Assault on Alpha Base (3 page)

“Ooof!” Vikki was hit in the side of her face by an elbow; she kicked out and held on to Harding’s hand. The crowd continued to jump up and down, unmindful of their flight.

Brrooooooom! Brroooooom, brrooooooom.

Screams—the three explosions set the crowd scurrying backward. People fell, were trampled as the horde panicked.

Sirens, bells, the smell of smoke. Vikki and Harding were halfway through the crowd, keeping up their momentum. Most of the people moved in random directions, unmindful of any obstacles in their path. The wire fences channeled back along East Avenue, away from the golden brown hills surrounding the valley.

Harding continued to drag her along. It seemed like a nightmare, the screaming and cries for help pounding into her ears.

Harding stopped when they reached the vineyards, just outside of the Livermore complex. They turned and watched the people stream past. Smoke billowed up from a building just inside the nuclear weapons laboratory. Alarm bells and sirens ran up the scale as a fire truck inside the fence attempted to quell the blaze.

As they watched, Vikki felt a sudden sense of accomplishment.

Something swelled inside her. She clasped hands with Harding and watched. Guards openly brandished weapons now, shoving people away from the laboratory, beating them over the head. Garbled orders emanated from bullhorns.

They
had
brought the death factory to its knees. The feeling overwhelmed her, the sense of power … of, of
righteousness.
To think that Dr. Anthony Harding had fought, had
won!

And she knew that her life was forever changed.

She finally had a purpose….

Wendover AFB, Nevada

Harding pointed to Alpha Base. “They’re stopping traffic again while they open the gate.”

The guards dispersed from the armored personnel carriers and lined the main gate to Alpha Base. The Bronco led the two flatbed trucks onto the complex, moving past four barbed-wire fences. Men trotted into the area and formed up in a block. Once inside, the gates swung shut and traffic began to move. The flatbeds seemed to disappear into the ground.

Harding squinted at a sign near the entrance. “Turn left. The picnic area is down that way.” Approaching Alpha Base, they climbed to the lip of the crater.

Vikki crept passed the main gate complex while Harding took copious notes. “It looks like one of the fences is electrified. And from the signs they’ve got posted, they probably have the place overflowing with sensors.”

Vikki pulled into a grassy area fifty yards from the fences. A sign read,
alpha base picnic area p-1
. Other cars followed them.

A group of youngsters spilled from the automobiles. The kids wore colored stockings, matching shirts and shorts. A few of the children carried soccer balls. A beleaguered adult yelled shrilly and tried to get the kids to gather around him.

Vikki slumped back in her seat. “Well, what do you think?”

Harding pointed to the flatbed trucks inside the fence. From their vantage point, Alpha Base spread below them, the crater opening up in a giant yawn. The flatbeds stopped before one of the bunkers. A steel door swung slowly open, allowing access, and affording them a quick glimpse inside.

Harding whistled. “Those bunkers look impossible to break into.”

Vikki was silent for a moment as they watched the white canisters being moved from the flatbeds to the bunker. “Are you going back to your original plan of hijacking the convoy?”

“Not with all that security. They’ve got those nukes covered tight.”

“But you just said it’s impossible to break into the bunkers.”

Harding pointed inside the fence. “It is. But look at those security policemen.”

Vikki leaned over the steering wheel. “They’re pretty relaxed.”

“That’s right. Inside the fence, they’re in their own territory. They’re safe, and they know it. They don’t need to be as alert. And this picnic ground—if they let kids from military families up here, you know they think they’re safe.” He reached over and unfastened her seat belt. “Step outside.”

“Huh?”

“Go ahead, get out of the van.”

Vikki frowned, but stepped from the Chevy van and kept the door open. She held a hand up over her eyes and slowly scanned Alpha Base. She nodded to a group of airmen horsing around just inside the fences. Vikki called to Harding: “I wouldn’t think they would be so casual.”

“That’s what’s going to make our chances better. The way to rip off the nuclear weapons is to do it right under their noses. We break into Alpha Base when they least expect it and blow one of the bunkers.”

Vikki looked disgusted. “I’m sure you’re going to waltz up to the gate and ask, ‘Pretty please, can I have one of your nukes?’ Get real, Anthony. Are you going to call this thing off or not?”

