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"It all sounds too simple."
Sandecker shook his head. "That's only the half of it. The shock waves alone aren't enough to do the job. That's why the bomb must be moved ten kilometers from the plane before it's detonated."
"To where?"
"The slope of a deep trench that travels parallel to the island. Besides producing a subocean shock, the magnitude of the atomic explosion is expected to tear loose a section of the trench wall. The tremendous energy, as millions of tons of sediment avalanche down the side of the trench in unison with the shock waves from the bomb, will create one of the most destructive forces of nature."
"A tsunami," Pitt anticipated the admiral. "A seismic sea wave.
"As the island begins to sink from the seismic shocks," Sandecker continued, "it will be dealt a knockout blow by the wave, which will have achieved a height of ten meters and a speed between three and four hundred kilometers an hour. Whatever is left of Soseki Island above the surface will be completely forced under, inundating
the Dragon Center."
"We are going to unleash this monster?" Giordino asked suspiciously. "The two of us?"
"And Big Ben. It was a rush job, no way around it, but the vehicle has been modified to do whatever is demanded."
"The Japanese mainland," Pitt said. "A heavy quake followed by a tsunami smashing into the shore could kill thousands of people."
Sandecker shook his head. "No such tragedy will occur. Soft sediments out to sea will absorb most of the shock waves. Nearby ports and cities along the coast will feel no more than a few tremors. The seismic wave will be small on the scale of most tsunamis."
"How can you be sure of the ten-meter crest? Tsunamis have been known to go as high as a twelve-story building."
"Computer projections put the wave crest that strikes the island at less than ten meters. And because Soseki is so close to the epicenter, its mass will act as a barrier and blunt the effects of the wave's momentum. By the time the first mass of water reaches the coast, at low tide I might add, its crest will have diminished to only one and a half meters, hardly enough for serious damage."
Pitt mentally measured the distance from the bomber to the spot marked on the slope of the underwater trench for the detonation. He judged it to be about twenty-eight kilometers. An incredible distance to drag an unstable forty-eight-year-old atomic bomb across rugged and unknown terrain.
"After the party," wondered Pitt, "what happens to us?"
"You drive Big Ben onto the nearest shore, where a Special Forces team will be waiting to evacuate you."
Pitt sighed heavily.
"Do you have a problem with any part of the plan?" Sandecker asked him.
Pitt's eyes reflected an undercurrent of doubt. "This has to be the craziest scheme I've ever heard in my life. In fact it's worse than that. It's damn right suicidal."
Running at its maximum cruising speed of 460 knots per hour, the C-5 Galaxy ate up the kilometers as darkness fell over the North Pacific. In the cargo bay, Giordino ran through a checklist of Big Ben's electronic and power systems. Sandecker worked in the office compartment, providing updates on information and responding to questions raised by the President and his National Security Council, who were sweating out the operation in the Situation Room. The admiral was also in constant communication with geophysicists who supplied new data on seafloor geology, along with Payload Percy, who answered Pitt's inquiries on the bomb removal from the aircraft and its detonation.
To anyone observing Pitt during the final hour of the flight, his behavior would have seemed most peculiar. Instead of a final attempt to cram a thousand and one details into his head or inspecting the DSMV with Giordino, he collected all the box lunches he could beg and buy from the crew. He also borrowed every drop of available drinking water, thirty liters, and the entire production of the aircraft's coffee maker, four liters, and stashed it all in Big Ben.
He huddled with the Air Force flight engineer, who knew the C-5 better than anyone on board.
Together they rigged up a cable used for tying down cargo and a small electric winch above the small compartment that held the crew's toilet. Pleased with his unscrupulous handiwork, he entered the DSMV
and sat in the operator's chair and silently contemplated the almost hopeless mission ahead of him.
Cutting the bomb free of the B-29 and detonating it was bad enough, but attempting to drive twelve kilometers over unknown terrain to escape the blast was a very iffy proposition indeed.
Less than a minute after the Air Force transport landed at Langley Field, Loren and Mike Diaz were quickly swept away by a limousine with an armed escort and driven to the White House, while Suma and Toshie were hustled into a bland-colored sedan and driven to a secret destination in Maryland.
Upon arrival, Loren and Diaz were ushered down to the Situation Room. The President rose from his end of the table and came forward.
"You don't know how glad I am to see you," he said, beaming. He gave Loren a light hug and a kiss on the cheek, then embraced Diaz as if the senator was a close relative.
The tense atmosphere lightened as everyone greeted the recently escaped hostages. Jordan moved in and softly asked them to step into an adjoining office. The President accompanied them and closed the door.
