Dark Side of the Moon Read online

  “I was briefed on your flight test maneuvers at PAX,” Knox said. “I’m glad you two rose to the occasion—for more reasons than you can imagine.”

  “We didn’t rise to the occasion,” DeSantos said. “We fell back to our training.” It was a saying common among Navy SEALs and understood by all Special Forces operators.

  Knox uncharacteristically broke a slight smile. “Take your seats.”

  McNamara dragged a hand across his cheek. “At 0500 hours a mission control specialist at Johnson Space Center detected the launch of an unidentified heavy lift multistage rocket from China’s old Base 27 at the Xichang satellite launch center in the Sichuan province. We determined it was carrying a large payload.” He paused, cleared his throat. “And it’s headed to the Moon.”

  “So?” Uzi shrugged. “Russia’s Project Luna spanned, what, fifteen years?”

  Knox turned to Uzi. “Those were a very long time ago and were legit scientific missions to study the lunar surface, measure radiation exposure, search for water ice. That type of thing. This is different.”

  “Russia’s sending a specialized module to the International Space Station next month,” Tasset said. “The Agency believes Russia’s going to use it to build their own space station, which will then make it possible for them to construct a lunar base—and use that base to colonize Mars. Both China and Russia are ahead of us in long-term planning and execution.”

  “Are we concerned about that?” Rodman asked.

  CIA director Tasset pushed the tortoise shell glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “We’re concerned about Russia’s aggression. We’re concerned about its unprofessional and aggressive behavior in the air, in space, and in cyberspace, not to mention its nuclear saber rattling. We believe one of Russia’s ambitions is to erode the principled international order—including our own democracy.”

  “The Pentagon,” McNamara said, “is also deeply concerned about Russia’s SSC-8 cruise missiles. Bluntly stated, we’ve got no defense against them. None. And they can be fitted with nuclear warheads. That’s a real worry. As if that’s not enough, China presents a whole other set of problems.”

  “Since we’re all sitting here,” DeSantos said, “I’m guessing that China’s Moon mission is not in our best interests.”

  Tasset smiled sardonically. “General Eisenbach from USSTRATCOM will answer that.”

  The slightly built man rose from his seat. Uzi thought his uniform must weigh twenty pounds with all the ribbons and badges hanging from it.

  Eisenbach adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. “In 1962, President Kennedy pledged that the US would win the space race and put a man on the Moon within eight years. Everyone thought he was crazy—the first car was mass-produced in 1908. The first commercial jet in 1952. But the Moon was 240,000 miles away and we needed to build a rocket the length of a football field, made of metal alloys that hadn’t been invented. And it had to return to Earth by reentering the atmosphere at 25,000 miles per hour while withstanding heat half the temperature of the sun.

  “But we did it. We landed on the Moon in 1969. Nine Apollo missions went there. Twelve men walked its surface—a huge accomplishment. Eventually the public stopped caring about the Moon shots, NASA took heat for spending lots of money to go back to a place we’d already gone, and the last three Apollos were scrubbed. NASA moved on to Skylab.”

  “But the last one, Apollo 17, discovered something in 1972 that’s causing a major upheaval decades later.” Eisenbach told them about caesarium and the magnitude of destruction a weapon produced with caesarium would wield compared to currently available nuclear fissile material.

  “I’m not an expert by any stretch,” Uzi said, “but I’ve got a background in molecular science. There’s something called an island of stability. Are you saying caesarium exists on that island?”

  “According to the briefing we had,” Eisenbach said, “it’s right at the cusp. These superheavy magic nuclei have some kind of new shape to them that prevents them from rapidly decaying. Because of that, they’ve got important military applications, including the development of compact nuclear weapons.”

  “So that’s why China launched this rocket?” Rodman asked. “To bring back caesarium?”

  “Yes,” Tasset said. “In the last couple of days we secured some additional HUMINT. Comes with a high degree of confidence.”

