Shadow Tyrants (Oregon Files 13)

A moment later, a fit woman in her thirties with short brown hair and high cheekbones appeared on the main viewscreen next to Overholt. She looked wide awake and wore pressed Air Force blues. The silver oak leaves of a colonel were pinned to her shoulder epaulets.

“Hello, Barbara,” Juan said. “Thanks for taking our call. Are you at Schriever?” Schriever Air Force Base in Colorado Springs was home to Space Command’s 50th Space Wing, which was in control of the Global Positioning System. It looked like she was in some kind of control room, so he hoped that was the case.

“It’s good to see you again, Juan,” she said with the flash of a quick smile. “Yes, I’m at Schriever. But you caught me at a bad time. For the last fifteen minutes, we’ve been trying to figure out why we’ve lost communications with one of our bases.”

“That would be Camp Thunder Cove on Diego Garcia, right?”

Goodman’s jaw dropped. “How do you know that?”

“Because we’re about three hundred and fifty miles northwest of the island. There’s a cruise missile headed straight for it carrying a nasty chemical weapon. We’ve been trying to warn them, but no one is answering.”

“I can’t help you. We’re just as much at a loss as you are. There’s nothing I can do.”

“Yes, there is. Theseus.”

She frowned and leaned toward the camera. “That is strictly on a need-to-know basis.”

“Believe me, everyone here has a security clearance and needs to know.”

Theseus was the code name for a special feature of GPS that few outside of Space Command knew about. Since GPS was used by nations around the world, including militaries, it was possible for their weapons to be targeted at the U.S. using America’s own satellite system for navigational guidance.

During armed conflicts, the military wanted to be able to broadcast incorrect GPS coordinates to spoof other countries’ guidance systems, so Theseus was developed as a hidden control that could be activated without anyone else knowing. Not only that, but for a short time it could also confuse guidance systems using GLONASS, the Russian analog of GPS, and NAVIC, India’s version. The software design for Theseus and knowledge of its existence had been stolen when Juan was still in the CIA, and he had teamed up with Barbara Goodman to get it back before it could fall into the hands of the Chinese.

“You need to activate Theseus in that region now,” Juan said. Because Diego Garcia’s location in the southern Indian Ocean was so isolated, the narrow focus of the GPS change was unlikely to significantly affect air or sea traffic. “Redirect the missile at least forty miles to the east.” According to weather reports, that would put the missile downwind of the island.

“What?” Goodman said, aghast. “Theseus has never been used operationally before. It’s only meant to be activated during a time of war.”

Juan got out of his chair and walked toward the screen. “Barbara, if you don’t activate it in the next ninety seconds, over three thousand on Diego Garcia will be killed.”

When she hesitated, Juan added, “I understand this is a tough decision, but you know me, Barbara. I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t sure. This is literally do or die right now.”

Goodman grimaced, then she looked to her left and said to someone off-screen, “Activate Theseus over Diego Garcia . . . You heard me . . . I know . . . On my authorization . . . Do it!”

She then read off coordinates that would cause the missile to reinterpret its guidance programming and convince the BrahMos that it was off course. If Theseus worked as designed, the cruise missile should alter its trajectory toward the new target designation.

She turned back to the screen. “That might be the end of my career right there. And the bad thing is, with the communications down, we won’t be able to tell if it worked.”

“We’ll eventually find out if it didn’t work,” Juan replied. The cruise missile was currently far beyond their radar range.

Hali raised his hand. “I might be able to tell you if it works.”

“What do you mean?” Juan asked.

“I’ve just picked up a Morse code signal coming over shortwave freq

uencies. It’s faint, but the sender says he’s an Air Force sergeant on Diego Garcia using an ancient radio there left over from World War Two that he’s been tinkering with over the past few months. Sergeant Joseph Brandt.”

Goodman gaped again. “That’s one of the communications operators we’ve been trying to contact.”

“Hali,” Juan said, “tell him to get everyone there to shelter in case the BrahMos detonates over the island.”

“Will that protect them from the nerve agent?” Goodman asked.

“I don’t know,” Juan said, “but it can’t hurt.” He nodded at Hali.

“Aye, Chairman,” Hali replied.

“And when you’re done with that message, ask him to tell us if he can see any missiles heading his way.”