Primary Threat

by Jack Mars

  The plane was going to hit the buildings.

  He jumped back, lurching to his seat.

  “Crash positions!” he shouted.

  The plane hit. The rear of the fuselage crumpled and ripped off. The sound of shredding metal was deafening. Blinding white light streamed in.

  The plane spun hard to its left. Luke’s head hit the wall behind him.

  Everything went dark.

  * * *

  He opened his eyes.

  It was bright in here again. Too bright.

  Ed Newsam was there, right in front of him, crouched at eye level. He was shouting something. No sound came out of his mouth. There was no sound anywhere.

  Ed’s hand snaked out and slapped Luke across the face.

  Now there was ringing in his ears, followed by a rising shriek.

  “Stone! Let’s go! Move it!”

  On his right, Trutnev was pawing at him, desperate. His hands were like claws.

  “I can’t go out there! I can’t go out there!”

  Luke shoved him away.

  To the right, the rear of the plane was just gone. Black smoke was pouring out of somewhere. Flames licked at the edge of the hole. The plane was on fire.

  Nailed the landing.

  Luke unclipped and was up. “A-Team! A-Team! Let’s go! Out the door!”

  Four guys stumbled off the benches, weapons in hand. Luke smacked them as they passed. “Go! Go! Go!”

  He didn’t have his helmet. Ah, hell.

  Across from him, the side of the plane started to crumble. They were hitting it. The Russians were shooting the plane.

  Bursts of automatic fire came from outside.

  The shooting did not subside. It did not slow down. Whatever was going on out there, A-Team was not achieving suppressing fire.

  This whole A-Team, B-Team, C-Team plan was not going to work.

  Luke picked up an MP5 that was on the floor. Ed already had one. They were already on to Plan B.

  Plan B was improvise.

  Luke went to the gaping hole. He peered through the fire. It was fast becoming a wall. They had to get everybody out of here. And the equipment.

  A big man with a heavy beard was dead on the ground, ten feet below the hole.

  Another man was crawling away, trailing the remains of his legs. They were gone below the thighs. That guy was going to be alive another five seconds.

  Luke looked past the dead men. It took him an instant to realize he was starting at the inside of a building. It was some kind of rec center, or mess hall.

  A man in a white jumpsuit was across the room, pulling a magazine from his gun. Luke shot him, a center mass burst. The guy fell, but was still alive. Luke gave him another burst, this time in the head. A cloud of red dispersed into the air.

  Two guys from A-Team were still in the game. One was on top of a man in white, stabbing him with a knife. Another was crouched by a wrecked doorway.

  They’d gotten lucky, maybe. Nobody on the ground had expected the plane to crash into a building. Now Luke’s team was inside, and sheltered for the moment.

  He turned back into the plane. “Everybody out! Everybody out! Plan B! Plan B!”

  A man darted by. “What’s Plan B?”

  Luke pushed him. “Improvise! Kill Russians! Watch that drop-off!”

  The men were filing out, moving fast.

  Big Daddy and Ed were loading up the scuba and welding gear. It was a lot of stuff.

  “We’re gonna have to pass that stuff down. It’s a big drop.”

  Luke went to the cockpit door and opened it.

  The pilots were both dead in their seats. The windshield was shattered, gone. Russians were across the way, outside the building, standing on the snow. Luke hit the deck. An instant later, automatic fire ripped through the plane. He slammed the steel cockpit door.

  “Pilots are dead.”

  “Let’s go,” Big Daddy said. He had a duffel bag in each hand.

  Luke grabbed a couple of bags. They moved to the back of the plane. The cabin was filling up with smoke. Everybody was out, except Ed, Luke, and Big Daddy.

  And one other. The scientist.

  He was still strapped in his seat.

  “You have to get out,” Luke said. “The plane is on fire.”

  The man shook his head. “I can’t.”

  “You’re going to die if you stay here.”

  “I know.”

  Luke looked at his watch.

  00:23:10.

  There was no more time to worry about the scientist.