  Knox brushed back a lock of gray hair that had settled over his forehead. “In December 2014 China launched the Chang’e 3 spacecraft, which was the first soft-landing mission to reach the Moon’s surface in thirty-eight years. It deployed the Yutu rover to examine the Moon’s geological makeup and subsurface layers.”

  “The China National Space Administration doesn’t release full information about its missions,” Tasset said, “so we’ve had to fill in the blanks using HUMINT and what we’ve been able to determine by the CIA’s targeted hacks into the administration’s servers.”

  Eisenbach nodded at Knox, who pressed a button on the table. An image of the rover appeared onscreen. “The Yutu carried ground-penetrating radar and spectrometers to inspect the composition of the soil and the structure of the lunar crust. We were very concerned that if they didn’t already know about caesarium, they would—as soon as they began drilling.

  “Our planetary scientists feel that if caesarium was deposited on the Moon millions of years ago by an asteroid or meteor strike, it’ll only be present in a specific area. Most of them thought the Yutu wasn’t anywhere near where we thought caesarium would be. But where it is, and how deep, we just don’t know.

  “So we interfered with the Yutu’s communication array—not easy because the European Space Agency deep-space ground stations were assisting with communications. By the time we got a handle on it, the rover went into sleep mode for two weeks to weather the extreme cold of the lunar night. We couldn’t take any action until it woke up. Even if we figured out how to wake it, we would’ve drawn the attention of Chinese National Space Administration’s mission control. So we waited.

  “Our efforts paid off. China’s state-run media announced that the rover had suffered a mechanical control abnormality from the brutal lunar temperatures and didn’t wake up completely because of frostbite-like damage.”

  “Were they able to get any data from the Yutu before you disabled it?” Rusakov asked.

  “Yes,” Tasset said. “They found some new minerals, but if they located caesarium, they weren’t saying and we weren’t asking. Our HUMINT tells us they didn’t. And it wasn’t until recently that they announced plans to return.”

  “So here we are,” Eisenbach said. “The launch we observed was the Chang’e 5—two years earlier than planned. They may’ve moved it up because Russia and the European Space Agency have been talking about lunar bases and China didn’t want to get left behind. Or they got wind of our plans and wanted to get there before we could act.”

  “What plans?” Uzi asked.

  “We’ll get to that,” McNamara said.

  “The Chang’e 5,” Eisenbach said, “is a robotic ship and rover equipped with optical cameras, mineral spectrometer, instruments for analyzing soil composition, a thermodetector, Geiger counter, and a new kind of autonomous coring drill. Officially, the mission goal is to return samples of lunar regolith from a depth of two meters. It was supposed to land in the northeastern Oceanus Procellarum region, but we now believe the target site was changed.”

  “Or,” Tasset said, “the location was disinformation for cover. The Chang’e has everything they need to mine caesarium, but even if they only bring back half a kilogram, it’d be enough to substantially alter the balance of power. It could be the biggest threat to peace the human race has ever faced. That’s not hyperbole.”

  “So you want us to steal the caesarium after they bring it back?” DeSantos said with a scoff. “They’ll be guarding that stuff in a facility as secure as Fort Kno
x.”

  “We can’t let them bring this element back to Earth,” McNamara said. “Period.”

  “Step one was successfully severing their communications with the Chang’e 5,” McNamara said. “But the craft itself is still operational. Their mission control is blind and deaf, but sample recovery is automated. It can still secure caesarium and return to Earth without human input.”

  “Have we been able to send the Chang’e off-course, into deep space?” Rodman asked. “Or can we crash it into the lunar surface?”

  “We tried,” Eisenbach said, “but so far we haven’t been successful. We’ve got to be careful because certain types of interventions on our part can be traced back to us.”

  “Any chance the Chinese can regain control of their ship?”

  “We’re working to prevent that,” Eisenbach said, “but yes, it’s possible.”

  Uzi spread his hands. “So what are we thinking? Some kind of negotiated agreement to not mine the element?”

  McNamara shook his head. “Treaty discussions, diplomacy move slowly. To give it urgency, we’d have to disclose that caesarium exists. To everyone. Including the Russians, who happen to be looking to expand their territory. And who have strategic alliances with Iran.”

