Madness (10 page)

Grandayatollah al-Sistani spoke softly to General Jafarzadeh by phone from his family home in southeastern Iran. Surrounding him were his bodyguards, his four permanent wives, and fourteen children. “How many missiles do we have left?”

“Ninety-two are ready to launch. The others would take weeks to assemble.”

“Order the launches in precisely two hours. Aim them all at the Russians along Jordan’s border.”

“But the estimated range of those missiles falls forty-five kilometers short.”

“Not with the help of North Korean knowhow,” al-Sistani whispered. “Our people modified those missiles. We’ll hit our targets.”

“I wasn’t aware.”

“Only the Committee was aware, and the scientists, of course.”

“All right. But then we’re defenseless.”

“As far as missiles, yes, save for the experimental nuclear battery.”

“Fire a nuclear missile at Russia, and see Iran as an ash desert. That’s insane.”

“In dire circumstances, insanity maybe the best of bad options.”

al-Sistani hung up. He
summoned his Korean interpreter into the room with him. He placed a second call to Han Jong-un. North Korean missiles could reach Moscow and Tel Aviv. Jong-un had promised non-nuclear help. The time had come to deliver. As crazy as the North Koreans seemed to the rest of the world, al-Sistani understood their desire for isolation and control. He’d long attempted to keep his people from outside influences.

B
oth men understood nuclear war was the end of the world. Neither one was willing to risk annihilation.

“Does our pact still hold?” al-Sistani asked.

“We will fire one missile at Moscow and one at Tel Aviv. If they have the desired effect, we will fire more. But give us some time.”

#

Peacock staggered out of the lab, dabbing the last drops of blood off her swelling nose. Whoever figured out how to escape from their shackles first would shut Kolb’s shock machine off. When the control box shut down the shocks to her head, Peacock had let out a burst of laughter so intense, she startled herself. The lack of stimulation from the probe didn’t affect her thoughts or her mobility. But with the sudden laugh, she realized controlling her emotions without a working probe would be close to impossible.

She headed to Major’s elevator, pushed the button
to the ground floor, and exited with her belt, bag, and black box secured on her person. She passed Major’s Lincoln and headed out to the street. Her watch read eleven thirty-seven. Within a minute, a car pulled up, and she recognized Loomis as the driver.

“What did you mean when you said, ‘The missiles will fire in four hours
.’?”

“A slip up on my part, Laverna, four hours from now every missile in the U.S. Space-based arsenal will fire, but not at their assigned targets, at targets Pendleton has predetermined.”

“How can he manage that? He’s nowhere near the Huntsville facility.”

“He paid off the top brain there. Those missiles will fire per plan, on time.” Loomis stared at her. “You really don’t understand
, do you? There wouldn’t be a need if the first attempt on Monroe’s life had succeeded. Edmunds would have put the entire American military under U.N. command and all this bloodshed might have been avoided.”

Her scream filled the car and jolted Loomis who pushed backward in his seat. “What the bloody hell?”

“Don’t you see? I’m responsible. I thwarted Pendleton’s plan and forced this war on everyone.”

“That’s ridiculous. You followed orders. You did your job.”

Peacock pulled out the revolver Polaris had given her. “Drive to Hanger 8 at Reagan International.”

“Why?”

“Four Hercules jets are there, and I’m going to Huntsville.”

“Are you out of you mind?”

Peacock slammed the gun barrel against Loomis’s shoulder hard enough to bruise him. “Yes, I’m going insane. Drive the damn car to Reagan, or I’ll shoot your pecker off, nice as it is.”

Loomis hit the gas, made a U-turn, and headed out toward the commercial hanger at Reagan International.

#

Polaris
opened an eye. How long had he been unconscious—a short time? He heard Peacock torture Kolb and her interrogation of Ursa. When Peacock left, he waited long enough to assure she’d made her escape. Even as a victim, Peacock fought harder than any man he knew. Polaris rubbed his head against his chair until he could push the blindfold down far enough to see the alarm button on his console and hit it with his nose.

