The Ajax Protocol

CHAPTER 60

Westlake parked the rental car on the steep slope leading up to the cabin. In winter, the driveway was impassable. When his wife had been alive, they'd tried to come here at least once a year during the good months. The cabin had belonged to her father. The county records still had it listed in her name. It had been the perfect place to install the transmitter.

The cabin sat below the tree line at 9,000 feet. The antenna was unnoticeable unless you were looking for it. No one ever came this way, except for an occasional hunter. Alice's father had liked the privacy of the wilderness.

He climbed onto the porch and unlocked the front door. The front room smelled of dust and closed space and stale mouse urine. Mice had always been a problem up here. But now it didn't matter. He wouldn't be coming here again.

Westlake opened a window. He went out through the kitchen to the generator shed in back. The generator was solar powered, running off energy stored in deep cycle batteries connected to an inverter. It was silent and provided enough power for the refrigerator, the lights, the radio. Pure sine wave power that wouldn't fry the transceiver in the bedroom. The system panel showed full charge and a green light. Westlake turned on the power.

The afternoon was bright and sunny, but he could feel the chill of the high country. He went back into the cabin, where a fire was already laid in the fireplace. He lit the kindling and watched it spread until the logs caught. He felt detached, as if someone else stood there, watching the orange and yellow flames.

Westlake went into the back room, where a large radio transceiver sat on a wooden table next to a computer monitor and keyboard. He turned everything on. The display lit with an orange glow, locked onto the frequency for Prometheus. Once the satellite was in range, all he needed to do was to transmit one preprogrammed signal and Prometheus would launch its nuclear spawn.

The missiles had been programmed months ago, targeted on China, Russia and Iran. The Pentagon had to point them somewhere, and the Pentagon technicians were sure they could always re-program the missiles for different targets as needed.

The Pentagon technicians were wrong. Westlake had used Phil Abingdon's expertise to alter the command codes. Prometheus answered only to him. Like the god himself, Westlake would bring the fires of heaven to earth.

He entered a new string of commands on the computer, re-programming one of the missiles with a new target.

Washington.

Westlake had never believed in surrender. Like Ajax, he planned to kill himself in protest. Unlike Ajax, he would take those who had been the instruments of his humiliation with him. It was only right.

He walked from the radio room to the front of the cabin and went to a wooden cabinet. He took out a bottle of whiskey and a glass. There were mouse droppings in the cabinet. He took the bottle and the glass and sat down in a chair in front of the fire. He poured a drink, held it up to the firelight and downed it. He poured another.

Westlake looked at the fire blazing in the stone fireplace. A picture taken in happier days of Westlake, his wife and his son rested on the mantle. Alice would have appreciated the fire. She'd always liked it up here in the mountains. She'd liked a fire on a chilly evening.

His thoughts drifted in a random haze. If only his son hadn't died. If only Alice had lived, things might have been different. In a few hours all those who had opposed him would find out what a mistake they had made. The satellite would come into range early in the morning.

For now, he could relax and enjoy the warmth of the fire and the whiskey. In the morning, the world would change forever. Westlake knew he would always be remembered.

He would be immortal, like Homer's heroes.

It was a satisfying feeling.