Primary Threat

by Jack Mars

  There were at least a dozen corpses on the floor.

  They were bloody, strewn here and there. The floor itself was red and tacky with their blood. Luke didn’t need to look too closely to see what had happened. The skulls were shattered, broken, with gaping exit wounds. Most of these people—possibly all of them—had been shot, execution-style, in the head.

  In the midst of it a small, middle-aged man sat at a workstation. A pair of reading glasses was perched on top of his balding head.

  He watched Luke and Ed approach him.

  He did not try to run. He did not raise his hands in surrender. He didn’t move at all. His eyes said he was not afraid. They said he was not anything. He was empty. He was done. A null. A zero. Finished. Luke didn’t think he’d seen a man more resigned to his fate in his life.

  He looked up at Luke and spoke in Russian.

  “Pozhaluysta ubey menya,” he said, very slowly.

  Please kill me.

  “Do you speak English?” Luke said.

  The man’s eyes opened wide, and then wider still. A light began to dawn there. He looked from Luke to Ed, and back to Luke. He stared at the uniforms they wore. The helmets, the weapons, they carried.

  “You are Americans?” he said.

  Luke nodded. “Yes.”

  The man took several deep breaths in a row. His eyes closed. Suddenly, his head fell back. His body went limp and rolled onto the floor. A few seconds later, a loud snoring sound came from him. He had fainted—that’s all it was.

  “You know, man,” Ed said, “that’s how I’ve always wanted girls to look at me.”

  * * *

  “What happened here?” Luke said.

  The man was sitting up, back in the same chair as before. They had found a bottle of water for him, in a glass-faced refrigerator filled with water, soda and beer. Ed had poured some on his face, reviving him. Now he was slowly sipping it. He had been under for maybe three minutes.

  “They came and killed us,” the man said. He shrugged. He had the hint of a Russian accent, but he spoke English more or less perfectly. “No hesitation. No human feelings. No recognition of the work we had done, or what we had all been through. They just came in, rounded everyone up, and shot them all.”

  “Who did this?” Ed said.

  The man shook his head. “I don’t know. Masked men. Local religious militants, I suppose. They weren’t Russians. They killed everyone, then left as quickly as they arrived.”

  “How did you survive?”

  “I was in my office when the killing started. We are supposed to keep to a strict clean desk, clean office policy here. But I am not what you Americans would call a neat freak. So I have a closet in my office, piled high with my things. Much of it is on the floor—books, files, many clothes, personal items. They are hidden away. At the first gunshot, at the first shouts, I stepped inside and crawled beneath everything. No one found me in there.”

  He sighed. “I suppose I knew it would come to this from the beginning.”

  Luke glanced around the lab. This was the sole survivor of another bloodbath—a man who had crawled inside a closet. Luke found that he believed the story without reservation. This man was clearly not a killer.

  “What were you doing here?”

  The man shrugged. “My name is Yakov Trutnev. I am a physicist. My family was taken by the Russian secret police. I was told they would be killed if I did not cooperate. I was brought here with a group of other men. We designed and built the bomb. The one I imagine you are looking for.”

  Jackpot.

  “We have to get this guy out of here,” Ed said.

  Luke nodded. That was true.

  Trutnev gestured at the dead men on the floor. Luke noted now that they were all men. “Myself, and this team of eminent scientists and engineers you see around me. I suppose now that we were lied to from the very start. I no longer believe my family is alive.”

  “What kind of bomb is it?”

  The man looked at him quizzically. His mouth hung half open.

  “Don’t you know?”

  “If I knew, I wouldn’t have asked.”

  “It is the most powerful nuclear weapon in the history of the world. It is also perhaps one of the most advanced. Its creation has solved numerous design challenges. It should unfailingly deliver a blast equivalent to one hundred twenty megatons. Nothing like that has ever happened before. The device is impervious to extremes of cold, and to water infiltration, and its systems will continue to operate in the harshest environment at the very top of the world.”

  “The Arctic,” Luke said. “Is that where it is now?”