The first res
ponder, Carna Esposito, Ursa’s assistant, dove into the room gun drawn and face flushed. “Oh shit,” she cried when she assessed the situation. She untied Polaris’s hands. She released Ursa from his cuffs and examined Kolb. Carna hesitated, glancing over at the outlet where the machine shocking Kolb was plugged in.

“Unplug it,” Polaris said. “She’s a human being for
God’s sake.”

Kolb’s body continued to jerk
even after Carna did as instructed. Carna bent down and listened to her heart. “She’s in atrial fibrillation.”

Polaris yelled at her, “Don’t just stand there. Get her a medical team.”

The grimace on Carna’s face said she didn’t want to. “I called 911 when I saw your signal,” she grumbled.

She left and was back within a few minutes with the medical team from George Washington University Hospital trailing in after her.

“You need that nose looked at, Boss,” Polaris said as Ursa swung up on his feet.

“I need my ego reshaped. Peacock worked a number on me.” Ursa seemed somehow proud.

The medical team shocked Kolb’s heart back into rhythm. Her eyelids opened. However, there was no sign she recognized anyone.

Ursa,
in need of medical attention himself, wiped his nose clean and walked out of the lab along with the medical personnel taking care of Kolb.

Polaris wheeled away from his dead monitor, vowing never to operate the demon-device again. As he pushed his way into the hallway, Magnus was standing,
going through a debriefing by Homeland Security. Polaris turned to look for Felicia and saw her walking out of the restroom with two women holding her up.

“Well
, you look peachy,” Polaris chuckled, wheeling up to her.

“What the hell happened?”

“Peacock happened. You should thank her. She likes you. Kolb and Nyugen didn’t fare as well.”

As he spoke, Carna stumbled out of the lab. “My God, the president’s been assassinated.”

#

Peacock held Loomis at gunpoint just outside the hanger where Hercules maintained its jet aircraft.

“What the hell do I do with you?” she ranted. “Reed told me my face would launch a thousand missiles, and I don’t want that legacy.” She grabbed his car keys, touched his cheek, and had to fight off a sudden burst of lust. God, she needed that implant taken out. “You’re a friend, Alan. Therefore, here are your choices. One, you take off your shoes and socks and walk away with your life. Two, I shoot you right here. Three, you come with me and help me stop Arthur’s plan. I love him, but not at the expense of millions of lives.”

“I’ll walk away. I can’t wish you good luck, Laverna. But I do wish you good health.”

“Laverna was never my name. I hated whatever my birth name was after my parents died. “Call me Peacock. I’m most comfortable with that name.” She glared at Loomis. “Tell Arthur where I’m going, and you’re a dead man when I see you again.”

“Goodbye Peacock,” Loomis said, now barefoot and backing away. “I hope I
will
see you again someday.”

She waited until he was a walking stick in the distance and then ran into the hanger. She’d flown out of this complex more times than she could re
call, but she couldn’t remember the names of the pilots.

“You,” she yelled, and flashed Major’s ID card. “This is a matter of national security. Take me to Huntsville. Now!”

He checked the ID, saluted, and said, “Agent Keller at your service. Let me alert the tower.”

Peacock looked at her watch. She had less than four hours to get to Huntsville, find the Missile Defense Agency, find the launch control center, and stop the madness.

“I’ve got clearance to depart in forty-five minutes,” Agent Keller yelled from his wall phone. “Flight time is seventy-two minutes. So in approximately two hours you are there.”

“What about a car?”

“Let me check.”

He typed in Huntsville, Alabama on his computer. “With the Missile Center in Huntsville, we have a good fleet of available cars. This evening we have a couple of Lincolns and a Deville.”

“Do you have a black one like Major’s?”

“Well not that well equipped, but yes.”

“I want the black Lincoln.”

Agent Keller smiled at her, “You must rank right up there. I didn’t catch your name.”

“I’m Peacock.”

“You’re the one Magnus says can kick the ass of anyone on the team.”

“He trained me, so he likes to brag.” She didn’t deny the fact. Not gloating was about the best she could do.

“I’ll do the final check and we’ll take off when the tower clears us.”

