Wild Fire (47 page)

“To . . . what?” He looked at me like
I
was crazy, then continued, “This is the same software system that the Navy uses for their nuclear submarine fleet. But maybe you knew that. Do you know about my little experiment back in the 1980s?”

Kate replied, “We do. And so does everyone in the FBI.”

“Really? Well . . . that’s too bad. But not relevant now. In any case, when that black box spells G-O-D, about fifteen minutes later, the four receivers will have the entire three-letter code in proper sequence. GOD. Then, after two minutes, if there’s no change in the continuous transmitted signal, the four receivers will send an electronic pulse to the four detonators, which are attached to the receivers, and we have four nice nuclear explosions, thanks to Dr. Putyov.”

Neither Kate nor I responded to that.

Madox lit another cigarette and watched the black box as the last window kept spinning letters. Then, the window read “D,” and the box read, “GOD.” Madox, who thought that meant him, said, “So, all three letters are now being sent across the country in a continuous pattern.”

I still wasn’t understanding why he was saying “across the country,” but maybe I did understand, and I didn’t want to know.

Madox pushed a few buttons on the console, and four green LED numbers—
15:00
—appeared on a big screen, then he hit another button, and the numbers began to count down. He told us, “It’s hard to say exactly how long the ELF wave will take to get properly decoded by the receivers, but about fifteen minutes is a good guess. Then, as I said, the receivers need to hold these letters for precisely two minutes to be certain they’re reading the continuous, self-correcting code correctly. Then”—he slapped his hands together—“BOOM!”

I saw that coming, but poor Luther almost wet his pants.

Madox thought that was pretty funny, so he did it three more times. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! But the surprise was gone, and no one jumped.

I mean, this guy was out of his fucking mind, and I hoped that Carl and Luther were getting it. I was sure that Harry had gotten it at some point, and maybe Carl and Luther would remember what happened to Harry.

I focused on the countdown clock, which now read
1:36,
then
:35,
and so forth, on the way to nuclear ecstasy for Bain Madox.

Madox chain-lit another cigarette, looked at his watch and then the countdown clock, then checked some of his instruments, then glanced at the six security monitors.

Madox seemed to be in a manic state, and I could understand that this was his payoff moment for years of work and planning.

I, on the other hand, didn’t have much to do except kneel with my hands on my head, watching and listening. I mean, I wasn’t exactly bored observing a nuclear event unfolding, but I’m more of an action guy.

On that subject, Carl was still behind us, so going for the BearBanger, which had dropped a bit south in my tightie whities, was not an option. I might get the BearBanger out, but I’d be dead before I could figure out which way was up and press the button on the other end of it.

Kate had a better chance of reaching into the front of her jeans and pulling the thing out before Carl or dim-witted Luther noticed. And I could see she was getting tense just thinking about it.

She was watching Luther as much as she could get away with it, but we couldn’t watch Carl, and I had no idea how closely he was focused on us. Plus, just when Luther’s dim brain seemed to be wandering, Madox would suddenly swivel around and chat with us.

In fact, he now turned toward us. “You probably think I’m crazy.”

I replied, “No, Bain, we
know
you’re crazy.”

He started to smile, but then realized his troops were present, and he didn’t want to put any ideas into their heads, so he got serious, like he was sane, and said to me, “There’s not one major figure in the history of the world who has not been called crazy. Caesar, Attila, Genghis Khan, Napoleon, Hit—. Well, maybe he was a little unbalanced. But you understand what I’m saying.”

“I understand that if you think you’re Napoleon, you may need to speak to someone.”

“John, I don’t think I’m anyone except who I am.”

“That’s a good start, Bain.”

He informed us, “I don’t think you appreciate what I’m doing.” He thereupon went into a whole riff about great men who changed the course of history, including some guy named King John of Poland, who saved Vienna from the Turks and didn’t get anything out of it. I mean, who gives a shit, Bain?

Meanwhile, the countdown clock read
11:13
, and counting.

Kate took advantage of Madox’s pausing to light a cigarette and asked him, “What is Wild Fire?”

