“MY COMPUTER WHIZ KIDS rate our chance of success at better than 80 percent. Both NSA and the CIA concur, and it is their assessment this is the only viable option. The Israeli missiles appear to be clean.”
As Holbrook spoke, the President studied the map of the world electronically generated on the glass-paneled wall in front of his desk. Blinking red diamonds pinpointed the location of every intercontinental missile in America’s nuclear arsenal.
My prayers have been answered. The President gave silent acknowledgment to the Deity’s part in the unfolding events, as he picked up the phone. “Get me the Prime Minister of Israel,” he ordered.
His counterpart picked up immediately. The possibility that Israeli missiles might have been reprogrammed to rain down death on his tiny country had aged the man noticeably since being told of the ultimatum.
“Mr. Prime Minister.” The President willed his voice to register calmness. “Our assessments are that your missiles are clean.”
He listened intently.
“I know it is not a sure thing, but it is better than we had any right to expect. I also feel encouraged that your Mossad confirms our assessment.”
He caught Holbrook’s eye and managed a weak smile.
“Yes, Mr. Prime Minister, I agree. The Palestinians would never knowingly agree to such a plan if all they stood to inherit for their trouble were a radioactive graveyard.
“There’s another bit of important news. Our computer people believe they have come up with a way to reprogram our missiles without triggering a detonation.”
The President listened, his face again grave.
“Yes, that’s right.” Once more, he looked across his desk at Holbrook. “Our people say the chances are better than even we can successfully reprogram.”
Holbrook saw impatience wash over the President’s face as he listened to the prime minister, who was famous for his long-winded diatribes on the threat of Islam to both Judaism and Christianity.
“Of course you’re right,” the President managed to interject. “If we can regain our deterrent capability…That’s right; it will take some of the steam out of their ultimatum. They will have to think twice about bombing one of our cities.”
The President squared his shoulders and took control of the conversation. “The primary reason I called is, as I said, our computer people are at least eighty percent sure we can reprogram, but…” He paused again. “The thing is we need a clean missile of relatively low yield in a remote area on which to test our theory.” He glanced again at Holbrook. “Your southern desert seems the logical place.”
He waited, and then nodded vigorously. “Yes, I know there’s a risk, but the Negev offers the safest environment. Our assessment is that we and the other major players in NATO will be the big losers if we fail to reprogram. If the missile should detonate, whoever jumbled its brains will know we are trying to countermand their program and will probably warn us to stop by setting off a nuclear device in one of our cities.”
For several moments, the President listened quietly. “I understand,” he finally said. “You can be assured of our complete cooperation. When the crisis is over, we will move immediately to help you upgrade your nuclear deterrent.”
“Yes, I agree.” He gave a positive nod to Holbrook. “I’m sure this will draw our two nations closer together, Mr. Prime Minister. Rest assured, a suitable way will be found to express our appreciation for your government’s cooperation.” The President nodded to his unseen counterpart. “Yes, it is indeed in God’s hands, Mr. Prime Minister. We can only pray. Shalom.”
“We’ve got the green light.” The President eased wearily from his chair and walked around his desk to where Holbrook was standing.
Holbrook noticed how the strain of the last few weeks had chiseled itself on the President’s face as he took his old friend’s hand and shook it.
“Harry, we’re behind in the game,” the President said. “It’s the bottom of the ninth, two outs, the bases are loaded and you’re up to bat. For God’s sake, knock it out of the park.”
“Here’s the plan.” At the Israeli command center in the Negev desert, one of Holbrook’s computer programmers drew two rectangles on the chalkboard in the briefing room. “We have a good idea of how our missiles have been reprogrammed,” he said, pointing to the two rectangles. “Think of their programs as having two doors. The first we’ll call the activate/deactivate door.”
He marked A/D on the first rectangle.
“The second is the targeting and detonation doorway.” He scribbled T/D across the second rectangle.
“The most important thing to understand is that the two doors are interlocked. When the A/D door opens, the T/D door will go either into standby or automatic mode. In order to avoid a nuclear accident all NATO missiles are programmed to go into standby mode before initiating a launch.”
“You said are programmed, but the programs have been changed.” It was Solomon Levy, the Commander of Israeli strategic defense forces, who spoke.