“Thank you.” With a GPS, she had enough time. Keller worked readying the jet. Peacock printed out directions from Redstone Air Force Base to the Missile Defense complex, approximately a four-mile drive. She grinned.
I’ll have plenty of time.

A message printed out as she watched.

Attention all Hercules personnel. Be on the alert for Agent Peacock, red hair, blue eyes, mid-twenties. She has gone rogue. Consider armed and dangerous.

She ripped the memo up and shredded it. The lights reflecting off the hanger’s corrugated aluminum ceiling hurt her eyes. But the smell of jet fuel and oil made her feel at home.

Guess I’m a working class girl at heart.

#

At ten thousand feet, Peacock focused on anything but the growing animal-like feelings clawing to control her. She instructed her brain, “Let me see the truth about both sides.”

Like the opening of a parachute, the answered sent her mind flying upward. All Pendleton’s philosophizing slammed together. The world was rocketing toward self-destruction. Capitalism and greed kept mankind from changing that direction. Pendleton had taken matters in his own hands and was about to
end individualism. In the future, humanity would work together or perish.

The United States and likeminded thinkers clung on to the frontier spirit that made them who they are. They thrived on nationalism, competition, and individualistic greed. Pendleton was right. Hercules was wrong. Her heart was racing as fast as her mind. Monroe was dead. Things could change, but not fast enough for her husband. She wouldn’t—
no—she couldn’t change her plans. Millions of lives depended on her.

I love you
, Arthur. I’m sorry.

Chaos reigned in the halls of the Chinese leadership. Li Ziyang called a hurried meeting with only the elite invited. Officials rushed into the meeting room of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of China mumbling and in shock. Li Ziyang slammed his fist and yelled, “Silence. We do not panic.”

The group of twelve settled at the General Secretary’s words. “President Ming, please read the report out of Korea with calmness.”

“I will synopsize.” Hui Ming stood and pulled himself to his full 5’ 2” height. “Iran fired multiple rockets from an undisclosed location in southeastern Iran and destroyed the Russian supply lines on the roads leading into Jordan.”

“Now you
understand that al-Sistani strikes even from his deathbed.” Li Ziyang folded his hands in thought. “We must learn, as he has, to use every weapon at our disposal to strike at our enemies.”

“The Russians have retaliated with heavy non-nuclear strikes around Zahedan, Damascus, Beirut, and Haifa
,” Ming continued. “Prompting something unexpected, a call to President Latovsky from the North Koreans, stating, “Cease aggressive behavior or face nuclear war.”

“What do we do?” Li Ziyang asked, having already determined the answer.

“Seize the opportunity,” a committee member answered. “As I understand your agreement with Pendleton, we will try his proposed system of government for ten years under your leadership over our quadrant. However, our quadrant is not yet set. Take the Korean Peninsula now and beg forgiveness later.”

“Get Pendleton on the phone. I don’t beg.”

#

“She did what?” Pendleton glared at Loomis. The
man had one simple instruction. Bring Lovey to him. Then he remembered how vicious his Lovey was in battle and softened. “Do you know where she’s headed?”

“No, but she forced me to drive her to Reagan International’s Corporate Terminal.”

“Do you think she could have learned about the missiles?”

“
Yes, she believes the launches are her fault.”

“I’ll alert Van Meer. He’s on his way to Huntsville.”

“Sir,” an aide said. “Li Ziyang is on the phone.”

Ziyang was the last person Pendleton wanted to talk to, except for Latovsky, who
seemed panicked beyond words. He grabbed the phone, “General Secretary, how may I help?”

“I have decided to eliminate a headache for both of us.”

“Which one of the many we face?”

“North Korea has threatened a nuclear attack against Russia. This cannot occur. We will stop this nonsense, since the Korean Peninsula will be in our quadrant anyway. Our intervention will take a worry off your shoulders.”

Pendleton marveled at how suddenly Li Ziyang spoke almost perfect English. Ziyang did not know that Pendleton had decided to grant the Chinese the Korean Peninsula in hopes of securing a closer relationship. Like Latovsky, Ziyang’s ambition needed shocked into reality. He would not be a leader in the Global Realm. However, in this case, his logic made sense.