He blew a few smoke rings, then answered, “It’s a top secret government protocol that goes into effect if and when America is attacked with a weapon or weapons of mass destruction. It’s the only good and sane thing we’ve ever done since MAD—Mutually Assured Destruction.”

Kate followed up with, “What does that have to do with . . . with what’s happening now?”

He looked at her through his smoke and asked, “So, you really
don’t
know, do you?”

I had the impression that if we answered some of these questions wrong—if he thought we were really clueless—then we’d be joining Putyov and the IRS guy sooner rather than later, so I replied, “We were briefed, but—”

“Good. Tell me.”

“Okay . . . well . . . Wild Fire is a secret government protocol that goes into effect—”

“John, you’re such a bullshitter.” He said, “I’ll tell
you
.” He launched into an explanation of Wild Fire, which I found scary but at the same time strangely reassuring. The scariest thing was that Bain Madox knew the intimate details of a secret that was right up there with the most sensitive national secrets in the country, including where the Roswell aliens were hidden.

Meanwhile, the countdown clock read
9:34,
and as I watched while Madox spoke, it went to
9:00,
then
8:59.

I was catching most of what Madox was saying, and when he began to recite the cities in the world of Islam that were going to be nuked if Wild Fire was ever triggered, I thought the guy was going to have an orgasm.

I mean, he was in total ecstasy, and I sort of hoped he would swoon or something.

When he got to the part of the Wild Fire plan about nuking the Aswan High Dam, he became animated, threw his arms into the air, and said, “
Billions
of gallons of water. The entire Lake Nasser and the Nile will sweep away Egypt and deposit sixty million bodies in the Mediterranean.”

Jeez.
Bain. Tell me you’re not nuts.

As riveting as this was, I did notice two things: one, Madox had his Colt .45 stuck in the inside pocket of his blue blazer, and two, Luther was looking a little concerned, as though this were all new to him. In fact, he lit a cigarette, which you’re not supposed to do on-duty. Especially if it means leaving your rifle dangling by its sling over your shoulder while you screw around with your cigarettes and lighter.

Meanwhile, the room was getting smoky, and I was going to point out that secondhand smoke was not healthy for any of us, but then Bain would point out that neither Kate nor I should be thinking long-range.

The countdown clock read
7:28
.

A phone rang somewhere in the room, and it was actually Madox’s cell phone, which he pulled out of his pocket. He said, “Madox,” then he listened and confirmed, “Project Green is go,” followed by, “Kaiser Wilhelm,” who must be in on this, or more likely that was a code word that meant everything was fine, and he—Madox—was not under duress.

Madox listened again, then responded, “Good.” He glanced at the countdown clock and said into his cell phone, “About five or six minutes, give or take, then the two minutes for the lock-in. Yes. That’s good. What are they having for dinner?” He listened, laughed, and said, “I may be saving you all from a fate worse than death. Okay. Good. Thanks, Paul.” He added, “God bless us all.” He hung up and told me, “You’ll appreciate this, John. The president and his guests are having French cuisine—poached truite saumonée with sauce relevée for dinner. So, where was I?”

I said, “Excuse me, Bain. I must not have been paying attention, but—”

“Oh, sorry. That was Paul Dunn. The special assistant to the president on matters of national security.” He explained, “They’re having a small, intimate dinner at the White House tonight. This is good because the president and first lady can be quickly evacuated from Washington. Along with Paul.”

“Is the food that bad?”

Madox laughed and said, “You actually
are
funny.” He put the cell phone back in his pocket. “FYI, I have a cell antenna down here, and my relay tower is again activated, but unfortunately for my non-paying customers in the vicinity, the system is now voice scrambled.” He asked me, “Where was I?”

“Sixty million bodies floating down the Nile.”

“Right. The biggest single loss of life in the history of the world. Plus, don’t forget another hundred million or more of our Muslim friends incinerated in a hundred more nuclear explosions.”

I still wasn’t quite following this. I understood what Wild Fire was—which sounded a little extreme as a retaliation for a terrorist nuke going off in America—but who was I to judge? What I didn’t understand was how Madox, by nuking four Islamic cities, was going to trigger Wild Fire . . . then I got it. It wasn’t four
Islamic
cities. It was two
American
cities. The cities where the nukes were right now—LA and San Francisco.
Holy shit.
I looked at Kate, who I could see was white as a ghost.

