. She resisted the urge to kiss his fingers, to grab his hand and hold it against the side of her face. And then his fingers were gone. He still looked at her with determined eyes, but they had turned cold and hard.

“I finally figured out why our marriage failed,” he began. “We shared the same goals, but our approaches toward achieving them were never the same. You’ve always played within the rules, while I’ve never constrained myself to someone else’s definition of right and wrong. Take the defense of our country, for example. You and I both work to protect the country we love. But you joined an administration whose visions you didn’t share. You did it because you thought it was the best way to achieve your goal within the confines of right and wrong.”

Christine bit her lip, not sure where Dave was headed. His voice was listless, as if he regretted something he’d done.

Or was about to do.

“I decided not to waste my time in a futile effort like yours,” he continued, “waging a losing battle to defend our country. I wanted to eliminate our most serious enemies and send a message to others. When this opportunity presented itself, it wasn’t hard for me to decide.”

“What opportunity?” Christine asked warily.

He smiled. “You’re so naïve, Chris. Your instincts were correct. Someone involved in this plot knew the
Kentucky
had twice the number of warheads. Someone knew the
Kentucky
was on its way to a patrol area within range of Iran. That information is extremely sensitive, known only by a few. Who that person is should have been obvious to you. But even though you haven’t figured it out yet, you’re a persistent woman, and you would have eventually identified him. And it isn’t Hardison.”

A sliver of ice ran down Christine’s spine.

It was Dave. He had participated in the plot to destroy Iran, a plot that would soon result in 192 warheads raining down in a holocaust of nuclear destruction. But why was he telling her this? How could he risk exposing his role to her? He either was convinced she would keep his secret, or—

Christine drew in a sharp breath.

—he intended to ensure she would never tell a soul.

She took a step back, her eyes shifting to the package he held in his hand. “What’s in the gift bag, Dave?”

He reached into the bag with his right hand. “Something especially for you.” He let the bag fall to the floor; his hand held a black revolver. “I’m disappointed you decided to end your life this way.”

“What way?” Christine asked, her eyes flicking between Dave’s hand and his face. Her breathing turned shallow, rapid.

“Your suicide. The stress of this past week was more than you could handle. I’ll have to explain how despondent you became, how overwhelmed you were with your responsibility as national security adviser. How, once it became clear the
Kentucky
’s warheads would destroy Iran, you must’ve felt personally responsible for this horrible tragedy.”

Christine’s pulse quickened.

She recognized the double-action revolver. It was a Smith & Wesson Centennial, the one Dave had bought her shortly after they married, the one he taught her to fire as he stood behind her at the shooting range. After the divorce, she had returned the revolver to him; he was the gun nut. But the weapon was still registered in her name. It would look like she had taken her life with her own gun.

Her mind raced, searching for a way out of her predicament. Maybe he could be reasoned with, talked out of his madness.

“But the
Kentucky
hasn’t launched yet.” She tried to keep the panic from her voice, maintain it calm and steady. “There’s a possibility she won’t launch, and even if she does, that our defenses will take out her missiles. And as long as there’s hope, why would I kill myself?”

Hendricks sneered. “The
Kentucky
will launch. She wouldn’t have come this far if she wasn’t intent on launching. And once she does, our ballistic missile defenses will be overwhelmed. But just in case, I’ve added an insurance policy. A virus has been inserted into our ballistic missile defense-targeting systems, corrupting the data. Only my computer account has the ability to correct this problem, and I’ll ensure all evidence of this corruption is eliminated immediately afterward.

“Everyone will believe our failure to intercept the
Kentucky
’s missiles was due to our inadequate ballistic missile defense systems, and we’ll invest billions to improve them. You see, Chris, this plan will improve our country’s security—Iran will be destroyed, eliminating the most serious threat to our country today, and we’ll develop better missile defense systems to protect us in the future. I will have made a difference, while you will have wasted your time in a futile effort to influence an administration from within.”

Finished with the explanation he promised, Hendricks appeared ready to take the next step, murdering his ex-wife. Christine’s frantic search for a way to save herself had identified only two options. She’d tried the first—talk her way out. That left the other option.

A physical confrontation.

She had to wrest the gun from his hand.

But how?

Hendricks was six inches taller and sixty pounds heavier. And much stronger. The odds of overpowering him were slim to none. But there appeared to be no alternative. She had taken self-defense classes, but the moves she knew were designed to defend against an assailant attempting to overpower and restrain her. That wasn’t the situation here. Dave wasn’t going to physically attack her—he was going to put a bullet in her head. The roles were reversed.

She
had to attack
him
.

Her mind indexed through her repertoire of moves, searching for one she could use to attack. But Hendricks interrupted her thoughts before she had identified an appropriate move. “Into the study,” he said. “You’re going to end your life sitting at your desk.”

