Code: One-One-Alpha: A Novel Based on a True Story

By Lisa Moreno and Roger S. Macomber

Dr. Clay Mason, civilian, crosses over into the world of death-defying espionage as he runs the gauntlet of the KGB and Cuban MIGS trying to help a top Russian scientist defect.

In 1986, the CIA found a unique way to advance the secret "Star Wars" missile defense project during the meltdown of Chernobyl. Dr. Clay Mason, a humble Midwest professor, would be called upon by his country to go behind enemy lines on a covert mission to extricate one of Russia's most prominent nuclear scientists.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781667877839

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Monday, April 26, 1999

1247 EDT, 1947 Coordinated Universal Time (UTC)

A tall man, with a slender build and gray at the temples, was leaving the student union after a quick lunch. As he walked toward his office he paged through the latest issue of Science, occasionally smiling in recognition to passing students. He entered Zimmer Hall and walked inside the Department of Chemistry’s main office.

Sandra Pitt, the head’s secretary, interrupted his detachment.

Professor Mason, Dr. Craft wants to speak with you.

Sure, Mason replied as he approached his mailbox, retrieved a pile of correspondence and the latest issue of the Journal of the American Chemical Society. Then he walked to the nearby elevator, looking forward to an uninterrupted hour of reading.

He perused the bulletin board as he waited.

Clay, I’m glad I found you. Professor Karl Craft announced as he walked up.

Hi, Karl. Sandi said you were looking for me.

I was. Have you heard anything about your National Science Foundation (NSF) proposal yet?

No, and I’m concerned. If I don’t get renewed I’ll only have one active grant left.

Craft grimaced. It is getting harder—please keep me posted.

Will do.

As Mason returned his gaze to the bulletin board something caught his eye. It was an announcement under Seminar Notices.

SPECIAL SEMINAR

The Fall of the Wall: The Collapse of Soviet Communism

Monday, April 26, 1:00 p.m., Zimmer Hall Auditorium

Professor Arthur Arpenov

Professor of Eastern Bloc History at Rutgers University

Mason looked at his watch. It was 12:56, and if he hurried, he could make it. He got to the auditorium and found a seat in the rear section, just after the speaker had been introduced. An older man of average height took the podium and began speaking with a distinctly Eastern European accent.

"Thank you, Professor Hollister, for the introduction. It is a pleasure for me to visit the University of Cincinnati.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, 2,000 years ago the Roman Empire controlled the western world from the Atlantic to the Middle East. Over a period of 500 years, it went through a steady and complete decline, leaving as its legacy a millennium we sometimes call the ‘Dark Ages’.

Until ten years ago there was another empire that controlled vast parts of the world from the Pacific, across Asia, to Western Europe. This empire known as the Soviet Union overnight collapsed. The consequent changes radically reshaped the political, social, and economic landscape that had evolved in Eastern Europe over the previous 70 years.

Professor Arpenov began by describing the makeup of the Soviet Bloc through 1987, with the Kremlin’s stranglehold on dozens of satellite countries throughout the world. The Cold War was in full swing, and American President Ronald Reagan was engaged in a dangerous arms race chess game with Russian President Mikhail Gorbachev.

Accompanying Arpenov’s introductory narrative were dozens of photographic images projected onto the large screen above the podium. The images displayed multicolored maps tracing the growth and decline of the Soviet Union, newspaper headlines, and magazine articles proclaiming the emergence of Gorbachev’s policies of perestroika and glasnost. There were photos of Reagan shaking hands with Gorbachev, reports on the Star Wars missile systems, and the ABM treaty negotiations. Finally, there was a frenzied crowd pulling down the Berlin Wall.  Then Arpenov launched into a more detailed analysis of his topic.

As Mason focused on the lecture, his stomach started to churn. He closed his eyes and suppressed visions came flooding back—recollections he’d never discussed with his closest friends. He wondered how many people still living even knew the truth. It was then that it struck him. He realized what had first caught his attention on the seminar notice—today’s date. It was the 13th anniversary of the event that ultimately brought down the Soviet Union.

CHAPTER 2

Friday, April 25, 1986

1220 UTC

A small man wearing glasses and a white lab coat walked down the narrow hallway. He stopped, took a breath, then knocked on one of the doors lining the corridor.

