The War After Armageddon

“We’re working it, Bruce. We all want to crack that particular code. But two out of three isn’t bad — indirect fire down and, if things go the way the we think they will, at least a brief window of safety from the antitank defenses.”

“I wish we had air, sir. Where’s the zoomie?”

“He turned in,” one of the staffers said.

“Christ.” The deputy G-3 held up his hands in mock surrender.

“Okay,” Danczuk said, eager to wrap up the briefing, “anything else?” He scanned the tired faces. Even the night-shift officers looked beat. Not much sleep to be had while the headquarters moved ashore.

“Well, I have one last question,” the deputy G-3 said. “Anybody here from commo?”

A major raised his hand.

“We going to be able to talk any better tomorrow?”

The major shook his head. “Sir, we’re doing the best we can. We’re getting jammed on every microfrequency. It’s a miracle we can talk at all. At least they’re getting intermittent comms at company and below.”

The deputy Three looked at Danczuk, who outranked him by one grade. “Sir, I feel like I’m in Korea with my great-grandfather.”

“Well, don’t get frostbite,” Danczuk said. He was getting tired of the deputy Three’s swagger. The man was far more subdued when his boss was present. “All right. A-Shift, get some rack time. B-Shift, back to work.” He looked at an officer who’d been sitting quietly against the wall. “Major Kim, if you still need to talk to me, hang back. But no epic poetry tonight.”

The younger officer nodded. Val Danczuk regarded him as the brightest analyst and reconnaissance officer on his staff. Even if he wasn’t a Steelers fan.

When the room had cleared, the G-2 said, “Watcha got?”

“Mind if I shut the door, sir?”

“Shut it.”

The major closed the door. It was ill-set and had to be forced. Like everything else in this rathole, Danczuk thought.

Major Kim spread a half-dozen imagery culls on the table in front of the G-2. “Sir, I’d like you to take a look at these.”

Danczuk glanced at them. Same target in each one, although the angles and shadows were different: a tented complex in a grove. Some hardstand. The main facilities bore the Red Crescent signature.

“Okay, Jim. Help me out. I’m too tired to play Twenty Questions.”

The major leaned in close enough for the G-2 to smell the last rations the younger man had eaten. “Sir, this site’s in the Upper Galilee. Way up, almost to the old Lebanese border. And if it’s really a field hospital, I’ve got three questions.”

“Which are?”

“The Jihadis have been taking serious casualties. But look at the imagery. We’ve got drone shots and two angles from the DSI-40 satellite. We got those this afternoon, when the downlink punched through for a couple of hours. The other shots are from this morning or yesterday — and there’s an infrared from less than three hours ago.” The major backed off slightly. “Where’s the ambulance traffic? Except for the shadows and the angles, the shots are virtually identical. Hardly any movement. Look at this one: exactly two ground personnel visible. But they’ve got fully manned guardposts down this road.” He pointed with a pen. “There. And over here. And here.”

“Second question?”

“If it’s a field hospital, why isn’t it closer to a main road? Why tuck it off a single-lane side road in the boonies?”

“Third question?”

“If it’s a hospital, why is part of the site camouflaged?” He pointed again. “What looks like trees over here is ghost netting.”

“Chinese?”

“Made in India, sir. Tech transfer from Dassault. If we’re reading the wavelengths right.”

Danczuk nodded. “And?”

“Sir, the J’s are short of ghost netting. It’s a prime commodity. Why use it on a hospital? Which you shouldn’t be trying to hide at all? And by the way, there’s no sign of air-evac activity in any shot. No sign of any patients at all.”

“And Major Jim Kim’s analysis would be?” Danczuk asked. Afraid he knew damned well what the answer was.

“Sir, I believe this is a nuke field-storage site. I believe they’re prepping nuclear munitions in that main tent complex, although I can’t say how many. Just look at those generators. Those aren’t for a hospital. And we don’t know what’s under the ghost netting. Could even be launchers, it could be—”

The G-2 held up his hand. But he didn’t speak immediately after cutting off his subordinate. He gave him a pay-attention stare first.

“Jim… You’re a first-rate officer. Best analyst I’ve got. You read that on your efficiency report. Your pre-landing estimates could be used as models at Ft. Leavenworth. But I need you to listen to me now. Unless you have proof—proof—and more than a hackles-up hunch about this, I don’t want to hear another word spoken about it. And that’s an order. Not a word. Not to anybody.”

“But, sir… General Harris—”