High Alert (The Project Book 14)

by Alex Lukeman

  "You are direct, Major Carter."

  "I would suggest that Major Vasiliev and myself maintain control of our individual units under Colonel Antipov's overall command. I have great respect for your special forces units. I have no doubt Major Vasiliev is a professional, but I am uncomfortable handing over tactical placement of my team to someone I haven't met or worked with in the past."

  Valentina looked at Vysotsky as if to say I told you so.

  "Very well. We will discuss it once you are here. Inform me when you leave Washington, and again when you are ready to leave Japan. The number you have will reach me anytime of the day or night."

  "Will you be conducting the briefing?"

  "I wouldn't miss it for anything," Vysotsky said.

  CHAPTER 32

  The Gulfstream assigned to the Project was down for maintenance. They hitched a ride on a C-17 from Andrews to Misawa Air Force Base in Japan. From there they'd transfer to a smaller plane for the flight to Petropavlosk-Kamchatsky airport in Russia.

  Selena did her best to get comfortable on the orange strap bench that passed for seating in the cavernous hold of the plane. She wore a white camouflage uniform with scattered gray and tan colored patterns. In almost any winter environment, she would be invisible. Thermal underwear, gloves, and a balaclava that covered her face in the same camouflage pattern meant she would stay reasonably warm. The outfit kept her comfortable in the hold of the C-17.

  Her field pack and a suppressed MP-7 were stored by her feet. A pistol was holstered on her chest and a fighting knife strapped to her thigh. The plane, the boredom of the journey, the pack at her feet, the weapons of death strapped on her body were all too familiar, something she'd gotten used to since she'd joined the Project. Everything was the same as usual.

  Except everything had changed.

  Selena's mind was in turmoil. The pregnancy tests had been positive. She didn't know why her birth control had failed, but it was a moot point. She wasn't showing, yet. Morning sickness usually started about six weeks in, too soon for any outward indication. She listened to the monotonous drone of the engines and thought about the life growing inside her.

  She hadn't told Nick yet. She'd rationalized that she didn't want to distract him before the mission, but the truth was that she didn't know how he was going to handle it. Hell, she wasn't certain how she was going to handle it.

  She was thirty-nine years old and set in her ways. A baby meant upheaval. She wasn't even sure she could have a safe pregnancy or bring a child to term. She'd taken serious wounds in the past few years, wounds that had torn up her insides and almost killed her. A round from an AK-47 had taken out one of her ovaries. It was a miracle she could walk, much less conceive.

  I have to tell him. After the mission, when we get back.

  When she'd been younger, she'd thought about having children. Her drive for personal independence and the fact that she hadn't met anyone she trusted as a potential father of her children had combined to make her put off the decision. As the years passed, she'd thought about it less and less.

  That was a luxury she no longer had.

  She heard the pitch of the engines change. Nick had been talking with Ronnie. Now he came over and sat down next to her.

  "We're in the landing pattern for Misawa," he said. "We'll be on the ground in half an hour."

  "I'll be glad to get off this damn bench."

  Nick laughed. "All these years, they haven't changed much. You never quite get used to them."

  "I'm not looking forward to this," she said.

  "Because of Valentina?"

  "That's part of it. Maybe even most of it. I don't like the idea that we're not in charge. I trust you. I don't trust her, or the Russians."

  "It worked out all right with Korov."

  "Yes, but he proved himself to us, didn't he?"

  "So has your sister. She saved your butt in Germany. If she hadn't acted in Egypt, we'd all be dead."

  "I suppose so."

  "Where we're going, we're all on the same side," Nick said.

  "What if that bomb goes off when we blow it up?"

  "It can't. The way a hydrogen bomb works requires a controlled sequence of events. You have to set off a smaller, atomic explosion that acts to start the reaction. It's a staged event. The first fission explosion triggers a second, larger one. A big bomb might require a third stage as well. But it all has to happen in an exact manner. Just blowing it up won't set it off."