  “There’s another consideration,” Eisenbach said. “The US is the leader in space-based military technology, which gives us tremendous advantages—we can look down on the world with high resolution to monitor our adversaries, communicate and move troops and military assets globally, and so on. But it leaves us open to attack and catastrophic losses.”

  Uzi unscrewed the top of his water bottle. “Because our satellites are vulnerable. They follow known and consistent movements, so they’re easy to locate and target.”

  Eisenbach nodded slowly. “All our orbital assets are sitting ducks for a nation with the know-how to disrupt our ability to defend against an attack or launch a counterattack. Even just jamming our signals, hacking their firmware or operating system, taking out their sensors, or blinding them would have a catastrophic effect on our ability to move troops in the field, navigate, collect intelligence, target, and communicate.”

  “Both China and Russia have been working on these kinds of weapons,” Tasset said. “They have, or will soon have, the capability to take out our orbiting assets.” He let that hang in the air a moment. “We need to act while we still have these advantages.”

  “But the Chang’e 5 is on its way to the Moon,” Rusakov said.

  “We’ve put together a plan that should prevent anyone from getting their hands on caesarium,” McNamara said, rising from his seat. “NASA’s been developing a spacecraft called Orion, part of the space launch system, or SLS. It’s been undergoing extensive testing and has performed well during test flights.

  “The Pentagon has been working alongside NASA and its contractors to develop the super heavy lift rocket that makes up the SLS. DOD calls it the Hercules II. Every pound of weight, every piece of equipment we put on that spacecraft, has to be accounted for. The ability of the rocket to lift that weight is of paramount importance. The Hercules is up to the task.”

  “Have we confirmed China’s intentions?” Rusakov asked. “What if we’re making wrong assumptions? We’re risking an international incid—”

  “We have confirmation,” Tasset said. Instead of elaborating, he reached over and took a drink from his water bottle.

  “In the eighties,” McNamara said, “the Department of Defense built a space shuttle launch pad at Vandenberg Air Force Base in southern California. It was designed for space-based military missions and saw a lot of action for covert launches of rockets, satellites, and other secret payloads. Given everything we’ve discussed, our only viable option is to send a team up to the Moon to disable the Chang’e so it can’t return to Earth. Hector, you and Uzi will be part of that crew.”

  DeSantos’s jaw went slack.

  Knox leaned forward and folded his hands on the table. “Your two crewmates are NASA-trained astronauts originally from the Orion program. They’re also former Air Force test pilots and ex–Special Operational Forces. There are multiple avenues open to us for disabling the Chang’e. We’ll discuss mission specifics later.”

  “When do we report for duty?” Uzi asked.

  “Soon as we’re done here, you’ll board a cross-country transport to Vandenberg Air Force Base,” McNamara said. “You’ll be living at Vandy from the moment your plane touches down until you lift off. A month’s worth of training will be compressed into ten days. We’ll make up time by limiting you to twenty minutes for meals, thirty minutes of down time per day, six hours of sleep. The other seventeen and a half hours will be intensive instruction, training, and repetition. That starts as soon as you board the jet. We’ll put those five cross-country hours to use.”

  “I don’t have to tell you how important this mission is,” Tasset said. “A lot depends on your success.”

  “How do we know that we’ll get to the surface before the Chang’e collects its samples and lifts off?” Uzi asked.

  “We don’t,” Knox said. “We believe their mission can last up to 120 days—meaning the Chang’e stays on the Moon until its onboard laboratory determines the rover’s found what it came for.”

  “So,” Uzi said, “if they hit pay dirt right away—no pun intended—we’ve got a problem.”

  Tasset stood up and moved behind his chair. “At that point we’ll have to decide, first, do we shoot down the Chang’e before it reenters Earth atmosphere and trigger World War III, or, second, do we let them return with the caesarium and risk being obliterated at a future date?” Tasset grabbed the seat back with both hands and squeezed. “That’s why you two cannot fail.”