Inside the fence one of the security policemen elbowed a buddy and waved at the van.

Harding urged Vikki, “Go ahead and wave back to him. I’ve got a plan how this whole thing will fall together. In fact, you’re the key to how we get onto Alpha Base.”

“I’m not sure if I like what you’re thinking,” Vikki said. “Look at those Neanderthals—slobbering over each other trying to get my attention.”

“Keep waving. After we leave, I’ll fill you in with all the details.”

Vikki forced an insincere smile for the men and waved once more before climbing back in the van. “Let’s get the hell out of here. If I’m sacrificing my body, I want to know how you plan to do it.”

She thought to herself that Harding was getting more difficult to live with; it wasn’t like the days when they were younger.

It had better be one hell of a plan.

Chapter 3

Wednesday, 1 June, 0845 local

Wendover AFB Command Post

Chief Zolley walked McGriffin to the exit. When they reached the corridor, Chief Zolley shooed the security policeman out, saying, “I’ll see Major McGriffin to the door.”

“Very well, Chief.” The man slung his rifle over his shoulder and headed into the command post area. He eyed Zolley. “Mind if I take a smoke break?”

Zolley waved him on. “Go ahead. This will take a few minutes—I’ve got to brief the major on some additional procedures.”

Once the door slammed and they were alone, Chief Zolley turned to McGriffin. “Anything else I can help you with, sir?”

“I don’t think so. It looks pretty quiet around here.”

“It is. Alpha Base is mostly automated, as far as security goes. It’s got so many gee-whiz bells and whistles it will make your head spin. The guards rely on sensors, electronics and autonomous systems to keep them apprised of what’s going on. As a result, we don’t do anything here except keep the Pentagon in the loop.”

McGriffin nodded. “Chief, I’m reporting for duty at 1800 tonight. I assume you’ll be here to help me learn the ropes?”

“Great, sir. I think you’ll enjoy it. It’s not the real Air Force, but then again, I don’t think you can find the real Air Force anywhere. I’ve assigned myself to your shift for the next month. I wanted to make sure I could help out if you needed me.”

“You already have.” McGriffin firmly shook Zolley’s hand. “I’m looking forward to working with you and your team.”

Chief Zolley cracked a smile. “The pleasure’s all yours, Major.”

McGriffin grasped the door leading to the outside and pressed on. He strode into the brilliant Nevada sunshine.

Helicopters swung out from the base, practicing landings in the desert. Their chopping came as a low beat in the distance. From the front of the command post it seemed as if Wendover AFB were just another lazy western town. The absence of traffic and bustling people gave the base a feeling of mañana. Even Alpha Base’s presence a few miles away could not shake the sanguine atmosphere bubbling in the sunshine.

This might not be so bad, thought McGriffin. I might grow to enjoy this place. Even if I’m not flying.

Wednesday, 1 June, 1215 local

Wendover, Nevada

Dr. Anthony Harding wiped up his enchilada combination plate with a sopapilla. Yellow egg yolk spotted the plate, mixed in with shredded lettuce, refried beans, sour cream, green chile, and salsa. He drained his beer and wiped his mouth before speaking. “Where did you find the apartment?”

Vikki studied him before answering. She’d have to get on him about his table manners—he looked like a slob. And slobs bring attention to themselves. “Second and Main. It’s about thirty minutes from the base. I could have gotten closer, but most of the apartments were real sleaze bags. If I’m going to impress these GI Joes, I thought I should try to find something a little more upscale.”

“Don’t get anything too fancy. Remember, you’re supposed to be a secretary.” Harding belched. “I picked up some maps from the park service. There’s a wooded area in the mountains about two hours from here—around Matterhorn Peak in Humboldt National Forest. I’ll check it out first thing tomorrow. It just might do for the staging area.”

He patted his jacket pocket and pulled out a small notebook. He flipped through the pages and accidentally knocked a fork off the table. “What places are you going to hit tonight?”

“Anthony, pay attention to what you’re doing. People are starting to stare.”

“Let them.”

Vikki swirled her margarita and looked away. A sign inside the small Mexican restaurant proudly exclaimed,

Honest-to-goodness
New Mexican
Mexican food: TexMex We Ain’t!