Madox grabbed a remote clicker from his console and turned on the three flat screen televisions.

The first one brightened, and I could see a news studio, and a weather lady was pointing at a national weather map. Madox said, “Washington,” then he hit the Mute button as the sound came up.

The second screen showed another news studio and some guy was giving a sports roundup. Madox noted, “San Francisco,” then muted that TV as well.

The third screen showed two news anchors yakking it up with a daytime skyline behind them, and it took me a few seconds to recognize it as downtown Los Angeles. Madox listened for a few seconds, then looked at his watch. “Okay, it’s seven fifty-six here, so on the Left Coast, it’s four fifty-six P.M.” He looked at his countdown clock that read
4:48, :47, :46, :45
—.

He said, “So, we have five or six minutes for the last letter—D—to reach the receivers. Then, two minutes for lock-in.” He paused. “GOD.”

I cleared my throat and said to him, “Are you . . . ? I mean, are you . . . ?”

“Spit it out, John.”

“What the
fuck
are you doing?”

“What’s it
look
like I’m doing?”

I didn’t reply, and neither did Kate.

He sat back in his swivel chair, crossed his legs, and lit yet another cigarette. “Project Green. That’s the name of my plan to trigger Wild Fire. Get it? Four suitcase nukes—two in LA, two in San Francisco.” He added, “They cost me ten million bucks, plus maintenance.”

Madox glanced back at the countdown clock. “They’ll all blow in less than six minutes.” He turned toward us and said, “Then, the Wild Fire retaliatory response kicks in, and we blow those Islamic sons of bitches off the face of the Earth for what they did to Los Angeles and San Francisco—” He stopped abruptly, as though something just dawned on him, then said, “I forgot.
I’m
blowing up San Francisco and Los Angeles.” He laughed.

Holy shit.
I said to him, “Bain, for God’s sake, you can’t—”

“John, shut up. You sound like Harry now. And while you’re shutting your mouth, think about how beautiful this is. Project Green. Wild Fire. Why green? Because . . .” He looked at the flat screens. “See that ribbon running across the bottom on the LA channel? What’s that say? Alert Level Orange. Do you know what it’s going to say in the very near future? Green. Permanent Green. Get it? You’ll never again be wanded at an airport . . . well, actually, you’ll never again be
at
an airport. But think of all our fellow Americans who are inconvenienced at the airport.”

He rambled on a bit, and I looked at the news shows from LA and San Francisco, hoping I’d see some indication that some dangerous plot had been uncovered in those cities. But the anchors were starting to wrap it up. I hoped—prayed, actually—that both pilots and co-pilots in both cities had been found. But the chances of all four of those guys being found by now, along with the suitcase nukes, were not good.

I said to Madox, “Bain, the government will know it was
you
and not the terrorists who—”

“John, even if they did figure it out, it would be too late. Wild Fire is hardwired and on a hair trigger.”

“Bain, they’ll be here looking for you—”

“You know what? I don’t give a shit as long as I know that the world of Islam is lying in nuclear ruin. I don’t mind being a martyr for my country, my faith—”

“Are you out of your fucking mind? You’re going to murder millions of Americans, millions of innocent Muslims—”

“John, shut the fuck up.” He glanced quickly at Carl and Luther, then said to me, “The ends justify the means.”

“No, they do
not
—”

He raised his voice. “They do! This is a whole New World we’re talking about. Are you too stupid to understand—?”

“I have to pee.”

Madox looked at Kate. “What?”

“I have to pee. Please, I can’t hold it in. I don’t want to . . . to wet myself here—”

Madox seemed annoyed, thought a moment, then said, “Well, I don’t want you wetting yourself here either, considering the lousy job the air-purification people did.” He instructed Carl, “Watch her.”

Carl ordered Kate, “Down on all fours. Turn around.”

Kate did as she was told, then Carl said, “Over there.”

I lost sight of her, but I heard Carl move across the floor, and then I heard a door opening behind me.

Madox watched what was happening, as did Luther, who again took out his cigarettes.