  “One final note.” Eisenbach looked down at the table, composed his thoughts, and said, “Science and technology are sometimes unpredictable. We think we have the physics defined. We think we have the engineering laid out.”

  “But you’re not sure,” Rusakov said.

  Eisenbach looked up. “We’ve done our best to put these things through the motions, testing tolerances and systems, and we’ve even flown two test flights. But …”

  “Something always goes wrong with tech this sophisticated,” Uzi said.

  “Unfortunately, that’s one of the unofficial laws of physics.”

  DeSantos grunted. “I never took physics.”

  Uzi tossed his pen onto the desk. “In plain English? Despite expert engineering, technology sometimes does unexpected things. Like our F-18, systems fail. Shit happens.”

  5

  Leesburg, Virginia

  FBI profiler Karen Vail followed the SWAT team through the door of the Leesburg, Virginia, home, Det. Paul Bledsoe at her side. Normally she and Bledsoe would hang back and wait for the tactical team to clear the house and apprehend the suspect—a process that could take hours.

  Even though this would have been proper procedure, Vail and Bledsoe did not have time to wait. The life of nineteen-year-old Nadine Palma depended on it.

  Bobby Ray Jackson, the man who had kidnapped Nadine, was here. Vail was certain of that. Six dead women, strangled to death before he sexually assaulted them, were notches on Jackson’s belt. But they had reason to believe Nadine was still alive because that was Jackson’s ritual behavior. He did not kill them right away. He “played” with them, torturing them for five days before taking their lives.

  This was day five in their search for Nadine.

  The two month pursuit of Jackson had thus far been an exercise in futility—until an anonymous tip led them to this heart-pounding moment.

  A noise in the other room—and they both converged on the door, standing on either side of it, before Bledsoe smashed it open with his oxford. It was another first-class breach of procedure, but Vail knew he was determined to act first and answer questions later.

  “Don’t move
!” Vail said, squaring her Glock 9-millimeter on the head of the man they had been looking for. He was in his boxer shorts and a sweatshirt, trying to wedge himself into a closet.

  “Bobby Ray Jackson,” Bledsoe said, “you’re under arrest for murder.”

  He stepped back and slowly lifted his open-palmed hands above his head. “Murder?” Jackson laughed. “I’m just a software coder. A game designer. I mean, I make killer games”—he chuckled again—“but murder? Me?”

  “Keep your hands where they are,” Bledsoe said.

  Vail holstered her Glock, handcuffed the man, and patted him down without finding any weapons.

  Bledsoe took the search warrant from one of the cops behind him. “Everything. Every inch. Don’t leave anything untouched. You hear me?”

  “Yes sir.”

  Bledsoe holstered his pistol, then tossed the folded document on the bed to Jackson’s left. “You’ll have plenty of time to read that over in prison.”

  “I don’t know what you think I’ve done, but you got the wrong guy.”

  “I hear you,” Vail said. “Happens to us all the time.”

  “Really?”

  “No, asshole. Not really.” Vail pulled a desk chair over and gestured for Jackson to have a seat. “So tell us where Nadine is.”

  “Nadine who?”

  “Look,” Vail said, “we can play this game if you want. But I’ve played it so many times I already know how it’s gonna end. I’ve questioned people like you for over twenty years. You really think you can dodge my questions? Fool me somehow? I’m an expert in behavior and body language.”

  “Read all you want.” Jackson shrugged. “You’re wasting your time.” He bent to the right, peered around Vail at the cops in the other room who were executing their search. “You’re not gonna find anything.”

  “You might be right. But we’re still gonna look.”

  Jackson made eye contact. “I’m not who you think I am.”

  “So you’d rather play the game, huh?” She shook her head. She wanted to pull out one of the guy’s fingernails. Make him tell the truth. But she was here as an agent of the FBI, not an operator for OPSIG. Not that long ago, Vail had been recruited into OPSIG, a part-time assignment she begrudgingly accepted—as if she had a choice, which she did not. So no fingernail pulling today, as tempting as it was.