Fire in the Ashes

Dan winced. “Colonel McGowen, you certainly have a way with the English language. How many in your team?"

“Twenty-one, all told. Rest will group with me in the morning. Hour ‘fore dawn."

“That gives us just a bit over fifty fighters,” Dan said with a grin. “Oh, my, yes. More than ample for the task ahead. Let's get our teams settled in for the night and make our plans."

* * * *

General Altamont removed a piece of paper from his briefcase. The single sheet of white paper had been placed in what looked to Ben an oversized Baggie. “This was delivered to me this morning—at my office at the Pentagon. The messenger was from a courier service. Allied. I tried to find that service listed in the phone book. No such courier service."

He placed the plastic-enclosed sheet of paper on Ben's desk. Ben read through the plastic.

WE HAVE THE ULTIMATE WEAPON. CHECK STORAGE AREA OUTSIDE KIRTLAND IF YOU DOUBT US. BEN RAINES BEWARE.

Ben looked up. “Kirtland Air Force Base?"

“Yes, sir. I immediately put people checking on any records that still might exist on the movement of old SSTs. We lucked out. A team from New Mexico was dispatched to that storage site. No trace of the drivers, but transport tickets left in the cabs told us what we wanted—wrong choice of word—what we feared. The SSTs were carrying enough materials to make several very large nuclear devices; perhaps a dozen smaller ones."

“Who sent the message?"

“We have no idea, sir."

“You are in charge of Air Force Intelligence, are you not, General?"

“Yes, sir."

“Forgive me. I'm still attempting to put faces with job titles."

“Understandable, sir."

“Well, someone obviously doesn't like me. But what threat is implied here?” he tapped the plastic-encased note.

“I don't mean to be flip, Mr. President; but your guess is as good as any."

“From within or from without? Take a guess."

General Altamont was thoughtful for a moment. “Sir, you have enemies all around you. I don't believe the Secret Service is in any way involved in this. That's a gut feeling. Since Cody's death, you have purged the FBI.” A very slight smile played around the corners of his mouth. “Demoralized it, might be a better word, if you will forgive me. And you are rebuilding it, or reshaping it, back to what it was intended to be. I don't believe there is any danger there. You have enemies in the armed forces, but none that I am aware of in high or sensitive places. In the House and Senate—yes, surely you know how hated you are among some of those people."

“Senator Carson,” Ben said with a small smile.

Altamont glanced at him sharply. Then a look of admiration passed briefly across his face. “Not much escapes you, does it, Mr. President?"

“Not much. I wouldn't trust that old bastard any further than I can spit. And I never was a chewer or a dipper."

“I don't have any concrete proof about him. But I can tell you he plays footsie on both sides of the aisle."

“Don't I know it."

“My brother, bless his pseudo-liberal heart, never did let me get too close to the inner circle. So I can't give you much on them—except their names, and I'm certain you already know that."

“True."

“But before I come down too hard on those who lean left, as compared to our thinking, let me say there are some men and women in both Houses who call themselves conservative that are not what I would call in your camp."

“Yes, and that troubles me, General. Well,” Ben sighed, “stay with this thing,” he once more tapped the letter of warning. “Keep me informed."

“Yes, sir.” Altamont stood up, retrieved the letter, and left the Oval Office.

When he was certain the general was gone, Ben punched his intercom. “Susie? Have Mitchell put a tail on General Altamont."

“Yes, sir. Want him to report straight back to you, sir?"

“Yes."

“Very good, sir."

* * * *

“Did he buy it?” Senator Carson asked General Altamont.

“All the way, Bill,” the general said with a laugh.

“When do we detonate the first one?"

“Next week. I'll blow it in a deserted town so no one is likely to get hurt."

“Lovely,” the old senator said. Then he slapped Altamont on the back. The three men shared a laugh in the night.

Altamont turned to the Secret Service agent. “When you report back to Raines, tell him I went straight home."

“Yes, sir,” the agent responded.

“Does Bob Mitchell suspect anything?"

“Not a thing, General. He's fat, dumb, and happy."

“Good. Let's be sure we keep it that way."

The three men broke apart, walking out of the small park just a few miles from the White House. They got in separate cars and drove away.

“Cute,” Rosita said, stepping from the shadows. “Con que esas tenemos! Gentlemen, I will show you how my mother's people deal with traitors—very shortly."