Wild Fire

CHAPTER SEVEN

Harry Muller sat blindfolded, with his ankles shackled, in what felt like a comfortable leather chair. He smelled burning wood and cigarette smoke.

He could hear people speaking in low tones, and he thought he heard Bain Madox’s voice.

Someone slid the blindfold down around his neck, and as his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw that he was sitting at the end of a long pine table. Also sitting at the table were five other men: two on each side, and at the head of the table, facing him, was Bain Madox. The men were speaking to one another as if he wasn’t there.

In front of each man were legal pads, pens, water bottles, and coffee cups. Harry noticed a keyboard in front of Madox.

He looked around the room, which was a library or a den. The fireplace was to his left, flanked by two windows whose drapes were drawn so that he couldn’t see out, but he knew from his blindfolded walk from his cell that he was on the ground floor.

Standing near the door were Carl and another security guard. They were wearing holstered pistols but not carrying cattle prods.

He now noticed a very big, black leather suitcase sitting upright in the middle of the floor. It was an old suitcase, strapped to a wheeled caddy.

Bain Madox seemed to notice him for the first time and said, “Welcome, Mr. Muller. Coffee? Tea?”

Harry shook his head.

Madox said to the other four men, “Gentlemen, this is the man I told you about-Detective Harry Muller, NYPD, retired, currently working for the Federal Anti-Terrorist Task Force. Please make him feel welcome.”

Everyone acknowledged their guest with a nod.

Harry thought two of the guys looked familiar.

Madox continued, “As you know, gentlemen, we have a few friends on the Task Force, but apparently none of them were aware that Mr. Muller was going to drop in today.”

One of the men said, “We’ll need to look into that.”

The others nodded in unison.

Harry tried to see through this bullshit, to reinforce his hope that this was an elaborately staged test. But somewhere in the back of his mind, this hope was fading, though he clung to it.

Madox motioned to the guards, who left the room.

Harry looked at the men along the table. Two were about Madox’s age, one was older, and the one to his right was younger than the rest. They all wore blue blazers and casual plaid shirts like Madox, as though this were the uniform of the day.

Harry focused on the two men who looked familiar; he was sure he’d seen them on TV or in the newspapers.

Madox noticed Harry’s stare and said, “Forgive me for not formally introducing my Executive Board-”

One of the men interrupted, “Bain, names are not necessary.”

Madox replied, “I think Mr. Muller recognizes a few of you, anyway.”

No one responded, except Harry. “I don’t need any names-”

“You need,” said Madox, “to know what august company you are in.” Madox indicated the man to his immediate right-the oldest person in the room and the one who had made the objection. “Harry, this is Paul Dunn, adviser to the president on matters of national security and a member of the National Security Council, whom you probably recognize.”

Madox turned to the person sitting next to Dunn, near Harry, and said, “This is General James Hawkins, United States Air Force and a member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, whom you may also recognize, though Jim is a low-profile guy.”

Madox indicated the man to his left. “This is Edward Wolffer, the deputy secretary of defense, who likes the cameras. Never stand between Ed and a news camera or you’ll get knocked over.” Madox smiled, but no one else did. Madox added, “Ed and I graduated from Infantry Officer Candidate School together, Fort Benning, Georgia, April 1967. We served in Vietnam at the same time. He’s made quite a name for himself since then, while I’ve made a lot of money.”

Wolffer didn’t smile at what Harry thought must be an old joke by now.

Madox continued, “And to your right, Harry, is Scott Landsdale of the Central Intelligence Agency, who is definitely camera shy, and who is also the CIA liaison to the White House.”

Harry glanced at Landsdale. He seemed a little cocky and arrogant, like most of the CIA guys Harry had had the misfortune to work with.

Madox said, “This is the Executive Board of the Custer Hill Club. The rest of our members-about a dozen men this weekend-are hiking or bird-hunting, which I hope doesn’t upset you.” He explained to the other men, “Mr. Muller is a bird-watcher.”

Harry wanted to say, “Fuck you,” but remained silent. He understood now that the guys in this room had not come here from Washington to participate in a test of Harry Muller’s qualifications for a bigger and better job.

Madox told Harry, “This holiday weekend was to be a regularly scheduled gathering to discuss world affairs, to exchange information, and to just enjoy some camaraderie. But your presence here has made it necessary for me to call this emergency meeting of the Executive Board. I’m sure that means nothing to you now, but it will later.”

Harry said, “I don’t want to hear any of this.”

“I thought you were a detective.” He stared at Harry and said, “I’ve had a little time to check you out with our friends in the ATTF, and you appear to be who you say you are.”

Harry didn’t reply, but he wondered who Madox’s friends were in the ATTF.

Mr. Madox informed him, “If you were an FBI agent, or CIA, we’d be very concerned.”

Scott Landsdale, the CIA man, said, “Bain, I can assure you that Mr. Muller is not a CIA officer.”

Madox smiled. “I suppose it takes one to know one.”

Landsdale continued, “And I’m fairly certain that Mr. Muller is not FBI. He is what he appears to be-a cop, working for the FBI, on surveillance.”

“Thank you for that assurance,” said Madox.

“You’re welcome. Now, I’d like some assurance, Bain. You weren’t very clear about when Mr. Muller will be reported as missing in action.”

Madox replied, “Ask Mr. Muller. He’s right next to you.”

Landsdale turned to Harry. “When do they start wondering where you are? No lies. I know how they work at 26 Fed. And what I don’t know, I can find out.”

Harry thought, Typical CIA bastard, always pretending they know more than they actually know. Harry replied, “Well, then, find out yourself.”

Landsdale resumed without comment, like a trained interrogator, “Will anyone call you?”

“How do I know? I’m not psychic.”

Madox interjected, “I’m checking his cell phone and beeper every half hour or so. The only message was from Lori. That’s his girlfriend. I’ll send her a text message later from Mr. Muller’s cell phone.”

Landsdale nodded. “God forbid anyone on the Task Force would interrupt their holiday weekend.” He asked Harry, “When are you supposed to get back to 26 Fed?”

“When I get there.”

“Who gave you this assignment? Walsh or Paresi?”

Harry thought this guy knew too much about the Task Force. He replied, “I get my orders on an audiotape that self-destructs.”

“Me, too. What did your audiotape say, Harry?”

“I already answered that. IRA surveillance.”

“That’s really lame.” Landsdale said to the others, “Mr. Muller’s assignment probably came from Washington, and in the hallowed tradition of intelligence work, no one tells anyone more than someone thinks they need to know. That, unfortunately, is how 9/11 happened. Things have changed, but old habits are hard to break, and sometimes they’re not bad habits. Mr. Muller, for instance, can’t tell us what he doesn’t know.” He added, “I’m fairly sure we’re okay for at least forty-eight hours. His girlfriend will probably miss him long before his supervisor does.” He addressed Harry. “Is she connected to law enforcement or to the intelligence business in any way?”

“Yeah. She’s a CIA officer. Former prostitute.”

Landsdale laughed. “I think I know her.”

