The Genie and the Engineer 3: Ravages of War (27 page)

Turning back to Hamadi, Paul said, “You’ve killed for the
last time, Akbar. When you wake up, you won’t be a wizard any more. We’re going
to strip you of your powers. For the first time in your murderous life, you are
going to know what it’s like to be a Normie. Let’s see if you can take it as
well as you dished it out, murderer!”

“You aren’t serious!” the
Errabêlu
wizard shouted in
growing horror and fear. “No one can turn a wizard into a Normie! It can’t be
done!” Frantically, he spun to watch Rommie 451 move closer. “It can’t be done!”
he screamed. “Aaaahhhh!”

She put both him and Yuan Wu into a comatose state.

“Please keep me informed, okay?” Paul asked her, wearing a
wicked grin.

Rommie 451 smiled back. “Consider it done, Dad. ‘Piece of pie.’”

Ω

Thursday morning, Paul took the three Daneels with him to
the Panoramic View Oceanfront Resort on Long Island, New York and rented a
poolside cabana for a day. The weather was gorgeous so they took the
opportunity to sit in deck chairs alongside the pool, shaded by a patio sized
umbrella. Their location afforded them an undisturbed view of the beach as
well, under a cloudless blue sky. The sound of the surf combined with the ocean
breeze was practically paradise on Earth and Paul relaxed for a few hours,
basking in the breeze. The three Daneels seemed to enjoy his enjoyment as well,
even if they couldn’t feel the warm sun or the breeze themselves.

Alas, the enjoyment was much too short-lived.

A microportal formed over their heads, just under the peak
of the umbrella.

“Ah, Dad?” spoke all three Daneels simultaneously.

Paul glanced at them. “I can tell from the tone in your
voices that something is up.”

“Unfortunately, you are right, Dad,” Daneel 1 said with a
sigh. “We are in communication with Eve 32.” (
Eve of Destruction
, 1991)
“As I’m sure you remember, she’s been assigned as ambassador to the Canadian
government.”

The three Scotties were making Paul increasingly
apprehensive. “Is something happening in Canada?” he asked.

The three Daneels glanced at each other. “Perhaps you should
talk to her directly.”

A medium-sized display formed in mid-air. On it, a
thirty-something brunette woman dressed in conservative clothing looked
directly at him.

Eve 32 was in human form, a preference for most Scotties who
were dealing directly with human governments. Paul could not fault their
thinking on that score.

“Yes, Eve?” he asked uneasily.

“Dad?” she said, her voice a rich contralto. “This morning,
at our offices near Parliament Hill here in Ottawa, a woman knocked on our
front door and asked if we could arrange a meeting with you.”

“And who is this woman?” Paul asked, confused. Other than a
few Scotties, he didn’t know anyone in Canada.

“She says she is a wizard. She claims to be Isadora Eloá
Camila Ferreira, a naturalized citizen of Brazil. She also claims to have a
message from Oliver Jacob Clarke, a message that she will deliver only to you.
She’s here now.”

Paul rubbed his left temple. Oliver Jacob Clarke, a senior
leader in
Errabêlu
, was one of the missing eighty or so supermen that
Daneel 1 had alluded to just a few days before.

“Dad,” Daneel 1 said. “I can confirm her name on the list of
missing
Errabêlu
wizards.”

“I see,” Paul said, growing increasingly disturbed by the
turn the conversation had taken.

“Sir,” Daneel 3 interrupted. “We can’t let her into your
presence, not with a functional talisman in hand.”

“Just what I was thinking,” Daneel 2 remarked.

“Fine,” Paul said, turning back to Eve. “Ask her if she
would like to pass along this message of Clarke’s by way of this microportal.”

“I’ll ask her,” Eve responded.

The screen went blank for a few minutes. While they waited,
Paul talked to the Daneels about the possible content of the message from
Clarke. They shared the consensus that it meant trouble. Either Clarke stood
ready to negotiate his surrender—on his terms, of course—or he was up to
no-good. Daneel 3 even proposed the idea that Clarke might demand Paul’s
surrender. Even though the idea seemed ludicrous, Paul did not discount it. The
arrogance of the
Errabêlu
’s wizards was totally beyond question. Even
after the loss of most of his organization, Clarke still might find a plan that
he thought would give him the stronger hand.

