Chapter Three

A New Challenger

CIA Headquarters

Fort Eustis, Nassau

February 9, 2028

1200 hours

"Thanks, Doctor Danielson, for working with us on such short notice. I'm sorry you had to drop your vacation so quickly," DCI Beckett said. "But hey, back on the job. I know you love it."

PJ was right, but it didn't make the sting of being away from family any lighter.

"Alright," Avery said, "let's get started. Recon has come back, and we've gotten some info back from our friends in the GRU. The Yukes have been pretty forthcoming in helping us gather information, and they've been happy to share info with us, as we have with them. Here's what we know: we've got a soil sample from the suspect blast site in our possession, and Robby Mason and his crew are figuring out where that came from. We also know based on these images fresh outta Central Recon—" he clicked through to the images of the blast site near Saidpur—"that we're not dealing with a regular Verusan or Vedian nuke. This is something different."

He clicked through a handful of other images. "These blast patterns, as you can see, don't match," he continued. "It's almost as if there were multiple blasts, the degradation of the shape is so extreme." Avery clicked through some more slides. "What analysts in the basement are saying right now is that this is likely a MIRV. The warheads were separated, but all coordinated to the same location. The misshapen explosion would be the result of margin of error in the coordination of the warheads."

Avery cleared his throat before continuing. "Right now, I would say we would be well-advised to be on alert. This is a rapidly-evolving situation, and we need to address it as such. Any questions?"

No hands went up. "Great," Avery said. "Dismissed."

Federal Nuclear Output Research Center

Deerfield, Redmill

February 10, 2028

1422 hours

"Okay," Dr. Mason Rhodes said. "We've got our sample, so let's play."

Analyzing the sample would take a few minutes. After the computers completed their assessment of the small container of soil, a printout slowly materialized from the printer connected to Mason's setup. "Hmm," he said, pensively tapping his chin. "This sample is unusual. Patricia, get me the book." Patricia Gorman, a doctoral candidate at Whittier for nuclear physics, went to fetch what was essentially a field manual for this kind of work—the Compendium of Nuclear Test Samples. Her small frame struggled with the size of the book, which contained every single nuclear test sample ever recorded.

Mason began scanning through the book, shaking his head as he ran his fingers over entries of Vedian and Verusan tests. The Vedian and Verusan samples had almost nothing in common with the sheet he had next to the book. This just caused him to further retreat into his own mind.

He picked up a phone, glanced at a business card some CIA spook had handed him, and dialed Dr. Avery Danielson's office at the CIA. Maybe this guy would have a clue.

Avery's desk phone rang. The call ID indicated a Deerfield number. "That's odd," Avery said, picking up the phone. "Danielson."

"Hi, Doctor Danielson, the operator let me get through to you. I've got something to tell you about that sample you gave us?" Avery now realized who was calling. "Ah, you must be Doctor Rhodes! Good to hear from you. Okay. What's the problem you're running into? I'm, uh, not really a nuclear expert but maybe you can toss something at me that'll stick."

Mason nodded instinctively. "Yep, I've got a real greasy one here. I've combed through my Compendium with a fine-toothed comb and I've got absolutely nothing here. This isn't even close to anything the Verusans or Vedians have previously tested. Do you all have any weapons that may have come from outside?"

Avery froze. Was Mason cleared for the information about the Abarimon? He would have to gamble. "Well," Avery said, stammering as he spoke, "uh, there, well, there's this one thing, uh…"

Mason nodded. "So there is another possibility, huh?" Avery rapped his knuckles on the desk before continuing. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. We do have Indian intelligence indicating that a Vedian boat had a missile of Belkan origin on it. We don't know exactly what type, but I guess a Belkan nuke isn't out of the question, since we are talking about a MIRV here. But you never heard that from me, or anyone else. Understand?"

"Yeah," Mason replied. "I hear you." Avery smiled. "Good," he said. "See what you can dig up."

Brighthill

Oured, Nassau

February 11, 2028

1430 hours

DCI Beckett swiped a card to access an elevator. "Welcome to the circle of power, Danielson," he said. Avery was fidgeting with his shirt collar. "I guess I…didn't really expect to be here," he said, nervously. Meeting the President, Avery had done that before, but not under these circumstances. Hell, he thought to himself, I've already met this President in the past two weeks.

