Dark Winter

by Anthony J. Tata

  Mahegan stood from his metal chair inside the command and control console. Noticeably absent were Cassie and Owens. Still alive, though, as far as he knew. His last image of Owens had been a quick debrief onboard the USS Eisenhower. Owens’ first words had been, “How’s Cassie?”

  Mahegan had confirmed that they had stopped the Iranian launch and satellite constellation, but that the situation on the ground remained unclear. The Iranian Army had overrun the Farah airfield, but the Rangers had flown from Kandahar to Herat—north of Farah—and were planning an exfiltration mission.

  Cassie had reported that they were in a hide position on the drop zone after successfully exfiltrating the tunnel complex. The Mossad and Jordanian agents were in defensive perimeter laying amongst the rocks, awaiting some type of miracle. Their sole communications pipeline was through Cassie back to Mahegan, who was communicating with the Jordanian and Israeli commands.

  The plane had refueled at Hickham Air Force Base in Hawaii and was now headed toward the United States. Mahegan walked back to check on Ranger, the Russian wolfhound. Her eyes locked with Mahegan’s. He rubbed her head and belly as she lay on the medical litter. She hobbled up to her front legs and laid her head on Mahegan’s shoulder. He continued to soothe her, feeling her heart rate steady, imparting his energy to her. He closed his eyes and visualized Ranger healthy, running at breakneck speed, fur sweeping to the rear as she gave chase. She had a strong spirit and was improving. As he rubbed her neck and thought mostly about Cassie, he was reminded of unmitigated love. An animal loved wholly and completely, no questions asked. Mahegan continued to soothe Ranger, his thumb hitting a small hard spot in the back of her neck. He knew that many animal owners had chips inserted in their pets to keep track of them or have them returned in case they were lost. No doubt, Khilkov would want his wolfhound returned. His hand continued to circle her ears and chin and she was closing her eyes, resting her head on Mahegan’s broad shoulder.

  Thankfully, the nurse had joined them on the trip and was tending to other soldiers who had been wounded during the Iranian attack. They had kept Shayne’s body on board in case they could use him in the biometric chamber to shut down the Russian launch.

  The plane leveled out over the Pacific Ocean. Through the porthole, he saw the Big Island of Hawaii beneath them through scattered clouds, its black volcano prominent.

  His phone buzzed.

  “Line is unsecure,” Mahegan said.

  “I’m guessing Chayton Mahegan. Native American. Frisco, North Carolina. Former Delta Force. Gray listed. Possibly detain. Mother raped and murdered. Father murdered. You were investigated for murdering a detainee. Now you’re trying to stop World War Three. Correct?”

  “I’m guessing, Ian Gorham. Twenty-nine-year-old founder of Manaslu, Incorporated. Bringing Genius to the World is your motto. You see Dr. Draganova for deep psychotherapy counseling related to your inability to love and be loved. While you are the wealthiest man in the world, you feel empty and so you have to reshape society in your image, the image of Manaslu, which is a borderless Utopian empire where everybody likes photos and exists on thin air while they pay for your advertising.”

  Spartak/Langevin and O’Malley watched Mahegan.

  “One in the same. Though the thing with Draganova is over. She’s been missing in action. Perhaps she was in Tokyo two days ago. As they say, timing is everything.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Well, it looks like we’re headed to the same location and I was curious if you wanted to grab a latte? Starbucks? Idaho Falls?”

  Mahegan paused. Of course, it made sense that the most invasive Internet company in the world would know where he was, how to contact him, and where he was going.

  “Sure. What did you want to discuss?”

  “The Russian president wants his dog back.”

  Again, no use in fighting the information. Gorham knew. Somehow he knew that Ranger was on board this airplane. Maybe it was one of the grasshopper looking drones or maybe he had watched video footage at Farah or Yazd.

  “She’s mine now. I don’t trade animals, anyway.”

  “What if I told you he would not launch the five hundred nuclear warheads he’s got poised to launch?”

  “He knows that is a useless drill. He’ll be destroyed.”

