Spy Thriller: The Fourteenth Protocol: A Story of Espionage and Counter-terrorism (The Special Agent Jana Baker Book Series 1) (38 page)

“Forty seconds.”

The volume of the president’s voice exploded. “But we’ve had security briefings for months on the topic of whether or not the North Koreans had the technology to combine a long-range rocket with a nuclear tip, dammit! CIA was so sure that they hadn’t achieved it yet,” the president said as he slammed his fist into the desk. “Why did I listen to them? Shit, we knew they had launch capability, but not the damn nuclear tip. My God, if I’d only known. If I’d only known. I could have done something . . . but I had no idea that that lunatic leader would actually take a first strike at us. A madman. A madman.”

“Thirty seconds to impact.”

The president paced the room. “How come we’re not hearing from Hawaii Command right now?” he screamed. “Where are they?”

“It’s three thirty in the morning there, sir,” said the major.

“General, bring our military to DEFCON 2,” the president said.

“Fifteen seconds to impact.”

“Ah, sir?” cracked a young voice across the SATCOM radio device. “Ah, this is Seaman Jimmy Timms, Hawaii Command. Third watch, post number four, sir.”

“Seaman Timms, this is Major Walter R. Robbins, United States Air Force. Son, just stay on the line with us.”

“Yes, sir,” the young seaman mumbled.

“Ten seconds to impact. Nine, eight, seven . . .”

“Ah, sir, what impact?” Seaman Timms said with all the timidity of a mouse.

“Three, two, one,” the operator at LP Kosrae said. “Hostile missile is down. Hostile is down.”

The president’s hands dug into his hairline and he leapt towards the SATCOM device. “Seaman Timms, are you still with us? Son? Are you there? Dear God, where is he?”

“Yes, sir. I’m here, sir. I just, I don’t understand what’s happening. What was that countdown? I don’t know who I’m on the line with, sir.”

The men in the Oval Office looked at one another. The general whispered, “I don’t know. Maybe it didn’t detonate?”

“Don’t you worry about it right now.” the Major said. “You just talk to us, son. Tell us where you are stationed and what your duties are,” He released the mic and said, “General, this seaman would be stationed on Kauai, correct? Kauai is just twenty miles due east of the missile impact zone. If a nuclear blast just occurred, he’d be able to see it. Hell, he should be dead right now.”

“That’s correct, Major.”

Seaman Timms droned on in the background about his duty station, what his duties were, where he was raised, his mother’s favorite recipe for chocolate chip cookies, which he was currently enjoying. The major interrupted him. “Seaman Timms, can you pinpoint which direction is west of you right now?”

“West? Well sure, sir. The sun sets just out past the flag pole right out the window over there . . .”

“Son, stand up and look to the west. Tell us what you see.”

“Yes, sir. Ah, sir, I don’t see anything really. Just darkness. It’s the middle of the night here. I mean, I can see the flagpole, of course, but after that, the hillside slopes off and drops down to the beach. But off in the distance, if that’s what you mean, I can’t see anything. No lights or anything like that, sir.”

“All right, Timms, just keep looking out in that direction and report anything unusual. Someone will stay on the line with you. Thank you, son.”

“Listening post, Kosrae,” the Major said into the SATCOM. “Can you confirm a detonation?”

“Negative, sir. We see no detonation signature.”

The president was the first to speak. “What the hell happened? The missile didn’t detonate? Was it a dud?”

The general answered. “That’s what we’ll want to discuss with the joint chiefs. But if you ask me, it was no dud. My bet is that the psychotic leader of North Korea is playing with us. He’s taunting us. He wants us to know he can get us whenever he wants. He’s crazy enough to do it, and he’s this close to putting a nuclear tip on one.”

“A madman. An absolute madman,” the president said as he straightened his hair. He cast a gaze on National Security Advisor James Foreman.

Foreman registered the president’s piercing gaze and a cold shiver rode his spine.

“General,” continued the president, “cancel that order to take us to DEFCON 2. Let’s find out if the public knows about this missile launch. If not, keep it quiet, very quiet. I don’t want a panic on our hands.”

The president stared out the twelve-foot window in the Oval Office. “Something is going to have to be done about North Korea.”

Click here to
read the full-length novel,
Protocol 15

~~~~~~~~~

Thanks to the author Stephen King whose book
On Writing
allowed me to liberate this story from where it was buried, waiting only for my excavation to begin.

Nathan A. Goodman is a husband and father of two daughters and lives in the United States. The novel
The Fourteenth Protocol
was written with one very specific goal—the author wanted to show his daughters a strong female character. He wanted them to see a woman in difficult circumstances with the strength to prevail. And he wanted them to know that if they have the guts, they can succeed even in places that are perceived to be “a man’s world.”

Get notified of future releases and connect with the author at 
NathanAGoodman.com/email

Heartfelt thanks to these supporters for their contributions to this project. This list is not inclusive of all supporters, but instead represents those whose support met the threshold for being included in the finished work. Your generosity will always be remembered.

John Assad, Steve Gordon, Shawn Collins, Hope Hawkins, Leigh and Greg Kershner, Gay and Ken Buxton, Barbara and Bill Coats, Frances and Marc Overcash, Jennifer and Dan Gastley, and Jana Pierce, whose first name inspired that of the heroine.