Madox said, “Thank you, Scott, for your assistance.” He said to Harry, “Your visit here, even as a low-level surveillance person, has given us some concern.”

Harry didn’t reply but looked around at the other men, who did seem a little concerned about something.

Madox continued, “However, some good may come of this. We’ve been planning a long time for Project Green, and I’m afraid that the planning has become procrastination. This often happens when a momentous decision needs to be made.” He stared at his Executive Board, two of whom nodded and two of whom seemed annoyed.

Madox went on, “Harry, I think that your physical presence in this room is a strong reminder that there are forces in the government that are too curious about who we are and what we’re doing. I think time has run out.” He looked at the other four men, who nodded, almost reluctantly.

Madox said, “So, gentlemen, if you have no further objections, Mr. Muller stays with us so we can keep an eye on him.” He looked at Harry. “I want to make it perfectly clear to you that although you have been detained here, no harm will come to you. We just need to keep you here until Project Green begins. Perhaps two or three days. Understand?”

Harry Muller understood that he might be dead in less than two or three days. But on another level, looking at these men, who in his world of police work were not the murdering type, he thought that Madox might be telling the truth. He couldn’t believe-or make himself believe-that guys like this would go ahead and kill him. He glanced at Landsdale, who seemed like the only one in the room who might actually be dangerous.

“Mr. Muller? Do you understand?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good. Don’t let your imagination get the best of you. What you’re going to hear in the next hour or so is so far beyond your wildest imagination that you’ll forget about yourself anyway.”

Harry looked at Madox, who still seemed cool and smart-mouthed, but Harry could also see that Madox was a little hyper and worried about something.

Harry regarded the other four men, and he thought he’d never seen guys who were so powerful looking so worried. The older man, Dunn, the president’s adviser, was pale, and Harry noticed that Dunn’s hands were trembling. Hawkins, the general, and Wolffer, the defense guy, looked pretty grim. Only Landsdale appeared relaxed, but Harry could see he was putting it on.

Whatever was going on here, Harry thought, it was real, and it was something that was scaring the shit out of these guys. Harry took some comfort in the fact that he wasn’t the only one in the room who was scared shitless.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Bain Madox stood and said, “I call this emergency meeting of the Executive Board of the Custer Hill Club to order.”

Still standing, he continued, “Gentlemen, as you know, because of the one-year anniversary of 9/11, the Office of Homeland Security has put the nation on Alert Level Orange. The purpose of this meeting is to decide if we should go ahead with Project Green, which will reduce the alert level to that color. Permanently.” Madox looked at Harry. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Sure.”

“Might put you out of a job.”

“That’s okay.”

“Good. Now, if the Board will bear with me, I’d like to get Harry up and running on this. In fact, we can all benefit from some perspective before we make any decisions.” He looked at Harry and asked, “You’ve heard of Mutually Assured Destruction?”

“I… yeah…”

“During the Cold War, if the Soviets launched nuclear missiles against us, we would, without debate, launch our arsenal of nuclear weapons against them. Thousands of nuclear warheads would rain down on both countries, assuring mutual destruction. Remember that?”

Harry nodded.

Madox continued, “Paradoxically, the world was actually safer then. No hesitation on our part, and no political debates. This strategy had a beautiful simplicity to it. The radar images of thousands of nuclear missiles headed our way meant we were dead. The only moral question-if any-was, Do we kill tens of millions of them before we all die? You and I know the answer to that, but there were fuzzy-headed people in Washington who thought that revenge was not a justification for us destroying a big part of the planet-that no purpose would be served by obliterating the innocent men, women, and children whose government had just assured our obliteration. Well, the doctrine of Mutually Assured Destruction-MAD-removed any such questions by making our response automatic. We didn’t have to rely on a president who lost his nerve or had a moral crisis, or who was out playing golf or getting laid somewhere.”

There were a few polite chuckles.

Mr. Madox continued, “The primary reason that MAD worked was that it was unambiguous and symmetrical. Each side knew that a nuclear first strike by one would set off a counterstrike by the other of equal or overwhelming force, which would destroy the very civilization of both nations.” He added, “That would leave places like Africa, China, and South America to inherit what was left of the Earth. Pretty depressing, don’t you think?”

Harry remembered how the world was before the collapse of the Soviet Union. Nuclear war was pretty scary, but he never really believed it was going to happen.

Madox seemed to be reading his mind and said, “But this never happened, and never would. Even the most insane Soviet dictator could not contemplate this scenario. Despite the rantings of left-wing pacifists and pinhead intellectuals, Mutually Assured Destruction actually assured that the world was safe from nuclear Armageddon. Right?”

Harry thought, What the hell is this guy getting at?

Bain Madox sat down, lit a cigarette, and asked Harry, “Have you ever heard of something called Wild Fire?”

“No.”

Madox looked at him closely, then explained, “A secret government protocol. Have you ever heard these words used in passing, or in any context?”

“No.”

“I wouldn’t think so. This secret protocol is known only at the highest levels of government. And by us. And now by you-if you pay attention.”

Paul Dunn, the presidential adviser, interjected, “Bain, do we need to talk about this in front of Mr. Muller?”

Bain Madox stared at Dunn and replied, “As I said, this is a good exercise for all of us. Very shortly, we’re going to make a decision that will change the world as we know it, and the history of the world for the next thousand years. The least we can do is explain ourselves to Mr. Muller, who represents the nation we say we are going to save. Not to mention explaining ourselves to ourselves at this critical juncture.”

Landsdale, the CIA man, said to everyone, “You have to let Bain run it his way. You should know that by now.”

Edward Wolffer added, “More important, this is a transformative moment in the history of the world, and I wouldn’t want Bain, or anyone, to ever think we didn’t give it the time that’s equal to its importance.”

Madox turned to his old friend. “Thank you, Ed. No one may ever know what happened here today, but we know, and God knows. And if someday the world does know, then we need to justify ourselves to God and to man.”

Landsdale commented dryly, “Let’s not tell God.”

Madox ignored him and drew on his cigarette. “The first Islamic terrorist attacks began in the 1970s, as you recall.”

Bain Madox began with the Munich Olympics Massacre, and then rattled off a list of thirty years of airplane hijackings, bombings, kidnappings, executions, and mass murder by Islamic jihadists.

The men in the room remained silent, but a few nodded in remembrance of one or another terrorist attack.

Harry Muller, too, recalled almost every attack that Madox mentioned, and what surprised him was how many there were over the last thirty years. He was surprised, too, that he had forgotten so many of them-even the big ones, like the car bomb attack on the Marine barracks in Lebanon that killed 241 Americans, or the bomb on board Pan Am Flight 103 over Lockerbie that killed hundreds of people.

Harry felt himself getting angrier as each attack was chronicled, and he thought that if a terrorist-or any Muslim-were brought into the room, the guy would be ripped apart by everyone there. Madox knew how to inflame the crowd.