  The man nodded. “Yes. They moved it from here in recent days. The thing to know is it is a shaped charge, similar to the more advanced roadside bombs you see in this guerrilla combat happening everywhere these days. When it detonates, its force will be directed outward in a fan shape, not in a circle.”

  “What’s the point of that?”

  Trutnev shook his head. “You are just foot soldiers, then? You know nothing about this? I should be speaking to your superiors, not to you.”

  Luke sighed. He pressed the muzzle of his Uzi to the man’s forehead.

  “Just tell me.”

  The man closed his eyes and breathed deeply. It was more of a gasp than a breath.

  “Don’t faint again,” Luke said.

  “The bomb is deployed beneath the ice. Its explosion will tear up the permanent frozen ice cap. The North Pole will be completely free of ice for the first time in perhaps one hundred twenty-five thousand years. By destroying the ice now, in the northern autumn, it will undermine the freezing effects of the winter. Ice reflects sunlight, cooling the planet. Dark water absorbs sunlight, trapping more heat. We have computer programs that can calculate these things easily. Our models suggest that nearly the entire Arctic will be ice-free next summer, and will be subject to greenhouse feedback loops that mean the ice will never recover.”

  Ed grunted. “Is that all?”

  Trutnev opened his eyes. “No. Unfortunately, it is not all. An enormous surge of water will be forced through the Canadian islands of the Arctic, and down between Greenland and North America. There will be a funnel effect as the water rushes through those narrow corridors. Such is the added benefit of a directed burst.

  “For a period of time, the surge will drastically increase sea levels throughout the Western Hemisphere, completely swamping low-lying areas. Lower Manhattan will be underwater, and perhaps be rendered uninhabitable. Miami, Key West, and much of south Florida. New Orleans, of course. Certain smaller island nations in the Caribbean will completely disappear. Much of the Netherlands will be inundated. Venice, in Italy, will cease to exist.”

  He paused. “Perhaps the worst of it is from an environmental point of view. The Arctic fisheries will be utterly destroyed for a thousand years. No one wants the fisheries—they want the oil and gas. They want the shipping lanes. But the knock-on effects are hard to predict. We know the polar bears will become extinct, but as much as they fascinate humans, large apex predators are not that important. More important will be the migratory bird species who make their home in the Arctic summer. Before they die off, they will travel the world, seeding it with contamination. Contaminated water will circulate through every ocean. The plants and insects…”

  He trailed off and looked at the floor.

  “Why did you do it?” Ed said.

  The man didn’t look up. “I already told you. To save my family.”

  “Is there a time frame for when the bomb will be detonated?”

  The man glanced over at a digital clock on a computer panel. Numbers shone red on the panel. 07:53:48.

  The seconds were running down.

  Now it was 07:53:39.

  07:53:35.

  “In a little less than eight hours,” Trutnev said.

  Luke looked at Ed. Their eyes met.

  “I think we better go.”

  * * *

  “Sto
ne! Stone! Wake up! Incoming!”

  The voice shouted through Murphy’s headset. He recognized Swann instantly.

  “What’s up, Swann?”

  “Murphy! Where’s Stone?”

  Murphy shrugged. “He and Newsam went downstairs. He’s underground. His radio must not work down there. There’s some kind of facility…”

  “Never mind that, Murph. You’ve got unfriendlies coming in fast. A swarm of them. They just came out of the woods at the end of the parking lot. Five seconds ago. I’m calling back the chopper.”

  Murphy shook his head. Of course. It was a trap. Somehow, the bad guys knew they were coming, let them get all the way inside, and now planned to pin them down and wipe them out. The mosque was a moldy piece of Swiss cheese at this point. Maybe the baddies would just knock it down on top of them.

  Clever.

  Well, this is what he was here for.

  “Where are they?”

  “Coming right at you. Any second. Oh, Murph. Watch it! RPG!”

  Instantly, Murphy hit the deck behind one of the wide stone pillars.

  BOOOOM!