Colonel Zolotkin, are you there? he asked in Russian.

Da, came a voice from behind the door.

It is Professor Zaytzeff.  Preparations are complete. We are ready to begin the test.

The door was opened by a broad-shouldered man wearing his Soviet Army uniform.

It is about time—we are already months behind.

He turned to another individual seated in the room.

Comrade Pudovik, we will finish this discussion when I return.

Yes, Colonel.

The colonel accompanied the professor back along the hallway.

So explain to me again, Comrade Zaytzeff, what I can expect to see today?

The data we accumulate during the experiment will tell us if we can generate a beam of phase coherent neutrons.

If it works, do we have the particle beam laser?

A huge step in that direction, Colonel. Neutrons have no electrical charge, and cannot be as easily focused as protons, nuclei, and electrons. But neutrons do have nuclear magnetic spin properties, and it is these that we are exploiting for the first time. This test will provide the proof for our concept of the particle beam laser.

Concepts are not what we want. We need the weapon that will render America’s nuclear missile delivery system obsolete! When can I tell my superiors that we have it? They have already poured nearly a trillion rubles into this project.

Colonel, we are creating new science here. We know the Americans are working on their own anti-missile concepts, but today we will demonstrate that they are years behind us.

It had better work. This project has strained not only our military budget but that of the entire Eastern Bloc.

The men joined about a dozen others in a large control room. Each person was seated in front of a separate console, monitoring the electronic data transferred to and from the device. Two miles away, contained in a reinforced concrete structure half underground, the device itself looked not unlike a large telescope, aimed skyward at the selected azimuth and bearing.

How long until our satellite crosses the target area? asked Zaytzeff.

Fourteen minutes, six seconds, sir, said one of the operations crew members.

Do we have the satellite data stream locked in?

Affirmative, said another.

Is the device at nominal power?

Sequence checks.

In perfect order, each of the remaining operators confirmed ready.

Give us the count from one minute to intercept, instructed the professor.

Two minutes later a voice said, Sixty seconds.

The colonel wasn’t sure which screen to watch or what to watch for. The professor wasn’t sure which to fear more, failure or success.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, zero.

CHAPTER 3

Friday, April 25, 1986

1610 UTC

A distinguished man of about 60 opened the door marked Director of Central Intelligence, and hurried in. The DCI’s executive assistant looked up, nodded, and pushed the button on her intercom.

Sir, the National Security Adviser has arrived.

Send him in.

William Casey shook the man’s hand, as he closed the door to his inner office.

You sounded worried on the phone, Bob. What’s going on?

He handed Casey a top-secret two-page brief from Talent Keyhole, NSA’s network of surveillance satellites.

Casey read the brief, took off his glasses, and looked up.

If I understand this correctly, one of our birds detected a neutron pulse four hours ago over the southern tip of the Urals. At the same time, one of Russia’s tertiary recon satellites in the area went offline. What do your guys say?

They don’t think it was a coincidence. It looked like a neutron beam.

Really? We’ve tried for years without success to generate linear beams of neutrons. Some of our best scientists say it’s implausible.

Let’s just say that not everyone agrees it can be done, but there’s something more concerning. The spectroscopic signature of the neutrons was unique. It looks like the pulse was at least partially coherent.

You mean they have the particle beam laser?

We’re not sure yet. The pulse was too short, about four nanoseconds. We’re still tracking the satellite, and its orbit wasn’t affected, but electronically it’s dead.

This would be a violation of our Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty (ABM). I’ll include it in tomorrow’s Presidential Daily Briefing (PDB) for the White House. Please bring an update to the briefing.

Yes! The adviser left.

CHAPTER 4

Saturday, April 26, 1986

0330 UTC

Bam! Bam! Comrade Zaytzeff! Comrade Zaytzeff!

Kati Zaytzeff awoke to someone pounding on the front door of their apartment. She faced her 32-year-old husband.

Sasha, wake up! Someone is outside.

The banging continued as Sasha Zaytzeff opened his eyes. After quickly dressing, he hurried to the door.

Vlad, what is wrong?