In fact, Madox looked around the table and said, “Every one of us here had a friend, or knew someone, who was killed in the World Trade Center or the Pentagon.” He addressed General Hawkins. “Your nephew, Captain Tim Hawkins, died in the Pentagon.” Next he spoke to Scott Landsdale. “You had two CIA colleagues who died in the World Trade Center. Correct?”

Landsdale nodded.

Madox turned to Harry. “And you? Did you lose anyone that day?”

Harry replied, “My boss… Captain Stein and some other guys I knew died in the North Tower…”

“My condolences,” said Madox, who then concluded his recitation of the atrocities, brutalities, and violence against America and the West. “This was all something new under the sun, and neither the world nor the United States knew how to react. Many people thought it would just go away. Obviously, it did not. It just got worse. In fact, the Western world wasn’t equipped to counter these terrorist attacks, and we seemed to lack the will to respond to these people who were murdering us. Even when the United States was attacked on its own soil-the 1993 bombing of the World Trade Center-we did nothing.” He looked at Harry. “Correct?”

“Yeah… but that changed things-”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

Harry said, “Well, 9/11 changed everything. We’re more on top of-”

“You know, Harry, you and your ATTF friends, and the whole FBI, CIA, Defense Intelligence, British MI5 and MI6, Interpol, and the rest of the useless European intelligence services could spend the rest of their fucking lives chasing Islamic terrorists, and it wouldn’t make much difference.”

“I don’t know-”

“I know. Last year, it was the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. Next year, it will be the White House and the Capitol Building.” Madox paused, blew smoke rings, then said, “And one year, it will be an entire American city. A nuclear bomb. Do you doubt that?”

Harry didn’t reply.

“Harry?”

“No. I don’t doubt that.”

“Good. Neither does anyone at this table. That’s why we’re here.” He asked Harry, “How would you prevent that from happening?”

“Well… actually, I sometimes work on the NEST team-the Nuclear Emergency Support Team. You know about that?”

Bain Madox smiled. “Harry, you’re sitting here with the deputy secretary of defense, a top national security adviser to the president of the United States, a member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the CIA liaison to the White House. If there’s anything we don’t know, I’d be very surprised.”

“Then why do you keep asking me questions?”

Madox seemed a little annoyed. “Let me tell you about NEST-known as the volunteer fire department of the nuclear age. Very quaint, and about as effective. A thousand or so volunteers from the fields of science, government, and law enforcement who sometimes disguise themselves as tourists and businesspeople. They walk or drive around American cities and other sensitive targets, such as dams, nuclear reactors, and so forth, carrying their gamma-ray and neutron detectors hidden inside briefcases, golf bags, beer coolers, and whatever. Correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you ever find an atomic bomb?”

“Not yet.”

“And you never will. There could be an explosive nuclear device or a dirty bomb sitting in an apartment on Park Avenue with the timer going, and the chances of NEST or Harry Muller discovering that bomb is near zero. Correct?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes you get lucky.”

“That’s not very reassuring, Harry.” Madox said, “The question is, How does the American government prevent a weapon of mass destruction-specifically, a nuclear device, planted by terrorists-from obliterating an American city?” He looked at Harry and said, “I want you to draw a lesson from the Cold War strategy of Mutually Assured Destruction, and tell me how we can keep terrorists from planting and exploding a nuclear bomb in an American city. This is not a rhetorical question. Answer me, please.”

Harry replied, “Okay, I guess like with the Russians-if they knew we were going to nuke them, then they wouldn’t nuke us.”

Madox replied, “True, but the nature of the enemy has changed. The global terrorist network is not like the old Soviet Union. The Soviets were an empire with a government, cities, hard targets, and soft targets. All laid out in a strike plan drawn up by the Pentagon and known to the Soviets. Islamic terrorism, on the other hand, is very amorphous. If an Islamic terrorist organization detonates a nuke in New York or Washington, who do we retaliate against?” He stared at Harry. “Who?”

Harry thought a moment. “Baghdad.”

“Why Baghdad? How would we know if Saddam Hussein had anything to do with a nuclear attack on America?”

Harry replied, “What difference does it make? One Arab city is as good as the next. They’ll all get the message.”

“Indeed, they would. But here’s a better plan. During the Reagan administration, the American government devised and put into place this secret protocol named Wild Fire. What Wild Fire is, is the nuclear obliteration of the entire Islamic world by means of American nuclear missiles, in response to a nuclear terrorist attack on America. How does that sound to you?”

Harry didn’t respond.

“You can speak freely. You’re among friends. Wouldn’t you, deep in your heart, like to see Sandland turned into a sea of molten glass?”

Harry looked around the table, then replied, “Yes.”

Bain Madox nodded. “So, there you have it. Harry Muller, who is an average American in most respects, would like to see Islam eradicated in a nuclear holocaust.”

Harry Muller was happy to go along with Madox’s bullshit-and it was just that. Bullshit. Right-wing loony fantasy talk that probably gave these guys hard-ons. He couldn’t see any connection between what Madox was saying and what Madox was able to do. It reminded him of his days in the NYPD Intelligence Division, when he’d interrogate left-wing radicals who talked about world revolution and the rising of the masses, whatever the hell that was. His boss used to call it pinko wet dreams. He looked around the table again. On the other hand, these guys didn’t seem like they were jerking themselves off, or jerking him off. In fact, they looked serious about something, and they were important guys.

Madox broke into Harry’s thoughts and said to him, “How do we get the United States government to put a quick end to terrorism, and to this clear and imminent nuclear threat to the American homeland? Well, I’ll tell you. The government has to launch Wild Fire. Right?”

Harry didn’t answer, and Bain Madox informed him, “There are about seventy suitcase-size nuclear weapons missing from the inventory of the old Soviet Union. Did you know that?”

Harry replied, “Sixty-seven.”

“Thank you. Did you ever wonder if any of those suitcase nukes has gotten into the hands of Islamic terrorists?”

“We think they have.”

“Well, you’re right. They have. I’ll tell you something you don’t know-something that fewer than twenty people in the world know-one of those suitcase nukes was discovered last year in Washington, D.C. Not by a NEST team having a lucky day, but by the FBI acting on a tip.”

Harry didn’t respond, but thought about that, and a cold chill ran down his spine.

Madox continued, “I’m sure there are a few more suitcase nukes that have been smuggled into the country, probably through our non-existent border with Mexico.” He smiled at Harry. “There’s probably one sitting in an apartment across the street from your office.”

“No, I don’t think so. We’ve swept the area.”

“Well, I’m just making a point. Don’t take me literally. The question is, Why hasn’t a missing Soviet nuclear suitcase bomb been detonated in an American city? Do you think Islamic terrorists would have any moral or ethical qualms about obliterating an American city and killing a million innocent men, women, and children?”

“No.”

“Me, neither. And neither does anyone else after 9/11. But I’ll tell you why it probably hasn’t happened and won’t happen. Because for Wild Fire to be a reliable deterrent, as Mutually Assured Destruction was, it cannot be kept a complete secret. In fact, since the Wild Fire plan was implemented, the heads of all Islamic governments have been notified by succeeding administrations in Washington that an attack on an American city with a weapon of mass destruction would automatically ensure an American nuclear retaliation against fifty to one hundred cities and other targets in the Islamic world.”