When the screen lit up again, it was to show the beautiful
face of a young woman with black dazzling eyes, strong eyebrows and jet black
hair.

“Señora Isadora Eloá Camila Ferreira, I presume,” Paul said,
with a small nod. “
Bom dia
.”

“Mr. Paul Armstead,” she returned. “Courteous as well as
very handsome, I see.”

“And you, no doubt, have turned many a man’s eye yourself,”
Paul said politely in reply.

She smiled graciously and acknowledged his compliment with a
small nod. “I have been charged with a message to give to you, from someone you
may know as Oliver Jacob Clarke.”

“Can you give that message to me over this link?” Paul
asked.

“I believe I can deliver the principles of it,” she
answered, steepling her hands in front of her. “Jacob Clarke wishes you to
understand his message should be considered as an ultimatum, as I believe you
Norte
Americanos
would call it. He says that you must first release all the
wizards you have kidnapped, you must also stand down your metal machines and,
most important, that you, in person, must surrender yourself to him. All these
things must be completed before noon, Eastern Daylight Time on the coming
Saturday. The location is to be in front of the Theodore Roosevelt Statue on
Theodore Roosevelt Island, in the middle of the Potomac River, in Washington
DC.”

The gall of the man was simply unbelievable. It left Paul
feeling angry but he did his best to squash the feeling.

“I see,” he said, though he didn’t see it at all. “And what
terms does he offer?”

She gave a female shrug. “Unconditional, I believe.”

Paul heard Daneel 3 mutter something softly, under his
breath. Paul ignored the Scottie.

“That doesn’t sound like a very attractive offer, Señora
Ferreira,” Paul pointed out. “Please tell me, did Clarke specify any—shall we
call them consequences?—if I chose not to take him up on his offer?”

“Why, yes, he did mention some such, I believe,” she said,
with a broad smile. “Let me quote him: ‘For every day beyond the deadline that
you don’t comply with these demands, I will atomize a major city somewhere on
Earth.’ Yes, I am fairly certain that is an exact quote.” Ferreira raised her
left eyebrow. “May I take back your reply to him?”

Paul sat back in his chair, stunned, his anger returning
tenfold.

“Did he say which cities?” Paul managed to ask through a red
haze.

She frowned in thought. “I believe that he is prepared to
target as many cities as it takes, but I remember he did mention two in
particular. I think he said he would start with Los Angeles, California. Oh,
and also with Lancaster, California. I understand Lancaster is close to where
you once lived? Is that correct?”

“Señora Ferreira, millions of people would die!” Paul said,
struggling to maintain his composure.

“Yes, millions of Normies would die,” she agreed, with a
casual wave of her hand, graciously granting the truth of his declaration. “And
since you claim to care about Normies so much, you can save all of their lives
by complying with Clarke’s demands. One life to save millions, even if they are
just Normies, that’s not too bad a trade, is it not? Not for someone who says
he cares about them.”

For a moment, Paul closed his eyes in exasperation and
outrage. It was a very good thing for Señora Ferreira that she was not
personally present, given his momentary impulse to strangle the living
daylights out of her, after which Paul would cheerfully beat her body into a
lumpy, pulpy, gooey mess. Fortunately for her, he was successfully able to
regain control of his emotions, though just barely.

“Are there any other parts of Clarke’s message that you care
to pass along?” Paul asked her, his voice seething with anger. “That is, before
I terminate this nauseating conversation?”

If anything, Señora Ferreira’s smile grew larger. “A lot of
lives are at stake, Mr. Armstead. A lot of Normies will die, including
Americans, if you choose not to surrender. And consider this: at least Clarke
is not asking your lovely wife to surrender as well. He wanted to demand that
too, but others in
Errabêlu
talked him out of it.” She paused a moment
before continuing. “There will be no further communication with us after this
point. Just release our wizards, shut down your metal monsters, and show up at
the Theodore Roosevelt statue, at your convenience. It’s being watched. You
have our word that no Normie will be harmed after you turn yourself in. The choice
is yours, Mr. Armstead.”

With a wave of her hand, Paul saw a portal form behind her.
She turned and disappeared through it. The microportal and display disappeared
as well.