Christine glanced again at the gun in his hand, still held at his side. As long as it was pointed at the floor and not her head, there was hope she could succeed. But she hadn’t figured out how yet. She stalled. “Think about what you’re doing, Dave. Yes, you’ve participated in a conspiracy against our country, but your motive is honorable. If your role is discovered, I’m sure that will be taken into account. But once you commit murder, there’s no hope for leniency. Please, Dave, I swear I’ll keep your secret.
Our
secret. We can get back together. I’ve been thinking about that a lot, and nothing you’ve told me has changed my mind. I still love you.”

She took a step forward, reaching out to him with her left hand, praying her approach would be misinterpreted. She didn’t care whether he believed her or not; whether he thought her statement and gesture were a genuine attempt to bring their lives back together, or a desperate lie. Either way was fine—as long as he didn’t notice the shift in her posture, transferring her weight to the balls of her feet, her body tensing for action.

“I’ve already crossed that line, Chris.” Hendricks’s hand twitched at his side. “I’ve already been forced to commit murder by a prying intern who discovered more than he should have.”

Christine’s eyes widened. “You killed Russell!”

“I’m afraid so. And now it’s your turn. Into the study.”

“No,” Christine said firmly.

Hendricks’s voice turned hard. “We can do this the easy way, in the study, or the messy way, here in the kitchen. The decision is yours.”

The messy way, then
. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Fine. Have it your way.”

Hendricks’s arm started to swing up toward her, and fear rippled through her body. If there was any hope at all, she had to act now. Once his arm was raised, the pistol pointed at her head, it’d be almost impossible to attack him and avoid a bullet. Another second of delay, another moment of indecision, and her life would be over. Christine’s resolve galvanized, and as the pistol in Dave’s hand rose toward her head, she moved quickly.

68

USS
KENTUCKY

39 MINUTES REMAINING

Five minutes after being assigned as the
Kentucky
’s Weapons Officer, Tom stood inside the Op Center forward of Control, waiting for Lieutenant (JG) Carvahlo and Lieutenant Costa to open the two-door safe containing the Weapons Officer’s safe combination. Costa spun the dial and opened the safe’s outer door, then stepped back to allow Carvahlo access to the inner door. A moment later, the inner door clicked open. Carvahlo reached inside, retrieved the envelope, and handed it to Tom. The two officers shut and locked the safe doors, then left Tom alone in the Op Center. He peeled open the envelope and pulled out the slip of paper.

Tom stared at the numbers, committing them to memory, then placed the combination back in the envelope. After a knock on the Op Center door, Carvahlo and Costa entered and opened the safe again. Once the combination was back inside and both tumblers spun, Tom stepped out of the Op Center into Control. The
Kentucky
was still at Battle Stations Missile, hovering at launch depth. In a few minutes, they would begin the launch sequence again, this time with Lieutenant Tom Wilson as the submarine’s Weapons Officer.

*   *   *

As Tom made his way through Control on his way to MCC, Malone hoped things would go smoothly this time. He had more confidence in Tom than he had in Lieutenant Manning, but it was a lot to ask of the junior officer. In a few minutes, the burden of the missile launch would rest on his shoulders, and Malone would see what kind of mettle the young man was made of.

After receiving word that Tom had reached MCC, Malone picked up the 1-MC microphone. “Set condition One-SQ for strategic launch. This is the Commanding Officer. The release of nuclear weapons has been directed.”

Without hesitating this time, the XO repeated the order over the 21-MC. Tom’s voice emanated from the speaker, acknowledging the order with only a hint of nervousness.

Malone again turned his key ninety degrees counterclockwise in the Captain’s Indicator Panel and flipped up the Permission to Fire toggle switch. The first column of indicating lights on the CIP, with the exception of the missiles in tubes Eight, Ten, and Twelve, began turning red as their inertial navigation gyros spun up again and were informed of their slightly revised position on earth. As the missiles began accepting their target packages, the next column of lights also toggled from black to red. One by one, each gas generator was armed, illuminating the indicating lights in the third column.

With the CIP in front of him glowing ominously, Malone gave MCC permission to fire, and the order was passed to Tom over the sound-powered phones.

The crew had done their part again.

Would Tom do his?

*   *   *

One level down from Control and just aft, Lieutenant Tom Wilson stood next to the Weapons Officer’s safe in Missile Control Center, cold air blowing on him from the ventilation ducts above, adding to the chill that already permeated his flesh and bones. It was quiet in MCC as the missile techs stared at the lieutenant, wondering if he, unlike his predecessor, would execute the Captain’s order to launch. Tom studied the Launch Control Panel, noting the green lights in each column with the exception of tubes Eight, Ten, and Twelve.