Harry said, “Good.”

Bain Madox continued, “As these gentlemen here can attest to, Harry, Wild Fire is seen by the American government as a very strong incentive for these countries to control the terrorists in their midst, to induce these countries to share information with American intelligence agencies, and to do whatever they need to do to keep themselves from being vaporized. In fact, the tip about the nuke in Washington came from the Libyan government. So, it seems to be working.”

“Great.”

Madox added, “Something like NEST is a pathetic defensive response to nuclear terror. Wild Fire is a pro-active response. It is a gun to the heads of Islamic countries-a gun that will go off if they fail to keep their terrorist friends from going nuclear. Undoubtedly most, if not all, terrorist organizations have been warned of this by the Islamic governments that harbor, aid, and have contact with them. Whether the terrorists believe this or not is another question. So far, they seem to believe it, which is probably why we haven’t been attacked by weapons of mass destruction. What do you think, Harry?”

“Makes sense to me.”

“Me, too. The Islamic governments have also been informed that Wild Fire is hardwired-that is, no sitting American president can alter or cancel this retaliation against Islam. This keeps our enemies from trying to analyze each president to see if he-or she-has any balls. The president is pretty much out of the equation after a nuke goes off in America. Just like during the Cold War.” He turned to Paul Dunn and asked, “Correct?”

Dunn replied, “Correct.”

Madox looked at Harry. “You seem lost in thought. What are you thinking about?”

“Well… I’m sure somebody in the government thought about this, but wouldn’t fifty or a hundred nukes in the Mideast kind of fuck up the oil thing?”

A few men smiled, and Madox grinned as well. He glanced toward Edward Wolffer and said, “The deputy secretary of defense has assured me that there are no oil fields on the target list. No refineries, and no oil shipment ports. They will remain intact, but will come under new management.” He smiled. “I’ve got to make a living, Harry.”

“Yeah, right. But how about the environment and all that? You know, nuclear fallout, nuclear winter.”

“I told you, the answer to global warming is nuclear winter. Just kidding. Look, the effects of fifty or even a hundred nuclear explosions detonating across the Mideast have been studied extensively by the government. It won’t be that bad.” He added, “I mean, for them, it’s lights-out. But for the rest of the planet, depending on what computer model you like, life will go on.”

“Yeah…?” Something else was troubling Harry Muller. “Well, it’s not going to happen anyway because, like you said, if the terrorists know about this… I mean, do you think, or have you heard, that they’re going to nuke us?”

“I haven’t heard anything. Have you? Actually, my colleagues here think that Wild Fire is such an effective deterrent that the likelihood of an American city being attacked with a nuclear device by Islamic terrorists is very small. That’s why we have to do it ourselves.”

“Do what?”

“We, Harry, the men here in this room, have devised Project Green-the plan to detonate an atomic device in an American city, which will in turn trigger the Wild Fire response-which is the nuclear obliteration of Islam.”

Harry wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly and leaned toward Madox.

Madox made eye contact with Harry and continued, “And the beauty of this is that the government doesn’t even have to be certain that the nuclear attack on America has come from Islamic terrorists. There exists a very strong presumption of guilt toward Islamic jihadists so that conclusive evidence is not required to launch Wild Fire. Brilliant, isn’t it?”

Harry took a deep breath and said, “Are you crazy?”

“No. Do we look crazy?”

Harry didn’t think the other four guys looked crazy, but Madox was a little nuts. Harry took another deep breath and asked, “You got a nuke?”

“Of course we do. Why do you think we’re here? We actually have four nukes. In fact…” Madox stood, walked over to the black leather suitcase, and patted it. “Here’s one of them.”

CHAPTER NINE

Bain Madox suggested a short break, during which everyone, except Scott Landsdale and Harry Muller, left the room.

Landsdale stood at the end of the table, away from Harry, and they sized each other up. Landsdale said, “Don’t even think about what you’re thinking about.”

“I can’t hear you. Come closer.”

“Cut the macho bullshit, Detective. The only way you’re getting out of here is if we let you out.”

“Don’t bet your silk CIA panties on that.”

“If you answer a few questions for me, we can work something out.”

“That sounds like what I used to say to suspects. I was lying, too.”

Landsdale let that slide and asked, “When Tom Walsh gave you this assignment, what did he tell you?”

“He told me to dress warm and save my gas receipts.”

“Good advice. And thanks for confirming that it was Walsh.” He asked, “What were you supposed to do with your digital disks?”

“Find a CIA guy and shove them up his ass.”

“Were you supposed to go to the Adirondack Airport as part of this assignment?”

Harry realized that Landsdale was good at what he did. CIA guys were pricks, but they were highly professional pricks. Harry replied, “No, but that’s a good idea. I bet I’ll find your name on the arrivals manifest.”

“Harry, I’ve got more IDs than you have clean socks in your drawer.” He asked, “Who else at 26 Fed knows about your assignment?”

“How the hell do I know?”

“I didn’t mention this before, but one of my friends at 26 Fed tells me you were talking to your cubemate, John Corey, in the elevator lobby, and you were carrying a metal suitcase from Tech. Did Corey ask you what you were doing?”

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself?”

Landsdale ignored this suggestion, and said, “I’m trying to help you, Harry.”

“I thought you were CIA.”

He asked, “Do you want a piece of this, Harry?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m with you.”

“You may not mean that now, but after this is over, you’ll see that this was the only way to go.”

“Don’t you have to go take a piss or something?”

“No, but here’s a question for you to think about: Do you think you might have been set up?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Walsh was told by somebody, probably in Washington, to send a guy up here-an NYPD surveillance guy-to take pictures of people arriving at this club. It sounds like no big deal, right? But the people who ordered this-and maybe Walsh himself-knew you weren’t going to get within a mile of this lodge before you were caught.”

“I got a lot closer than that.”

“Congratulations. So, what I’m thinking, Harry, is that you’re the sacrificial lamb. Follow?”

“No.”

“I mean, this is so clumsy that the only reason you could have been sent here is to scare the hell out of us and make us put Project Green on hold. Or maybe put it on the fast track. What do you think?”

“I’ve worked with CIA, and what I think is that you people see a conspiracy in everything, except the things that are a conspiracy. That’s why you’ve been fucking up.”

“You may have a point. But let me share my paranoia with you. You were sent here by higher-ups, through Walsh, for the purpose of spooking us into action or for the purpose of the FBI’s getting a search warrant to come looking for you and finding four atomic suitcases that they might believe are here.”

Harry didn’t reply, but he thought about that.

Landsdale continued, “Let’s assume, first, that someone wants to spook us into action. Who could that be? Well, maybe my people. Or, maybe the White House itself wants an excuse to launch Wild Fire.”

Harry thought about that, too, but again didn’t respond.