  "Why didn't we suspect that he was so far advanced with the technology?"

  "I don't know. I think people assumed his facilities and resources were too limited. He's good at hiding things."

  "I can't shake the feeling that something is going to go wrong."

  "It's just pre-mission jitters, that's all. Once we're in the field, you'll be fine. You always have been in the past. This time is no different."

  Yes, it is, she thought.

  CHAPTER 33

  Nick called Vysotsky from Misawa Air Force Base as they were about to leave. Their ride was a C-23 cargo plane, an odd looking, propeller driven aircraft with stubby wings and a large, double tail. It was designed for transporting small combat units and their equipment over an operational theater. It wasn't particularly fast and it wasn't designed for comfort.

  Unlike the flight that had brought them to Japan, this plane had windows. That was the only thing it had in common with a regular passenger plane. It didn't have a bathroom, only a tube to urinate in. Women didn't usually fly in a C-23. There was no heat in the main cabin and no pressurization. The plane was painted green and looked as if it had been dreamed up during an aircraft engineer's hangover.

  They took off into a gray sky that promised snow.

  Some time later, Selena pointed out the window.

  "We have company."

  Outside the plane, a Russian fighter pulled up a hundred feet away and held station. She could see the pilot and the weapons officer seated behind him.

  "This side, too," Ronnie said.

  "Must be hard for them to keep station, going slow like this," Lamont said.

  "That's a Mig-31," Nick said. "NATO calls it the Foxhound. As good as anything we've got. Fast and lethal. Take a look at those missiles under the wings."

  "That's as close a look as I ever want to get," Lamont said.

  In a little while the Kamchatka Peninsula appeared, a finger sticking out into the Sea of Japan. The airport was surrounded by tall, snowcapped mountains and extinct volcanoes. It was literally at the end of nowhere, a far-flung outpost of a fragmented Empire, so isolated that there were no roads leading to the capital city of two hundred thousand people. It was only accessible by air.

  Their fighter escort peeled away as they approached the runway. Two armored vehicles with top mounted heavy machine guns and a command car pulled alongside as they landed. The vehicles fanned out to either side and kept pace with the plane. A soldier stood in the back of the car and waved to the pilot to follow him. The plane taxied past a terminal building that looked as though it had been built in the 1950s and kept going until they entered the military section of the airport.

  They passed a dozen of the Mig-31's, parked in neat rows within hardened revetments. Everything was precisely organized, professional looking. Except for the archaic terminal building, the planes, and the insignia on them, they could have been on a base somewhere in America.

  "Serious base," Ronnie said.

  "The Russians are serious people," Nick said. "Anyone who buys into the myth that their military is falling apart is out of their minds. It used to be true, but not anymore. Not since Orlov took over."

  The plane came to a halt. The cargo door in the back opened and dropped onto the tarmac. The pilot came out of the cabin. The name badge on his uniform said Kaplan.

  "Thanks for flying the scenic Russian route," he said. "You may now exit through the rear. Enjoy your stay."

  "Nice flight, Captain," Nick said.

  Captain Kaplan loo
ked at the four of them and the weapons they were carrying.

  "I don't suppose y'all are here for a vacation," he said. "Take care of yourselves out there."

  "Copy that," Nick said.

  They descended the ramp onto Russian soil. A chill wind blew around them. The air smelled of coming snow.

  General Vysotsky, Valentina, and a hard looking man about Nick's height waited for them.

  Vysotsky was in full uniform, impressive with the stars on the shoulder boards of his heavy greatcoat and the red stripes on his trousers. He looked like what he was: a man who controlled a far-flung empire of spies and special forces units, a man you wouldn't want to cross. Valentina and her companion were dressed in winter camouflage uniforms not unlike what Nick and his team were wearing.

  Vysotsky greeted Nick with a jovial smile. "Major Carter. I am pleased to meet you. You already know Valentina. This is Major Vasiliev."

