Codename: Baggage Handler

Codename: Baggage Handler

"The President of the United States, I'm the President of the United States!" She thought to herself as she looked out the window of the Oval Office staring across the perfectly kept White House lawn bathed in the cool clear morning sunlight. "How do they keep the lawn so green?" She asked herself. "It's January!"

Rather than think of her new job that she had officially held now for less than 22 hours, she wanted to think of anything else. On the big desk behind her was a stack of secret files. The last one she had read, just a few minutes ago, had hit a bad chord. A Secret Service Agent crossed very near the window. It didn't really startle her but it did break her stare. "Back to work." She said softly out loud while turning and sitting back down in the big chair. She again picked up the folder that had sent her to the window in the first place. She looked at the cover and studied the emblem of the FBI. She did not want to look at it again but she had to. She turned to page two, again. She could not believe how profoundly a simple number could affect her, but there it was; "19."

She read through the supporting documentation in disbelief. The FBI believes that somewhere in North America, in locations unknown to our government, there are at least nineteen suitcase size Atomic Bombs. They believe that in the sixties and seventies the Soviet Union produced at least thirty to one hundred of them. There are at least two different models. The large attaché size bomb yields less than the equivalent of one kiloton of TNT and the full suitcase size would be equivalent to five kilotons. As nuclear weapons go, the yields are small. (The Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombs were about fifteen kilotons each and current missile launched bombs are in the megatons.) If either of the models were exploded at street level, their power would be diminished by the number and construction of the walls around them. The blast radius of the small one would be about 500 feet and the big one about 1400 feet. Best case scenario for the explosion would be in the subway; blast deaths in the hundreds, radiation deaths in the single thousands; worst case, the observation deck of the Empire State Building; blast deaths, tens of thousands, radiation deaths, hundreds of thousands depending on the wind, of course.

It is believed that the Soviets brought the nukes here via diplomats who used diplomatic immunity as a cover. At least two suitcase bombs were brought to each of their ten consulates and embassies in the U.S., Canada, and Mexico. (As a side note, though unsubstantiated, some believe that the Soviets planted multi-megaton bombs in their New York and San Francisco Embassies.) When the Soviet Union collapsed many of their spies and the suitcase bombs disappeared.

Until yesterday no one could be absolutely sure that this threat truly existed. Last night one of these bombs was discovered by the FBI. It was a five kiloton full suitcase size weapon measuring 24 X 27 X 12 inches and weighed 55 pounds. A brass plaque riveted to the outside of the case had a number stamped on it; "0027." Radiation was measured and found to be lethal to humans if exposed to the case for more than a week or so. The bomb was found under the bed of a known former Soviet spy. The FBI had the subject under observation and entered his hotel room after the subject broke his usual routine for several days. The subject had succumb to radiation sickness.

The FBI proposes the allocation of funds for the creation of a special team to be trained and sent into the field to find and secure these devices. The proposal calls for the team to be composed of three members, one from each of the CIA, FBI, and NSA. Cooperation would be the key to success. There would be no interdepartmental delays that might cause the deaths of thousands of Americans.

She dropped the file on her desk and exhaled audibly as she leaned back in her chair. She looked up at the ornate cornice that surrounded the room. "What do I do about this?" Sitting forward again she pressed the intercom button on her phone. "Alice?" She asked.

"Yes, Madame President," was the quick response.

"What's for lunch?"

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