Landsdale went on, “But it could be the other thing-that you were sent here to disappear so that the FBI could swoop down on this place with probable cause and a search warrant. Actually, the only really incriminating things here at the club are the four nukes and you, and neither the nukes nor you will be here much longer. The ELF transmitter is not illegal, just hard to explain. Right?”

Harry Muller felt as if he’d stepped into one of the upstate psychiatric hospitals, and that he’d arrived ten minutes after the patients took control. And what the hell was an elf transmitter? How do you transmit an elf? And why would you want to…?

Landsdale asked him, “You know about ELF?”

“Yeah. Santa’s helpers.”

Landsdale smiled and stared at Harry. “Maybe you don’t.” He explained, “Extremely Low Frequency. ELF. Does that mean anything to you?”

“No.”

Landsdale started to say something else, but the door opened, and Madox and the other three men entered the room.

Landsdale caught Madox’s eye and nodded toward the door.

Madox said to the others, “Excuse us a moment.”

He and Landsdale left the room, and Madox said to Carl, who was standing near the door, “Keep an eye on Mr. Muller.”

Carl went into the room and shut the door.

Landsdale moved down the corridor, and Madox followed. Landsdale said, “Okay, I spoke to Muller, and he seems honestly clueless about anything, except his assignment. Muller was not briefed by Walsh or anyone, which is standard procedure when sending a low-level surveillance guy on a sensitive assignment.”

Madox replied, “I know that. What are you getting at?”

Landsdale paused, then said, “I have no doubt that whoever sent Harry Muller here fully expected him to be caught. Correct?”

Madox didn’t reply.

Landsdale went on, “I’m fairly sure that the CIA knows what you’re up to, Bain, and so does the Justice Department and the FBI.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“I think it is. And I think-based on my information-that Justice and the FBI are about to shut you down.” Landsdale looked at Madox and continued, “But you have fans and friends in the government. Specifically, the CIA, who want you to go for it. Follow?”

“I don’t think anyone in the government, except the people here, know a damn thing about Project Green, or-”

“Bain, deflate your fucking ego a little. You’re being manipulated and used, and-”

“Bullshit.”

“Not bullshit. Look, you’ve got a great plan. But you’ve been sitting on it too long. The do-gooders in the Justice Department and the FBI have gotten on to you, and they want to do the right thing and bust this conspiracy. The CIA sees it quite differently. The CIA thinks your plan is absolutely fucking terrific, and absolutely brilliant, and taking entirely too fucking long.”

Madox asked Landsdale, “Do you know all of this for certain? Or are you speculating?”

Landsdale considered his reply, then said, “A little of both.” He added, “Look, as the CIA liaison to the White House, I’m not fully in the Langley loop. But I used to work in a Black Ops branch, and I heard about you long before you heard about me.”

Again, Madox didn’t respond.

Landsdale continued, “Every covert branch of the intelligence establishment has its legendary members, men and women who are looked on as bigger than life, almost mythical. I worked with a guy like that, and this guy once briefed me about Wild Fire, and that’s when your name came up, Bain, as a private individual who had the capacity to trigger Wild Fire.”

Madox seemed uneasy with that information, and asked, “Is that how and why I got to make your acquaintance?”

Landsdale did not answer directly but said, “It’s how and why I got posted to the White House.” He added, “Your little conspiracy here has triggered a similar conspiracy among certain individuals in the CIA and also the Pentagon… and maybe in the White House itself. In other words, there are others in Washington, aside from your Executive Board, who are helping. I’m sure you understand that. And understand, also, that if you didn’t exist, then the people in government who want to trigger Wild Fire would need to plant their own nukes in American cities.” He forced a smile and said, “But we like to encourage private, faith-based initiative.”

“What’s your point, Scott?”

“The point, Bain, is that whoever sent Harry Muller here wants to bring this to a quick conclusion. If it was the FBI, then you’re about to be busted. If it was the CIA, then they’re telling you to move fast.” He added, “I have no doubt that both organizations know what the other is up to, and it’s become a race to see whose idea of safeguarding American security is going to win out.”

Madox stared silently, then said, “All I need is about forty-eight hours.”

“I hope you have that much time.” Landsdale added, “I have a contact in the Anti-Terrorist Task Force where Muller works, and my guy tells me that Muller is a Mideast guy, and he doesn’t work in the Domestic Terrorist Section, so it’s unusual that he’d be picked for this job. But he further tells me that a guy named John Corey, former NYPD like Muller, and also in the Mideast Section, was the one originally picked to do this surveillance. Specifically picked. Why? That’s the question. What difference would it make who was sent here as the sacrificial lamb?” He lit a cigarette and continued, “Then, I recalled that the CIA guy who originally told me about Wild Fire was once attached to the ATTF, and while there, he’d gotten into a major pissing match with this guy Corey. Actually, worse than a pissing match-they really wanted to kill each other.”

Madox glanced at his watch.

Landsdale continued, “One of their many problems with each other seemed to be Corey’s present wife, an FBI agent assigned to the Task Force.” He smiled and said, “There’s always a woman involved.”

Madox, too, smiled and said, “Sexual jealousy is the wild card of history. Empires have been destroyed because Jack was fucking Jill, and Jill was also fucking Jim.” He asked, “But what’s your point?”

“Just that I see more than a coincidence here that Corey was supposed to be sitting where Muller is now sitting, waiting to die.”

Madox observed, “Sometimes, Scott, coincidence is just coincidence. And what difference does it make?”

Landsdale hesitated, then responded, “But if it’s not coincidence, then I see the hand of the master here-the guy who originally told me about Wild Fire and who also got me my job in the White House, and who got me introduced to the Custer Hill Club… but that’s not possible because this guy is dead. Or supposed to be dead.” He added, “Died in the World Trade Center.”

Madox pointed out, “People are either dead, or they’re not.”

“This guy is the ultimate spook. Dead when he needs to be, alive when he needs to come back. The point is, if it’s this guy who’s behind Muller’s being here, then I feel much better about our chances of getting Project Green going in the next forty-eight hours, and much better about the government initiating Wild Fire as the response.”

Madox stared at Landsdale and said, “If that makes you feel better, Scott, then I’m happy for you. But the bottom line, Mr. Landsdale, is not what’s going on in Washington, but what’s going on here. I have worked on this plan for nearly a decade, and I will make it happen.”

“Not if they shut you down in the next day or two.” Landsdale said, “Be grateful that you have friends in Washington, and be very grateful if my former mentor in Black Ops is alive and looking after you.”

“Well, if you say so… maybe, when this is over, I can meet this man, if he’s among the living, and shake his hand.” Madox asked, “What’s his name?”

“I couldn’t tell you his name, even if he was actually dead.”

“Well, if you ever see him-alive-and if he was my guardian angel on this project, then thank him for me.”

“I will.”

Madox indicated the door. “Let’s continue the meeting.”

