High Alert (The Project Book 14)

by Alex Lukeman

  "I now call your attention to the central monitor on the top row," he said. He clicked on a button.

  The picture on the monitor changed from a camera overlooking the front gate to an overhead satellite view of a broad expanse of snow covered ground. Tiny dots on the ground might have been buildings.

  "You are looking at the Eastern Ukraine," Haltman said.

  He clicked another button. A second monitor lit next to the first.

  "Romania. What do you see, Carter? Oh, wait a minute, let me zoom in."

  The images expanded as Haltman entered another command. As the lenses zoomed in, Nick recognized what he was looking at.

  THAAD missile installations, the new deployments of America's latest system, set up as part of the highly touted European Shield.

  "What do you think would happen if those missiles were fired into Russia?," Haltman said. "Please, humor me."

  "You know damn well what would happen," Nick said. "It could start a war."

  Haltman held up the remote.

  "I designed the guidance system. I left a little something in the programming, just in case it might come in handy some day."

  "What are you talking about?"

  Haltman waved the remote back and forth.

  "Do you see this button here? The big red one? I really couldn't resist making it red. If I push this button, all of those lovely missiles will take to the air. Can you imagine their surprise in Washington? In Moscow?"

  "He's serious," Ronnie said.

  "That's right, Tonto, I'm serious."

  "You know I can't let you do that," Nick said.

  "Right now you're probably thinking of shooting me and worrying about the lasers later. But that won't work, you see. I thought of that. Perhaps you've noticed that I haven't let go of this controller since I picked it up. If I let go, the missiles will launch. If I press the red button, the missiles will launch."

  He smiled at them.

  "My, my, whatever will you do?"

  Outside the estate, Selena had heard every word as she sat in the car. Now she spoke into her microphone.

  "Nick, don't show any sign. It sounds as though he's got you penned in with some kind of electronic trap, is that right? Cough once for yes, twice for no."

  Nick coughed.

  "I'm coming. Stall him."

  Cough.

  Her MP-7 was on the passenger seat next to her. She rolled down her window, started the engine, switched on the bright beams and pulled out onto the highway. She picked up speed, came to the entrance to the estate, and swung a hard right onto the drive.

  Selena put her foot down on the accelerator. The outer chain-link fence appeared out of the mists. She kept her foot down, ducked, and drove the truck at speed into the double gates. They flew open with the sound of tearing metal, ripping off a fender and one of the headlights.

  It was a quarter-mile from the outer gate to the stone wall. The drive was a dark, straight line cutting across the manicured grounds around it. She kept her foot down on the accelerator. The car shook, the steering wheel vibrating in her grip. A loud, screeching noise came from the engine compartment. Steam rose from the radiator. The battered vehicle would never be able to break through the heavy iron gate in the wall ahead. Haltman's guards would be at the guardhouse waiting for her. By now, they had to know she was coming.

  Whoever designed the estate had made a mistake. The guardhouse was placed outside the wall instead of behind it, where it would have been protected. The lights in the guardhouse were on. Four men with submachine guns stood in front of the gate. They began shooting at her.

  Selena ducked as bullets from the guns smashed through the windshield. She grabbed her weapon from the seat, opened her door and rolled out of the speeding truck. The ground was soft from rain, but still hard enough to knock the wind out of her. Knife-like pain wracked her injured thigh. She rolled, clutching the MP-7. The suburban hurtled toward the wall and smashed into the gate, scattering the men firing at her.

  The gas tank ruptured and exploded, lighting the night with fire. Burning gas enveloped two of the guards. One rolled on the ground, trying to put out the flames. One man ran screaming into the darkness, a human torch.

  Selena got to her knee. The last two guards were illuminated by the flames. She shot them before they recovered from the blast. She stood and limped as fast as she could toward the broken gate.

  Inside the house, Nick, Ronnie and Lamont had heard everything over the comm link and watched on a monitor as the Suburban hurtled toward the gate. The camera had gone dark when the vehicle struck.