“Yes, sir, they have,” the engineer answered. “After breaking into our computers, the hackers reprogrammed the missiles. When powered up, they will go into automatic launch sequence. For safety reasons each missile has an overriding thirty-second delay built into the system if a malfunction is detected. In a word, launch, detonation, and targeting programs are reprogrammable but the thirty-second delay in the launch sequence is not.”
“Why not simply key in a code countermanding the launch order?” Solomon Levy asked, interrupting the engineer and turning to face Holbrook.
“That’s a major part of our problem, Solomon,” Holbrook replied. “If we try to cancel a launch, the hackers have warned that the missiles are reprogrammed to explode on their pads.”
“Worse yet,” the engineer interjected, “if the launch is allowed to continue, the missiles have been retargeted to fall on our own cities.”
“Do you think the hackers have a code to kill the launch?” Levi asked.
“Probably,” the engineer answered.
“But there’s no way we could get the code short of giving in to their demands,” a youngish looking American general volunteered.
“Even then you wouldn’t get the code.” Levi shook his head in frustration. “We Jews have had a long and painful experience of dealing with the Arabs. If the Palestinians and the Islamic fundamentalists are involved in this threat, rest assured giving in to their demands will solve nothing, but will only lead to more demands.”
“So we’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t,” someone at the rear of the room said in exasperation as several muttered their agreement.
“Gentlemen, let’s not throw in the towel just yet,” Holbrook interjected. “My engineer here may have found a way around our problem.” He nodded to the man, giving him the floor again.
“All ballistic missiles have a lock-down sequence built into their systems,” he explained. “In the event of a power surge or electronic failure, they are programmed to shut down until repairs are made.”
“So, once the launch sequence has started just how do you propose to shut the missile down?” the young looking general asked.
“During the thirty-second delay, we propose to download a virus into the system we hope will fool the missile’s program into thinking an electronic failure has occurred.”
“Could you be more specific?”
“Certainly,” the engineer replied. “Now that we’re sure your missile,” he nodded at Levi, “has not been reprogrammed, we propose to change its program ourselves to one corresponding to that of the hackers.”
There was a collective gasp.
“You mean you’re going to change the program so that the missile goes into automatic launch mode when powered up?” Levi’s voice was shaking with frustration, and with a look implying he thought the idea insane, turned to Holbrook. “Is the man serious?” he asked.
“Let us explain,” Holbrook replied patiently.
“Yes, let me explain why we plan to do this,” the engineer continued. “After the launch sequence begins, we will have thirty seconds to download the virus into the missile’s brain and fool it into thinking there’s been a malfunction.”
He paused and looked uncertainly at Holbrook before continuing. “Here’s where it gets sticky,” he said. “To avoid collateral damage, we will also have to program the missile to explode on the pad if the virus fails to fool the computer.”
“Only thirty seconds to give it a nervous breakdown,” someone muttered under his breath. “It isn’t much time.”
Holbrook sensed the others were having visions of a mushroom cloud rising over the desert and tried to shift their attention to the practicality of testing the theory in the Negev.
“This location is the primary reason the President requested permission to conduct the test here,” he said. “It is farther from any major cities than any of our missiles, and the prevailing winds aloft should insure little or no fallout on major population centers.”
“But only thirty seconds,” someone repeated.
Levi looked squarely at the engineer. “What if you fail?”
“My friend and I…” The engineer pointed to a young man sitting near the door. “We’ll have to pay for our mistake,” he said softly.
“And you’re confident enough to risk your lives?” Levi pressed.
“We’re confident we have no choice but to try.” The engineer smiled at his friend who had stood as if anxious to leave the command center. “Right, Jim?”
“Right,” Jim replied.
The command center fell silent as each man in the room retreated into himself, searching for courage like that showed by the two engineers.
Levi finally found his voice and spoke for the group. “Gentlemen,” he said soberly, “we have no choice but to try what our friend has suggested. Are we agreed?” A murmur of assents swept the room as Levi stood and shook hands with the engineer. “We greatly admire your courage,” he said clasping their hands warmly.
After handshakes all around, Holbrook, Levi, and the others followed the engineers to their Hummer parked outside the command center.
“You’ll be in our prayers,” Holbrook said to the engineers as he laid a hand on one of their shoulders.
“Thanks,” he replied as he settled behind the steering wheel. “We’ll need them.”
The group watched as the Hummer moved out into the desert, becoming smaller and smaller until finally it was just a dot on the distant horizon, leaving behind only a trail of dust to mark its passing.