Chapter 9

In the observation room, Mike stared in shock at the damage created by the canister launched by the rail gun. He was not alone. Four dozen men and women stood frozen in place staring at the monitors which showed a bright red cloud of dust that was floating throughout the targeted building. The canister had penetrated the exterior of the building and had blown apart. The red powder that they had put in the canister had turned into a huge cloud. The cloud had penetrated every corner of the building.

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” one of the technicians said.

Shaking his head, Mike said, “I had no idea.”

“That wall was two feet thick,” one of the scientists said.

Mike looked over at the man that had spoken and asked, “That was fired from a distance of two miles away?”

“That’s right,” the man answered.

One of the technicians said, “If that had been filled with Anthrax, anyone in that building would be in serious trouble.”

Feeling numb, Mike sat down on the chair and thought about the comment. As far as he knew, Iran didn’t have any stores of Anthrax spores. He wondered if the Anthrax spores would even have survived the heat generated in launching the canister. That didn’t bother him as much as the thought that the only thing he knew Iran had was yellowcake Uranium. With a sick feeling in his stomach, he realized that he had just watched the perfect delivery mechanism for a dirty bomb.

One of the scientists looked over at Mike and noticed the gray pallor of his skin. Concerned, he asked, “Are you okay? You look a little ill.”

The question broke Mike out his depressing thoughts. Looking up, he said, “I want all of that film and data boxed up and shipped to Langley.”

“Yes, Sir,” the scientist said. He asked, “Do you want to watch it again?”

“No. Once is enough. I hope that I never see that again,” Mike said knowing that it was a slim hope. He fully expected to see that on the news as a result of Hezbollah using it on Israel.

“What do you want us to do with the rail gun?”

Mike sat there for a minute thinking about it. He said, “Send it to Dahlgren. We’ll see what it does to a ship.”

“I didn’t even think of that,” the scientist said paling visibly.

Karen greeted Mike at the door with a long passionate kiss. Even though he had only been gone four days, she had missed having him around. When she broke the kiss, she said, “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Mike said. He ran a hand over her firm ass realizing only at that moment that Karen had regained the figure she had before getting pregnant. She was nursing Robert, so her breasts were still swollen. The two factors made her a very attractive woman.

Even as Karen was about to invite Mike to the bedroom for a proper welcome home as practiced by military wives around the world, Robert woke up and cried. She sighed and said, “Let me feed, Robert.”

“Let me watch you feed Robert,” Mike said seeing the disappointed look on Karen’s face. He had a pretty good idea what she had been about to suggest right when Robert had started crying.

“Okay,” Karen said.

Sitting in the rocking chair, Karen slipped open her shirt and started to feed Robert. She held the baby in her left arm and positioned her breast so that the baby wouldn’t have to work to find the nipple. She sat there looking down at the baby while he nursed with a small smile on her face.

Mike sat across the room watching with a satisfied smile. He said, “When I was a teenager, I used to wonder why artists always painted pictures of women feeding their child. I figured that it was just another way for the painter to get to look at the model’s boobs. It wasn’t until I saw you nursing Robert for the very first time that I realized what a beautiful thing it is. Now I wonder why painters even bother with sunsets, flowers, and landscapes. I mean, what are those things in comparison?”

“I think nursing mothers everywhere would thank you for that compliment,” Karen said looking across the room at her husband. There were times when he really surprised her with his open expression of his feelings. Somehow he managed to balance being a tough Marine with being a caring and giving man.

“There’s only one nursing mother that I’m interested in,” Mike said.

“That kind of talk will get you laid,” Karen said with a grin.

Mike and Karen watched the pullout of the last remaining troops on the news. Mike had been wrong in his predictions of how the American presence in Iraq would end. It was a scene very reminiscent of the evacuation of Vietnam. The entire country had exploded into civil war that dwarfed anything that Mike had ever seen.

As the last detail of soldiers was boarding the plane, Iraqis who had supported the United States were pressed against the fence surrounding the American Base begging to get a ride. It was their hope that they could leave the country before the death squads took to the streets. Mike shook his head and said, “They’re dead.”

“You’re right,” Karen said watching the scene. She was pretty sure that her mother was swearing up a storm watching the news.

“So are the reporters covering this story,” Mike said. Over the past few years, the aura of invincibility that protected news reporters had disappeared in that part of the world. There had been a time when the terrorists wouldn’t harm a reporter because they could be used in their propaganda campaign against the west. Now that they had their own news networks, they didn’t need Western reporters.

Karen said, “I think you’re right on that one, too.”

“I had hoped that the violence wouldn’t begin until we pulled out. I guess that was wishful thinking,” Mike said.

Even before the election, events had been heating up in Iraq as the terrorists came to believe that the United States was going to pull out regardless of what happened. People had called that a civil war, but it was more like a civil skirmish. After the election and the announcement of a pullout date, the violence had increased significantly. What had been a minor civil war limited to a few areas of the country had exploded.