It was lunchtime, and the small restaurant was jam-packed with patrons.

Vikki ran her fingers over the tabletop, tracing out small swirls in the water left from her drink. “There’s a place called Shotgun Annie’s. From the looks of it, it should be a military hangout: rock band, no cover for women, and two-for-one beers until nine. I’ll straighten the apartment tonight and hit it tomorrow.”

Harding held his hand up for another beer. “That reminds me.” They grew quiet as a couple walked past. When the waitress arrived with the beer, he drained half of it. “The security policemen: they’re the key to the whole operation.” He took a healthy sip and eyed Vikki over the salted rim. “It’s crucial you gain their confidence. Get one of the guards to trust you, and we’ll find a way into Alpha Base.”

Vikki drew in a deep breath and nodded. “I understand.” She looked up and wiped a strand of hair from her eyes. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle it. Just don’t you screw up.”

Harding grinned and held the glass up to his mouth. In the background the jukebox wailed a Mexican song. The waitress slid over and shoved the tab onto the table. The paper whirled between Vikki and Harding. Harding said, “Do whatever you have to do, Vikki.”

She stared through him, unblinking.

Do whatever you have to do, Vikki.
The words came back to her.

They were younger then, and more idealistic. Anthony didn’t have his paunch, and as a post-doc at Berkeley, he had swept her off her feet the first time they met.

Vikki had lived in Berkeley since her undergraduate days, never wanting to relinquish the university crowd. It was safe, secure. One degree had led to another—Art, English, Food Sciences—and as the degrees piled up, so did the years.

It was as if she had never really found herself. She had always been looking for a cause, from her high school days in Colorado digging into the environmental issues, to the People’s Republic of Berkeley, leading the activist movement to bring socialism to the city.

But it wasn’t until the post-nuclear freeze movement, NUFA—Nuclear Free America—had caught her attention that she finally really felt part of something. She immersed herself in the activities, attended all the meetings, sat through all the inciting speakers, but still had never committed herself to anything more than just being a member.

Until she met Anthony Harding.

She fell for him, then discovered his Ph.D. from Cal Tech was in nuclear physics, and that abhorred her. She looked at him as an evil wizard, summoning up demons and unseen gargoyles.
Nuclear
was
as inciting then as
pig, the man,
or
the heat
was in the sixties.

If it was nuclear, it was bad. It must be destroyed.

Myopic technocrats tried to push nuclear
down the people’s throats. They surged past reason, circumvented rational thinking, all in the name of the almighty dollar.

It didn’t take Vikki long to introduce Harding to NUFA.

The arguments advanced by Nuclear Free America were compelling, but Harding did not quickly become a sympathetic listener. He argued he didn’t
build
bombs, he just did research with quarks, gluons, and other elementary particles. Researching basic physics was not the same as designing bombs, bombs that killed without prejudice, vaporizing babies as well as soldiers.

But it set Harding thinking.

The Livermore protest proved that he was sincere.

The annual protests at the nuclear weapons laboratory made for an ideal setting. Situated forty miles from Berkeley, the nuclear bomb factory permeated death. The computer center—home of the monstrous behemoths with mysterious names like Cray and ETA—whipped up a frenzy among the NUFA idealists. Weapons physicists with nicknames like the “Montana Madman,” “Raunchy Rhoades,” “T-T,” and “Jimmy L.” were the purveyors of death. And Harding knew that without their computers to design the nukes, there would be no nuclear weapons.

Harding became obsessed with the death factory; NUFA incited him to the breaking point.

So three grenades, whipped high over the fence on East Avenue, put a temporary stop to the nuclear madness, completely destroying the computer center. And drove Vikki and Harding into the underground.

There wasn’t a challenge to bring them to the surface—nothing important to make them appear. Until now.

Until Alpha Base.

Harding needed it. Vikki needed it more. And she was willing to put up with anything to see it through.

She’d slept with Harding before the Livermore protest to help bring him around to NUFA’s ways. Offering her body to him didn’t make him change his mind, change his philosophy about nuclear weapons; but it provided the motivation for him to listen.

She did it once—she could do it again.

Vikki nodded absently and murmured to Harding, “Don’t worry—I’ll do what I have to do.”