Clouds of Deception

By Ray Derby

Standing inside the underground cavern, John Newman marvels at the awesome sight–the largest and most-sophisticated emergency operation facility in the country. The United States’ Continuity of Government programs and federal staffs would soon occupy the facility. His role as architect was almost finished. He’s not aware that Clouds of Deception, swirling and gathering strength, are about to strike a fatal blow to the heart of the nation–the government itself.

President Wilcox’s covert visit to the site and an act of nature suddenly changes Newman’s role from architect to rescuer and protector. The president no longer has the ability to protect against nor expose an imminent threat to the United States that only he suspects. Outside forces are determined that the president will not survive and plan to throw the nation into chaos. Newman is just as determined that it will not happen on his watch.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ray Derby
• Release date: Jan 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9781465705075

Ray Derby

I was born in Sioux City, Iowa. After graduating from school, I joined the U.S. Navy. That started my career of traveling all over the world. Just before my enlistment was up, I flew around the world in seven days. On returning to Sioux City, I married, raised four children and began a career in emergency management. I started as a volunteer emergency civil defense worker, then a full-time civil defense director, and a civilian disaster preparedness officer for the U.S. Air Force. For 26 years before my retirement, I was a federal emergency coordinator for several federal agencies. Over the years, many people have asked why I chose this profession, and I always give the same answer. If I could save one life, all of it would be worth it. What I did not say was that I was out to save thousands of lives if a major disaster should occur. I have never regretted the path I chose. It was a remarkable career that led me right to the steps of the White House. My first novel, THE SHADOW GOVERNMENT, was written in 1999, two years before the 9-11 attacks and the actual activation of the shadow government program. It's a story of fiction that has in many ways become reality. Even so, it's a story that needed to be told. I now live in the Shenandoah Valley in Virginia with my wife and man's best friend...Sassy Lady. I continue to write and find myself busier now than when I had a nine-to-five job. On second thought, I never really had that type of job because I was always on stand-by for what might happen. I find deep satisfaction in writing and hope you enjoy my books.

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

Publishers continue to spew out non-fiction books on the subject of terrorism from anyone that claims to be an expert. However, only a handful of fiction writers has approached the subject and been successful enough to have it in print. For those of you who enjoy reading suspense mystery thrillers, I attempt to write a story that will captivate and hold your attention until you read the last page.

It’s the goal of all fiction writers to tell a good story. However, I like to believe that my books are not the norm for fiction, in that, I strive to present a message for the reader in addition to a good story. I believe that the news media have a way of turning off one’s own thought processes whereas a book with a theory allows one to reach their own conclusions. This novel, along with my others, gives a hint of what could happen if terrorists should attack our country. Should they use weapons of mass destruction, our country is ill prepared to respond, let alone cope with a disaster of that magnitude.

Fiction sometimes has a way of turning into reality.

CHAPTER 1

Ken Stables didn’t have time to cry out before he died. The tremor was so slight it went unnoticed by those working deep underground on lateral shaft number eight, but the damage had already occurred. Several fissures appeared on the ceiling, so minuscule they were invisible to the mining crew working directly below. Without warning, the roof gave way, sending tons of debris crashing down on the six men. The huge cloud of dust rushed down the tunnel, followed by an eerie silence. Suddenly, the sound of wailing sirens froze the hundreds of other workers in the rest of the complex, and fear coursed through their bodies.

John Newman bolted upright in bed. The room was dark except for the red numbers on the clock radio that sat on the nightstand. The only sound he could hear was the soft whisper of warm air from a vent above the bed that caressed his face as it circulated throughout the room. A feeling of uneasiness skimmed across his consciousness, but he could find no reason for it being there. He knew everything was on schedule and that, within a few weeks, his job in the bunker would be finished. Nevertheless, the anxiety continued, and he finally stirred, swinging his legs to the floor.

Christ! It’s 1:18 in the morning. What the hell am I doing? He thought. Answering him, the sudden sound of the siren cleared his mind and he quickly pulled on his jumpsuit and dashed for the door.

He raced down the corridor. The doors on either side remained shut and he saw no activity. His temporary accommodation was in one of the 400-foot-long office buildings constructed to house high-level government officials and VIPs. Although it had been finished six months ago, the spaces are not required until the entire project is complete, so he had selected one office fairly close to the operations center for living quarters.

The sensor to the large double doors at the end of the building triggered as he neared them. They automatically opened in time for him to pass through and leap down the four steps to the outer corridor. He veered right, past his private electric cart, knowing that it would be useless in this situation. He could see that the giant blast door at the end of the tunnel already had been activated and the tunnel was sealed. He had to get to the pedestrian bypass chamber to reach the main tunnel. The mountain complex was a huge man-made cavern, or more accurately, a series of caverns connected by tunnels.

