Independence Day by Ben Coes Page A

disappeared.
    Parizeau picked up his phone.
    “Get me Mark Raditz over at the Pentagon.”
    *   *   *
    Mark Raditz, the deputy secretary of defense, sat behind his desk on the second floor of the Pentagon. His phone buzzed.
    “Mark,” said Raditz’s assistant, Beth. “Will Parizeau is on one.”
    “Who?”
    “Will Parizeau. Ukraine desk at DIA.”
    “Put him through.”
    Raditz flipped on a tan plastic device that looked like a large radio. It was an air filtration machine. He opened the top drawer of his desk and removed a pack of Camel Lights. He stuffed a cigarette between his lips, then lit it. He sat down on his large red leather desk chair, leaned back, and put his cowboy boots up on the desk.
    “What is it, Will?” asked Raditz, crossing his legs, yawning slightly. “How’s the Ukraine these days?”
    “We have a rover,” said Parizeau.
    Raditz was still for a brief instant, then lurched up and leaned over the phone console on his desk.
    “Come again?” Raditz said.
    “There’s a nuclear bomb missing. This is one of four devices we believe Ukraine still possesses.”
    “Where and when were the last hard readings made?”
    “As of four days ago, the two bombs we believe to be housed at a warehouse south of Kiev were both present and accounted for. Plutonium depletion levels have dropped by fifty percent as of two this morning. One of the bombs is gone, sir.”
    Raditz took a last puff on his cigarette. He lifted his left foot and stubbed the cigarette out on the bottom of his boot.
    “Will, I’m about to walk into Harry Black’s office across the hall from mine,” said Raditz, referring to the secretary of defense. “In turn, Secretary Black will call the president of the United States. Are you one hundred percent goddam motherfucking absolutely sure your math is correct?”
    “Yes, I am.”
    Raditz took a deep breath.
    “Stay on the line,” he said. “I want to patch in interagency.”
    Raditz hit another button on the phone.
    “Get me Josh Brubaker over at the White House,” Raditz told his assistant. “Then get Torey Krug at EUCOM. I also need Hector Calibrisi, Piper Redgrave, and Arden Mason. Better get Sarah Greene at 4th Space Operations Squadron too. Hurry. ”
    “Is everything okay, Mark?” Beth asked, fear in her voice.
    Raditz paused and stared at the phone.
    “No. Everything is not okay.”
    *   *   *
    Within eight minutes, a dedicated, highly secure communications link had been established among the Pentagon, the Defense Intelligence Agency, Langley, the National Security Agency, Joint Special Operations Command Eurasia Directorate, 4th Space Operations Squadron, the Department of Homeland Security, and the White House.
    Raditz and Parizeau were joined by Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Greene at Schriever Air Force Base. Greene was in charge of all Milstar satellites, commanding the hardware group from a highly secure facility located inside a mountain a few miles outside Colorado Springs. They were joined by General Torey Krug, commander of the United States European Command, one of nine Unified Combatant Commands of the U.S. military. Piper Redgrave, the director of the National Security Agency, hopped on a moment later. The head of the Department of Homeland Security, Arden Mason, called in from the border of Mexico. Last on was Calibrisi, who was joined by Bill Polk, who ran National Clandestine Services for the CIA.
    A variety of other senior-level staffers from the different agencies were on as well. Finally, Josh Brubaker, White House national security advisor, came on the line from the West Wing.
    “Hi, everyone,” said Brubaker. “What do we got, Mark?”
    “Ukraine,” answered Raditz. “We have a nuclear device that’s on the move. Will, give everyone the details.”
    “Milstar night scans picked up material geographic displacement,” said Parizeau, “signifying the movement of a nuclear device. This is an RDS-4, one of the so-called Tatyana bombs,