The Citadel (18 page)

Cape Cod, Massachusetts

The old man was jogging along the deserted beach, his shuffling pace leaving a trail of footprints just above the surf line. His head was slightly bowed, the sparse white hair reflecting the setting sun. His head cocked slightly as the sound of helicopter blades crept over the sand, but his feet kept their steady rhythm.
A shadow flashed by and a UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter flitted by, less than thirty feet above the ground. The man's feet finally came to a halt, as the helicopter flared, kicking up sand. The old man covered his eyes as the wheels touched and two men in unmarked khaki hopped off.
They ran over to him. There was no badge flashed or words spoken. They were all players and knew the rules. The old man allowed them to escort him onto the aircraft. It lifted and immediately sped off at maximum speed to the west, toward nearby Otis Air Force Base.
The incoming tide washed over the footsteps, and within twenty minutes all traces of the lone jogger were gone.

Airspace, South Pacific Ocean

Major Min looked up from the plans he and his XO were poring over as Captain Hyun approached. Min was impressed that Hyun had waited almost four hours before coming out of the cockpit and approaching him. The interior of the IL-18 was stripped bare except for Min's team, their equipment, and the fuel bladders. The team was spread out along the vibrating steel floor, either sleeping or preparing their equipment for the infiltration.
"Sir, may I speak to you?" Hyun inquired.
Min nodded.
"Sir, as captain of this airplane it is my duty to inform you that we do not have enough fuel, even with all this," Hyun waved a hand at the bladders, "to make landfall in this direction. In two hours we will be too low on fuel to be able to turn around and make it back to Indonesia."
"There's land ahead," Min quietly remarked.
Hyun blinked. "We are heading for the South Pole, sir. There are no all-weather airstrips suitable for this aircraft down there."
Min shrugged. "I know that. My team will parachute out, and then you will attempt to land on the ice and snow farther away to ensure operational security. I will leave one of the members of my team on board to help you travel to our exfiltration point."
Hyun blanched. "But, sir—" He halted, at a loss for words.
Min stood. "But what, Captain?"
Hyun shook his head. "Nothing, sir." He turned and retreated to his cockpit.
Senior Lieutenant Kim looked at his team leader. "Our captain is a weak man."
Min turned his attention back to the papers. "Are you satisfied that your men know the parts of the plan that they need to?"
Kim nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Have you picked who will stay with the plane?"
"Yes, sir. Sergeant Chong has volunteered."
"Good."
Kim scratched his chin. "The only thing I don't understand, sir, is why we are doing this."
No one else would have dared to say that to Min, but the two of them had spent four years working together. They'd infiltrated the South Koran coastline three times and conducted extremely successful reconnaissance missions there. They owed their lives to each other.
"There are U.S. nuclear weapons at our objectives."
Kim didn't show any surprise. "But you briefed us that there was no one there. No military."
"Correct."
Now Kim was surprised. "You mean these bombs are unguarded?"
Min nodded. "Yes. Our objective is to seize those weapons along with their arming codes and instructions. And to leave no trace of our presence there."
"How will we do that and what will we do with the weapons? I thought our government already had nuclear weapons?"
"We are not going back home with the weapons." Min shook his head. "The rest is not for you to know yet, my friend. You will be told when it is time. Suffice it to say that if we are successful, Orange III will be implemented, and it will succeed."
Min leaned back in his seat as his executive officer moved away. Although this whole plan was jury-rigged on short notice, there was quite a bit of precedent for the entire operation. The primary wartime mission of the North Korean Special Forces was to seize or destroy U.S. nuclear weapons. Min had helped draw up plans for direct action missions against overseas targets, including U.S. 7th Fleet bases in Japan and the Philippines, and even Pearl Harbor in Hawaii.
North Korea had never been particularly shy about striking at their enemies outside their own borders, and the Special Forces had been involved in every action. In 1968 thirty-one Special Forces soldiers had infiltrated across the DMZ and made their way down to Seoul to raid the Blue House, home of the South Korean president. The mission failed, with twenty-eight men killed, two missing, and only one captured.
Shortly after that attack, on January 23, 1968, KPA Special Forces men in high speed attack craft seized the USS
Pueblo
. Later that year a large SF force of almost a hundred men conducted landings on the coast of South Korea in an attempt to raise the populace against the government. It failed, but such failures didn't daunt the North Korean government.
In 1969 a U.S. electronic warfare aircraft was shot down by North Korea, killing all thirty-one U.S. service members on board.
As security stiffened in South Korea over the decade of the 1970s, North Korea moved its attentions overseas, ignoring international reactions. In 1983 three PKA Special Forces officers planted a bomb in Rangoon in an attempt to kill the visiting South Korean president. That mission also failed.
Later in 1983 four North Korean merchant ships infiltrated the Gulf of California to conduct monitoring operations against the United States mainland. One of the ships was seized by the Mexican authorities, but that didn't prevent the North Koreans from continuing such operations.
Min knew that history, and he also knew more than the average North Korean about the changes that had been sweeping the world in the past decade. Spending time overseas, even in remote Indonesia, he had been exposed to more information than those in the tightly controlled society in his homeland ever received. The breakup of the Soviet Union had never been acknowledged by Pyongyang, except in cryptically worded exhortations to the people telling them they were the last true bastion of communism in the world. In fact, Min truly believed he was part of the last line in the war against western imperialism. He believed that if this mission succeeded, he would strike a blow greater than any of his Special Forces predecessors. That was enough for him.