Newman thrust his badge across the track of the security box, missing the guides. He hurriedly reinserted it, and with great relief, heard the click of the bolts release on the bypass door. Impatiently, he pulled on the handle as the four-foot-wide steel door swung slowly outward, revealing four recessed three-inch bolts that had held it secure. He rushed through the threshold and crossed the small decontamination chamber, pressed the escape bar inside another steel door, and entered the tunnel, properly named the main corridor.

People in various colored jumpsuits and hard hats were moving up and down the main corridor. Some were in electric carts and others were running to their emergency duty stations. It seemed chaotic, but to the trained eye, there was a purposeful pattern to the rush of personnel. There was no panic, but the siren continued to wail as if to tell everyone to hurry.

John absorbed all this instantaneously and turned to head deeper into the tunnel just as an electric cart jerked to a stop beside him. He realized that his electronic communications chief, Laura Ford, was hurriedly gesturing for him to get in. She started the cart moving again before he had time to sit down. He grabbed for the top of the windshield as the cart picked up speed. John was always amazed at how fast the small electric carts could go and held on tight while Laura wove her way through the pedestrian and cart traffic like a skilled race car driver, which actually was her hobby.

The average temperature this deep in the mountain was a cool 54 degrees, and yet, even with the breeze from the moving cart, he could feel the sweat forming as they neared their destination. His beeper had been going off almost constantly since the siren had sounded. He finally reached down and pulled it from its clip.

Will arrive in two minutes, out, John said into the microphone and returned the beeper to its clip. He believed it was better to get to the operation center first; then find out what was the emergency.

Laura pulled the cart into a small cutout that could accommodate six of the vehicles, but now there were carts lined up on both sides of the tunnel. The only empty space was next to the steps leading up to the operation center, and the sign hanging above that read John Newman, Director. Before the cart was at a complete stop, he was halfway up the stairs.

Newman entered the nerve center, exchanging all the peripheral noise of the passageway for soothing, soft blue light. He glanced around the room and saw that emergency staff occupied every desk and every act taken was deliberate, calculated. There was no panic; these were professionals putting their crisis training and exercising into positive action.

He walked to his desk on the dais, where his deputy, Ed Woorel, stood at the large center wall map, talking into his head set. The map showed a red circle around lateral shaft number eight. Newman turned to look at the situation board and understood what had occurred. The information was there for all to see—the time it had happened and the response taken thus far. When his deputy saw that Newman had arrived in the room, he came across to the director.

Approaching the dais, Ed shook his head. It appears that we lost Ken Stables and his five-man crew when the roof gave away. The information so far is that the whole team is located in the cave-in. It’s doubtful any of them have survived, but we already have rescuers removing the debris.

Before he answered, Newman reached for the phone and rang the electronic communications section. Laura Ford answered instantly. Yes, Sir?

Laura, turn that damn siren off, and Newman hung the phone back on the hook, his attention returning to Ed. OK, Ed. Are we in danger of further cave-ins? If we are, I need to evacuate all the people out of this complex now.

Ed shook his head. I don’t believe so. Our roof bolt crews are inspecting the ceiling throughout the complex, and no reports of problems have been forthcoming. The screen nets that cover the ceilings don’t show any falling debris either. I’m not sure what happened at the end of shaft eight, but it appears that is the only area affected. I’ll know more in the next half hour.

John Newman reached for his phone; this time he pushed the button labeled security.

Alan Washington’s deep voice immediately came over the handset. Washington here.

Newman glanced at the clock over the display board, and then looked in Alan’s direction on the far side of the large room. Alan, do you have any idea how many people have left the complex since the cave-in occurred?

Sir, at 1:18 AM, upon notification of the cave-in, I directed that all three entrances be sealed. Action was taken immediately. No one left or has entered the facility since that time. Then Alan continued, John, all who have been assigned emergency functions are at their duty stations and the rest are now being held near the east and west entrances. It would only take a few minutes to get them outside if that is what you want to do.

Over the last year, most of the work was finished and the construction crews were gone. The employees left were operational or maintenance personnel. Newman knew that there were more than one thousand people in the facility during any eight-hour shift, and only about three hundred of them were assigned emergency duties. That left seven hundred located at the portals waiting to leave the facility. They responded as trained to do in an emergency.

Newman looked in Alan’s direction. Alan, go to lock-down now. He looked at the clock; it read 1:30 AM, EST. Twelve minutes had elapsed since the alarm had sounded. Send everyone back to work and advise those outside that an exercise is in progress. No one goes out. Those outside can come in, but tell them they will have to stay until the exercise is over. I want no leaks about the cave-in or the casualties until I am ready to announce it, understood?