  Vasiliev didn't look particularly pleased to meet them, but it was difficult to tell what the Russian was thinking. He had the look that came with military life at the sharp end of the sword, the appearance of a professional warrior. He was about six feet tall, perhaps two hundred pounds. His face was square jawed, blunt, with a prominent nose. His hair was cropped close to his skull. Nick guessed he was somewhere in his late thirties.

  Nick held out his hand. "Major. I'm looking forward to working with you."

  Vasiliev hesitated, then took Nick's hand. His grip was strong, almost uncomfortable. Nick resisted the urge to overmatch him.

  "I am sure it will be interesting."

  Vasiliev's English was clear but accented.

  "Follow me," Vysotsky said. "I have transportation waiting to take you to your quarters. You can drop your gear there. Briefing after that."

  The Russians working on the base gave them curious looks as they walked to the bus Vysotsky had commandeered. Their accommodations were in the officers' barracks on the other side of the base.

  Their rooms were the same as transient military quarters everywhere, minimal, equipped with the basics of a bed, a small table and a narrow closet for hanging uniforms. A tiny sink completed the facilities. A window looked out at the spectacular mountains surrounding the base. Bathrooms and showers were at the end of the hall.

  They left their packs and MP-7s in the rooms. The building was stuffy, overheated against the cold. Nick was sweating by the time they got to the briefing room where Vysotsky and the other Russians waited.

  A large map of North Korea took up most of the front wall. A half dozen satellite shots of the target area were pasted up on one side of the map. Two rows of hard wooden chairs faced the front of the room. The Russians sat in the front row. Nick and the others took seats.

  "There are some new developments," Vysotsky said. "The transport vehicle with the bomb has arrived on the launch site. We estimate a minimum of one day to install the weapons package and make final adjustments. It would not have been transported in operational mode. Meanwhile, they'll be getting the launch vehicle ready. Tankers are on site and waiting."

  "What about the weather?" Nick asked. "What's the forecast?"

  "A front is moving in that may delay the launch. That's good, but it means the insertion will be more difficult."

  "How do you plan to get us on site?" Ronnie asked.

  "There have always been two options. Originally we were planning on insertion over the water. The target is not far from a fishing village named Tongha-Dong."

  "Originally?"

  "The weather will make that impossible. You don't want to be in an open boat on the Sea of Japan when one of our Arctic fronts moves in. Waves can be forty feet high out there."

  "What's the second option?" Nick asked.

  "Two of our MI-35MS helicopters. You and your team will go in one, Major Vasiliev and Colonel Antipov in the other."

  "Excuse me, General, but how do you propose avoiding North Korean radar? Our intelligence indicates that Yun has excellent defensive surveillance facilities, courtesy of his Chinese allies."

  "Are you concerned for your safety, Carter?" Vasiliev said.

  Asshole, Nick thought. He's going to be trouble.

  "I'll choose not to take that as an insult, Major. I am concerned for the success of the mission. So I ask again, how do you propose to avoid the Korean defenses?"

  "A reasonable question," Vysotsky said. "The MI-35MS is a new design, equipped for stealth operations. It's a variation on our first-line attack helicopter, quiet and almost invisible to conventional radar. It's also well armed with several types of missiles, a double twenty-three millimeter cannon, and antimissile defenses. It is somewhat better than similar American machines."

  Ronnie raised his eyebrows at the comment. Vysotsky continued.

  "It can reach a maximum speed of over three hundred kilometers an hour and is equipped to fly at night over water at a height of twenty meters."

  "What if it's snowing?"

  "If it's snowing, that is not a problem. From here you will head south over the Sea of Japan, then make a quick turn in toward the target. I am confident you will not be spotted."

  He turned to the map. "Major Vasiliev has designated a landing zone here, five kilometers from the target. He feels this will minimize the risk of detection." He tapped a point on the map. "From there you will proceed overland to the site. When the target has been destroyed, you will return to the LZ for exfiltration."

  Nick raised his hand.