  Ed unclipped the man’s belt, grabbed him by his lapels, and yanked him up out of the seat. He gave him a powerful shove toward the flaming hole.

  “Out!” he said.

  * * *

  “Whaddya got?” Luke said.

  He was crouched at the doorway of the building. Ed and Bill were with him. Two sentries were at the door. The teams seemed to have fallen apart. But then Luke looked at these guys again. No. They were C-Team. They were the escorts.

  Outside, there was gunfire everywhere.

  Behind them, the plane was becoming an inferno. The building was catching fire as well. The roof was starting to go.

  The guy pointed out and to the left.

  “See this alley between buildings? Our guys are holding the corner there. That’s fine. Three guys that way. They’re taking fire, but holding their own. To the right is where we’re going. Three guys are ahead of us. A guy came back and told me it’s hot. But they saved a .50 and brought it up. They’re trying to clear a path.”

  Luke glanced at his watch.

  00:21:04

  It was impossible. Even if they made it to the dome, they still had to put on their wet suits and scuba gear.

  “How far is the dome?” he said.

  The guy shrugged. “Maybe a hundred yards between these buildings. Then fifty yards wide open no-man’s-land.”

  Luke nodded “All right. Let’s hit it.”

  They ran up the alleyway. The bags were heavy and the two escorts got out ahead of them, guns drawn. It was a short jog, then the men turned left. Luke, Ed, and Bill followed.

  Up ahead was an opening between buildings.

  Two men were in the opening with the .50 cal tripod. Luke ran, the sound of his own breathing loud in his ears. But louder still was the gun.

  The heavy metal of the gunfire came to him, followed by the sweet jingle bells of the spent cartridges hitting the ground.

  DUH-DUH-DUH-DUH-DUH.

  The gun was coming closer. The shooter sprayed from left to right, found a target, and stayed on it.

  A sound rose, a whining scream.

  The two men ducked.

  SHHHHHHHwwwwww… BOOM!

  A rocket hit the side of the building above their heads. Debris blew outward all over them. They barely paused, and were back at it again.

  DUH-DUH-DUH-DUH-DUH.

  Luke reached the opening a few seconds after his escorts.

  The white dome was right across from them, its doorway an open black hole. A man lay dead on the ground between here and there, a spray of blood around him against the white snow.

  “What happened to him?” Luke said.

  One of the guys shrugged. “He didn’t make it.”

  The feeder was changing out the belt.

  Luke, Ed, and Bill leaned against a wall, the escorts just ahead of them.

  The shooter was crouched by the corner. “When I start firing again, that’s your best chance.”

  Ed held his watch up in front of Luke’s face: 00:18:34.

  00:18:33.

  32.

  31.

  “Gun’s ready,” the shooter said. “Go!”

  He was on the trigger.

  DUH-DUH-DUH-DUH-DUH.

  The first escort ran out, firing. Luke was right behind him. He raced across the gap. Shots kicked up ice around his feet. He was like a mule with this pack on his shoulders. It was too slow!

  The black opening was RIGHT
THERE.

  The escort darted through it.

  A rip of gunfire came.

  Luke came through, his MP5 in front of him. The escort was down, but still firing. Three Russians were across the way, near what looked like a swimming pool. Luke sprayed them. They all went down. One fell into the icy water. A stain of blood rose there.

  The escort was down. He gasped for air.

  His teeth were gritted. “Ah, God. That hurts!”

  Suddenly his eyes went blank. A second ago, they were looking at Luke. Now they weren’t looking at anything.

  Six, by Luke’s count. Six men left from the original ten.

  He looked up and Ed ran in. An instant later, Big Daddy came in, huffing and puffing. His escort was right on his heels.

  The belt feeder ran in, carrying the machine gun mount with two belts draped over his shoulder. A second later, the triggerman ran in, carrying the gun.

  Instantly, they began to set it up again, near the doorway.

