Storm Unleashed

Chapter 4

Chapter 4FRITZ WAS making waffles when Ashley pushed the back door open and came in with Jane. “Ash, set the table in the dining room,” said Fritz. Ashley took off his jacket, took Jane's coat, and dropped both on a chair.

“Hang them up,” said a stern voice from the family room.

“Hi, Linda.” He stuck his face around the corner. “Hi, TJ.” The baby ignored him. Returning to the kitchen, he opened the drawer and asked, “Do you want this cheap stuff, or do you want me to go home for my brand-new, good stuff?”

“You can go home, but we'll still eat with ours,” Fritz answered.

John and Martha were packed to go home right after breakfast. “Those look really good,” said his father, watching Fritz add to the stack warming in the oven. Fritz wiped the griddle and poured more batter.

“When are you going back, Jane?” Linda asked.

“I don't know yet. The president said he would call. But probably by Wednesday. They should have a lot of info by then.”

“If he hasn't been crucified by then,” said Ashley. “The early shows all had guests claiming the president had failed again.”

Jane said, “He's inured to most of that now. He's more concerned with things people don't see or hear.” She stopped.

John asked, “What is it that you do, Jane? You seem to be involved in a lot. Different things, not like a regular job.”

“I have a special position with the president. My jobs involve policy, programs, actions. Basically, I'm a planner, but that's just a part of it. That's my training and my experience. I'm just lucky that I met him when we were both starting out. I've never treated him as a politician, just as a person who has a great deal of responsibility. We've developed trust both ways.”

“It doesn't hurt that she has me now,” said Ashley. “She finally has a pretty face in her corral.” Jane smiled.

WITH BREAKFAST OVER, everyone went to watch the rest of the talk shows. Live footage of the damage and scans of the area around the harbor appeared on the screen. Jane leaned close to the TV, not listening to the comments. Fritz asked her if she had seen something.

“Just looking at people and what's in the background. It's funny how often criminals return to see the damage.”

“That's just weird,” said Ashley. “You'd think they would want to disappear.”

“Or see what they can report to someone later,” Linda said.

Jane glanced sharply at Linda and took out her phone. “Mrs. Evans, is he free?”

Seconds later, “Mr. President, we've been watching the TV reports. I think we need to find the guy who took that first eyewitness film and check three days of surveillance, for Thursday through Saturday, from all the shops along the shore. We're looking for divers in wetsuits. We need to check when our guys did the last underwater sweep. It should have been on Thursday.” In answer to his question, she said, “I'm not sure, but I think the eyewitness film might answer some other questions. Just a hunch. Linda just said something about reporting the result to someone else.”

John said, “You just called the president, got connected, and you didn't even say who you were. That's impressive.”

“Ms. Evans knows my voice. She's impressive. She gives him a second brain. I've never seen anyone better. Even on the non-policy stuff. If I had told her I was here, she'd have asked about TJ. She keeps the president up-to-date on the baby's doings.”

* * *

WITH THE LA TIMES across his lap and a TV news channel for background noise, the man relaxed in his sunroom and looked out over the ocean. The breaking waves were calming, a rhythm he always enjoyed. His Christmas meeting had been productive, but not yet conclusive. The others would be back later with their opinions. He didn't care. He'd already decided, and they would do as he said. He snorted. The explosions had rattled the country, and he thought the president looked too complacent. His plan had begun well.

* * *

FRITZ USED his holiday break to plan for the entire second half of the school year. By mid-week, he had typed and printed most of the questions for the tournament, as well as a list of sources to hand out to the teachers who were coaching.

Jane worked at her office at the airport during the daytime as she prepared details for the upcoming summit. She and Ashley had come for dinner every night. “Tomorrow is New Year's Eve. We're going down in the morning,” Ashley said. “Have you decided if you're coming?”

“We're not. I'll call the president later,” said Fritz. “It's really too soon to travel with TJ. Besides, we haven't really had any down time in weeks.”

Jane said, “He really wants you guys to come. He said he'll have a plane for us so you don't have to drive with the baby. Or you could portal. Tony's also invited to dinner. You should come. We'll have fun.”

“We're gonna pass. I'll call him later.” As Linda set dinner on the table, everyone jumped when Jane's phone buzzed.

“I'm still at the Russell's. Ash and I are driving down tomorrow morning.” She handed the phone to Fritz. For an instant, the only sound was gurgling from the swing.

The president told him a nuclear weapon had been stolen. It was not the first time. “Same short time frame as Pakistan, Mr. President?” Linda crossed her arms. “George isn't here, you know.”

He grew somber as the president told him that time was even less than before, that it was in Russia, and that President Putin claimed he had no troops near enough to deal with it.

“Do you want him to know what we can do?”

“Who?” Linda whispered. Fritz held up his index finger and hurried to get a pad and pen.

The president wanted Fritz to get Putin and bring him back, along with some troops. Colonel Mitchell, whom Fritz had worked with before, was already on his way with soldiers.