As Landsdale walked toward the door, Madox nodded, happy in the knowledge that this mystery man was so well thought of. In fact, the man in question had not died on September 11, as Madox knew, but was actually on his way to the Custer Hill Club. In fact, Mr. Ted Nash, an old friend of Bain Madox’s, had called right before the meeting of the Executive Board to see if John Corey was in Madox’s custody. When Madox said they had a Mr. Harry Muller in the net instead, Nash seemed disappointed and said, “Wrong fish,” but he was optimistic, adding, “I’ll see what I can do to get Corey to the Custer Hill Club… You’d like him, Bain. He’s an egotistical prick, and nearly as smart as we are.”

Bain Madox followed Landsdale into the room, walked to the head of the table, and began, “The meeting will come to order.” He pointed to the black suitcase in the middle of the floor and said, “That thing, which you are seeing for the first time, is a Soviet-made RA-155, weight about seventy-five pounds, containing about twenty-five pounds of very high-grade plutonium, plus a detonating device.”

Harry stared at the suitcase. When he’d worked with NEST, they’d never told him what to look for-small atomic devices came in different shapes and sizes, and as the instructor had said, “There won’t be an atomic symbol on the device, or a skull and crossbones, or anything. Just rely on your gamma-ray and neutron detectors.”

Madox continued, “That little thing will yield about five kilotons, about half the explosive power of the bomb dropped on Hiroshima. Because these devices are old, and need constant maintenance, the explosion could be smaller. But that’s not a lot of consolation if you happen to be sitting next to one.” He chuckled.

Landsdale pointed out, “Actually, we are sitting next to one.” He joked, “Maybe you shouldn’t smoke, Bain.”

Madox ignored him. “For your information, gentlemen, that little thing would level Midtown Manhattan and cause about half a million instant deaths, followed by as many as another half million in the aftermath.”

Madox walked over to the big suitcase and put his hand on it. “Incredible technology. You have to wonder what God was thinking when He created atoms that could be split or fused by mortal men to release such supernatural energy.”

Harry Muller, with great difficulty, took his eyes off the nuclear bomb. He seemed to notice the bottled water in front of him for the first time, and with an unsteady hand, he drank from it.

Madox said to him, “You’re not looking well.”

“None of you are looking too good yourselves, and where the hell did you get that bomb?”

“Actually, that was the easy part. It was just a matter of money, like everything else in life, plus my private jets to fly these here from one of the former Soviet republics. I paid-out of my own pocket-ten million dollars, if you’re interested. That was for all four bombs-not each. You can imagine how many suitcase bombs people like bin Laden have already bought.”

Harry finished his water, then took Landsdale’s bottle along with Landsdale’s ballpoint pen, which he put in his pocket. No one noticed as Madox continued speaking.

Madox turned to Harry and said, “We’re not monsters, Mr. Muller. We’re decent men who are going to save Western Civilization, save our families, our nation, and our God.”

Harry, against his better judgment, asked, “By killing millions of Americans?”

“The Islamic terrorists are going to kill them anyway, Harry. It’s just a matter of time. It’s better if we do it sooner. And we get to pick the cities-not them.”

“Are you all out of your fucking minds?”

Madox snapped, “Hold on, Harry! A little while ago you had no problem with the idea of wiping out the world of Islam-men, women, children, plus Western tourists and businesspeople, and who knows who else is in the Mideast next week-”

“Next week?”

“Yes. And as I said, you can thank yourself and your organization for that. Today, it was just you snooping around. Tomorrow or the next day, it will be Federal agents and perhaps troops from Fort Drum swarming all over this place, looking for you… and finding this.” He slapped the suitcase.

Harry almost jumped in his seat.

“So, we have to hide you and deliver the suitcases to their final destinations.” He said to the Board, “Meanwhile, we will proceed with the business at hand. First…” He walked back to the table and hit a key on his console. The lights dimmed as a flat screen monitor brightened on the wall, illuminating a color map of the Mideast and East Asia. “We will take a look at the world of Islam, which we are about to destroy.”

CHAPTER TEN

Bain Madox began, “There, gentlemen, is the land of Islam, stretching from the Atlantic coast of North Africa, through the Mideast, into Central Asia, all the way to East Asia, ending in the most populous Muslim country of Indonesia, which is the latest battlefront in the war on terrorism.”

He paused for effect and said, “There are over one billion Muslims living in these countries today. By sometime next week, there will be a lot fewer.”

Madox let that sink in, then turned on a reading lamp and said, “Ed has provided us with a list of Islamic cities targeted under Wild Fire…” He glanced at the paper in front of him and joked, “This looks like my Christmas wish list.”

No one laughed, and Madox said, “Ed will give us some details of Wild Fire.”

The deputy secretary of defense, Edward Wolffer, explained, “There are actually two lists-the A-list and the B-list. The A-list includes the entire Middle East-the Arabic heart of Islam-plus some specific targets in North Africa, Somalia, Sudan, Muslim portions of Central Asia, and a few targets in East Asia. The list has basically stayed the same for the last twenty years, but now and then we add a target, such as the northern portion of the Philippines, which has become a hotbed of Islamic fundamentalism. Note, too, that we occasionally delete targets. For instance, as a result of our occupation of Afghanistan, we’ve removed most of Afghanistan from the target list as well as certain places in the Gulf region, Central Asia, and Saudi Arabia, where American troops are presently stationed.”

Everyone nodded, and a few men jotted notes.

Wolffer continued, “We’ve also acquired new targets in southern Afghanistan, specifically the Tora Bora area and the adjacent border areas of Pakistan, where we believe bin Laden is hiding.” He added, “If that sonofabitch survives this, he’ll be king of the Nuclear Wasteland.”

A few men laughed politely.

Scott Lansdale asked, “Why two lists?”

Wolffer explained, “There are two possible retaliatory responses under the Wild Fire plan. The A-list is always included, and the B-list is added, depending on the level and type of terrorist attack on America. For instance, if the attack is biological or chemical, then only the A-list targets will be destroyed. If the attack is nuclear, and it destroys one or more American cities, then the B-list is added to the retaliatory response-without debate.”

Madox said, “Well, we know the attack on America will be nuclear, because we’re the ones setting off the bombs.”

There was silence in the room, then Paul Dunn said, “Bain, you don’t have to sound so enthusiastic about it.”

“Sorry, Paul. But this isn’t a polite meeting of the National Security Council. Here, we can actually say what we’re thinking.”

Paul Dunn didn’t reply, and Wolffer continued, “There has always been some concern about the level of radioactive fallout as well as climatic changes… thus, the existence of a primary list and a supplementary list. Plus, of course, not all Islamic countries are harboring terrorists, or are unfriendly to the U.S. But Wild Fire removes much of that debate by calibrating the response to the nature of the attack on the U.S. So, if a chemical or biological weapon killed only, say, twenty thousand people in New York or Washington, then our response would be to take out only the sixty-two targets on the A-list.” He added, “We don’t want to appear to have overreacted.”

Landsdale laughed at the absurdity of that statement, but no one else seemed to see the humor.