  Haltman's right eye began twitching as he faced them.

  "It won't make any difference," he said. "She won't get here in time. I assume it's your lovely wife, Carter? Even if she did, she couldn't get past the lasers. We wouldn't want to fry that little being inside her, would we?"

  "What?" Lamont said.

  "How did you know about that?" Nick said.

  "I've been keeping an eye on you. I have many friends, Carter, in many places. Not so hard to obtain medical records, even if they're in Russian."

  "Selena is pregnant?" Ronnie asked.

  "Yeah."

  "Well, Tonto? Aren't you going to offer congratulations?"

  "You know, you really are an asshole," Ronnie said.

  "Sticks and stones…" Haltman said.

  "He's bluffing," Lamont said. "Shoot him."

  "Let me demonstrate how this button works," Haltman said.

  "Wait," Nick said. "I believe you. But I don't understand why you're doing it. I understand you think we're responsible for your brother's death. We're not, but I don't think I can convince you of that."

  "Got that right," Haltman said. He giggled again.

  "Okay. You want to punish us. But why start a war? It's kind of overkill, don't you think? Besides, the missiles on that system don't blow up. They're designed to destroy an incoming missile on impact, not land and set off a big explosion."

  "Very good," Haltman said. "You're right, those missiles don't explode. But these do."

  He pressed the button on his controller and a third monitor lit. It showed what appeared to be another THAAD installation.

  "This is in Poland," Haltman said. "Take a good look, Carter."

  Nick studied the image. Something wasn't right. Then he realized what it was.

  "Those are cruise missiles. Tomahawks, nuclear tipped. There aren't supposed to be any offensive ground missiles in Europe."

  "Go to the head of the class, Carter. It seems that someone in the Pentagon has been concealing things from your President. When I press this button, those will be launched along with the defensive missiles at the other locations. I expect the Russians will be quite upset when they see all those pretty streaks on their radar screens. They won't know which one to shoot down first. What would you do, if you were in their shoes?"

  I'd retaliate, Nick thought. Shit, he's got nukes pointed at them.

  Outside on the grounds, Selena limped as fast as she could toward the building. She didn't see the dog until it leapt at her with a low growl. She fired as the beast landed on her and knocked her down. The dog twitched and lay still.

  It made her angry, that someone would take an animal and turn it into a killing machine. It helped fuel her will to get past the pain and keep going.

  She was thinking about the plans to the house. If she remembered correctly, a panel controlling all the electrical power going into the building was located in the garage. If she cut the power, she'd take the lasers off-line. She spoke into her comm unit.

  "Nick, I'm heading for the garage and the power. Keep him talking."

  A single cough sounded in her ear piece.

  The adrenaline surge was running out. A sudden wave of fatigue tried to overwhelm her. She pushed on, using the pain in her leg to keep going.

  The garage was big enough for a second home. It featured three sets of arched, wooden doors and walls of stone. The parking apron in front of the ga
rage was lit, but the interior was dark. She hoped there were no more guards or dogs to deal with. As she approached the garage, she changed out the magazine in her HK for a fresh one. She worked the charger and moved toward an entry door on the side of the building. She tried the handle.

  Locked.

  Screw this, she thought.

  She stepped back and put a three round burst into the lock, then pushed the door open. A half dozen expensive cars were lined up inside, partly illuminated by light coming through windows in the garage doors. She moved toward the back of the garage, past a silver Bentley, looking for the power panel.

  It has to be in here somewhere. Probably painted gray.

  She saw what she was looking for next to a long workbench. Tools hung in orderly rows over the workbench.

  "Don't move, bitch," a voice said behind her.

  Most people would have done as they were told. Instead of freezing in place, Selena dropped and turned and fired at a man standing next to a low-slung Corvette. He fired as her rounds struck home. The bullets went over her head and into the rack of tools, sending wrenches and sockets flying. They made ringing, metallic noises as they bounced on the parked cars and the cement floor.

