by Dirk Patton
“How are you on ammo?”
Rachel had moved next to me now that we were on level ground and the walking was easier. She took a moment to check herself over before answering.
“I’ve got the magazine in the rifle, and that’s it. One spare for my pistol.”
I nodded, not expressing my concern that there were only two loaded rifle magazines in my vest. We could defend ourselves if we had to, but certainly weren’t prepared to get into another firefight. In addition to our poor state of ammo, we didn’t have any food or water and there wasn’t a single sign of civilization anywhere ahead.
The darkness had quickly spread across the valley floor and only the peaks of the distant mountains were still lit by the sun. They glowed in shades of red and gold for a few seconds, then disappeared as night encompassed us. Overhead, what looked like a million stars began to twinkle as the sky deepened into what would be a perfect, velvety black.
“Are you sure the plane is out here?” Rachel asked, moving closer in response to the yipping wail of a dingo.
Dog’s head swiveled in the direction of the sound, but he didn’t slow or react in any other way. I was happy to have his finely tuned senses along as I could barely see where I was about to put my foot each time I took a step. This slowed us even more and I idly wondered what kind of snakes lived in the Australian desert. At least when I lived in Arizona I could normally count on the warning sound of a rattlesnake, but I didn’t think that species existed here.
“Should be, the way Sherman talked,” I said. “Problem is, no way to know we’re going in the right direction.”
“Tracks?” Rachel asked, surprising me that she’d learned enough to think about that option.
“How?” I asked, feeling a little bad that I was shooting down her idea. “It was already too dark by the time we got off the slope. No way to see them.”
I looked up and scanned the sky, hoping to see a glow on the horizon that would herald a rising moon, but saw nothing but stars. They provided a faint, cold light that helped us see well enough to avoid large objects, but there was no way I could spot and follow footprints left in the dirt.
“How did the Russians find us?” Rachel asked after several more minutes of silence.
“Only way I can think of is they tracked the C-130. Got no idea how long they were up flying around, waiting for the order to come after me. Must have drawn attention and the Russians reacted.”
“No way they were there for us?”
“Don’t think so,” I said. “I’m pretty sure we got into the country without being detected. If we hadn’t, there would probably have been an attack on Lucas’s compound. No, I think when the SEALs took off this morning they probably went into an orbit while waiting for orders. Maybe the Russians got them on radar or, who knows, but they were spotted.”
“Okay,” Rachel said, digesting what I’d said. “Then, wouldn’t the Russians have taken out the plane, too?”
I stopped, looking at her in the dark. Her face was invisible, but I could see her clearly silhouetted against the sky. Dog came to a halt with us, panting softly in the hot air.
“Let’s hope not,” I finally said, then started moving again.
Ten more minutes of walking and I called a halt.
“What?” Rachel asked quietly.
“We’ve covered more than a mile. Sherman said the plane was over a mile away. Not two or three, just ‘over a mile’. So, we’ve gone far enough, but not in the right direction.”
I turned a slow circle as I spoke, peering intently at the horizon in hopes of spotting the hulking outline of a C-130. Nothing. Rachel did the same, twice, pausing when she was facing almost due south.
“There’s something big in that direction,” she said.
I looked, but couldn’t see anything.
“Can’t see it,” I said.
“Losing an eye has an even more dramatic effect in the dark,” she explained automatically. “There’s definitely something that way, but I can’t make out the shape.”
“Let’s go see,” I said.
We walked for five minutes and I still didn’t see whatever had caught Rachel’s attention.
“I don’t see anything.”
“Me either,” she said, disappointment in her voice. “Maybe I just wanted to see something.”
I glanced at her, reaching out to squeeze her hand. As I turned my head away from the south, a darker blot on the horizon caught my attention and I looked back at that point. Nothing. Turning my head slightly, I used the peripheral vision in my one good eye and could clearly make out the faint outline of a C-130 against the starry sky.
“It’s there!” I said. “Don’t look directly at it and you’ll see it.”
Something else I’d forgotten. The human eye’s ability to see in near darkness is due to photoreceptors called rods. They don’t let us see colors and are arranged around the periphery, which means we can see things at night better if we aren’t looking directly at them. I knew this and had relied on it in combat situations when I was younger, but night vision equipment had created a reliance on technology for me that wasn’t altogether beneficial.
“I see it!” Rachel said with relief.
I checked on Dog, who had probably seen the plane ten minutes ago. If only he could talk.
“Okay, let’s go in careful and quiet. Don’t know what kind of reception we’re going to get.”
“What are we going to do?” Rachel asked. “If the Russians spotted the plane, we aren’t going to be able to go anywhere in it. And how would you make the pilot take us anywhere? You willing to hold a gun to his head?”
“I’ve got an idea. Ready?”
Rachel looked at me a moment before nodding. With Dog at my side, I brought the rifle around as I led her toward the dark and silent aircraft.
14
“Captain West coming, sir,” Captain Black said.
Admiral Packard was seated on his usual bench, puffing on a cigarette. It was a beautiful morning in Hawaii with a gentle breeze whisking away his smoke and bringing the smell of the sea. The Admiral suppressed a sigh and didn’t turn around. These days, his aide didn’t come find him if there wasn’t something that had gone wrong.