  “Come on now, Mr. Mahegan. You were doing so well. You know that all of your information is public now, right. I believe someone called it publicy, not privacy. And you of all people should know that the United States is defenseless to retaliate now. So, a simple dog to stop five hundred nuclear missiles in the United States? I think some may find you irresponsible,” Gorham said.

  “So, just make the trade at Starbucks? Seems pretty easy,” Mahegan said.

  “Okay. I’ll see you there. Looks like we’ll arrive at the same time. And if you shoot me out of the sky, there’s no one left to walk through the chamber and shut them down. So, make a call for me, will ya, pal?” Gorham hung up.

  Mahegan looked at O’Malley, who shook his head.

  “What are the chances he’s the override key?” Mahegan asked

  “I don’t think so,” Spartak/Langevin said.

  “Why Idaho Falls?” Mahegan asked.

  “That’s Manaslu headquarters. You made the call and why we’re going there,” O’Malley said.

  “No. Why build the headquarters in Idaho Falls?” Mahegan asked.

  “Why not? It’s a great climate. Affordable housing. Lots of recreation. All the bullshit millennials love,” O’Malley replied.

  Mahegan pulled up a satellite image of the earth, spun it to Idaho Falls, then zeroed in on a building complex north of the city and across the Snake River from the Idaho Falls Regional Airport. Manaslu’s facility was north of the airport near Osgood off I-15.

  “See this?” Mahegan said. “This is Idaho National Laboratory. It is the think tank and research lab for all things nuclear. Every nonwarfare related discovery and application of nuclear power has been conceived of and constructed here. Every nuclear power plant. Every nuclear generator. Everything.”

  Savage said, “What are you thinking?”

  “It makes no sense. If the Russians were shooting five nukes at us, this would be one of the top five targets, much less five hundred. Attacking energy supplies is a key maxim of nuclear warfare.”

  O’Malley pulled up a classified map that showed the probable targets of the 500 and 2,000 missile scenarios. “Idaho Falls isn’t on either, Jake.”

  “If he knows where we are and that we have the Russian president’s dog on our airplane, then he can change a map on the Internet,” Mahegan said.

  “Well this was from our JWICS, but you’re right. He’s way deeper than JWICS. Wouldn’t be too hard for him to put his own map in there,” O’Malley said.

  The map showed black dots and open triangles. The black dots were for the 2,000 warhead plan and the red triangles were for the 500 warhead plan. There was virtually no place in the United States uncovered. Every state had multiple black dots and red triangles on major cities, airports, ports, roadways, military facilities, and, of course, nuclear missile silos.

  Mahegan picked up the phone, convinced that the threat was real enough. He nodded at Savage. “Make the call?”

  “Make the call,” Savage said.

  The phone rang deep in the Pentagon somewhere. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs picked up. No aide de camp. No executive officer. The general himself. “Talk to me.”

  “We’re on a secure line. What is the status of our nuclear fleet?”

  A long pause preceded the reply. “You were right. We are completely shut down. We have our best people working on it, but even they say it could be days.”

  “The Russians have been unlocked. The man who claims he can lock them back down is about to leave Russian airspace. He may be our only chance. Instead of shooting him down, we need to intercept him and escort him. My main concern is that the Russians will figure it out and knock him out o
f the sky. For some reason he feels safe there.”

  “So you’re saying we should penetrate Russian airspace and have a dogfight just to keep this asshole alive?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Ranger limped over to and sat next to Mahegan. He rubbed her ears as he talked to the chairman. She nuzzled up to his leg and rubbed her nose against his hand. Mahegan took his water bottle and gave her a sip, then took a drink himself and put it back on the table to his front. He scratched her under her chin and felt her panting lightly against his touch. She was a good dog. No way was he giving her back to the Russian.

  “Okay. Orders sent. Anything else?”

  “Update on the wars?”

  “North Koreans have stalled about fifty miles north of Pusan. We’re now being effective against their heavy armor for the first time. Iran has broken into Jerusalem, but the IDF has pushed back. There’s hand-to-hand fighting going on in the streets between American and North Korean soldiers. The Russians, however are still going strong. We’re having a problem getting the ASAT up against that constellation, but we think we’re about to. As you know, nuke capabilities of North Korea and Iran have been locked down for now. We’ve got full-time cyber capability making sure it stays that way. Plus we’re bombing the locations that were smoking. B1s and B-2s dropping massive ordnance on those locations.”