Armed with a thick manila folder detailing the worst fears of modern society, Avery felt a lot of pressure. What will Donilon say? Will he just flip out? Will he respond like I hope he will? Beckett must have seen the confusion and pensiveness on Avery's face. "Is…something wrong, Doctor Danielson?"

Avery shook himself off. "No," he said, "not much, anyway."

Beckett shrugged as the pair entered the elevator. Avery had been on it before. A simple, stainless steel-and-aluminum elevator, it would look right in a building from fifty years ago just as well as today.

Arriving at the first floor of Brighthill Manor, Avery and Beckett turned toward the Presidential Office Suite. The Suite was the focus of all of the world's superpower's might. President Donilon had Marines everywhere, Avery noticed. Guess it can't hurt to be too careful, not least if he knows what we've gotten wind of happening in Indus, Avery thought to himself. Besides, the Marines he'd worked with had been pretty upstanding guys.

Avery walked into office, only to find the President pacing back and forth wildly. Donilon froze as Avery and Beckett entered. "Good," he muttered, "let's get to this."

Avery presented what was known up to this point. He then added that ECHELON teams had collected soil samples from Indus that were being analyzed by Dr. Mason Rhodes and his team at the Federal Nuclear Output Research Center. "Have they come up with anything?" Donilon asked. Avery hung his head. "Not yet. In a day or two, thanks to some plants inside the Center, I think they'll hit on something. But at this point, we're working off the assumption—" Donilon cut him off abruptly with a curt reply—"assumption, Doctor Danielson? We don't have much time for that, so cut the crap. You're saying you don't know."

Avery felt pinned. It wasn't a good sensation.

"Technically, we don't know, but logically speaking this is the only real conclusion at this point, Mister President. Unless you happen to know something the Agency doesn't." Beckett surreptitiously placed a hand on Avery's lap, in an effort to keep him from doing something he might regret.

Avery realized that at this point he was halfway standing in front of his seat at the large meeting table. This is awkward, he thought to himself, trying to make his re-seating move seem more natural than it was.

"Anyway," he continued, "We've got a pretty good bead on this, we're more or less in the process of waiting for final confirmation from Doctor Rhodes and his people. What I'm here to discuss is response. I'm here with DCI Beckett to be a sounding board. We have to work off an assumption here. We have to assume that this is a V2. What are you going to do in response?"

Donilon tented his fingers on the table. Avery was now taking some time in his own mind to try to piece some things together about this man. Here he was, talking to a President with no military experience, who insisted on running military operations without input from his Chiefs of Staff. What kind of nut is running this country? Avery wondered. His silence was soon broken by the clearing of a throat.

"Doctor Danielson, how about this. We mobilize a number of Foreign Service Officers and try to work out a diplomatic solution. We've got ambassadors and well-trained staffs at each embassy in the countries involved, and we try to goad the Verusans into this because they want to be 'responsible world citizens' anyway. I don't think they can really do it, but here's their chance to prove me wrong."

Avery sighed. "Uh, sure, I guess we can, uh, do that. I'm not sure you're going to be able to get a couple of countries who've thrown goddamned nukes at each other to negotiate, but it's…worth a shot, I guess." Avery twirled a pen around in between his fingers, hoping that what Donilon said didn't mean what he thought.

CIA Headquarters

Fort Eustis, Nassau

February 11, 2028

1800 hours

The day was coming to an end. Avery was feeling like leaving the office at about 1830 hours. A little later than usual, but there was a lot to deal with, considering this bullshit in the Atlantic Ocean. Even so, tomorrow, he was flying out nearby. He still had an arrangement with Diego that he'd skipped in the wild events of the bombs going off.

Lost in thought, the phone rang. It was Rhodes' number. "Danielson," Avery said, picking up the phone. "Hi there, Doctor Danielson," Rhodes said, almost cheerily. Sensing the awkwardness, Rhodes picked up very quickly. "Ah, I was calling you about those test samples. The lead you gave me was solid. Never would have thought to check this out. I'm getting a positive ID on this last missile with the Spangdahlem centrifuge, probably from back when it was operated by the South Belkan Munitions Factory substation there. It's been reactivated for testing purposes but its samples don't gravitate so strongly to uranium output. Looks like a hit for a V2, unfortunately. Hope that helps!"

Rhodes was pretty cheery for a guy who basically just admitted the entire human race was now officially at stake. "Uh, thanks for clearing that for me, Doctor Rhodes," Avery replied. The two exchanged formalities and hung up. Avery still had one more call to make, though.