“Think you could sidetrack him for half an hour?” the Admiral asked, earning a smile from the normally taciturn Marine.
“I could try, sir, but I’m afraid he’d make me start training with him.”
“Not feeling up to a triathlon, Captain?” the Admiral teased.
“You are aware, sir, that Captain West runs twenty miles a day, no matter how long he’s been on duty? Seven days a week! And you Navy types say us Marines are crazy. Sir.”
Packard chuckled and stripped the butt of the cigarette.
“Facts are what they are, Captain,” Packard said, still laughing. “Maybe I should assign Captain West to lead the Marine PT training for a few weeks. Toughen you up with a little old school exercise!”
“My grandfather used to say things like that, sir,” Black said. “Thought today’s Marines were too soft. Said we didn’t compare to the men that fought at Iwo Jima and Guadalcanal.”
“He was there?” Packard asked.
“Yes, sir. He was a Gunny Sergeant. Lost a foot and half his face, but that tough old Marine survived. Corps gave him a wooden foot and I can still remember the sound of him clumping around the house when I was little.”
“Oorah, Captain,” the Admiral said softly.
“Oorah, sir,” Captain Black echoed, then stepped a respectful distance away as Captain West arrived.
“Bad news, sir,” West said without preamble. “We’ve lost the SEAL team in Australia.”
“What?” Packard shouted, leaping to his feet. “What the hell happened? Major Chase?”
“No, sir. The Russians.”
The Admiral slowly resumed his seat, staring at his aide as he lit a fresh cigarette.
“Proceed, Captain,” he said, pain over the loss of the men written on
his face.
“Commander Sherman and his team intercepted the Major and his group several hours south of a small town called Coober Pedy, in the outback. There was an initial standoff, but the Commander and the Major were speaking, face to face. A Hind Mi-24 and a squad of Spetsnaz attacked while they were talking. All the SEALs except for Commander Sherman are dead, as well as all members of the Major’s team.”
“Sherman survived?”
“Bad shape, sir. The Major and Ms. Miles rendered aid and got him to a pair of truck drivers who were stopped by the fight. Had them call for an airlift. They just took off with him and he’s still alive, though barely.”
Packard slowly nodded his head.
“And the Major?”
“He and Ms. Miles are on foot. It looks like they’re trying to reach the SEAL’s plane.”
“How the hell did the Russians get involved?” Packard asked, his tone icy.
“Our best guess, sir, is that our aircraft was detected by the enemy while over Australian airspace.”
“Why were we not able to get a warning to Commander Sherman?” the Admiral growled. “We were supposed to be watching.”
“Yes, sir, we were, but once the SEALs touched down, the satellite was retasked to aide in the search for the Russian boomer off the eastern coast of Australia. It has advanced thermal and electromagnetic detection capabilities and there was hope it would work.”
“Who approved the retasking during a combat operation?” Packard asked, his eyes hard.
“Lieutenant Commander Boothe, sir. The Officer of the Deck in the CIC at the time. I’ve already had him relieved, pending a review board.”
The Admiral stared at West for several long seconds, then turned to face the blue harbor.
“Goddamn it!” he muttered to himself. “Goddamn it.”
“One more thing, sir,” West continued. “We’ve been unable to contact the flight crew aboard the Hercules.”
“Comms down?”
“No, sir. We’ve confirmed we’re activating the secure satellite terminal located within the aircraft, but the crew is failing to respond.”
“This is unacceptable, Captain!” the Admiral barked.
“Agreed, sir,” West said, unperturbed.
Packard sat silent, smoking the cigarette to the butt, then immediately lighting another.
“What assets do we have that can intercept the Major?”
“None, sir. There’s a handful of Marines at the embassy in Sydney, but they’re being watched very closely by the Russians and ADF troops loyal to the PM. If they try to leave, they will be detained.”
“Options?” the Admiral asked.
“Only one, sir. Notify the Australians and have them pick up Major Chase. Of course, the PM will almost certainly hand him over to Barinov once the Russians learn of his capture.”
“I’m damn well aware of the consequences, Captain!” Packard snapped.
“How shall I proceed, sir?” West asked as if the Admiral hadn’t just barked at him.
There was a long stretch of silence as Packard stared at the ocean and puffed furiously on his cigarette. When it was finished, he stripped the butt and jammed it into his pocket as he stood.
“Get the PM on the phone,” he sighed. “The Major isn’t giving me a choice.”
Before Captain West could respond, Captain Black stepped closer.
“Sir, Chief Simmons is asking to speak with you.”
“She’s here?” Packard asked, looking around and spotting Jessica fifty yards away, waiting next to a heavily armed Marine. “Let her through, Captain.”
“Yes sir,” he said, mumbling an order into his radio.
An instant later they could see the Marine nod his head to Jessica and she hurried across the lush lawn.
“Sorry to disturb you, sir,” she said as she arrived and came to attention.
“Relax, Chief. Tell me what’s so important.”
“I’ve found something, sir. To do with Barinov.”