  She waited to see if there were any others, then got painfully to her feet. She went over to the gray panel and opened it. Rows of circuit breakers greeted her, lined up one above the other.

  Which one fed current to the lasers? She had no time to experiment. Selena moved back from the panel.

  "Nick," she said, "get ready. I'm taking out the power."

  She raised her MP-7 and fired. The result was spectacular. The panel erupted with cascades of orange sparks and arcing, violet-white light. The interior of the garage went dark as the lighting outside failed.

  After images danced in her eyes. Sparks and crackling noises came from the panel. A tongue of flame crawled in a line up the side of the wall. In a minute, the wall was burning. Acrid smoke seeped out into the garage, smelling of burnt insulation. She coughed and limped back out into the air.

  Inside the house, everything had gone dark.

  "No!" Haltman shouted.

  Then an emergency generator started up.

  The lights flickered and came back on, along with the monitors. But the laser beams were gone. Nick and the others stepped into the room and stopped a few feet away from Haltman's chair.

  "Stop," Haltman said. He had his finger over the red button.

  "Don't do it," Nick said. "Please."

  Haltman looked at him and Nick knew he'd lost.

  "That's what Carissa must have said." He pressed the button.

  On the monitors where the live satellite feed displayed the THAAD deployments, the systems came alive. Nick watched in horror as the platforms swiveled and elevated.

  Flame and smoke shot from the back of the missiles as they streaked away toward Russia.

  Haltman began laughing. His hand slipped down into his chair and came up with a pistol.

  Ronnie shot him.

  "Who the hell is Carissa?" Lamont asked.

  CHAPTER 50

  Nick looked down at Haltman's body and then back at the empty missile launchers on the monitors. Then he took out his satellite phone and called Harker.

  "Yes, Nick." Her voice sounded clogged with sleep.

  "Director, it's a code red. Haltman just launched missiles at Russia. Some of them are nukes."

  "What?"

  Any trace of sleep had disappeared from her voice.

  "He triggered the THAAD deployments in the Ukraine and Romania. Plus one in Poland armed with Tomahawks."

  "When?"

  "About a minute ago."

  "Where's Haltman?"

  "Dead."

  "All right." She disconnected.

  In Virginia, Elizabeth thought hard and fast. The Pentagon would already know something had happened. They would inform the President. The missiles would trigger the Russian defenses. Orlov would retaliate, probably with his newly deployed medium-range cruise missiles. That in turn would require a larger response. It wouldn't be long until things went out of control.

  What could she do? The world was minutes away from war. Her encrypted satellite phone was on the bedside table, where she always kept it at night. She picked up the phone. Her finger hovered over the button that would connect her to President Rice.

  If the Russians knew why the missiles had been launched, if they knew it wasn't a deliberate act ordered by Washington, it might be stopped. But how to convince them it was the work of a madman and not the opening shots of world war?

  Vysotsky. Call Vysotsky.

  She entered Vysotsky's number and glanced at her clock. It was a little after four in the morning, which meant it was after five in the afternoon in Russia. Vysotsky would be awake, probably at his office in Yasenevo. After one ring, he picked up.

  "Da."

  "General, it's Elizabeth Harker."

  "You have nerve calling, Director. Your country has launched an unprovoked attack upon us. You will regret it. I am too busy to talk to you now."

  "Wait, General. That's why I'm calling. We didn't do it. This must be stopped before it gets out of control."

  She could hear background noise that told her Vysotsky was in a car.

  "We know they are your missiles," Vysotsky said. "Do you deny this?"

  "I don't deny it," Harker said, "but we did not launch them. Someone else did."

  Vysotsky laughed, an ugly, angry sound with no humor in it.

  "Oh? A rogue commander, perhaps? Do you seriously expect me to believe this?"

  "Hear me out," Elizabeth said. "I understand your anger, I would feel the same way. Let me explain."

  "I am on my way to the Kremlin, Director. I will give you two minutes to convince me."

  It wasn't much time to prevent the end of the world. Elizabeth took a breath and began. Five minutes later, Vysotsky was still listening.

