The Citadel Read online

  Vaughn had spent quite a bit of time thinking about that. "There's a lot of ways that could have happened. You all probably don't realize the shear number of atomic weapons the U.S. has. If I remember rightly, there were over three thousand of these MK/B 61s built. And that's just one of several types of weapon in the inventory. There's easily over ten thousand weapons in various places all over the world, and that's just the U.S.'s. Add in the former Soviet Union's and it's a wonder no one has had some stolen or turn up in the wrong hands before this."

  "Well, let's pray that these two never get used," Tai said.

  "Amen to that," Brothers added.

  Logan abruptly stood up. "I can't sit here any longer and just allow this to happen."

  "What are you going to do?" Vaughn asked.

  "You're probably right," Logan said to Vaughn, "the access tunnel is most likely booby-trapped." He pointed to the ceiling. "I say we go up to the surface and come back down the main shaft. They won't expect us coming that way-that's if they're still here. Or we go for the plane."

  Brothers, Tai, and Burke all turned to Vaughn, for his opinion. "Well, we're going to have to get out of here sooner or later," he said, "but I would prefer to wait for later and let someone come to us. If we get out and the weather still isn't good enough to take off, then we're stuck out on the surface. Plus, I think the Koreans have probably destroyed the plane. I would if I was them."

  "Someone won't come here looking for us for several days at least," Logan countered.

  "I still think we ought to wait," Vaughn quietly replied. "You don't have a plan beyond getting to the surface."

  "Let's at least see if the shaft is blocked," Tai offered.

  Vaughn couldn't find any way to refuse that request. "All right." He grabbed one of the chairs and slid it underneath the trapdoor in the ceiling. The door was held in place by two latches. The first one came free easily enough, but the second was more stubborn, resisting his efforts for a few minutes. Brothers took his place and tried. After three attempts the latch slid free and the door swung down, sending Brothers sprawling on the floor.

  "You all right?" Vaughn asked.

  "Aye, mate."

  Vaughn stepped up and shined his flashlight into the shaft. It was clear for five feet, then another hatch blocked the way. "They sure believed in putting a lot of doors in this place," he remarked.

  Logan explained that. "That's to keep the radiation in once they powered the plant up. It's the same reason this place is set a quarter mile from the main base and the tunnel has those turns in it. They shielded the reactor not only with these walls but also with all the ice in between here and the main base. They probably planned on using this room only for occasional maintenance checks."

  Vaughn grabbed the inside lip of the first door with his gloved fingers and lifted himself up. There were rungs in the wall, and he could stand on the six inches of frame that extended all the way around the first door. The second door was similar to the first, and he went to work on the latches.

  Both moved relatively easily, and he knelt down to let the door swing open over his head. Shining the light up, he wasn't surprised to see the shaft blocked by ice, about ten feet above his head. He carefully dropped back down into the reactor room.

  "It's filled with ice. I'm not sure how much of it is blocked." He looked at Logan. "How far below the surface do you think we are?"

  Logan shrugged. "Hard to say. If we're on line with the main compound, then I'd say about thirty feet under. But I got the sense going through the access tunnel that it sloped down a little bit, which makes sense, as they would want to have enough ice on top to help shield it. I'd say we might be as deep as fifty or sixty feet below the surface."

  Vaughn didn't fancy the idea of digging through thirty feet of ice if the entire shaft was blocked. On the other hand, the plug might only be a few feet thick. "I'll take the first shift digging." He looked around. "I'll knock the ice down, and you all pile it up in that corner."

  He took the entrenching tool from his ruck and tucked it inside his parka. He also unsnapped a twelve-foot length of nylon rope attached to the outside of his ruck. He wrapped the rope about his waist and through his legs, making an expedient climbing harness, tied two loops in the ends and connected them with the snap link that had held the rope to his ruck. Then he clambered back up into the shaft and used the rungs to climb up.