“How soon, sir?” Fritz felt his entire body tense. “I really wasn't expecting this, and I need to call George.”

FRITZ TOLD THEM what had happened. “What about Tony?” Linda asked. She had begun to chew her bottom lip.

“He's here, at the airport. We should write down what we'll need.”

Jane said, “Colonel Mitchell has the lists we've made after each insertion. He created a checklist. He'll have everything.”

Fritz said, “I need George.”

“That's a first,” said Ashley. “I'll call Al Kennedy.”

“Good idea. And call Jim Shaw.”

Linda said, “Why is this all happening now? It doesn't feel coincidental. It's like, I don't know, like a kid causing as much trouble as he can.”

* * *

A STEADY WIND blew across the parking lot. Jim Shaw and Al Kennedy had already arrived. They emptied the car, and Fritz opened the school door. Al asked, “What do you need me to do, Fritz? Thanks for asking me to be here, by the way.”

“Don't be too happy yet, Al. This is serious. A nuke has been stolen in Russia. We're going after it.”

“Holy cow.”

Jane, now Major Barclay, settled into Ashley's classroom. The president called to let them know Colonel Mitchell was ready. He asked if Fritz would come for him as soon as Tony arrived. Fritz instructed Al about George's usual jobs. None of them had keys to the cafeteria, though. “We may have to break in later.”

Tony set up the generator. Fritz and Ashley had posted signs identifying each room's use. Major Barclay huddled with Colonel Mitchell. A truck backed up to the doorway.

Al said, “Fritz, this looks like they know exactly what to do. It's so quiet.”

“It'll get louder in a minute.”

Al gasped when he walked past the classroom labeled HOSPITAL.

Colonel Mitchell motioned to Fritz to join him. Fritz eyed Tony as he passed. Tony stuck his thumb in the air. The colonel said that the president was ready. When he grabbed the doorknob and pulled, the president and half-a-dozen secret service agents were waiting.

“Thanks, Fritz.” By the time the door closed, the president was already talking to the colonel and Major Barclay. “Fritz, I have President Putin's floor plan. He's here.” The president pointed to what appeared to be a living room. “We'll get him first.” Handing Fritz a second map, he said, “His troops are ready. Here.”

“Mr. President, do you want to get him right now, or bring in our guys first?” asked the colonel.

“I want him here while we're unloading. He'll see we're ready to help. I don't want an incident, so he needs to see this unfold. The president stepped to the doorway, Mel Zack right behind. “Be ready. Keep the door open. Let's go.” Waiting on the other side, President Putin was startled.

“I was expecting you at my door, Mr. President.” They shook hands as the translator spoke. Putin interrupted. “I speak and understand English. Some things are better to be unknown.”

“There was no other way. If you will come with me, you will walk into the United States.”

Putin stared at the rectangle in the middle of his living room and at the faces watching him. The president reassured him that everything would be fine. Slowly, as though his feet weighed tons, he crossed the room and into a granite hallway with tan lockers lining the walls. “Where am I?” he asked.

“A school in America, Mr. President.” With a subtle nod from Mitchell, the outside doors opened and soldiers entered.

“Mr. President, Colonel Mitchell will lead our troops into the area with your men. We are tracking the thieves by satellite. We believe they are headed for an airfield.”

“Mr. President, this is most unusual,” replied Putin. “You are saying you want to go into Russia to stop them. From here?”

“Yes. We'll go together, bring your troops, cut off the road, get the nuclear device, and bring it back here.” He pointed to the truck at the door. “We are running out of time. If you agree, we can go now.”

Putin hesitated, watching the soldiers line the hallways with almost no noise. “A joint effort?” he asked. The president nodded. “Who are these thieves?”

“I don't know. I'd like to capture them if possible. In any event, the warhead will be safe. We will dispose of it. But I need your agreement.”

Putin examined the president with a penetrating stare. “How did you know?”

“We can discuss that after.” He nodded to Fritz. With the paperclip on the map set at the outside of a barracks complex, the two chiefs of state returned to Russia.

“Heads up everyone,” said the colonel. “You've all done this before. This time, it's a joint op with the Russians. We want prisoners, but we don't want casualties. They will shoot back, so don't give them a chance. Any questions?” No hands, no comments. “Remember, the Russians have no idea how this works. They may be jumpy. All the Russian speakers should go in the first group. You can help keep the Russians calm. Good luck.”

When the door opened, the president and Putin led a line of men through. The Russians followed the example of the Americans in line, standing next to them in two lines. Heads nodded, hands shaken, the message had passed they were all working together. The Russian president introduced Colonel Mitchell to Marshal Kirinyenko, who said in almost perfect English, “To stop this truck, rocks may be our only form of road block. All my men have flashlights.”

“Marshal, we want to avoid shooting if possible. We should line the road, take out tires. I hope we can take prisoners. But I've told my men not to get shot.”

“I have told mine the same.” While they were talking, Fritz had set the map, leaving a twenty-mile cushion along the road where the truck was headed. “You only have a few minutes, Colonel. You should go now,” said Fritz.