Yes, Sir. Alan responded as he hung up the phone.

Newman turned to Ed. I want a meeting of all division heads in the war room in fifteen minutes. If they are not available, make sure one of their deputies is there to represent them.

Ed nodded his head and left the dais.

Newman watched the activity for a moment and saw the plotter at the sequence board write in large bold letters Lock-down command at 1:30 AM, completed at 1:31 AM.

CHAPTER 2

John was not sure how the room had come by the nickname of war room, but the name had stuck even before the construction was complete. In actuality, it was a very large conference room that held several hundred people.

The room reminded him of the long unused Orpheum movie theater in his hometown where his grandfather had gone to as a young boy. John wondered what his granddad would have thought about what he had designed and built. He doubted very much if the old man would have approved.

It was the largest room in the complex, almost three stories high, with two tiers of seats arranged in a horseshoe-shape. Communications equipment and other computer systems were located on the ground floor under the first deck. Each system with backups, displayed real-time information on the huge wall screens. The briefing room was one of the two most secure rooms in the complex, and it was for this reason that John had directed his department heads to meet here. The building was fully operational, and the personnel required to operate it had been training at the site for the past six months.

On the ground level in front of the large screens was a curved conference table that seated twelve. Like everything else in the room, it was unique. Each person at the table could communicate with any of the controllers under the balcony, and, for that matter, had direct access to anyone seated on the two levels above.

John reached over and pushed a switch. Speaking into the microphone, he said, Please bring up the overview of the complex.

Immediately, the center screen depicted a flat overlay of the complete project, and the screens on either side showed a three-dimensional image of the facility. At the top of the center screen were the words Ever Vigilant, the code name for the newest and most sophisticated federal. Five years in the making and only a few weeks from completion, the man responsible for its construction sat staring at the large map.

John knew that if the government ever had to activate the facility, several thousand federal employees and their families would relocate here. It would be their responsibility to assist in maintaining the continuity of government programs established to preserve our way of life in times of grave danger.

He hoped the staff had answers to what had happened in lateral shaft number eight, and what had caused the cave-in that had probably killed six workers.

His deputy was the first to arrive. Ed Woorel was of medium height, about five foot eight, a little overweight, short brown hair—but his trademark was a thick handlebar mustache. He moved with a slow easy grace and talked excessively. His southern drawl came naturally from his upbringing in the Deep South. He held a degree in engineering from MIT, and John had selected him to be his deputy at the start of this project—a choice he never regretted. They had hit it off immediately and worked well together.

The director waited as his department heads arrived. There was none of the usual small talk. They were quiet and subdued as they took their seats. Glancing around the table, John thought how lucky they had been during the construction phase. With the massive undertaking and thousands of workers, there had been only two deaths and very few injuries—that is up until now.

The director shook his head, sighed, and said, OK, people, let’s get started. He turned to his chief engineer, Mack Lery. What can you tell us?

Without moving from his chair, Mack looked at the large center map and answered, I’m not really sure, Mr. Newman, what actually caused the cave-in. Nevertheless, I can tell you it should never have happened. In fact, short of an act of God, it could not have happened. As he continued to speak, lines appeared on the map as if of their own volition.

A live television image of the construction crews removing rock and debris from the collapsed tunnel replaced the detailed diagram of the shaft on the right side of the map. Mack continued, As most of you know, that shaft was the last to be dug. With its completion, the mining portion of this project would have been finished. In fact, most of it had already been finished. That’s why it’s so puzzling. Ken Stables is one of our best crew chiefs and one of the most cautious. I know him well. He would not have put his crew in danger. They were starting to put in the roof bolts when the cave-in occurred. As you know, the roof bolts and the protective mesh are the last operations.

John looked at the map and asked, Did we have a camera in the area at the time of the cave-in?

Almost immediately, the diagram on the left screen was replaced with a televised view of a tunnel. At the bottom of the picture a timer could be seen that gave the date and time in minutes and seconds, Wednesday, August 1, 2016, 00.01 EST.

Bring it up to 1:17 AM and zoom in, please. John leaned back in his chair and waited. The six men are working in the small tunnel. There were hydraulic jacks in a flatbed electric cart and six men moving sixteen-to-twenty-foot roof bolt rods from two carts to one side of the room. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary as the men went about their work, then everything went black and the picture ended. John looked at the clock; it read 1:18.52 AM. Reverse the tape to 1:18 and 30 seconds and replay it in slow motion.

Laura Ford suddenly wished she was anywhere but here, and she could see a few others fidget in their chairs as the tape began to replay. They watched in silence, and they saw the six men crushed in vivid detail.