Quickly, Sasha! You must come now!

Why?

Reactor Four! There is a major problem. Please hurry!

Leaving the door open, Zaytzeff returned to the bedroom.

Who is it, Sasha?

Vlad, they need me at the plant. He kissed his wife, then hurried out.

As the two left in the Zhiguli sedan, Vlad explained to Sasha what had occurred.

They started the shutdown test that Fomin ordered, and something went wrong.

That idiot! Fomin has no clue what can go wrong with an RBMK reactor. Who is on duty in the control room?

Alex Akimov and Leonid Toptunov.

Is Fomin there to supervise?

No, but Dyatlov is.

Great, another idiot. How many people are at the plant for third shift?

About 270.

They sped along the roads of Pripyat, a town of 50,000 people in the heart of the Belarussian-Ukrainian woodlands. Most of the residents of Pripyat owed their livelihood to the plant. Three kilometers east of town the massive nuclear power complex came into view. It bore the name of the nearest large city, 19 kilometers to the Southeast—Chernobyl.

After arriving, they hurried to the ground-level control room of Reactor Four. Seeing the pale faces of the men in front of the control panels revealed the seriousness of the problem. Sasha rushed over to the third shift senior reactor control engineer.

What happened, Leonid?

Before he could respond, Dyatlov shouted, What are you doing here, Zaytzeff?

I am glad you are here, Toptunov interjected. I cannot get the power stabilized.

Where are you in the test sequence?

You are out of your jurisdiction, Zaytzeff! Dyatlov charged.

Toptunov continued, We first de-energized the ECCS…

What? You took the emergency cooling system off-line with the reactor still operating? Zaytzeff was staggered.

Fomin wanted it done this way, so there could not be an accidental flooding of the core during the test.

That is pure lunacy—re-energize it now!

Absolutely not! Dyatlov ordered.

Zaytzeff tuned Dyatlov out. What happened next?

We lowered the control rods to bring the reactor down slowly, from 3,000 megawatts to just under 1,000. We then took Generator Eight off-line to begin the rundown test. The generator ran down faster than Fomin had predicted, so to avoid an uncommanded shut down of the core, Dyatlov had me deactivate the local automatic control system. The core has now fallen to 30 megawatts. The output is unstable and it is impossible to control from the panel.

30 megs! Whenever the core operates below 1,500, you go into the iodine well. The nuclear fuel starts getting poisoned by low-energy nuclear reactions. You have got to shut it down now! Zaytzeff commanded.

Dyatlov countered, Do not listen to this fool. Pull the rods up. Increase power to 1,500; this will prevent poisoning. That is an order!

Toptunov looked at Dyatlov, then at Zaytzeff. He began raising the rods to bring the power up, but even with 205 graphite rods fully withdrawn, the output rose to only 200 megawatts, far short of the 1,500 needed to stabilize the core and prevent fuel poisoning. Only six rods, instead of the required minimum of 30, remained in place to control the neutron flux.

I cannot get more power out of it. We have to shut it down, Toptunov pleaded.

Zaytzeff had his eyes glued to the power and temperature gauges on the panel.

Dyatlov relented, Okay, lower the rods. Shut down the reactor immediately.

Toptunov looked relieved and did as instructed.

Zaytzeff’s eyes froze. The gauges were now displaying an ominous forecast.

Stop, Toptunov! Do not shut down the reactor, Zaytzeff shouted.

With only six rods left in place, a rapid insertion of the others will not reduce power. There will be a transient surge in positive reactivity. It could cause uncontrollable criticality.

Dyatlov had had enough of Zaytzeff.

Call security now! I want this man out! Toptunov, get those rods into the core.

Toptunov pressed the red emergency power reduction button. Insertion began. All eyes were on the gauges. Almost immediately there was the power surge Zaytzeff had predicted. The temperature gauges headed off-scale. The dangerously high temperature caused the control rods to begin to warp, and then jam only a third of the way into the core. It also caused the hydraulic resistance of the core to increase, hampering the flow of cooling water. In a vain attempt to keep the flow at safe levels, the hydraulic operator increased the water pressure to 33 percent above design limits.

The rods are not moving. They are stuck, whined Toptunov.

