AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"No, sir. At the moment, the Wyoming blast is the only one."
"I thought the Kaiten Project was on hold for forty-eight hours."
"It is," Jordan said firmly. "There hasn't been enough time for them to reprogram the codes."
"How do you see it, Ray?"
"I've talked to Percy Nash. He thinks the bomb was detonated on site with a highpowered rifle."
"By a robot?"
"No, a human."
"So the kamikaze phenomenon is not dead."
"It would seem so."
"Why this suicidal tactic now?" asked the President.
"Probably a warning. They're reasonably certain that we have Suma, and they're hedging their bets by trying to fake us out of a nuclear strike while they desperately struggle to reprogram the detonation codes for the entire system."
"They're doing a darn good job of it."
"We're sitting in the driver's seat, Mr. President. We now have every excuse in the world to retaliate with a nuclear strike."
"All too true, but what solid proof do you have that the Kaiten Project isn't operational? The Japs might have pulled off a minor miracle and replaced the codes. Suppose they're not bluffing?"
"We have no hard evidence," Jordan admitted.
"If we launch a warhead missile on Soseki Island and the Dragon Center controllers detect its approach, their final act will be to signal the bomb cars to be detonated before the robots can drive them to isolated destinations around the country."
"A horrible thought, Mr. President. Made even more so by the known locations of the bomb cars.
Most of them are hidden in and around metropolitan cities."
"Those cars must be found and their bombs neutralized as quickly and quietly as possible. We can't afford to have this horror leak to the public, not now."
"The FBI has sent an army of agents out in the field to make a sweep."
"Do they know how to dismantle the bombs?'
"Each team has a nuclear physicist to handle that job."
Jordan could not see the worry lines on the President's face
"This will be our last chance, Ray. Your new plan is the last roll of the dice."
"I'm fully aware of that, Mr. President. By this time tomorrow morning we'll know if we're an enslaved nation."
At almost the same moment, Special Agent Bill Frick of the FBI and his team were converging on the vault that held the bomb cars in the underground parking area of the Pacific Paradise hotel in Las Vegas.
There were no guards and the steel doors were unlocked. A bad omen, thought Frick. His apprehension increased when his electronics men found the security systems turned off.
Cautiously he led his team through doors into what looked to be an outer supply room. On the far side was a large metal door that was rolled into the ceiling. It yawned wide and high enough to pass a highway semitrailer.
They entered a huge vaultlike space and found it completely empty, not even a scrap of trash or a cobweb was evident. It had been scrubbed clean.
"Maybe we're in the wrong area," said one of Frick's agents hopefully.