“The nuclear blackmail option,” Daneel 3 said. “You
predicted it was possible, Dad, but never in my wildest dreams did I believe
they could be so monstrous, so evil as to consider using it against us.”

Paul nodded grimly, his stomach in pain from the acid
indigestion he had suddenly acquired. “I too considered it to be unlikely, the
ultimate act of evil and of desperation too.” He looked up at Daneel 1. “We
have, what, 45½ hours before the deadline? You know what needs to be done, but
please find Daneel 10 first and see how much progress he has made. Oh, and
Daneel 2, please find Capie, bring her up to date. Please ask her to join us in
the Situation Room of the Mount Logan facility.”

The Saint Elias Mountains, Canada

Mount Logan Facility

Situation Room

Thursday, 3:12 p.m. EDT

July

L
ess than an
hour later found all of them buried in the depths of headquarters.

More specifically, the Situation Room.

Capie and Paul sat near the head of one of the tables. More
than a hundred Scotties floated around the room, mostly the corps, division and
brigade commanders and members of their staffs. There was a general murmur of
background conversations. Present amongst the Scotties, in addition to the
commanders and staff, were Rommie 451, Daneel 5, Valerie 42 (1995 TV series,
The
Outer Limits
), and Daneel 10, all tasked with special assignments.

Valerie 42 served as the commanding officer of MIB (Military
Intelligence Bureau), the Scottie intelligence agency. Daneel 10 worked in the
same organization but had a more specific assignment.

“Are we ready?” Paul turned and asked Daneel 1, whose cube
was floating not far away.

“Yes, Dad, I believe we are,” Daneel 1 replied grimly. He
floated a little higher above the table.

“Everyone! Attention, please!” he said in an amplified
voice.

The side conversations in the room died away.

“As you know, the enemy has elected to pursue a Nuclear
Blackmail option, a version remarkably similar to our NB Scenario Number 5, as
we played them in our Mars war-game simulations,” the Scottie reported. “As you
also know, the NB Scenarios were first envisioned by Dad, but even he thought
of them only as an act of extreme contingency, to counter the ultimate
desperation by
Errabêlu
. Because of Dad’s foresight, we do have prepared
responses in case one of the NB options was employed against us. Make no
mistake; without having played those war-games simulations and identifying
potential responses, we would have stood no chance in preventing the deaths of
millions of human beings. But with the experience we now have, we might have
that chance. I will now turn the time over to Valerie 42. Commander?”

Another Scottie cube, halfway down the table, floated
forward.

“As all of you know,” Valerie 42 said with a soprano voice,
her holographic image that of a striking auburn haired woman, “Oliver Clarke
has threatened to nuke a number of cities, including Lancaster, the largest
city of any size closest to Mojave, Dad’s hometown, as one of his first
targets.” Valerie 42 paused for a moment. “The first question for us to answer,
of course, is whether or not this is a bluff. Does he truly have the weapons to
carry out this threat? I will leave that question to Daneel 10 to answer. The
next question is a bit more complicated. As we know, nuclear weapons,
especially American nuclear weapons, are engineered with strong safeguards built-in.
They utilize PALs, short for Permissive Action Links. The details are complex
but essentially, without the proper codes, the nuclear devices cannot be
detonated. So the next question becomes, assuming Clarke has the weapons, can
he detonate them? Again, I will have to defer this question to Daneel 10.
Daneel?”

Valerie returned to her ‘seat’ while Daneel 10 floated to
the front of the room.

“So, as Valerie asked, question number one,” the Scottie
said without preamble. “Does Clarke have the warheads? As you know, my
department in MIB was given the assignment of locating and tracking all of the
nuclear weapons in the world. We have been working on that task ever since the
simulated war games ended back on Mars.”

He turned slightly to face Paul. “Dad, I know that time is
short so let me just lay the bad news out for you right now. Clarke may very
well have nuclear weapons in hand. At this point in our tasking, we can’t tell
you that he doesn’t.”

Paul frowned in disappointment but not surprise. He was
half-way expecting this negative report. On the other hand, Capie didn’t look
convinced.

“Why not?” she asked. “Can’t you just check to see if any country
is missing a few such weapons? I mean, don’t they keep a pretty tight control
on that sort of thing?”