  Luke and Ed walked further into the dome. The gaping hole in the ice was right in front of them. It was long and rectangular, blue in color, contrasting with the white of the ice pack all around it.

  “Ready to go for a swim?” Ed said.

  * * *

  00:06:13

  It took over ten minutes to get the gear on.

  The suits were not the state-of-the-art dry suits from the Alaska mission. These were thick neoprene wet suits. They didn’t fit perfectly. They were good, but….

  Luke sat on the edge of the ice, his legs in the water. He could feel the cold through the suit. It was already uncomfortable. There was no time to think about it.

  He dropped into the water. Instantly he surrounded by the dark. He turned his headlamp on.

  Something was wrong. The water was getting in somewhere. It was a small amount, but it was too cold.

  He popped up again.

  Bill Cronin was there, ready to pass him the cutting torch.

  “How’s the water?” he said.

  “It’s cold. It’s really cold.”

  Bill nodded. “You’ll get used to it.”

  Luke took the torch. A long black wire depended from it, back to the power source.

  Back near the doorway, there was a burst of gunfire.

  Luke put his mouthpiece in. Beside him, Ed Newsam dropped into the water.

  “Good luck,” Big Daddy said.

  Luke raised a hand and dropped in again. He dove down, swimming to the bottom of the hole. The ice was incredibly thick, much thicker than the temporary ice they had encountered in Alaska. Twelve or fifteen meters, the scientist had said. This was the permanent ice pack. It had been here for a hundred thousand years.

  The sound of his breathing apparatus was loud in Luke’s ears.

  He reached the bottom of the hole and entered into open ocean. Ed was just ahead, his light cutting through the dark. Luke felt his body shivering, trying to get warm. His body heat should warm up the water that was leaking in, but he had no idea how long that would take. Maybe he would die first.

  Maybe the bomb would go off instead.

  Up ahead, a large form began to appear out of the gloom. Ed’s light shone on it. It was massive, majestic, gray in color. It could be a whale, but it wasn’t moving. Luke noticed the scaffolding, almost like a spiderweb around it.

  The giant bomb was nestled up against the ice pack.

  Luke looked at the watch.

  00:03:11

  How could that be? How could that be?

  Ed moved along the surface of the whale, his hands touching it. He seemed tiny, dwarfed by the thing. He stopped and began to wave crazily. Luke approached, floating weightless, carrying the torch, the wire playing out behind him. Big Daddy was up there somewhere, feeding him slack.

  A steel box was mounted there. It was larger than Luke imagined it to be. Ed pointed. Luke nodded.

  Luke pressed the button on the torch, requesting power from the surface. A couple of seconds later, the thing came alive in his hands. Big Daddy was on top of it.

  Luke let out a big breath. It sounded to him like Darth Vader.

  Ed held up his watch in front of Luke’s eyes.

  00:02:04.

  It wasn’t enough time.

  Luke depressed the button and bright red flame fired from the torch. It surprised him, and he turned it off for a moment. He hadn’t done this in a while.

  Ed’s watch was still there. 00:01:51.

  Luke turned on the torch again. He cut into the metal. The metal began to glow along the line where he was working. A small scar appeared there, becoming wider. He moved the fire long it, cutting deeper and longer.

  The cut was an inch long, glowing like lava.

  00:01:29.

  He cut. The fire glowed red and hot blinding him, burning his hands through his neoprene gloves. This wasn’t the right gear! He breathed heavily.

  He was having trouble maintaining his position. The water was moving and he was moving with it.

  00:01:16.

  The cut was three inches long and glowing like lava.

  Four inches long.

  Five.

  He shut off the torch and tried to wrench the box open. No good with the gloves.

  00:00:54.

  He lit the torch again. Were they really going to die here? He cut and cut. A piece of silver dropped away. He reached with his left hand, and broke the other piece off. He didn’t even turn off the torch. He felt the flame burning through his glove.

  Now he cut off the torch.

  The keypad was there, the numbers glowing. Running behind it and next to it was a trunk line of black wiring.

  00:00:39.