Zatzeff looked over the condition indicators. Red lights were flashing everywhere on the main panel, and alarm buzzers sounded intermittently. He tried several of the emergency abort routines, but the antiquated computer system was inaccessible. Then he tried the manual overrides—nothing.

Our only hope is to get those rods into the core and stop the fusion. I am going in.

Sasha, no! That is suicide.

We will all be dead if I do not act fast.

Zaytzeff hurried into the decontamination room next to the core access door. Foregoing a protective radiation suit, he grabbed several large tools. Through the window in the thick steel door, he could only see steam. He opened the door, entered, then closed it behind him.

Because of the thick mist, visibility was about one meter. Zaytzeff felt his way to the core, a cylindrical structure seven meters high and 14 meters in diameter, the heart of the nuclear power generator. As he reached the ladder leading to the top of the core, the entire structure began to vibrate erratically. He heard several loud thumps as pieces of the thick metallic lid of the core began to disintegrate. A huge volume of compressed hydrogen gas, generated inside the core from superheated steam, began to accumulate under the dome of the core housing. At 1:24 a.m. the gas ignited, causing a blinding explosion.

The entire core containment structure disappeared. Fifty tons of uranium dioxide was vaporized and ejected skyward, along with hundreds of tons of concrete and flaming graphite. Another 150 tons of nuclear fuel scattered horizontally. The asphalt roof of the entire Reactor Four complex was blown out sending its contents everywhere. The radioactivity in the area around the remains of the core was 20,000 rads per hour, 400 times the fatal human dose.

CHAPTER 5

Saturday, April 26, 1986

1500 UCT

Everyone seated around the large table rose when the president arrived in the briefing room. He sat down and called the meeting to order. One by one, each cabinet secretary, starting with State, gave a terse update of each significant domestic and international development since the previous morning. Finally, it was the director of Central Intelligence (DCI)’s turn.

"Mr. President, I was informed late yesterday that NSA had detected what appeared to be a neutron pulse emanating from a region northeast of Moscow near Perm. This pulse fried one of their own recon sats overhead, deliberately we assume. We know that the Soviets have a secret weapons research center in that area, but unfortunately, we’ve never been able to acquire human assets there.

As the National Security Adviser will describe shortly, this neutron release may be evidence that the Soviets have solved the particle beam laser. Although they will undoubtedly deny it, this appears to be prima facie evidence of efforts to deploy an anti-missile defense system.

The Secretary of State suggested an emergency meeting with the Russian Ambassador.

The Secretary of Defense voiced his objection.

With all due respect, Mr. Secretary, we should walk carefully here. The Russians already suspect that we’ve been working on similar devices.

Yes, and how did they find out? asked the president.

The Secretary of Defense backed down. What do you suggest, Bill?

First, let’s hear what the National Security Adviser has to say.

The president nodded, Bob, it’s your floor.

Mr. President, I can’t add much to what Bill said about yesterday’s event. But I’ve got something else very disturbing to report, and it may be related. Early this morning, near the town of Pripyat in Ukraine, we picked up a massive release of radiation—neutrons, alphas, betas, and all kinds of heavy nuclei. Our infrared satellites show a huge emission at the same point. This is the location of the Chernobyl nuclear power generating complex. There’s every indication that they’ve had a major accident there, perhaps a core meltdown. So far, there’s been no official mention of it in the Soviet media.

The president turned to the DCI.

Have you heard anything from your sources, Bill?

Nothing yet, sir.

Could this thing at Chernobyl be connected to the release at Perm?

The president looked around the table—so did everyone else.

In that case, I want each of you to report anything of significance by tomorrow morning. Meeting adjourned.

CHAPTER 6

Monday, April 28, 1986

The gray morning sky had already deposited three inches of new snow on the icy ground. An old man, wearing a heavy coat and fur hat, walked slowly across the austere campus. With one gloved hand holding a briefcase and the other keeping the top of his coat together, he took slow, deliberate steps. His rounded shoulders painted a picture of a troubled man well beyond his 65 years.

He approached a six-story brownstone building that was also showing its age. With noticeable effort, he climbed the steps toward the columned entrance. Above the door, chiseled in the