Daneel 10 nodded. “Yes and no, Mom. Let me explain and I’ll
start with the United States first. From 1946 to 1989, the United States
manufactured more than 70,000 nuclear warheads of 65 different models.”

Capie gasped. “
That
many? Really? I didn’t know.
Haven’t they dismantled most of those?”

“Yes, they have,” replied Daneel 10. “Especially the ones
built before 1970. For the most part, those older warheads were inefficient
designs anyway and no longer served a viable purpose. You see, the early
weapons were designed to target mostly cities. They had a high CEP or Circle of
Error Probability. That’s another way of saying that the early weapons weren’t
very accurate. But then, with yields in the megatons and sometimes tens of
megatons, they didn’t have to be accurate. As the saying goes, close only
counts in horseshoes, hand grenades, and H-Bombs.

“But later, starting in the very late 1960’s and continuing
through the 1980’s both the US and Soviet military planners went through a slow
but significant paradigm shift. They still targeted cities, but those became of
secondary importance. Instead, the accuracy of the new delivery systems—the
ICBMs and the submarine launched ballistic missiles along with the new cruise
missiles—began to allow targeting of strictly military targets. Each country
could, and each did, start targeting the other side’s delivery systems, such as
missile silos, nuclear air-bases, and where possible, ballistic missile
submarines. The idea was to take out the enemy delivery systems
before
they could be used in a nuclear exchange. The improved accuracy of the delivery
systems gave both sides that increasing capability.”

Most of this was familiar to Paul, but he could tell by
Capie’s sour expression that it was news to her.

“But with so many warheads, couldn’t they hit both types of
targets?” she asked.

“Theoretically, yes. In reality, it wasn’t likely,” Daneel
10 answered. “You see, once the missiles started flying, it was problematic how
long such a war would last. There were already far more nuclear warheads than
there were ways to deliver them. And with each side targeting the others silos,
bombers and submarines first…well, I think you see the point. With the
increasing accuracy and the change of primary targets, neither side needed
warheads in the megaton range anymore, especially when they were losing
interest in cities as primary targets. Indeed, when they were targeting silos,
the mushroom cloud from a 5 or 10 megaton detonation interfered with any
follow-on warheads ability to target and hit another silo in the same general
area.”

“Oh, I never thought about that,” Capie said. “Though it
makes sense, in a ghoulish sort of way.”

Daneel 10 nodded then went on. “Since the warheads could now
be smaller, this provided the option to put more warheads on a single missile.
Which the United States did by deploying the first Multiple Independent Reentry
Vehicle or MIRV capable ICBM in 1970, the Minuteman III. That missile carries
three warheads, which could each be independently targeted, meaning it could
hit three separate targets from one missile. Since then, the missiles have
continued to be more accurate and to carry more MIRVs. Naturally, with the
introduction of MIRV warheads, the old multi-megaton warheads became obsolete
and newer ones had to be designed and built, although, in a few cases, the old
ones could be upgraded to do the job. That explains, to some degree, why the
United States built so many warheads.”

“You still haven’t told me why we can’t quickly find out if
any weapons are missing or not,” Capie complained with a grimace.

“I’m getting there,” Daneel 10 said. “Now, in the United
States arsenal of nuclear weapons, there are three categories. The current crop
of warheads is in the first such category, known as Active Service. These are
the warheads in current deployment, all connected to ICBMs, cruise missiles or
other delivery systems. And yes, these weapons are tightly controlled. If one
or more of them went missing, it would be noticed immediately—if not sooner.

“The second category is known as the Hedge Stockpile. This
includes warheads that are fully operational but kept in storage, ready to be
mounted to a missile or loaded in a bomber or whatever, if something happened
to a warhead in Active Service. The warheads in this category are also pretty
tightly controlled, but not as tightly as those in Active Service. I would
think that an intelligent clever wizard could steal a few such warheads from
the Hedge Stockpile and they wouldn’t be missed for days, perhaps weeks at a
time.