“General Secretary, we have disagreed in the past, but not on this issue. Do as you see fit.”

#

Li Ziyang placed a call to his Central Military Commission Headquarters Chief. “General Chui, did I disturb you?”

“No, General Secretary, I’m on the treadmill.”

“Exercise
gives us divine inspiration.” Li Ziyang paused. “The time is now to execute Operation Little Brothers.”

“Do you wish me to place a call to Han Jung-un?”

“No, surprise him.”

Li Ziyang hung up. “Everyone talks peace. Everyone dreams of a world of equals who pursue the dream of excellence for Mankind. What do you think, my friends, is that dream possible?”

“No,” the oldest member present said.

“
Why not?”

“Because there can be only one dream and only a few dreamers who share it. The rest of Mankind will follow until enough decide they don’t agree.”

“Is ten years-time sufficient to test the dream of Arthur Pendleton?”

“You have said so,” Hui Ming replied. “Let us wait and see.”

“I’m scheduled to speak tomorrow at the United Nations at eleven,” Li Ziyang said. “Run the country well in my absence.”

#

Serge Latovsky hurried down the concrete steps leading to a bunker far underneath the Kremlin. The call from Pendleton that Li Ziyang would handle the North Koreans did not impress him. His western frontal attack had stalled at the Jordanian border and his army was fighting people with broken bottles and axes instead of any great military force.

The ridiculous Arab Spring had brought nothing but the unification of the radicals. Iran was now friends with Syria in a fight to the death against the infidels. If you’re not a Muslim, you’re an infidel. Latovsky beat his hands together as he reached the bunker doors.

Once in the bunker, Latovsky connected on satellite with Sakharov. “Update?”

“Other than stay calm, I have no update.
Our troops fight street by street in Tehran. Basra has surrendered. The Iranian missiles were a surprise. They severely damaged the roads, making movement forward difficult in some areas and impossible in others.”

“New equipment will reach you in a matter of hours.”

“But the U.S. missiles will fire in just over an hour. Some of the targets are in areas we should have cleared days ago.”

Latovsky pondered that problem. “I’ll place a call to Vladimir with the team in Harwell, Oxfordshire.”

“Meanwhile, I’ll redeploy as I can,” Sakharov said.

Latovsky hung up and made a call
to Vladimir.

“Yes, Mister President.”

“I need you to pass a message to Sir Jarvis.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Tell him our troops have not advanced into Jordanian and Syrian territory. We need him to redirect any missile strikes aimed at southwestern Iran.”

“But Sir . . .”

“I can accept no objection. Tell him, and see to it he reroutes the missiles.”

Latovsky would stay safe
ly underground for another three hours and then fly to New York for his speech to the United Nations at ten o’clock the next morning. By then, he mused, all hostilities would cease.

#

While the scientists double-checked for every possible eventuality, Sir Jarvis Franks acted as cheerleader, giving out “Jolly goods” and “Atta Boys” on every one of his rounds, which were now every ten minutes. He wasn’t a scientist, and he didn’t want to be a bother. However, Pendleton insisted Franks make his presence known in a positive way, and he lived to fulfill his missions.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips when his cell vibrated.
“Sir Jarvis here.”

“Vladimir Kalakos
, Sir Jarvis, I have a favor to ask.”

As Sir Jarvis listened, a sick, acidy burning grew in the center of his chest. “One minute, let me conference you in with the Director of Operations.”

Once the director entered the conversation, Sir Jarvis remained silent as the two men’s conversation became uncivil. One demanding a redirection of certain missiles and the other insisting the request came too late.

Finally, Sir Jarvis got in a word. “Based on our inventory, how many missiles are we talking about?”

“Twenty-one.”

“If there were only ten
missiles to redirect, how would you feel?”

“Somewhat more confident.”

“Then start with ten and redirect as many as you can. You might surprise yourself and be able to handle them all.”

Vladimir
shouted curses as he hung up, but Franks felt his management skills had again been successfully applied. “Carry on everyone. Good job.”