  Ed was there, hovering in front of the pad. It was no good with the gloves on. The numbers were too small to press accurately. Ed turned to Luke. His eyes were wide inside his mask.

  00:00:32.

  His shoulders seemed to drop. He shook his head.

  In his left hand, he held the serrated knife he would use to cut the wires. He stabbed the knife through his glove and began to cut it away. Instantly, his body language changed. Water was pouring into his suit, through his hand.

  He ripped the glove apart. It was ragged, but still holding on. Luke dropped the welding torch. It floated away and down. He grabbed Ed’s glove with body hands, and yanked it off.

  Ed’s hand was completely exposed. Water was pouring in at his wrist.

  He was going to die down here.

  He turned back to the keypad. His fingers punched in numbers, moving slowly from one key to the next. Luke watched, but couldn’t even remember the code.

  Stalin’s birthday. Who did that help?

  00:00:17.

  He turned back to Luke and raised his hands. He had punched in the number. The keypad didn’t do anything. The lights didn’t change. It gave no indication of anything. Was that it? There was a * button. There was also a # button. Were you supposed to press those at the end? The Russian had never mentioned those buttons.

  Ed’s eyes began to glaze over. It was the cold. The cold was filling his suit.

  00:00:11.

  Luke grabbed the knife from Ed’s hand. He swam to the box and began to hack at the wires. If this was wrong, an electrical field would enter the water and they would both be friend.

  He sliced. He hacked.

  A surge of electricity seemed to fill his body.

  He was dying. They were both going to die.

  He sliced the last wire away. Were these even the right wires? Maybe there were some other wires.

  00:00:03.

  00:00:02.

  00:00:01.

  Luke stared at the giant bomb rising above them.

  00:00:00

  * * *

  Big Daddy Cronin stood at the edge of the hole in the ice. There was shooting going on behind him, out in the complex somewhere, but he paid no attention to it. The guys had held their own.

  The gunfire sounded like finishing shots.

  Afte
r a time, something began to rise from the bottom of the hole. Shadows appeared, resolving themselves into bodies. A head broke the surface, wearing a diver’s cold-water helmet. A second head broke the surface right afterward.

  Luke ripped his own helmet off.

  “Bill, give me a hand with this guy. He’s freezing.”

  Big Daddy fell to his knees and grabbed Ed by the shoulders. Luke pushed himself up and out. Together, they pulled Ed halfway out of the water. Ed helped a little bit, pressing his hands against the lip. Big Daddy noticed one of Ed’s gloves was missing.

  He and Luke fell backward, pulling Ed all the way out.

  The three of them lay there.

  Luke unfastened Ed’s helmet and pulled it off.

  “How you doing, Ed?” Big Daddy said.

  Ed spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m cold, man.”

  “You dying?”

  Ed grunted. Then he laughed. His whole body was shaking, a giant man mountain of quivering flesh. He shook his head.

  “I doubt it.”

  Then the Russian scientist was standing over them, looking down. He pointed up at the giant bubble all around them.

  “You know, I’ve seen pictures of this facility, and I read the plans for it and studied the design schematics, but of course I’ve never been here before. It’s incredible.”

  Luke shook his head.

  “I really want to talk to this Marmilov person.”

  Now Big Daddy laughed. “Let me handle it,” he said.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  September 10

  9:45 a.m. Eastern Daylight Time

  The Oval Office

  The White House

  Washington, DC

  A man named Vasil was speaking.

  “It was a terrible tragedy, and we are ashamed at the actions of our countryman.”

  Vasil had a deep, rich voice. He was Vladimir Putin’s handpicked translator, and the words he was saying were the English version of Putin’s thoughts just a split second after they came out of his mouth.

  Clement Dixon sat at the Resolute Desk, the handset of a dark red phone console pressed to his ear. The telephone was old and heavy, a tabletop model much like telephones from when he was young. The major differences were the color of it, and the fact that the dial didn’t have any numbers on it. The phone only called one number.