Fury From Within

Chapter Twenty-Five

The FBI clean room was built for air to be filtered up to 100,000 microns, ideal for manufacturing a satellite or nuclear weapons parts. The room was mostly utilized for high profile criminal cases where the requirements for utmost care and cleanliness of murder implements or DNA could be extracted without cross-contamination.

The FBI lab technician hovered around two metal case’s wearing a disposable white paper body suit and accompanying booties for his feet — even his hair was covered in a white paper hat. Rubber gloves protected his hands as he probed the open case before his assembled guests who viewed his every move from the outside viewing area.

With the age of the parts involved and both having been buried in the corrosive earth for thirty-five years — there was a certain need for a pristine environment. Of course, the initiators were already removed, no need to have two, unstable nuclear weapons in a major US city.

Once opened, the case’s interior looked as though it were a classic piece of test equipment — assorted analog dials, hard black plastic facing. Very simplistic in nature; easily looking as if it could reside in somebody’s workshop, not at all resembling a weapon of mass destruction. Off to one side, the only parts to stand out to the naked eye were the units highly polished stainless steel tubes, still gleaming 35 years after its manufacture; the same tubes that contained the unit’s uranium and where the nuclear explosion would have been generated.

Outside the clean room, Forsythe stood beside two nervous CIA officers. Both of the “Spooks” looked as though they were making a mental picture of everything pertaining to the unit’s composition, obviously comparing it to their own hidden units in some obscure locations.

Inside the clean room, the FBI technician sat in his chair, shaking his head as he removed his gloves, a wide smile upon his face. He looked to be talking to himself before realizing he had an audience and a supervisor who required an answer. Walking over to the room’s phone, he indicated for Forsythe to pick up the connecting phone outside the clean room.

“What’s the problem,” Forsythe said, wondering what the hell was so funny. “It’s not a laughing matter — these two weapons could have killed millions of people including our whole upper levels of government.”

The technician held up his hand indicating for Forsythe to calm down and let him finish; he still had something important to say. One of the CIA officers hovered near Forsythe trying to pick up any possible tidbits of their conversation, the other agent already on his cell phone to some unknown person awaiting the conversations outcome.

“You’re not going to believe this,” the technician said, the humor clearly evident in his voice. “I have to provide you a little history, so bear with me. Back in the 1970’s the Soviets were pioneers in lithium battery technology. They used the technology to keep satellites working in space using the same type of lithium batteries only larger. These damn things would go on and on for the satellites lifetime, sort of like the battery bunny on the TV commercials.”

“Can you get to the point,” Forsythe said, a little annoyed, both CIA agents looking on in surprise.

“Okay,” said the technician, holding up his hands. “These units were meant to be self-contained, the unit and the explosion being powered by a lithium battery,” he replied, pointing to the battery compartment for him to view through the inch thick glass that separated them. “There’s only one problem. Back in those God forsaken years, the Soviet Union’s satellites only had a 5 to 10 year life span before they reentered our atmosphere, so that meant the batteries they built were only meant to have a life span of 10 years at the tops,” pausing for several seconds, waiting for Forsythe to get the point he was trying to make.

Forsythe started to smile, looking over at the CIA agents then back at the technician. “You mean, they…” Forsythe said, the lab technician now cutting him off.

“The units are dead. They couldn’t have fired without a modified external power source. They are dead as door nails — they never could have worked past 1990 in a best case scenario,” the technician said, hanging up the phone as he went back to work, shaking his head.

Forsythe rudely brushed aside the CIA officers as they awaited the outcome of his discussion, quickly walking down 3 flights of steps and heading to the outside of the FBI building. Once outside, he took a deep breath of the humid air, knowing he would never again complain about the weather, that being the least of his worries. Hell, he would never complain about anything ever again—life was too damn short for that. Looking off to his left he noticed a group of smokers congregating around a single ashtray. Having given up smoking 20 years before, he bummed a cigarette, lighting it up in a personal celebration. Taking a single, luxurious puff, he quickly flicked the cigarette to the curb. It would have to suffice.

Now he could enjoy his retirement in peace.

Russian officials reversed their earlier position and finally admitted to the existence of suitcase nuclear weapons having been in the Russian Military inventory for over 35 years. They went on to state that the weapons were being withdrawn from service for eventual destruction under cognizance of a committee composed of Russian Military officials with assistance from an unnamed foreign country.

The group was to be under the leadership of Russian General Poszk.

Several days later, the British foreign ministry admitted that they had undertaken and financed a deal with the Russian government to remove and destroy all of its small portable nuclear weapons.

The British had selected Sir Robert John to assist the committee as their representative.

Within months, with twenty-nine weapons identified and destroyed, the committee was disbanded with much fanfare, having accomplished a great service to mankind.

Only one problem still existed; General Poszk and Sir Robert John had destroyed only twenty-nine — one was still missing…