  "You have a comment?" Vysotsky looked annoyed.

  "Five klicks is a long way to go, especially if the weather is bad."

  "How would you do it, Major Carter?"

  "Normally, I'd say go in hot and hit them before they know what's happening. With their defenses, that's not an option. My concern is that five klicks is a long way to go back to the LZ after stirring up that hornet's nest. We should land closer to the target."

  Vasiliev snorted. "Perhaps a run of five kilometers after the assault is beyond your ability? My troops can be back at the LZ before the North Koreans recover. It is foolish to risk possible detection by flying in closer as you suggest."

  "Foolish? It's more than foolish to wake up the North Korean defenses and hope to make it back five kilometers before they crank up their missiles and interceptors. Unless you think your stealth technology isn't good enough to get close."

  Vasiliev's face turned red. "Our helicopters are the best in the world. Our cloaking technology is superior."

  "It had better be, or we won't even get as close as five klicks," Nick said. "When we hit that target, the whole sky is going to light up with the fireworks. How long do you think it will take before reinforcements show up? How long before someone talks to the missile batteries? How long before they scramble fighters from the nearest base? I don't care if your people can make it back five klicks in five minutes. It's too far. Doing it that way turns this into a suicide mission."

  "You overestimate the enemy capability," Vasiliev said.

  "Bullshit. Their leader may be bat shit crazy, but he spares no expense equipping his military. Underestimating the enemy's capability or competence would be a serious mistake. We need to plan this mission accordingly."

  Valentina and General Vysotsky had been watching the exchange. Now Vysotsky said, "Colonel Antipov. What is your opinion?"

  Vasiliev stood. "With all due respect, General, Colonel Antipov is not familiar with this kind of field operation. This kind of planning requires experience."

  "Major, you need to remember who is in command here. Sit down."

  Vysotsky just handed Vasiliev his ass in a sling. He's not going to forget that, Nick thought. This is a bad start.

  Vasiliev sat. His face was red and tight.

  "Both Major Vasiliev and Major Carter make good points," Valentina began.

  She's pouring oil on the water, Nick thought. It won't work. I hear a 'but' hiding behind those words.

  "I don't doubt that we could make it back to the LZ in record time, how
ever I think Major Carter is correct. It presents an unacceptable risk."

  She moved over to a large, blown-up satellite shot of the launch tower and surrounding area.

  "I have carefully studied the defensive capabilities of the enemy. There are three mobile antiaircraft guns and two ground-to-air missile batteries on the perimeter of the launch area. The missiles are surface-to-air KN-06s, recently installed. Those concrete towers are the bunkers protecting them."

  She indicated the locations on the photograph. They were all some distance away from the launch tower and pad. She pointed to a low building with a radar array mounted next to it.

  "This building with the radar tower is the control center for the missiles. The antiaircraft defenses are Chinese copies of our ZSU-23-4, fully mobile. They could be anywhere on site but are likely to be in the same locations you see in the photo."

  The ZSU was a self-propelled antiaircraft gun. Nicknamed the "Shilka," it was an effective weapon. First designed in the sixties, it was still as deadly as it had ever been. Shilkas were excellent against low-flying aircraft. Each unit mounted four 23 millimeter, radar guided, water cooled, automatic cannons. If one of those locked onto the helicopters as they were leaving, it meant certain death.

  Valentina indicated a low, barracks type building. "The reinforcements Major Carter mentioned are stationed here, a kilometer down the road. They are good troops and must not be underestimated. Explosions will alert them and bring rapid response."

  "Go on," Vysotsky said.

  "We know we can defeat their defensive radar. I suggest we land two kilometers away from the target. We then infiltrate the site and eliminate the personnel manning missile control and the antiaircraft positions. We do that first, then go after the tower and the launch vehicle. With the missiles and antiaircraft guns disabled we have better odds of successful extraction. Our chances diminish the farther we have to go to reach the helicopters. As Major Carter pointed out, the Koreans are certain to scramble their fighters."