Wolffer went on, “As of today, both lists together total one hundred twenty-two targets. We would expect initial casualties of about two hundred million people, and probably another hundred million dead within six months as the radiation takes its toll.” He added in a matter-of-fact tone, “After that, it’s hard to gauge the effects of disease, exposure, starvation, suicide, civil strife, and so forth.”

No one commented.

Ed Wolffer said, “The people who created Wild Fire understood that it was necessary to ensure that any future president, and his administration, did not have to make any strategic or moral choices. If X happens, we respond with List A. If Y happens, we add List B. Simple.”

Harry Muller turned away from the illuminated map and looked at the four men on either side of the table. In the reflected light from the monitor, these four guys, who had seemed a little nervous a half hour ago, now seemed pretty calm. It was like, Okay, it’s here. Pay attention and get on with it.

He glanced at Madox, who was staring at the TV monitor, and saw that Madox had this weird grin on his face, like he was watching a skin flick. Madox caught Harry’s eye and winked at him.

Harry turned around in his seat and stared at the screen. Jesus Christ Almighty. This is real. God help us.

Wolffer continued, “Wild Fire is simply a version of MAD. Actually, Wild Fire was proposed, developed, and put in place by a group of old Cold War warriors during the Reagan administration.”

He stayed silent a moment, then said in a reverential tone, “These were men with balls. They stood eyeball to eyeball with the Soviets, and the other guys blinked first. They have passed on to us a great lesson and a great legacy. To be worthy of these men who have given us a world free of Soviet terror, we need to do to Islamic terrorists what these Cold War warriors were prepared to do to the Soviet Union.”

Again, there was silence in the room, then General Hawkins noted, “The Russians, at least, had some honor and a healthy fear of death, and it would have been a shame to destroy their cities and their people. These other bastards-the Islamics-deserve everything they’re going to get.”

Madox said to Edward Wolffer, “Tell us what they’re going to get.”

Wolffer cleared his throat and said, “What they’re going to get is one hundred twenty-two nuclear warheads of varying kilotons, delivered primarily from Ohio-class nuclear submarines stationed in the Indian Ocean-plus, some ICBMs fired from North America.” He added, “The Russians will be notified, as a courtesy and a precaution, about a minute before launch.”

General Hawkins informed everyone, “These warheads represent a very small percentage of our arsenal. There will be thousands of warheads left, if we need them for a second strike on Islam, or if the Russians or Chinese get any stupid ideas.”

Wolffer nodded, then continued, “Included on the A-list are almost all the capital cities of the Mideast-Cairo, Damascus, Amman, Baghdad, Tehran, Islamabad, Riyadh, and so forth-plus other major cities, known terrorist training camps, and all military installations.”

He glanced at his notes and said, “Originally, Mogadishu in Somalia was on the B-list, but since Black Hawk Down, it’s moved to the A-list to avenge that shameful debacle. Same with the port city of Aden in Yemen-the USS Cole will also be avenged.”

Madox commented, “I’m glad this list has kept up with the changing times. We have a lot of payback to accomplish.”

Wolffer replied, “Indeed, we do. But as much as we’d like to avenge the Marine barracks bombing in Beirut, that capital city is not on the list. Half the population is Christian, and Beirut will become a bridgehead for us into the new, improved Middle East. Note, too, that Israel will no longer be surrounded by enemies-it will be surrounded by wasteland.”

Landsdale asked, “Do the Israelis know about Wild Fire?”

Wolffer replied, “They know what our enemies know. It was presented to them as a possibility. They’re not too thrilled with the thought of being covered with radioactive dust, but they have good civil defense programs in place, and they can ride it out until the air clears.”

Scott Landsdale inquired with a smile, “Ed, do you think I should book an Easter trip to the Holy Land?”

Wolffer responded, “We’re talking about a whole New World, Scott. A world where airport security will return to the level of the 1960s. A world where your family and friends can once again see you off at the gate, and where luggage lockers are not a thing of the past. A world where every airline passenger is not treated as a potential terrorist, and where aircraft safety has to do with mechanical issues, not terrorists on board or shoe bombs. A world in which every American tourist or businessperson is not a potential terrorist target. In this New World, gentlemen, every American will be treated with courtesy, respect, and a little awe-the way our fathers and grandfathers were who liberated Europe and Asia from evil. So, yes, Scott, plan on going to the Holy Land for Easter. You’ll be treated well, and you won’t have to worry about suicide bombers in crowded cafés.”

The room was quiet as Wolffer continued his briefing on the subject of holy sites. “The primary targets also include Muslim holy sites, such as Medina, Fallujah, Qum, and so forth. This alone will take the heart out of Islam. Their holiest site, Mecca, is to be spared-not out of any sensitivity to that religion but as a hostage city that will be destroyed if any surviving terrorists threaten or carry out a retaliation.” He concluded, “The governments in the Middle East know this and asked us to also spare Medina if the worst happens. Our answer was no.”

“Good answer,” said Madox. He added, “I’ve had a lot of unpleasant dealings with the Saudi royal family. Next week, they’re history, and the only good thing about that place-the oil under the sand-will be waiting for us.”

Edward Wolffer ignored that and continued, “The other Muslim holy site that will not be destroyed is, of course, Jerusalem, which we as Christians and also the Jews revere as our holiest site. We expect that, post-Wild Fire, the Israelis will kick the Muslims out of Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Nazareth, and other Christian holy sites under their control. If they don’t, we will.”

Madox commented, “On the subject of cities to be spared, I see a number of Turkish cities on the target list, but not Istanbul.”

Wolffer explained, “Istanbul is a historic treasure, located geographically in Europe, and it will again become Constantinople. The Muslims will be expelled.” He added, “In fact, gentlemen, there is a political plan for the post-Wild Fire world that redraws some lines on the map and moves people out of places where we don’t want them. Jerusalem, Beirut, and Istanbul come to mind, though I’m not completely familiar with the political plan.”

Madox noted, “Whatever it is, we can leave it to the State Department to screw it up.”

General Hawkins said, “Amen,” then observed, “With Baghdad and most of Iraq gone, we won’t need to go to war with Saddam Hussein.”

Wolffer replied, “Actually, we won’t need to go to war with Syria either, or Iran, or any other hostile country which will no longer exist.”

Madox said, “I like the sound of that. Don’t you, Harry?”

Harry hesitated, then replied, “Yeah, if you like the sound of mass murder.”

Madox stared at Harry and said, “I have a son, Harry-Bain Junior, who is a reserve officer in the United States Army. If we go to war with Iraq, he will be called to active duty, and he may die in Iraq. Bottom line on that is I’d rather see everyone in Baghdad dead than to be notified that my son is dead in Iraq. Is that selfish?”

Harry didn’t answer, but thought, Yes, that is selfish. Also, Madox was conveniently forgetting the American sons and daughters he was going to nuke in America.