“The Kurds are forming their own country,” Karen said reading the little banner that scrolled along the bottom of the screen. She wondered how Turkey was going to respond to that little move on the part of the Kurds.

“Iran is going to take control of Iraq,” Mike said.

“I guess that is the end of Iraq.”

Shaking his head, Mike said, “No. Iraq will remain a country, but the government of Iraq will be a puppet government that takes its orders from Tehran.”

“Why not annex it?” Karen asked.

“Keeping the two countries separate will give Iran two voices in OPEC and in the United Nations.”

Staring at Mike, Karen said, “I didn’t even think of that. Jesus, Iran could come out of this as a superpower.”

“That’s right,” Mike said shaking his head.

“What’s next?”

He glanced over at Karen and said, “Syria and Lebanon will be next to fall to Iran. Of course, Iran will have to consolidate its position before it goes after Israel. By then, I figure Israel will be in a fight for its life. I can’t even predict what this President is going to do about it.”

“You’re in a good mood today, aren’t you?” Karen asked looking over at him with a frown.

Sighing, Mike looked down at his left hand and said, “I guess so. I donated two fingers to create that mess.”

“Hello, Admiral,” Mike said slipping into the leather chair of the Admiral’s private home office. Karen was in the living room with Sally and the baby.

The Admiral looked over at Mike with a frown and said, “A rather interesting experiment was held today. I thought you might want to know the results of it.”

“Really?” Mike asked wondering if it had anything to do with the rail gun he had sent over to the Navy.

“Well, you were responsible for the experiment by sending the device over to Dahlgren,” Vincent said.

A very somber expression settled on Mike’s face. Afraid to hear the answer, he asked, “What happened?”

“The ship would have been rendered totally non-functional and unrecoverable if the material in the canister had been toxic. Dust settled into every nook and cranny on the ship. There would have been no way to clean it,” the Admiral said. Looking at Mike, he asked, “I need to know this. Where did it come from?”

“I had it constructed based on the designs for one built for Iran,” Mike answered.

The Admiral sank into his chair and covered his eyes with a hand. He said, “I’ve been afraid that it was your idea. I was ready to tear you a new asshole for coming up with something like that. Now, I’m sorry to hear that I was wrong.”

“I know what you mean, Admiral,” Mike said. He sighed and said, “The Colonel says that things like this make him miss the days when we fought real armies.”

“How’s your father?” the Admiral asked. He had meant to swing over to the other side of the Pentagon to visit him, but had never had the chance.

Mike shrugged his shoulders and said, “The last time we talked he said that he was going to retire as a Colonel. His time in Iraq killed any chance of promotion to General.”

Vincent shook his head and said, “I’m sorry to hear that. The President doesn’t like the military and anyone involved in Iraq is on his shit list.”

“At least the President’s attention is being occupied by all of the suicide bombers that have blown up over the past two weeks,” Mike said. The Presidential spin machine was running overtime. It seemed that no matter what happened, the CIA and FBI were the ones at fault.

“What’s the fallout for you guys over in the CIA?”

“Not too bad. Rumor has it that we’re about to lose Madam Director. She’s tired of getting blamed for the President’s bad decisions. The FBI is really getting dumped on. The President blames them for not warning him that there were terrorists ready to blow themselves up to kill innocent Americans,” Mike answered. He knew for a fact that the President had been warned.

The war between the intelligence agencies and the President had moved from the halls of government to the press. Unfortunately, the Agencies were losing the war. The public wasn’t too happy to hear that jurisdiction over terrorism had been transferred to local law agencies. The President, and the Press, justified it because these kinds of acts were a criminal matter rather than an issue of National Security. The public might not have bought that, but they did buy the President’s argument that it was the high handed tactics of the CIA and FBI that was creating the problem. At least, that is the way the Press was covering it.

“We’ve only got another three and a half years before he gets voted out,” the Admiral said with a sigh.

The sound of the saw cutting away the cast made Mike want to look away. He had visions of it cutting through his hand. Regardless, he watched the process as the woman removed his cast to reveal a pale left hand that looked deformed and twisted. The woman frowned at the sight.

Mike looked at his hand feeling a little disgusted by it. His little finger and ring finger curled uselessly against his palm. The little finger set at a weird angle. He said, “I don’t have much feeling in the two twisted fingers, Dr. Schwartz.”

“You suffered some nerve damage,” the doctor said examining the hand. There had been barely enough bone left to set the hand. It was amazing that they had been able to get it to this condition. She said, “I want to get some new x-rays of that hand to see how well it healed.”

An hour later, Mike was back with the doctor. She held up the x- rays and said, “Not too bad. You’re going to have to wear a hand brace from now on to protect it. Another bad break like that and you’re liable to lose all use of that hand.”