He wouldn’t let it get to that point. If there were no other choice, he would take himself out of the picture.
He tried not to think about it anymore, Alex went to his favorite restaurant, a small place that specialized in Italian cooking. Maybe he would make it his last meal if it came to that.
He returned home, read the newspaper, and went to bed with only one sleeping pill and no Scotch chaser this time. He would call Roger at the Pentagon in the morning. If there was something going on or on the radar screen this man would know it.
His sleep was filled with horrific imagery that he could not erase as he tossed fitfully throughout the night.
“Alex Hanken how the hell are you, this can’t be you, I have you third on my list to call today, you’re not only the best damn logistics mind I ever met, but now you are some kind of psychic.”
“I’m on your call list? Roger, what’s going on?”
“I’m not the one you want to talk to. Please hold for the Chairman.”
“Roger, wait—“
But Roger was already gone. A few moments later, Alex heard the familiar voice of Admiral Evan Torrance, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
“Alex,” he said, “What a hell of coincidence. We’ve got something important to ask of you.”
“Is it about incoming asteroids?”
“How the hell—“
Alex relayed the conversation between the two professors. There was silence for a moment, then…“Goddamn scientists. Alex get your butt on a plane to Andrews AFB pronto, leave right now, drop whatever you’re doing, talk to no one about this. You are hereby put on notice that this is covered by the US Secrets Act. You’re in Sacramento right?”
“Yes sir.”
“All right get to Beale AFB, I’ll have a staff Lear waiting for you.”
“Yes sir, I’ll leave immediately.”
Okay, obviously Admiral Torrance knew what was going on. And he had some role for Alex to play. Alex found himself relieved for the first time in the last two days. Actually having something to do meant that, at least he wasn’t going to be helpless.
After a little thought, Alex packed his uniform which still fit him like a glove, a few days’ necessaries, and headed out the door for Beale AFB. Roger had mentioned logistics. When Alex had been assigned to Southern Command in 1992, he’d headed up logistics for the upcoming Iraq war. The air and ground war was short-lived, but Alex had proved invaluable to the upper brass, and Admiral Torrance had noticed. Now the Admiral was the man in charge, with the entire military at his disposal. It was flattering that he would come to Alex with this.
Of course, with something like this, you’d want to go with someone you could trust. This all had to be need-to-know.
Alex rolled up to the front gate at Beale AFB and an airman with an M-16 assault rifle stepped toward his car. Alex showed him his identification card.
“Yes sir, General Hanken, we‘ve been expecting you. If you’ll follow that air police car, he’ll escort you to the flight line where base Commander Campbell is waiting.”
“Thank you airman.”
The air police car sped off with his light bar flashing with Alex following closely behind. They traversed the expansive base in minutes winding between hangars until finally stopping by an awaiting C-21 Lear. An airman came forward, threw a salute, and grabbed Alex’s bags. Then the base commander introduced himself shouting over the Lear’s engines that were in warm up stage.
“General Hanken, when the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff calls and says do something, you don’t question it, you just do it. I took the liberty of having my pilot and co-pilot available to fly you there is that okay?”
“I appreciate your help General Campbell, I have a lot on my mind right now and I could use the time to relax a little, thank you.”
With that Alex boarded the plane and after a short preflight check the sleek jet lifted off for the six hour flight to Andrews AFB. It was 10:30 a.m. there on the west coast, it would be dark by the time he landed and walked into the Pentagon.
Alex tried his best to clear his mind, but there were too many things coming at him. He thought of the tough times the country had been through these last few years. For the seventh year in a row the United States congress promised to tackle the energy crisis facing the nation, and it looked like they weren’t getting any further than they ever had. While most of the industrialized nations had already put in place new and innovative approaches to curb their nation’s dependence on imported oil, the US was still embroiled in special interest infighting over environmental issues versus costs. Crude oil traded at three-hundred dollars a barrel and gasoline prices at the pump reached eleven dollars a gallon. Still, the oil companies insisted the rise in prices was a supply and demand issue, never mind the fact that the five largest domestic oil companies made a combined $185 billion dollars in profits the previous year. The US economy had slipped into a deep recession in early 2007, in late 2008 the entire world’s financial system seized, drastic moves by central banks across the globe averted the potential calamity, but the die was cast. Millions had lost their jobs, the US automobile industry had to be bailed out along with nearly all of the large banks, and the national debt soared undermining the dollar.
Austerity measures had only prolonged the problem, cutting social services without creating jobs. Talk of more government intervention and nationalizing of certain industries sparked sharp debates among those moneyed interests that would be affected. The US was on the brink of financial collapse until the Saudi’s and the Chinese recognized that a healthy US economy was in their best interest, and pumped six trillion dollars into the US in 2013. It staved off the worst of the disaster but didn’t solve the underlying problem. The airlines, crippled by rising fuel costs and the prolonged recession, were nationalized in 2014.
And this steaming mass of conflicting interests, dwindling resources and unparalleled greed competed against a healthy world economy that was needed to stave off the disaster. But now that was assuming a disaster of another kind could be staved off, a disaster that would make all others pale by comparison.
Chapter 2
Finding Cover
President Owen Betts slumped at his desk in the oval office, oblivious to the array of advisors on the couch in front of him. So many questions kept circling in his mind. How could they prepare? Could they prepare? How do you break it to the world’s population that civilization might end without creating a panic that would, itself, end civilization? How could he maintain enough control to save what could be saved? Clearly this all had to be kept under wraps now—you don’t tell people a disaster is coming until you can tell them what can be done to avert it. Should he tell other heads of state? They would need a chance to prepare, but the more people who knew; the more likely it was the news would leak.
What about the upcoming election campaign? Should he run again? It would be a huge distraction, but it might create a frenzy of investigations if he announced he wasn’t running. Somebody would probably break under the pressure, that famous unnamed White House source.
The President rose from his desk and walked to the windows that looked out onto the White House grounds, his hands clasped behind his back. He stood there for a few moments, then turned to National Security Advisor Arlen Hendry.
“Arlen, implement COP at Mount Weather. Selection only—no contacts, just compile the lists and locations, and give me timeframes for implementation and the hierarchy who are essential to implementation. Can you have that to me end of business tomorrow?”
“It will be on your desk, Mr. President.”
“Allen,” the President said. “Mount Weather is your facility; I want you to put in place an operational readiness test that is to last