Mack was the first to speak. Mr. Newman, I believe you can see from the tape that not one of those men realized there was any type of problem until the roof gave away. There should have been some prior indications that the ceiling was unstable, but it appears there was not. And, that is what I don’t understand. It should not have happened. After a pause, he continued in a low, sad whisper, Ken Stables was my friend.

John looked at the group, then back to Mack. He was my friend too, and we need to find out what killed him and his crew. We need to know if the rest of this facility is in danger, or was that an isolated incident. I know how you feel, but we must pinpoint what caused the cave-in. If not, this project may be finished before it’s completed.

The director turned to Dr. Thompson. Pete, how are you going to handle this with the county authorities?

Dr. Thompson, a small man in his early 50s, with a bedside manner that endeared him to all he met, replied, Unless you object, John, we will follow the procedures we established at the start of this project. The county coroner has been briefed to some degree on the program, and so has the local sheriff. They will not be a problem. But, the news media will. And, that’s Alan’s responsibility. The hardest part will be notifying the next of kin, but that falls to me.

John nodded and turned to Alan Washington, All right, how are we going to contain this, and prevent the news media from pounding at our door?

We’re not, Alan said, because officially the six casualties did not die here. And, he saw the startled look cross John’s face, something he had rarely seen from this man. He continued, As far as I’m concerned, the six men died in a fiery car crash, fifteen miles from here. They veered off a mountain road and plunged down a five hundred-foot ravine.

Laura spoke up. Alan, the news media will see through that when they find out there was no car crash.

There will be a burned out van with six bodies in it. Alan answered.

Oh! was all Laura said.

Alan Washington dwarfed his chair at six foot five inches and 280 pounds. He was so black his friends kidded him that if he were to go into a coal bin they would never find him. However, only friends dared make such comments. After spending twenty years as an intelligence and security officer with the Central Intelligence Agency and five years as the senior security officer for the Defense Intelligence Agency, John had almost hijacked the man by pulling some very high-level strings to have him transferred to his present position.

In the beginning, Alan Washington had not been a happy man with the new post. He was city oriented, not a country boy, and resented the fact that he was forced to live in the wilds. Alan had said it would cost John for his services.

He was good as his word. Over the past five years, John had lost consistently at their weekly poker games, but they had also become close friends.

John stood up and walked around the table, where he turned and faced the group. I don’t have to tell any of you how important this project is. You have lived with that understanding for half a decade, and so have most of the others who work here. However, if we don’t find out what caused that cave-in, then all our work has been in vain. Mack is right. That cave-in should never have happened. As you know, the rock in this mountain is epidote, more commonly called green stone, and it is one of the hardest granites in the country. The men working in that shaft had not even started to drill the holes for the bolts, so why did the ceiling fall? We can’t assume that any area in the facility is safe until we find the answer.

~~~~

Several hundred miles away in Illinois, at the Mid-America Earthquake Center, the seismograph chart had identified the slight tremor. However, the earthquake, one of thousands recorded each day, was so minor that it received no special significance.

CHAPTER 3

John could sense the emotional undercurrent from the hundreds of workers who were in the cafeteria where he sat eating breakfast. Normally, it was difficult to hear yourself think, but not today. An eerie hush prevailed.

John had only a couple of hours sleep the previous night, and when the shift changed at 8:00 AM, he had ended the lock-down. However, he kept both shifts on duty so he could address all of them at once.

Everyone in the complex could hear him on the PA system, and all work ceased as he spoke. He informed them what had happened the previous night and what actions had been, and were being taken, in regard to the accident. Everyone working in the facility needed to know the truth. He told them the truth, reminding them that the information should not leave the site. It was difficult for John to describe how the bodies were used to provide a cover story, but it was important to the government to keep the facility’s real mission a secret at all cost.

After the announcement, as he sat in the VIP area of the cafeteria, which provided a limited amount of privacy, Ed, Alan, and Laura joined him. Conversation was at a minimum until the four had finished their breakfast and sat drinking coffee.

Ed Asked, John, how is this tragedy going to affect the final stages of construction?

They waited for his answer, but John just looked out over the crowded cafeteria, took another sip of coffee, and placed the cup down on the table. A slight smile crossed his face as he replied, "I talked with the Dragon Lady shortly after the accident, and again this morning. She’s not in a happy mood, and I’m not sure if it was because I woke her up in the middle of the night or because the news was bad. By the way, Alan, she liked your solution for the news media, not linking the deaths to this facility. She thought it was a brilliant idea, and when I pointed out I thought it was a disrespectful way to handle the bodies of staff who worked for her, all she said