  "Haltman is dead," Elizabeth said. "There will be no more missile launches, unless you retaliate. If you do, it will be impossible to stop. Our two countries will be at war. You know what that means. Please, General, you must speak with Orlov and get him to hold off until this can be straightened out. Shoot them down but don't retaliate."

  Elizabeth waited. Over her phone, she heard only Vysotsky's breathing and the sound of the car as it sped toward the ancient fortress of the Kremlin.

  Finally, he said, "I will speak with our President."

  Vysotsky disconnected.

  Elizabeth's next call was to President Rice.

  "Yes, Director. I don't have much time, I'm moving to Marine One and then Kneecap."

  Marine One was the helicopter assigned to the President on a twenty-four hour basis. Kneecap was the designation for Air Force One in time of war. It was a complete, airborne command center, away from the nuclear bull's-eye that was Washington.

  "Mister President, I have discovered who launched the missiles. There are nuclear tipped Tomahawks among them."

  "Those missiles came from THAAD sites. They're defensive, unarmed. We don't have any cruise missiles stationed on the ground in Europe."

  "Sir, that's not entirely true. A site in Poland was disguised as a THAAD installation but was armed with Tomahawks. The missiles were triggered by the man who designed software for the guidance systems."

  Elizabeth took a breath. "Sir, on my own I contacted the Russians and explained what happened. We may still be able to avoid war if Orlov keeps his head about him."

  She heard people yelling in the background.

  "You talked with Orlov?" Rice asked.

  Elizabeth heard the beat of rotors over the phone. Rice was approaching Marine One.

  "No sir, I spoke with General Vysotsky. He was on his way to the Kremlin."

  "Very well. I'll talk with you again when I'm in the air."

  Rice disconnected.

  Nothing to do now but wait and pray, Elizabeth thought.

  CHAPTER 51

  Nick sat next
to Selena on the couch in their loft, looking out over the Potomac River. He had his arm around her shoulder. A Paul Kleé painting hung over the couch, a gift Selena had given him when he still lived in his apartment.

  It was early evening. A bottle of wine sat on a coffee table in front of them.

  "Rice is going to give us a medal," Nick said. "Of course we don't get to wear it, just hold it for a little bit until they put it away somewhere."

  "We don't deserve a medal. We didn't stop that bastard from launching those missiles."

  "No, we didn't. But we knew what had happened. That meant I could tell Harker and she could tell the Russians. If she hadn't gotten hold of Vysotsky, we wouldn't be sitting here. That river down there would be glowing in the dark."

  "It was close, wasn't it?"

  "I thought I was the one that understated things," Nick said.

  Selena picked up her glass and drank.

  "Is it all right for you to drink that now?"

  "You mean the baby?"

  "Yes. Junior."

  "What if it's a girl?"

  "You're not answering my question."

  "After saving the world, I'm entitled to one glass of wine. But it's the last one for a while."

  "We were really lucky," Nick said. "If one of those Tomahawks had gotten through, Moscow would've gone up in a mushroom cloud. As it was, some of the THAAD missiles did a lot of damage when they hit."

  "I imagine the Pentagon is busy analyzing the Russian defense system," Selena said. "It's a lot better than we thought it was."

  "That's not all they're analyzing. First they had General Sanford handing over plans to North Korea, then it turns out there's a rogue element in the Pentagon that thinks we should have nuclear tactical weapons on the ground in Europe. Their little stunt just blew the whole nuclear proliferation treaty to hell."

  "Maybe in the end it'll be a good thing," Selena said. "Everyone will be forced to go back to the negotiating table after this. Who knows, we might even get an agreement to reduce these weapons."

  "Yeah, maybe."

  Nick refilled his glass.

  "We need to talk. About you and the team."

  "I know. When I was driving toward that gate, I wasn't thinking about much except going through it without getting killed. But afterward, I started thinking about us. I could've lost the baby. I don't know why I didn't. I hit the ground pretty hard when I jumped out of that truck."