The Trident Deception by Rick Campbell Page A

against his neck. The warmth spread quickly throughout his body. Retrieving the largest inhaler, Mike stood again, slowly walking behind the two rows of watchstanders as he pressed the inhaler plunger, releasing the odorless gas into the room.
    *   *   *
    Agent Kenney’s face displayed no hint of emotion at Christine’s explanation of digashi . “I wasn’t aware we had nuclear first-strike options.”
    “Technically, there’s no difference,” Christine replied. “It’s a matter of timing. The launch orders are the same. Whether it’s a first strike or a retaliatory depends on who launches first.”
    Kenney nodded, absorbing the perspective. He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out an envelope, retrieving a single piece of paper and handing it to Christine.
    “This is the content of the encrypted file. We’re running background checks on these individuals, but are any of these names familiar?”
    Christine studied the list of ten men and women. “I’m afraid not.”
    “What about the letters ‘I S’?”
    Looking at the list again, Christine noticed each name was preceded by the letters I S. The letters could represent any number of things, and without additional clues she drew a blank.
    “Let me see what I can find out.” She placed the paper near her keyboard, selected the appropriate window on her monitor, then typed in the first name on the list. The defense personnel database responded immediately.
    Ronald Cobb—NMCC
    She typed in the second name.
    Andrew Bloom—NMCC
    After she’d typed in the third name, her stomach tightened.
    Bradley Green—NMCC
    She stopped after the fourth entry.
    Kathy Leenstra—NMCC
    Kenney watched as Christine sat there, no longer typing. “What is it, Miss O’Connor?”
    Christine turned in her chair, facing Kenney again. “These individuals are employees at the National Military Command Center in the Pentagon, responsible for generating nuclear strike messages to our intercontinental ballistic missile silos, B-2 bombers, and Trident submarines.” She stared at the list again, trying to figure out the meaning of “I S” in front of each name. Her eyes widened as it dawned on her.
    Inner safe.
    Nuclear launch orders would not be considered valid unless the code at the bottom of the message matched the codes contained in double-walled safes in the missile silos, bombers, and submarines, with no one person having both combinations. The only way to write a valid order was to open both safe doors in NMCC, allowing access to the sealed codes inside. These ten men and women apparently had the combination to the safe’s inner door.
    Swiveling back to her computer, Christine pulled a number from her contact list. Picking up the phone, she dialed the Watch Captain at the National Military Command Center. The phone rang, but there was no answer. Christine hung up and dialed again. After ten rings, still no answer. She slammed the phone down. “We need to get to the Command Center.”
    *   *   *
    While the other members of his watch section sat slumped in their chairs or over their consoles, Mike worked at his desk, ignoring the phone that rang at the Watch Captain’s desk. He finished the message except for the last part and closed the codebook. Approaching the safe at the front of the room, he entered the combination and unlocked the safe. Inside was another door, with another combination dial. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he pulled out the envelope Hoover had given him and retrieved the single sheet of paper. He ran his finger down the list of ten names before returning to the first. His finger lingered at the top of the page for a moment before he pulled the first inhaler from the kit, the one he’d injected into his neck, plus the third vial, this one with a sharp tip at the end.
    Searching the room, he spotted his best friend, Ron Cobb, the first name on the list. He walked over to Ron, who was slumped over his workstation, and