Antarctica

Tai knew there was no way she would be able to sleep. "There is one thing I think we have to do," she said.
"What?" Vaughn asked. They paused as the door to the mess hall opened and Logan walked in. He grabbed a cup of coffee. "Mind if I join you?"
Tai glanced at Vaughn, then shrugged. "All right."
"Didn't plan on sitting on top of a couple of nukes," Logan said. "This is a messuck. You two figured out what's next?"
"We're working on it," Vaughn said.
Tai put down her coffee mug. "We need to make sure these bombs can't be used. We need to destroy the PAL codes."
"How do you propose we do that?" Vaughn asked.
"We blow up the safe that holds them."
Vaughn shook his head. "Destroying the codes doesn't do enough. Besides, the codes in the safe might not be the only ones. Someone else, somewhere, probably has a copy. Probably buried deep in some classified file cabinet. But there is a way to neutralize the bombs. Or at least keep them from being activated."
"How?" Tai asked.
"I told you that those two newer bombs have a six-digit PAL code that allows limited tries followed by lockout. I can enter two wrong codes and cause both bombs to go into lockout. That will mean that they can't be exploded."
"Bullshit!" They both looked at Logan in surprise. "How do we know you don't already have the codes and will arm the bombs with the correct six digits instead of the wrong ones?"
"Why would I do that?" Vaughn asked.
"I don't fucking know!" Logan turned to Tai. "Listen to me. What's to stop Vaughn from arming the bomb with a time delay? Then he kills us or just holds us at gun point and leaves, taking Brothers with him. If one of those goes off, all evidence of this base will be gone."
"I know Vaughn better than I know you," Tai said to Logan. "I trust him."

Safe House, Pine Barrens, New Jersey

The old man looked up as the door opened and two men walked in. The short one carried a briefcase, the taller one carried nothing. Knowing he would never get their real names, the old man immediately labeled them the Short Man and the Tall Man. The Short Man placed the briefcase on the desk, and they both stared at the old man.
Finally, he could take it no longer. "What do you want?"
Not a word had been said to him since he'd been picked up on the beach, flown to Otis Air Force Base, cross-loaded onto a military jet to Fort Dix, then driven to this house in the middle of nowhere.
The taller one, whom the man had correctly guessed was in charge, spoke. "We need information, Colonel Whitaker."
"I'm retired."
Silence reigned.
"What information?" Whitaker finally asked.
"We need information on an operation you were involved with. An operation we have no record of."
The Short Man flicked open the locks on the briefcase.
Whitaker frowned as he searched his memory. "That was a long time ago."
"The Citadel?" the Tall Man asked.
Whitaker felt his stomach flip.
The Short Man lifted the lid on the briefcase. Then he turned it so Whitaker could see the contents. Various hypodermic needles were arrayed in the padding on the top, and serum vials were secured in the bottom. The Tall Man gestured at the contents with a wave of his hand.
"The art of interrogation has progressed to much more sophisticated levels than what you dealt with when you were on active duty. We're less crude and much more effective.
"You know, of course, that everyone talks eventually." The Tall Man reached in and pulled out a needle, holding it up to the light. "With these sophisticated drugs, that eventually comes much faster. Unfortunately, the side effects, particularly for a man of your advanced years, cannot always be controlled." He put the needle down. "Why is it that there are no records of the Citadel?"
Whitaker considered his options. "What do I get out of this?"
The Tall Man shrugged. "It depends on what you tell us."
Whitaker sighed. He knew what the Tall Man had said was true—he would talk sooner or later. He'd been on the other side of this table too many times not to know that. Jesus, to have it all come to this because of that stupid base! He talked.
"I was the ops supervisor for the construction of the Citadel in 1947 in Antarctica. It was a group of buildings—twelve, to be exact—that were buried under the ice. The sections—"
The Tall Man interrupted. "What we want to know is who was behind the op and why."
"I worked directly for Sidney Souers."
"Who?" the Tall Man asked.
"The first director of Central Intelligence," Whitaker explained.
The Short Man had pulled out a PDA, punching information into it. He held it out now in front of the Tall Man, who read it and nodded. "Souers was a founding member of Majestic-12, wasn't he?"
"Yes."
The two men exchanged glances. "How did Souers give you this assignment?"
"Personal briefing." Whitaker sighed. "It was an unofficially sanctioned mission—no paper trail and denial if uncovered. Souers brought me back to Washington from Japan, where I was doing work trying to track down some of their scientists. When I got to D.C., Souers told me he had a mission that could be very profitable to both of us and had the President's blessing."
"Who was Souers working for?"
Whitaker shrugged. "I don't know."
"Souers never told you who the place was for or even what it was designed for?"
"It was easy to see what it was designed for," Whitaker said. "It was a survival shelter. As far as the who goes, it had to be somebody that had quite a bit of money and resources, along with leverage with the White House."
"Tell us about Lansale," the Tall Man said.
"Who?"
The Tall Man looked at him dispassionately. He turned to his partner. "I'll be back in an hour. Prep him."
"Wait a second!" Whitaker shouted as the Short Man pulled out a vial of clear liquid and picked up the nearby needle. "I'm telling you everything. You said if I cooperated that wouldn't be necessary."
"I said it depended. You just told us you did freelance work while at the ISA. You broke the rules, and now we're going to find out what other rules you might have broken in your career."
The Short Man approached with the needle.