  The big front doors of the mosque blew inward. Smoke and debris hung in the air.

  Murphy rolled over. The pillar had protected him. He wasn’t hit at all. Moreover, he felt calm. He was surprised, but not in shock. He had done this many times.

  He rolled to his side, the Uzi pointed at the ragged hole where the doors had just been. Good news—his night-vision gear was working fine. Better news—the chumps out there didn’t have night vision. They were coming with flashlights, probably mounted on the barrels of their guns. Their lights crisscrossed, throwing strange shadows.

  “Come on in,” Murphy said.

  Three men darted through the open hole.

  Murphy mowed them down with a burst of automatic fire.

  Duh-duh-duh-duh-duh.

  He breathed and waited a beat. He knew what came next. He always seemed to know. Because people were predictable.

  Two more men dashed through the hole.

  Murphy killed them, same way as before.

  Good grief.

  It wasn’t even fair sometimes. The guys were not smart. The training wasn’t there. Murphy didn’t know what the problem was.

  “Murphy! More trouble. You got guys working their way around to the right side. Also, there’s a truck coming up the hill toward the mosque. It’s moving slow. Given the fact that it’s Beirut, I think it might be…”

  Murphy’s head was on a swivel, watching the front door, and now the plywood coverings where the windows used to be. Dammit! Where were Stone and Ed?

  “Can you take it out?” Murphy said. “Drone strike. Just get rid of it.”

  “Negative. It’s rolling through a residential neighborhood. There’s houses and small buildings. If I take it out…”

  BOOOOM!

  The explosion came without warning.

  Murphy crawled into a ball, letting his Dragon Skin armor protect him. He knew what had happened without having to think about it. They had blown out one of the plywood coverings. He was pelted with little jagged pieces of burning wood.

  The bad guys had two ways in now.

  Soon they would open another.

  “Swann, we got problems in here.”

  “Chopper’s incoming, Murph! Hold the fort.”

  Murphy shook his head. That was the second time someone told him to hold the fort in one night. Didn’t these guys have anything better than that? Hold the fort, Murph!

  With what?

  He rolled over again. In one fluid motion, he jumped to a kneeling position.

  A man was climbing through the window where the plywood had been. Murphy ripped him up with a quick burst. The guy fell back out and disappeared.

  He turned to the front doors—more coming that way.

  Duh-duh-duh-duh-duh.

  A couple went down, one made it. Now there was someone inside.

  This wasn’t going to work.

  “Murph! The van is near the top!”

  “Kill it, man! Kill it! Kill the houses!”

  A man poked his head over the rim of the window.

  A head shot—that was hard. Murphy waited.

  Two more came in through the front doors.

  The man at the window had a shoulder fired weapon. Grenade launcher. Murphy had to kill him. He gave him a burst, one second before the man fired his weapon.

  The man fell backward. The grenade shot upward, no arch, just a flat trajectory headed straight toward the roof. Murphy watched it go, its tail sizzling behind it, like some kind of firework on the Fourth of July.

  BANG.

  It hit the ceiling, right where the pillar connected. Heavy masonry fell, landing on the floor with a thud, then shattering into pieces. Debris showered down.

  The front door was wide open now. Three more charged through. Murphy clipped the last one.

  There was a pile of bodies in front of those doors.

  Suddenly, Murphy realized something. The pillar was coming down. It happened slowly at first, but then with increasing speed. He was using it for cover. By now there must be at least three guys with guns trained on him. He couldn’t get out of its way—he’d be dead the instant he revealed himself.

  For a second, he tried to hold it up. It was way too heavy.

  He slowed its progress as much he could.

  Heavy?

  That wasn’t the right word. He couldn’t control it. It was coming down.

  “Oh, no.”

  It came down, an immense weight, and pushed him into the floor.

  * * *

  The steel door was open a sliver.

  Murphy was getting overrun out there. There was nothing Luke could do about that at this moment.

  A voice crackled in Luke’s head. “Stone! Stone?”

  It was Swann.