Bain Madox said to Harry, and to the others, “Sometimes a joke illuminates a truth that people won’t admit to. So let me tell you a joke, Mr. Muller, which, in your line of work, you may have already heard.” Madox smiled in the manner of a person about to tell a good one. “So, it seems that the president-Mr. Dunn’s boss-and the secretary of defense-Mr. Wolffer’s boss”-he smiled again and went on-“are having a disagreement over some policy issue, so they call in a junior aide, and the secretary of defense says to the aide, ‘We’ve decided to A-bomb a billion Arabs and one beautiful, blond-haired, blue-eyed, big-breasted woman. What do you think?’ And the young aide asks, ‘Mr. Secretary, why would you bomb a beautiful, blond-haired, blue-eyed, big-breasted woman?’ And the secretary of defense turns to the president and says, ‘See? I told you no one cares about a billion Arabs.’”

There was some polite and restrained laughter around the table, and Harry, too, smiled at the old joke, which he’d heard a few times.

Madox asked Harry, “Point made?”

Edward Wolffer returned to his subject and said, “Regarding Iraq, ground wars are costly in terms of men, materiel, and money. And ground wars always have unintended consequences. I can tell you from firsthand knowledge-and Paul can verify this-that this administration is hell-bent on provoking a war with Iraq, then Syria, and eventually Iran. In principle, none of us, I think, are opposed to this. But for those of us here who fought in Vietnam-Bain, Jim, and I-we can say with some authority that when you let loose the dogs of war, those dogs are out of your control. The beauty of a nuclear attack is that it is quick and cheap. We’ve already bought and paid for a huge atomic arsenal-we presently have about seven thousand nuclear warheads-that is sitting around doing nothing. For a small fraction of the cost of those warheads, we can achieve monumental results. The results of a nuclear strike are unequivocal.” He grinned and added, “The New York Times and the Washington Post won’t have to agonize over whether or not we’re winning the war on terrorism.”

Everyone laughed, and Bain Madox asked, rhetorically, “You mean, I won’t have to read some bleeding-heart story in the Times about some little girl and her grandmother who were wounded by American fire?”

Again, everyone laughed, and Wolffer said, “I don’t think the Times or the Washington Post are going to send any reporters into the nuclear ash to get a so-called human-interest story.”

Madox chuckled, then looked again at the map on the screen. “I see on the list the Aswan High Dam.” He moved a cursor to Egypt and the southern Nile. “That, I assume, is the mother of all targets.”

Wolffer replied, “Indeed, it is. A multi-warhead missile will take out that dam and send billions of gallons of water rushing down the Nile, which will, in effect, wipe out Egypt, killing perhaps forty to sixty million people as it floods the Nile Valley on its way into the Mediterranean. This will be the largest single loss of life and property-and there are no oil fields there. Unfortunately, we have to accept the loss of thousands of Western tourists, archeologists, businesspeople, and so forth, along with the loss of historical sites.” He added, “The pyramids should survive.”

Madox said, “Ed, I see that several Egyptian cities along the Nile Valley are on the list to be hit with nuclear warheads. Considering that the Aswan waters will sweep away those cities, aren’t the missiles redundant? Or are they biblical?”

Wolffer glanced at his friend and replied, “I never thought about that.” He considered a moment, then said, “I suppose the floodwaters will put out the fires in the burning cities.”

Madox commented, “That’s too bad.”

Wolffer went on, “Some bad news, as I’ve alluded to, is that a great number of Westerners will be killed in this attack. Tourists, businesspeople, expats, embassy people, and so forth. That number could easily reach a hundred thousand, many of them Americans.”

No one commented on that statement.

Wolffer continued, “Unfortunately, too, we can’t predict when these areas will again be habitable or socially stable enough to get the oil flowing. A Defense Department analysis, however, predicts that there will not be much shortfall in global or national needs because these countries which produce the oil will no longer be using any. Therefore, oil from other sources, along with reserves, should be sufficient to meet any short-term demands in America and Western Europe.” He added, “The Saudi oil will probably be available to us first-within two years.”

Madox interjected, “You government people should speak to us in the private sector. My analysis is that Saudi oil will be on board tankers and coming this way in about a year. I think we can get a hundred dollars a barrel, if we exaggerate the post-nuclear-war problems of pumping and shipping.”

Wolffer hesitated, then said, “Bain, the Defense Department is thinking more in terms of twenty dollars a barrel, since we’d be controlling all aspects of pumping and shipping. The idea is that we’ll need cheap oil to help revive the American economy, which we predict will go into a severe slump after two American cities suffer nuclear devastation.”

Bain Madox waved his hand and said, “I think that’s also an exaggeration. You’ll see a stock-market slump of a few thousand points for less than a year. Some cities will experience a population flight for a few months, the way New York did post-9/11. But after it becomes clear that the enemy is dead and buried, you will see an American renaissance that will amaze the world.” He said to Wolffer, “Don’t be pessimistic. If the collapse of the Soviet Union was the dawn of the American century, then the obliteration of Islam will usher in the millennium of American peace, prosperity, and confidence. Not to mention unrivaled power. The American millennium will make the Roman Empire look like a third-world country.”

No one commented, so Madox continued, “Things will be different. The last global threat to America will be gone, and the entire nation will rally around the government, as it did post-9/11 and post-Pearl Harbor. The internal enemies of America, including the growing Muslim population, will be dealt with without protest. And you won’t be seeing any anti-war demonstrations in America, or anywhere in the world. And those bastards around the world who danced in the streets after 9/11 will be either dead or kissing our feet.”

He took a breath and spoke rapidly. “And the Europeans will shut their mouths for a change, and then it will be Cuba’s turn, then North Korea. And the Russians will keep their mouths shut as well. Because after we go nuclear once, everyone will understand that we will do it again. And when the time is right, we will smother the China problem in its cradle before it grows up to challenge us.”

Harry Muller watched the other men as Madox continued his tirade. It seemed to Harry that the other guys were a little uncomfortable now that Madox had taken off from the Islamic terrorist problem and was finding new enemies to kill. And then there was the oil thing, which Harry thought was at least as important to Bain Madox and Global Oil Corporation as getting rid of terrorists. Harry already knew this guy was nuts, but now he was seeing how nuts-and so were Madox’s buddies.

Madox stood, and his voice became strident. “And as a Vietnam veteran, I tell you, we will also redeem our lost honor when American troops march into Saigon and Hanoi without a peep from China or anyone.”

He looked at his four colleagues and concluded, “For us not to go nuclear-for us to continue this fight against our enemies by conventional and diplomatic means, to waste lives and treasure in this battle, to prolong it without a clear victory in sight-is morally wrong. We have the means to end this quickly, decisively, and cheaply through the use of nuclear weapons that we already possess. To not use these weapons against people who would use them against us if they could would be national suicide, a strategic blunder, an affront to common sense, and an insult to God.”

Bain Madox sat down.

The room was still.

Harry Muller studied the faces in the dim light and said to himself, Yeah, they know he’s nuts. But they don’t care because he’s just saying what they’re thinking.

Bain Madox lit a cigarette and said matter-of-factly, “Okay, let’s talk now about which American cities need to be sacrificed, and how and when we’re going to do that.”