The Hammer of God

“Stand by; I am literally thinking on the run here.”

Bridgestone had a light bulb moment. “Okay, so I think I got it now, the bad guys are working with old data from way back when and they obviously think it will go off. Meanwhile, you and the characters on the other end of the phone are checking to see if this thing maybe can’t go off?”

“Exactly. Peter was involved in the early formulas and then worked with Ensiling on derivative instantaneous values of H33.”

Bridgestone held up his hand to signal “I surrender.”

Hiccock slowed it down, as much for him to work it through as to help Bridge. “What it comes down to is that the old equations just covered the U.S. in total, but New York is inside the footprint of America. It’s at least 300 miles inside the Maine shoreline. Today, computers can carry a number out to 40,000 decimal places.”

“160,000,” Peter corrected over the phone.”

“See, even better! Anyway, Brodenchy’s calculations will tell him when the entire U.S., to Maine, is vulnerable to nuclear detonation before he fires. But Peter and Kronos, using Ensiling’s new computations that Brodenchy couldn’t get from Ensiling — or from his own brother, who we have in custody — can tell the exact second before that when New York turns destroyable. Prior to that, it should be safe to risk shooting him down.”

Hiccock grabbed Bridgestone’s sat-com phone from its clip on his belt and flipped it open. “Signals, this is SCIAD, I want a joint call to Sitch Room White House, military air command, and NEST.”

“Stand by SCIAD. Voiceprint sampling now.”

“William Hiccock, Special Advisor to POTUS.” Bill spoke in an even tone, despite the frantic rush.

There were some beeps and a click. Both men strained to see the copter now disappearing and reappearing between the buildings of Manhattan.

“You drive; I’ll watch it,” Hiccock said with both phones in his hands and his head out the passenger window. “Go right on 34th….”

“I have a positive match. Your call is connected, SCIAD.”

“General, do we have the ability to shoot down a helicopter over Manhattan right now?” Hiccock didn’t know for sure, but assumed a general was somewhere on the line.

“Affirmative. We are two minutes into a CAP over Manhattan Island. Two F 15-E Strike Eagles out of Gabreski Air National Guard base on Long Island.”

“Have them identify and lock on to a blue-and-white news helicopter right now flying directly over the Empire State building.”

“Bill, this is the President. Are you targeting the press?”

“Sir, this is a stunt copter for a movie. Only one side is painted press. The other is all white. Maybe your pilots can confirm that. But do not fire, General, until I get the all clear.”

“From who?” the General said with umbrage at the fact that there was someone else higher in the chain of command. Hiccock could tell from that response that it was probably the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs on the line.

“Peter, Kronos,” Hiccock said and then talked into the other phone. “C’mon guys, I need to know now. There can’t be much time left.”

“Just a second more…. Got it. Okay, Cray Dartmouth says cusp in 40 seconds.”

“Kronos, be very sure of your next answer. Which way is the cusp going?”

“Hold on. Okay, it’s heading on a z axis through the ninth meridian…”

“Kronos! Is New York hot or not?”

The General’s tone was one of seeming protest to the President. “Sir, this man is advocating a weapons-free rule of engagement over a major metropolitan area. Do you trust him?”

“He’s trying to stop a nuke attack. He’s never let me down before.”

The Chief of Staff then interrupted and clarified, “Sir, the General needs to hear your order, sir.”

The weight of this landed squarely on the President’s shoulders.

“General, I order you to release weapons upon Mr. Hiccock’s signal for you to do so.”

“Duly noted. Thank you, Mr. President.”

“CAP control, lock onto target but hold fire until my command.”

Suddenly, a new voice came over Bill’s phone; it was scratchy and carried a southern accent. “Cap Con this is CAP One. I have acquired target. Confirmation it’s our bird, a half-painted whirly.”

“Now or never, Kronos,” Bill urged into the other phone.

“Okay, Peter and I agree, at 160,000 decimal points New York gets hot in 30 seconds; at the Earth’s 1000 mile per hour rotation and the angle of declination to the cusp line, the entire U.S. to Maine goes nuclear in 55 more seconds.”

“So he thinks he can’t detonate for 55 more seconds,” Bridgestone said. Hiccock was amazed that Bridgestone just got the dangerous part of the idea — that you could preemptively strike with impunity.

They both looked up as the sound of the copter’s rotors started to cavitate as it dug into the air in a maneuver to position the airburst in the most devastating position.