  Luke ignored him for the moment. He looked at the scientist. They were at the top of the stairwell. The scientist’s eyes no longer looked resigned. They were wide open and terrified.

  Luke pointed at Ed. “You stay close to this man at all times. When he tells you to do something, you do it. You don’t think. You don’t question. The only way out of here is to do exactly what he says, as soon as he says it. Do you understand me?”

  The man’s mouth opened slowly. “I think it is a mistake to…”

  Luke slapped him across the face. Hard. The man’s head wrenched around to his right. A red welt appeared on his cheek.

  “You don’t think. You do what this man tells you. You follow him wherever he goes. That’s all you do. Otherwise, you’re going to die. And I need you alive.”

  He stared at the man. “Do. You. Understand?”

  The man nodded. “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  Swann again, crackling in the headset: “Luke, the chopper’s there. Rachel’s got the heavy guns on the guys in front of the doors. She can clear that out for you.”

  Luke looked at Ed. “Did you hear that?”

  Ed nodded.

  “Do it,” Luke said into his mouthpiece.

  Somewhere outside, the brutal sound of a mini-gun ripped up the night.

  “I gotta relieve Murphy,” Luke said. “Sounds like the front door is open. I’ll draw their attention and take out as many as I can, but I think you and the mad scientist are going to be running through a ring of fire.”

  Ed shook his head. “Don’t worry, man. Grab Murph. I’ll meet you at the chopper.”

  “Good luck,” Luke said. “I’ll see you.”

  He burst through the doorway. He ran along the wall, between the columns. Two of them were down, massive stone pillars, lying on the floor. There was junk all over the ground now. The roof was bound to cave in. When that dome came down…

  Not good.

  Two men were running toward the front doors, maybe to help the men who had been killed by the chopper. Luke slid behind a downed pillar, sighted, and gunned them both down. Gunfire ripped chunks out of the
pillar. Sharp pieces of it sprayed him.

  Across the open mosque, a man was sighting on Luke, but hitting the pillar instead.

  Luke let him have a burst of automatic fire. The man did a jig and went down, dead before he landed.

  To his right, Luke saw Ed running for the front doors, dragging the scientist along with him.

  “Stone?” a voice said. “Is that you?”

  Luke looked down, at the other side of the pillar. Murphy was there, underneath it. Somehow, he was under a thick stone column. He seemed to be embedded in the floor. His face was there, and his left arm stuck out. He still had his Uzi in his hand.

  It didn’t seem like it could be real.

  “Luke,” Swann’s voice crackled. “It’s definitely a truck bomb. It’s got to be. He’s in between some houses, and backed into a tree covered area. He’s at the top of the hill now. I think he’s going to make a run for the mosque.”

  “Can you hit him?” Luke said.

  “I can’t, Luke. There’s civilian housing right there. He’s going to make the hundred-yard dash right through the middle of it. If I hit him…”

  “I understand,” Luke said.

  “The chopper’s calling. They’ve been hit. They lost their guns. They’re taking heavy fire from the trees at the end of the parking lot. The scientist is hit. Ed is treating him. They’re on board and ready. You have to get out of there.”

  Luke looked at Murphy.

  “How you doing, Murph?”

  Murph shook his head. “I’m not in any pain. It’s the funniest thing. These floorboards were so rotten, I think the pillar just pushed me right through them. There’s some space under here. I might even be able to walk. I don’t know. If only I could slip out from under.”

  Luke stared at him. That couldn’t be true. The pillar must weigh thousands of pounds. Murphy wasn’t in pain, probably because he couldn’t feel anything at all.

  “Oh Murph, I’m sorry.”

  “Nah,” Murphy said. “I wouldn’t worry about it. This was bound to happen sooner or later. I don’t even blame you. You called me, but I’m the one who came. Not for you. For me.”

  Swann’s voice crackled.

  “Stone, that truck is moving. I’m gonna try to hit, but you have to get out of there. You have to go right now. He’s gaining speed. Get out!”