The soldiers entered Russia on the run and kept running, flashlights showing the way, as Fritz held the door. The sound of boots crunching on stone and soft commands in two languages came through the portal as the hall emptied.

“Mr. President, the truck turned off, heading north,” said Major Barclay, holding the computer for the presidents.

“What should we do?” asked Putin.

“Hold up, Fritz,” said the president. “Come here.”

“Ash, take the door.”

The president told Fritz that the truck had turned off about three miles before the insertion. He asked if Fritz could change the map. “We need to get our guys back quickly.”

“Hold this,” the major said, handing the computer to the president. She ran to the door, grabbed a rifle from a startled soldier still in the hall and ran through. They heard her calling, “Colonel Mitchell.”

Fritz looked at the computer image. The truck moved along a straight line but seemed to be slowing down. President Putin said, “Yes, they slow down. But it is dark there. Can you make the picture better?”

“Lin, can you work this thing,” Fritz asked. She handed TJ to him and enhanced the picture as the soldiers started to file back.

“Gentlemen, they turned off and are slowing down. We're going in hot,” said Major Barclay, wearing trousers and a sweater. Marshal Kirinyenko looked at her and then at Mitchell, who said. “I'll explain later, Marshal.”

“Fritz, maps,” said the major. “We're guessing. If there's a road there, they will be about here,” Jane pointed. “Let's go.” The entrance began again. Major Barclay directed the troops in three different directions, telling them to form a perimeter.

“THEY'RE COMING back,” called the president.

“Ash, direct traffic,” Fritz said. “Al, would you tell the truck driver they're coming.”

The soldiers began to appear. The Russians spoke quietly among themselves. Moments before, they had been somewhere in Russia and were suddenly standing in a hallway. Between groups of returning troops, Captain Dolan led soldiers carrying a box labeled with the international symbol for radiation hazards. A couple of soldiers moved to the doors and placed the box in the open truck. Everything had happened quickly and smoothly. Putin merely observed.

Trailing the last soldiers, Colonel Mitchell and Major Barclay came back, her arm slung over the colonel's shoulder. Jane's right pants leg was stained with blood and torn at the knee. “Medic,” Ashley shouted and followed Jane to the hospital room. The colonel walked to the presidents and Marshal Kirinyenko. Fritz heard the colonel say, “Mr. President, none of them would give up. Sorry sir.” Kirinyenko nodded to his president.

“Mr. President, if you would like, we can send your men home now,” said the president.

“That is acceptable, Mr. President. But if I may, I have questions.”

The two presidents went into Ashley's classroom. When they returned, President Putin waved Marshal Kirinyenko over, and whispered to him. The officer nodded, saluted, and told his men to prepare to leave. At Fritz's door, Colonel Mitchell thanked his Russian counterpart.

“All set, Colonel,” said Fritz.

“Nice to have met you, Marshal Kirinyenko.” Still grappling with the strangeness, the Russian shook hands with the colonel, saluted, and signaled his men to move to the door. With Tony beside him, Fritz watched as the column of Russians marched single file back to their own country, some smiling or nodding heads as they passed. Next to the door, one of the Americans who spoke Russian listened for comments he could relay to the colonel. When the portal cleared, Fritz removed the map from his desk and reset the portal to Putin's home.

“THANKS, FRITZ,” said the president. “I told him about our new technology that affects atmospheric pressure. We can cause wormholes and walk inside from place to place. It's secret for now, I told him, but we want to use it to reverse climate change. I suggested a joint study with their scientists. It will keep him wondering. He asked where we were. I told him Oklahoma. Tornado country. I think the portal is safe.”

“Not bad, Mr. President. That's as implausible as time travel, so he's sure not to believe you.”

“Sleight of hand. Colonel, time to go home.” The immediate increase in hallway echoes reminded Fritz that his students would soon return.

As if this mission were daily routine, the machine went into motion. The truck with the warhead left, the buses began to load, and the clean-up crew waited outside. Linda and Ashley, alerted by the activity, left the hospital room.

“Where's TJ?” asked Fritz.

“Jane has him. They're wrapping her legs, so they're both sitting still,” said Linda.

Ashley was frowning. “She must have a four-leaf clover or a rabbit's foot or something I don't know about.” Since they had met in September, Jane had been wounded three times. In November, she had been shot when terrorists attacked the president's car in Washington. His wisecrack that Jane had a better scar than he did hid a touch of envy.

“Time for me to go home,” said the president. “Sorry guys, but New Year's Eve is postponed. We still have the ship bombing to figure out. And now this.”

* * *

“THE RUSSIANS must have followed our comrades. We heard the gunfire but lost contact. I don't think any of them survived. The warhead was captured, I think.”

“Don't concern yourself. Stolen nuclear material gives the Americans and the Russians something to think about in the new year. Besides, we've saved enough to buy more men. We don't need to pay that lot. Just get more. Oh, and Happy New Year.”