  Reaching the ice, Vaughn clicked the snap link on a rung and sat back in the harness. He reached inside his parka, pulled out the e-tool and unfolded it. Carefully pulling his hood over his head, he used the point of the shovel to break chunks of ice free, letting them fall down the shaft to the floor. He worked mostly by feel, as the reflected light from the room below barely lit the shaft.

  It was the sort of mindless work that Vaughn enjoyed doing. It took his mind off the sight of Smithers lying in the corridor, bullets slamming into his body. He hadn't allowed himself to think about the fact that he had killed again today, and he knew now wasn't the time. There would be plenty of time for thinking after they got out of here.

  Howard Air Force Base, Panama

  Major Frank Bellamy watched the confusion in his men's faces as they were handed the cold-weather clothing that the battalion sergeant major had scrounged out of the central issue facility. The fact that the facility even had cold-weather gear was a little surprising, but they were Special Forces, after all-ready to go anywhere in the world at a moment's notice. Just because they were stationed in Panama didn't mean they wouldn't be sent to someplace less temperate.

  Bellamy grabbed the red webbing that served as seats on the side of the MC-130 Combat Talon as the plane suddenly stopped on the runway and then slowly turned, the roar of the engines easily penetrating the metal skin.

  The loadmaster was yelling at Bellamy to get his men seated for takeoff. Bellamy ignored him-the Air Force always acted like they were the most important thing in the world and the other services were just training aids to support them. What difference would it make if his men were seated on the web seats or standing in the middle of the plane if it crashed on takeoff? They'd be dead either way.

  Bellamy was the company commander for C Company, 3rd Battalion, 7th Special Forces Group (Airborne) stationed in Panama. He'd received the alert direct from Special Operations Command forty minutes ago, and in that time had gathered together the two of his teams that weren't out training and gotten them and their gear loaded onto this aircraft. The twenty-six men were now crowded in the rear of the aircraft, trying to sort through the rapidly loaded equipment. Halfway up the cargo bay, a large black curtain blocked the view forward. Bellamy knew that behind that curtain were banks of electronic equipment manned by Air Force personnel. With a slight bump, the brakes were released and the plane rumbled down the runway.

  His XO, Captain Manchester, sat next to him and yelled into his ear, "Where are we going?"

  "Antarctica!" Bellamy shouted back.

  Manchester took that news in stride. "What for?"

  "Fuck if I know," Bellamy replied. "All the alert said was to get our butt in gear. I'm supposed to get filled in once we're airborne and SOCOM gets its shit together and calls."

  Manchester nodded and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. No sense worrying about what they didn't know. Bellamy had the same attitude. He bunched up a poncho liner behind his head and was asleep less than ten minutes after takeoff.

  8th Army Headquarters, Yongsan, South Korea

  The U.S. 8th Army Commander, General Patterson, steepled his fingers and contemplated his staff G-2. The G-2 was the officer responsible for intelligence, and it was at his request that the other primary staff members of Patterson's headquarters were gathered here at almost eleven at night in the situation room. The G-2 had just spent twenty minutes going over his recent intelligence data and had finished only a minute ago. The rest of the room was waiting on Patterson's reaction.

  "Okay. Let me see if I have this straight. All these indicators th
at you've just briefed add up to level four activity across the border. Am I correct?"

  Contrary to what many nonmilitary people thought, it was impossible to launch a large-scale military campaign without certain preparations. These preparations were the keys that the intelligence agencies of all the armed forces in the world watched for in their potential enemies. Noting some of those activities across the border in North Korea had led the G-2 to become concerned and call this meeting.

  "Yes, sir."

  "How many times have you seen this?" Patterson asked.

  "We saw it during Team Spirit back in March. The North went up to level two then, but that was expected, as they do it every year during that exercise. We haven't seen an unexpected four like this in the past eight months that I've been here. This level four activity could just be part of movements among the various factions that want to take over next.