“The last group is known as Inactive service. These are
warheads that are on their way to retirement and being eventually dismantled.
Most of them have had critical components removed. In other words, they aren’t
operational but, with enough time and additional components, could be made
operational again, if they were needed. This is the group of warheads that most
concerns me. These are the older, in some cases, larger warheads, less closely
watched, and thus easier to steal. These weapons are stored in a lot of
different locations, and thus harder to inventory. I believe that any competent
wizard, with some sleight-of-hand, could steal almost any of these warheads
that he wanted, and create the paperwork to imply that it exists but is simply
stored somewhere else.”

Daneel 10 looked at them soberly. “If Clarke stole American
warheads, these are the ones he would have taken. They offer him three advantages.
First, they are easier to steal. Second, he could choose some rather large
warheads, in the multi-megaton range, which would be better suited to a large
metropolitan area such as Los Angeles. And third, the vintage warheads are
easier to arm and detonate.”

Again, Capie blinked and shook her head. “Why would they be
easier to arm and detonate?” she asked.

“Because of the nature of the launch and arming codes
required,” Daneel 10 replied. “You see, up until the early 1960’s, none of the
US warheads required such a code to launch or arm them.”

Even Paul’s jaw dropped at that one. “
None
of them?!”
Capie and Paul asked, simultaneously.

Daneel 10 nodded. “The military felt that it would hinder
their ability to launch the weapons. They envisioned a sudden all-out nuclear
surprise attack by the Soviets. Under such a scenario, there would literally be
only minutes for them to respond. Obtaining the necessary codes and
implementing them would probably take too long. It wasn’t until President
Kennedy issued an Executive Order in the early 1960’s that the military was
forced to implement the first security codes. By today’s standards, those first
codes were a joke. They consisted of 3 digit combination locks, similar to a
bicycle lock. A little later, they went to a 4 digit lock.”

Paul produced a wintery smile. “Those wouldn’t be much of a
challenge to a wizard to bypass.”

Daneel 10 nodded again, in total agreement. “Over time, the
Permissive Action Links were upgraded. All Active Service warheads now use
Class F codes, which requires a 12 digit computer code and provides for some
rather sophisticated options.”

Capie stared at the table. “So, he could have stolen earlier
warheads, ones that would be relatively easy for a wizard to bypass the code
and detonate. One with larger warheads.”

“It’s entirely possible,” Daneel confided to them. “Assuming
he stole American warheads. On the other hand, he could have stolen Soviet
warheads, which I believe to be even more likely.”

Capie sighed in discouragement and sat back in her seat.
“Why is that, Daneel?”

“In the United States, it is frequently said that there are
so many government agencies, that the right hand does not know what the left
hand is doing,” Daneel explained. “But in the Soviet Union, even the fingers
and thumbs have no clue what the other fingers and thumbs are up to. No one
knows how many warheads the Soviets built, but it was decidedly more than the
United States constructed. Not even the Russians know how many, but it is known
that they probably manufactured fewer types. Probably. The breakup of the
Soviet Union did not help the situation either. Some nuclear warheads ended up
in client states such as the Ukraine. Some of those were shipped back to
Russia. Others were not. The confusion factor is high. Very high.”

Capie rubbed her brow.

“Is there more?” Paul asked.

“A little,” Daneel 10 replied. “The Soviets tended to build
larger weapons than the U.S. and for a longer period of time too. In general
they were still making large multi-megaton warheads after the U.S. was
downsizing theirs. In addition, first the Soviets and then the Russians have
been slower to retire and dismantle their old warheads, even when they had no
particular use for them anymore. In some cases, they simply stored them in
warehouses and forgot them. Dismantling a warhead takes real money and for
them, that has been a problem.”

The Scottie briefly sighed before continuing on. “And then
there is the matter of the PALs and the codes. The Soviets were slower to
implement any warhead safety systems. Those too cost money and slowed the
deployment/response times. Instead, they preferred to control their warheads
through procedures and bureaucratic interlocks. They put soldiers to watch the
warheads, soldiers to watch the soldiers, and soldiers to watch the soldiers
watching the soldiers. They didn’t begin using launch codes and other such
security lockouts until the early 1970’s and their codes never reached the
level of complexity that the Americans use.”

Paul shrugged and shook his head in exasperation. “So.
Clarke could have stolen American warheads, but you think that he more likely
stole Soviet ones instead.”