  “What about us?”

  “Eighty-second Airborne is jumping into about five different airfields in Europe so we can get the Third Infantry, Tenth Mountain, and 101st Airborne Divisions in there. Full up Eighteenth Airborne Corps effort. I Corps heading to Korea into the airfields the Rangers secured. III Corps heading to Israel and Saudi Arabia. Full mobilization of reserves and national guard. About fifty enemy sleeper cells are attacking cities around the country. Shopping malls, roadways, everything. It’s a shit storm. But nothing on the magnitude of what they’ve got in Tokyo. Estimates are about 30,000 dead so far. Ten times that wounded and injured. But really too early to tell what even an approximation might be.”

  While Mahegan knew the Tokyo blast had to be bad, he hadn’t fully processed the threat against the home front with all of the activity happening overseas. They had done well to stop the primary threats against Israel and South Korea. Now they were focused on protecting the homeland against a nuclear strike. With mutual assured destruction removed from the equation, and with the conventional provocation, the threat was real that Russia could play that card. If there were ever a moment in history to do so, now was the time.

  “Jesus,” Savage said. “Look at Tokyo.” He pointed at a satellite feed on one of the monitors in the command pod. “I’ve talked about this. Seen it. But never fully comprehended it. Now say that happens just five hundred times in the U.S. They’re attacking everywhere.”

  Mahegan stared at the Tokyo images then at the nuclear option map with its 500 red triangles and 2000 black dots. Had a thought. “Except here,” he said, circling the state. “Idaho isn’t touched except for Boise.”

  “I think they plan to hit every state capital,” O’Malley said.

  “Gorham has to know about the national lab,” Spartak/Langevin said.

  Mahegan’s mind spun with the rationale. He tried to get inside of Gorham’s genius, figure it out, at least part of it. “He’s a genius. We know that. So what is he thinking? What are his weak points? We’ve been too busy fighting the symptoms of this thing. What is his real genius? How can we get at him?”

  Those were mostly rhetorical questions. Mahegan was doing something he didn’t often do, but didn’t feel he had the time to compartmentalize his thoughts. He needed the entire team—even Spartak/Langevin—thinking through the next moves. Four heads were better than one, kind of thing. She could be a spy and secretly communicating with Gorham or the Russians somehow, but Mahegan didn’t allow himself to be bothered by those thoughts. He needed to find the thing that no one else had considered.

  He had another thought. “Earlier, Gorham mentioned Draganova. What do we have on her?”

  O’Malley hammered away at the keyboard. Spartak/Langevin looked away, thinking. Savage was on the phone with the chairman.

  “Dr. Belina Draganova. Russian therapist who specializes in deep psychotherapy. Layers of the mind, kind of bullshit. Unpacking boxes and opening them,” O’Malley said.

  “That just means she charges more,” Savage said after hanging up with the chairman. “All the same crap.”

  “Tell me something useful,” Mahegan interrupted.

  “She went off the grid about a month ago. Had been with Gorham for the last two years. One session, every week, usually via ManaChat, Manaslu’s version of Skype or FaceTime. Sometimes in person. Different cities it looks like. A few trips to Portland.”

  Spartak/Langevin’s head snapped up. She stared at the computer screen, frozen.

  “What?” Mahegan asked.

  Recovering, she said, “Something just occurred to me, that’s all. About how we might shut down the weapons. But I need to think on it more.”

  Bullshit, Mahegan thought.

  “So, two women missing from Gorham’s circle? The CFO, Nancy Langevin, and his shrink, Belina Draganova?” Mahegan asked. His mind was on full throttle now, digesting the low probabilities of those disappearances being coincidences. He looked at Spartak/Langevin, who was still staring over O’Malley’s head at the wall of the command console.

  “Which one are you, really?” Mahegan asked.

  CHAPTER 21

  “I AM DRAGANOVA,” SPARTAK/LANGEVIN SAID.

  “You’re Gorham’s shrink?”

  “We prefer a different term, but yes.”