Packard and West looked at her in surprise and she barely managed to suppress a smile.
“Go ahead,” the Admiral said.
“Well, sir, I’ve been playing with some of the capabilities of the NSA satellite. I won’t bore you with the details, but I detected a low powered signal coming from his building. At first, I kind of dismissed it. After all, there are probably all kinds of secure comms, not to mention security systems. But as I kept looking, it was apparent this one was unique.”
“In what way?” Captain West asked.
“Sir, it’s too low powered to be communicating with anything other than a local receiver. Say within ten to fifteen miles.”
“That sounds like a security system,” West countered.
“And that’s why I didn’t pay attention at first,” Jessica said. “Then I realized it’s on a frequency that is far outside the band of anything else the Russians are using. It’s also well removed from any Australian or commercial radio channels.”
“What would be the purpose of that?” Packard asked.
“To mitigate the possibility of unintended interference by an outside source, sir,” Jessica explained. “And it’s a constant transmission, unlike everything else that’s emanating from the building. It doesn’t stop, which pretty much eliminated everything. I asked around, spoke with several radio frequency engineers, and they took a look. They all agreed it was odd, but none had a suggestion of what its purpose could be.”
“You’re losing me, Chief,” the Admiral said. “What did you find?”
“Sir, the signal is encrypted. Heavily. It took me and my entire team to break in and view the data that was being transmitted. It’s human vital signs, sir!”
“Excuse me? Vital signs? Like blood pressure?” Captain West asked.
“Exactly, sir. BP and heart rate.”
“What the hell for?” Packard asked, frowning as he lit a fresh cigarette.
“If you’ll bear with me, sir,” Jessica said, pausing until she received a nod. “The other aspect I noted was that this is being transmitted by an omni-directional antenna on the roof of the building. That means the intent is to spread the signal equally in all directions. I was quite intrigued at that point. I mean, why would the Russians be broadcasting vital signs in an encrypted data stream?”
“Chief?” Captain West prompted.
“Sorry, sir. It’s just that I want you to understand my line of thinking before I share my conclusion. Anyway, as I kept monitoring, one of the engineers I’d spoken with dropped by. He looked at the frequency spectrum I was watching and, well, long story short, we found another signal buried on what he calls a sub-channel. It’s only a burst of less than half a second, but it happens once every five minutes. And it’s coming from multiple locations within Sydney.”
“An answer back?” Packard asked.
“That’s the assessment, sir,” Jessica said, nodding. “It took some doing, but we identified the locations of each of the transceivers that are responding to the constant stream of vital signs coming from the building. And, sir, one of those is doing more than responding. It is also repeating the original signal in a very tightly focused, higher powered broadcast that is aimed at Melbourne to the south. We’re still working to identify and locate additional transceivers outside the Sydney area.”
“You’ve found the nerve gas locations and how the Russians are ensuring they will be triggered if Barinov is killed!” Packard cried, hope coursing through him.
“That’s the conclusion I reached, sir,” Jessica said, smiling from ear to ear.
“Can you spoof the signal that’s coming from his building?” West asked quickly.
“Yes, sir. We can. But it may not be that simple. There’s an additional stream of data within the signal that I haven’t been able to figure out what it is. The basic vital signs weren’t that hard, but this is like nothing I’ve ever seen.
“I’ve shown a sample to several of the engineers and they have theories, but nothing mor
e. Whatever it is, it constantly changes and fluctuates. BP and heart rates are easy to fake. This? The pattern is too complicated and without knowing what it is, trying to create a substitute could very well lead to the system recognizing something is wrong and activating the release.”
The two senior officers were quiet for a moment, thinking.
“How long to be confident you’ve located and mapped out all of the suspected locations of the nerve agent?” the Admiral asked.
“It’s a slow process, sir. Once we knew what to look for, it took over a day for Sydney. Several days is my best estimate at this point, but quite possibly longer as we do not have a comprehensive list of cities to check. That means we have to check all of them.”
“What do you need, Chief?” Captain West asked.
“I could use a couple more engineers, sir. Other than that, we’re limited by only having one satellite over Australia.”
“Sir?” West asked, turning to the Admiral.
“Whatever the Chief needs. Highest priority, Captain,” Packard answered immediately. “This just might be the key to solving our problem!”
“Yes, sir. I’ll make it happen. And that phone call you wanted me to place?”
The Admiral hesitated a moment before shaking his head.
“Not quite yet, Captain. We’ve got a few hours. Let’s see what can be done before we take that step.”
15
We had covered maybe half the distance to the parked C-130 when I signaled Rachel and brought us to a halt. Dog shifted until his side was pressed against me and I could feel the tension in his body. Rachel was on the other side and after a long pause, she leaned close and mumbled in my ear.
“What’s wrong?”
“Too quiet,” I replied. “And too dark. These guys have been waiting for a long time. They haven’t had contact with the SEAL team for a while and they should be getting antsy. Maybe they’re more disciplined than I think, but they’re not in a combat zone. Really no reason for them to not be out enjoying the evening air. Gotta be hot and stuffy inside after baking in the sun this afternoon.”