  "However, I must point out that the activity seems to be southern directed." The G-2 gestured at the map on the wall behind him. "The satellite imagery definitely shows the V and II PKA Corps moving to forward assault positions along the border."

  "They may be doing this just to get us to deploy our forward elements into their battle positions so they can ID them," the operations officer, G-3, said. "They can pull those units back just as quickly as they move them forward."

  "Our sensing equipment is also picking up some tunneling activity in the DMZ," the G-2 pointed out. "We haven't pinpointed it yet, but it's the most extensive we've heard in a long time."

  Over the years, three tunnels had been discovered and neutralized coming from the North under the DMZ. It was estimated that there were at least eighteen more tunnels in place that had yet to be found. Each of these tunnels was large enough to pass an estimated 8,000 troops an hour through.

  Patterson frowned. Level four was the first stage of intelligence alert to possible invasion from the North. By itself, it required no action on his part other than to inform subordinate commanders. Level three-if it came to that-required the restriction of all personnel to base and a one-hour alert status for every unit. Level two required forward movement to defensive positions and the initiation of movement of reinforcements from U.S. bases outside of the Korean peninsula-the real version of the Team Spirit exercise that was conducted every year. Level one meant war was possible with less than a ten-minute warning.

  All that was fine and well, but they were alerts that had been designed before the invasion of Iraq and Afghanistan. Patterson had been trying to coordinate with the Pentagon to update the alert system based on the reality that many of the reinforcements traditionally earmarked for South Korea in time of war were already at war in Iraq. And even a brigade of his own forces from the 2d Infantry Division had deployed just four months ago from South Korea to Iraq.

  "How far out are they from reaching level one?" Patterson asked.

  The G-2 bit his lower lip. "I'd say minimum of seventy-two hours, sir, if they're committed to it. More likely a week. If we get any of several intelligence nodes passed in the next eight to twelve hours we will be at level three."

  Patterson nodded. "All right. Inform me immediately if I have to go to level three alert. I want all major subordinate commanders alerted about the level four. That includes all reinforcing units. I'm going to personally call the commanding general of the 25th in Hawaii and update him. I'll also call the war room in the Pentagon." He turned to his Air Force and naval commanders. "Please notify your respective personnel to go to level four alert."

  "Yes, sir."

  Antarctica

  Tai had watched the steady stream of ice splatter down the chute for the past fifteen minutes. Now Vaughn's feet appeared as he hopped down. "Who's next?" he asked as he shook ice flakes off his parka.

  Logan zipped up his jacket. "I'll go."

  Brothers stood. "No. I'll go. I need the exercise to warm up. You take the next shift."

  As Vaughn took the rope off his own waist and wrapped it around the pilot, he filled in the rest of the group on his progress. "I made about four or five feet in. Most of the metal tubing is still good. It almost looks like the ice either came in from the top or we haven't reached the break in the wall yet. Let's hope the ice didn't crush the metal together."

  Brothers cinched the rope around his waist. "All set."

  Vaughn pointed. "I hung the shovel on the top rung."

  "Okay." With a weary smile, Brothers reached up and pulled himself into the tube.

  The temperature in the reactor room had dropped considerably due to the open hatch and the slowly melting pile of ice in the far corner. Tai had gone through the supplies Vaughn had piled in the room and put together a cold meal of crackers and canned fruit cocktail. She handed a can to Vaughn as he sat down on his ruck.

  "Thanks." Vaughn smiled and held up a can of fruit. "C-rations. I haven't seen these in a long time."

  Tai glanced over at Logan. He looked worn and scared. His sudden desire for action bothered her. They ate in silence, interrupted only by the sprinkle of ice from the hatch as Brothers continued to dig away.

  She was surprised when Vaughn slid over until their legs were touching. "This was a cluster-fuck of a mission," he said.

  Tai nodded. "Royce is shooting in the dark, hoping to hit something."

  "And we're the bullets," Vaughn said.