  Mahegan’s mind buzzed. Should he believe her? She had lied before. What would stop her now?

  “A shrink that is an expert coder?”

  “The other way around.”

  “You saw what he was doing a couple of years ago and worked your way into his life?”

  “Like that.”

  “Sean, pull up a photo of Dr. Belina Draganova from a basic Google search,” Mahegan directed.

  After a few seconds, O’Malley tilted the monitor. “That’s her. Harvard University.”

  Spartak/Langevin/Draganova removed two contact lenses. Her brown eyes were suddenly blue.

  Mahegan could see it, also. The wide blue eyes. High cheekbones. Long black hair instead of shaved stubble. Harvard University medical degree in psychiatry.

  “Is this real? Or Internet bullshit?” Mahegan asked.

  Draganova confirmed. “That I was Langevin was Internet bullshit. I used my picture. I attended Harvard. I have a real medical degree. Dr. Belina Draganova is a graduate of Harvard Medical School.” She smiled.

  “Why the act? Why the cook in the restaurant?”

  Draganova paused. “You thought I was Langevin. Why argue? It kept me alive.”

  “But why pretend to be Langevin?” Mahegan asked.

  “I needed to be her to get into their system. She’s a real person. I phished her identity.”

  Mahegan looked at O’Malley, who nodded. “Phishing is a real thing.”

  “Like that,” Draganova said. “But still, they caught me in their system. Didn’t know who I was, but they triangulated where I was and I had to run. You underestimate Manaslu’s capabilities. You underestimate Gorham. Every camera at every airport, bus station, street corner, police station, television feed, convenience store, big box, little box, stop light cameras, everything. Even live streaming video is processed through their equivalent of Carnivore.”

  Carnivore was the U.S. government’s e-mail and text scanning capability that could decipher trillions of e-mails and texts daily.

  “Actually, Carnivore is antiquated compared to Manaslu,” Draganova continued. “I was inside the mind of Ian Gorham as I mined through his Dark Web a few years ago. Then I was inside his actual mind, simultaneously. He grew to trust me implicitly. He told me his fears and weaknesses. In a way, I love him. In a way, I hate him. He is a genius, but I�
��m afraid he’s so diabolical that his unpredictability makes him a psychopath.”

  “Hitler was a psychopath,” Mahegan said.

  “Like that,” Draganova replied.

  “I kept buying burner cell phones, but the Target or Walmart security cameras picked me up, recognized my face, zoomed in on the purchase, and Gorham was able to trace the phone back to its originator. His team had been chasing me for two days. Finally I set the trap. I saw that your man O’Malley was snooping around in Manaslu’s Deep Web. I don’t think he knew where he was, but he was there.”

  “That’s fair,” O’Malley said.

  “I had eaten at the bar the night before. I was on the run. They had a HELP WANTED sign. I cued O’Malley, teased him with some information about a raid at the bar. I bought a new phone. Kept it on. Knew they would come to me. Just didn’t know when. Thought that you would come also,” Draganova said, pointing at O’Malley.

  “We came.”

  “I know. And here we are.”

  “They were going to capture you. They were prepared to kill you.”

  “Ian would have stopped them,” she said.

  “Gorham wasn’t in charge.”

  “He was there. I saw him through the pass through from the kitchen.”

  “Convince me you’re Draganova,” Mahegan said.

  She paused. Savage and O’Malley had looked up from their computer monitors and were staring at them.

  After a moment, she said, “Jake, your mother, Samantha, was your magnetic north. How does it feel now after so many years? Do you still have a true north? Are you living the life she sought for you?”

  The engines whined. A light shudder of turbulence rattled the airplane. Ranger whined.

  Mahegan said nothing.

  “Tell me, Jake. You love Cassie. Is it commitment that scares you? Or losing her? Can you bear another loss of someone you love? Or is it the fear that keeps you from crossing that line? From planting roots and growing with another person? Is it easier to be a lone vigilante doing what’s comfortable? What you know?”

  Mahegan said nothing.

  “Your father? Maqwa. Slaughtered by the man who raped and killed your mother. Did the revenge taste sweet when you killed Gunther? Put him down that hole?”