The sum of all fears - Tom Clancy [385]
"Okay, I've seen enough," Callaghan told Griggs. The officer handed him a headset so that they could speak coherently.
"What is this?"
"Just what it looks like, far as I can tell," Griggs replied. "What do you need?"
"Heavy-lift and rigging equipment. There are probably people in what's left of the stadium. We gotta get in to them. But what about the - what about radiation?"
The major shrugged. "I don't know. When I leave here, I'm picking up a team from Rocky Flats. I work at the Arsenal, and I know a little about this, but the specialists are at Rocky Flats. There's a NEST team there. I need to get them down here ASAP. Okay, I'll call the guard people at the Arsenal, we can get the heavy equipment down here fast. Keep your people to windward. Keep your people at this end. Do not attempt to approach from any other direction, okay?"
"Right."
"Set up a decontamination station right there where your engines are. When people come out, hose them down - strip them and hose them down. Understand?" the major asked as the chopper touched down. Then get them to the nearest hospital. Upwind - remember that everything has to go northeast into the wind so you know you're safe."
"What about fallout?"
"I'm no expert, but I'll give you the best I got. Looks like it was a small one. Not much fallout. The suction from the fireball and the surface wind should have driven most of the radioactive shit away from here. Not all, but most. It should be okay for an hour or so - exposure, I mean. By that time, I'll have the NEST guys here and they can tell you for sure. Best I can do for now, Chief. Good luck."
Callaghan jumped out and ran clear. The chopper lifted right off, heading northwest for Rocky Flats.
"Well?" Kuropatkin asked.
"General, we measure yield by the initial and residual heat emissions. There is something odd about this, but my best figure is between one hundred fifty and two hundred kilotons." The major showed his commander the calculations.
"What's odd about it?"
The energy from the initial flash was low. That might mean some clouds were in the way. The residual heat is quite high. This was a major detonation, comparable to a very large tactical warhead, or a small strategic one."
"Here's the target book," a lieutenant said. It was just that, a cloth-bound quarto-sized volume whose thick page's were actually fold-out maps. It was intended for use in strike-damage evaluation. The map of the Denver area had a plastic overlay that showed the targeting of Soviet strategic missiles. A total of eight birds were detailed on the city, five SS-18s and three SS-19s, totalling no fewer than sixty-four warheads and twenty megatons of yield. Someone, Kuropatkin reflected, thought Denver a worthy target.
"We're assuming a ground-burst?" Kuropatkin asked.
"Correct," the major replied. He used a compass to draw a circle centered on the stadium complex. "A two-hundred-kiloton device would have a lethal blast radius this wide "
The map was color-coded. Hard-to-kill structures were colored brown. Dwellings were yellow. Green denoted commercial and other buildings deemed easy targets to destroy. The stadium, he saw, was green, as was nearly everything immediately around it. Well inside the lethal radius were hundreds of houses and low-rise apartment buildings.
"How many in the stadium?"
"I called KGB for an estimate," the lieutenant said. "It's an enclosed structure - with a roof. The Americans like their comforts. Total capacity is over sixty thousand."
"My God," General Kuropatkin breathed. "Sixty thousand there at least