  "And we have little idea what the target is," Tai noted. "I'm starting to think you might be-" She never finished analyzing those feelings as her world went upside down. It was as if a large hand grasped the reactor room and lifted it, tumbling everyone to the floor. The lights went out and a tremendous roar, sounding like thousands of locomotives roaring by, shook her ears. Her last thought as she was thrown across the room was regret that she and Vaughn hadn't talked sooner.

  CHAPTER 13

  Antarctica

  The fact that the epicenter of the blast was underground muffled the kinetic effect of the explosion but utterly disintegrated the Citadel, producing a puckered crater in the ice over a quarter mile wide. The fireball lashed across the surface, the heat finding nothing to sink its teeth into but searing the surface for over two kilometers in every direction. The immediate refreezing of the briefly melted ice produced a landscape that resembled sheets of glistening glass.

  The immediate radiation was absorbed by the ice in a relatively short distance. The delayed radiation in the form of Strontium 90, Cesium 137, Iodine 131, and Carbon 14, was grabbed by the howling winds, and as the elements rose in the atmosphere, the radiation began spreading over a large area.

  * * *

  The flash and thermal energy washed by the convoy, bathing the snowy plain in dulled white light-the swirling snow having lessened the effect-the heat at a bearable level here over fifteen miles away from the epicenter of the blast. Min had turned the vehicle so the rear pointed directly back toward the base, five minutes prior to the hour, but still the shock wave split through the storm and slammed into the back of the SUSV with gale force. The vehicle actually lifted a foot off its rear tracks before rocking back down and continuing on its way.

  McMurdo Station, Antarctica

  Over five hundred miles to the west of the Citadel, needles on seismographs flickered briefly and then were still. Scientists scratched their heads, perplexed at the cause for the burp in their machines. Dutifully they recorded the data and forwarded it back to the United States. Over the next twenty minutes other Antarctic stations forwarded the same data as their machines registered it.

  The two favorite theories bandied about at the various U.S. stations were either an earthquake or a massive split of ice off the ice shelf falling into the ocean. They were both wrong.

  Russkaya Station, Antarctica

  The senior scientist at the Russkaya Station looked at the various reports on the seismic disturbance and combined that with the severe electromagnetic pulse that had washed over his station ten minutes ago. The former might be explained by an earthquake or ice breaking-the latter by a seve
re sunspot. Together they added up to only one answer-a nuclear explosion. But how? Why? And most important of all, who?

  Ah well, the scientist shrugged. That was for people much more important than him to worry about. He wrote up a report and had his radioman send it over the one transmitter that had survived the EMP pulse-an old tube radio that had been here since the base opened. All the modern solid-state circuitry radios had been fused by the EMP.

  Vicinity of the Citadel, Antarctica

  Tai checked her body, starting from head to foot, making sure all the parts were still functioning. Everything seemed all right. She sat up and turned her head from side to side, listening. Someone was moving nearby.

  The total dark was the worst. Eyes wide open, she could see nothing. Then a small light flared out next to her and, in the glow, she saw Vaughn holding his flashlight.

  "You okay?"

  Tai nodded. "I think so."

  Vaughn swiftly ran the light around the room. Logan appeared to be unconscious, with several boxes of supplies piled on top of him. Burke was groggily moving, hands on his head.

  Vaughn ignored both of them as he jumped to his feet. He shined his light up into the shaft. A pair of feet disappearing into ice were all that he could see twenty feet above. He turned to Tai. "Hold the light for me. Brothers's buried." He rapidly climbed up.

  Reaching the feet, Vaughn hooked one arm through a rung and squeezed one of the feet with his free hand, just to let Brothers know help was here. He hooked his fingers and tore at the ice, pulling away chunks. The cold helped to numb the pain as he tore fingernails loose. Vaughn worked by feel, the glow from the light in Tai's hand doing little good this far up.

  "Is he all right?"

  Vaughn kept working. He had yet to get any sort of reaction from Brothers. "I need help. Get up here."

  Tai climbed up to just below him.