Antarctica

They'd managed to clear not only the west tunnel of ice, but also the entryway into the west ice storage area. That room was as large as the eastern one, but there was no ramp at the end. It was also stocked with supplies and food. Then, using the diagram in the instructor binder, they turned their attention to trying to find the site of the inert nuclear reactor.
Now, Tai was lying behind Logan and Vaughn in the power access tunnel. The tunnel was made of corrugated steel tubing approximately three feet in diameter. They'd been digging here by hand for two hours already. It was slow work because as they removed ice, they had to drag it back out on a blanket the length of the tunnel, where Tai would take it and dispose of it along the south ice wall.
She thought it might have been easier to go up to the surface, try to use the sonar to find the reactor, and then try to dig out its access shaft. But then the weather would have been a problem. She'd gone up to the main surface shaft not long ago with Vaughn and Logan and taken a look outside. As Brothers had said, visibility was close to zero as the wind lashed the countryside with a wall of white. Ten feet from the doorway a person would be lost, and only find their way back with a large degree of luck. It was hard to believe the latest radio message from McMurdo that the intensity of the storm was actually lessening.
Looking into the blowing snow, feeling the icy talons of cold ripping at her clothes through the open door and thinking about the frozen body lying at the foot of the stairs, Tai recalled something she'd read during her two-hour guard shift: the fate of Captain Lawrence Oates, a member of Scott's ill-fated 1911-1912 South Pole expedition. Scott's party had arrived at the South Pole after man-hauling their sleds most of the way, only to discover a tent and note that Norwegian Roald Amundsen had left behind, proving that Amundsen had beaten him there by a month.
On their return trip, running out of food and in the middle of a blizzard, Oates, suffering from severe frostbite, walked out of the party's campsite into the blowing snow and disappeared, sacrificing himself so the party could continue on more quickly. His noble gesture was all for naught, though, as the rest of Scott's party died only eleven miles from a supply depot. Their bodies were discovered eight months later, along with Scott's journal, which told the sad tale.
"I've got an opening," Vaughn said, snapping Tai out of her ice-bound reverie. He was poking his shovel ahead, through the ice. Then he and Logan scratched away, widening the opening. The tunnel continued for another ten feet before angling off to the right.
"Let's see what we have," Vaughn said as he led the way.
The environmentalist followed, and Tai crawled along behind them on her hands and knees, her Gore-Tex pants sliding on the steel. Fifty more feet and they reached a thick hatch. Vaughn turned the wheel and the door slowly opened. Another two hundred feet. Then another hatch. They squeezed out of the second one and could finally stand. A small, shielded room opened out onto the reactor's core. Radiation warning signs were plastered all over the walls. Tai looked through the thick glass at the slots where the rods were to be inserted in the reactor core itself. In front of the glass was a small control panel with a few seats.
Logan shook his head. "Unbelievable. They really thought something as poorly constructed as this could work. No wonder the one at McMurdo had to be taken apart."
"You have to remember this was put in a long time ago," Vaughn reminded him.
"Hell, even twenty or thirty years ago someone should have had more common sense." Logan ran his hands over the thick glass separating them from the core. "Why are people so stupid?"
"So we have nukes and a nuclear power plant," Tai said. "But we're still not any closer to the Organization."
Vaughn peered once more through the thick glass at the inert core of the reactor. "You know, we might not be any closer, but it might be closer to us."
"What do you mean?" Tai asked.
Vaughn looked at Logan. "You once accused me of trying to take out Brothers. But I
know
I didn't do that. And I think whoever did only did it to try and slow us down a little bit, not stop us. Because sabotaging the plane would have worked much better. And the only reason to slow us down is if someone is behind us."
"We know Fatima and the Abu Sayif—" Tai began, then paused as she considered what he was saying. "You think the Organization will come here?"
Vaughn shrugged. "Sooner or later. I don't think our trip down here escaped scrutiny."
"What do we do, then?" Tai asked.
"Depends on who shows up," Vaughn said.