In the case of this one, however, Stanish knew it was a prototype and a hastily built one at that. There was little chance it could do the kind of damage on the scale she’d been told was possible by Madari, but she could just barely imagine.
A minute went by as the HSY-56A came within firing distance. Stanish had hardly paid attention to the radio where the voice of the officer aboard the Hellenic gunboat became more urgent with each attempt to raise the yacht. Hellenic navy or not, she knew their only chance would be to get in the first strike. Suddenly she heard the echo of a boom and massive arcs of light whipped across the bow of the ship. The volley had come from a very large anti-surface gun mounted at the aft, an OTO Melara 76/62C. Sea-water cooled, it could fire 120 rounds a minute utilizing a 440-volt, 3-phase main circuit.
The volley burned the air, a testament to the firepower and capability of even this small military vessel.
“Get that thing going, Nero!”
Nero shrugged and splayed his palms, indicating that at this point the situation was completely out of his control. Stanish returned her attention to the EMP gun—at this point she knew there was little chance the thing would even work—just in time to see something disturb the air waves immediately in front of the main rectangular firing point. The air shimmered like a highway in desert heat but there also appeared to be something else in the beam. It was… Stanish sucked in a breath. The multihued arc of a rainbow was just visible within that brief moment, an electric charge that quickly turned blue-white.
Then the spectacular display disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared, and Stanish realized she’d missed the initial results. She turned to see the better half of the aft deck of the patrol boat erupt into a gaseous ball of molten metal and fragments. The intense heat and subsequent burst from the magnetic pulse had apparently done damage to the magazine stores, as well, and secondary explosions began to erupt through the under-decking where the 67/62C had once sat.
Spectacular, she thought. Utterly spectacular.
The HSY-56A came hard around and began to move away from the yacht as fast as her engines could carry her. The gun on the foredeck was an antiaircraft weapon and wouldn’t have done her any good in this case. Men were now clustering on the starboard side, which was now the side facing the yacht, armed to the teeth with every kind of personalized and crew weapon probably available in their armory. They weren’t about to take any more chances.
She could see crewmen running around the deck wearing fire-suppression suits and attempting to maintain control of the smoldering, thick black smoke that roiled from the aft deck. Dozens of men had been employed to attempt to put the fires out before they consumed the entire ship. If they didn’t get it under control quickly they would start taking on water and eventually the ship would plunge her way beneath the surface and head straight to the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea.
“Well done, Capta—”
Stanish never got the last of her compliment off as she felt a forearm snake around her throat and yank hard in a back and downward direction. Stupid! She’d left herself vulnerable and now Nero was trying to take her out while he had the chance. Unfortunately for him, she had quite a bit of experience in hand-to-hand combat and she immediately reached to the boot knife she’d donned while on the stolen powerboat.
She twisted her head to the right, the action threatening to tear the muscles in her neck. Nero was strong but he wasn’t experienced and he really wasn’t in good physical condition. She managed to drive the knife into his thigh right at the point where it met his knee and slightly toward the rear. He emitted a scream as the now useless leg buckled beneath his weight and caused him to release his hold.
Stanish had dropped her pistol but managed to recover it before she dashed from Nero on hands and knees. When she was out of reach, she climbed to her feet and whirled on the captain. His dark eyes stared at her, burning with a mixture of hate and fear, his expression defiant. She raised her pistol and shot that look off his face. She whirled to face any additional challengers but the pilot navigator and first officer had been too busy avoiding the HSY to deal with what had just transpired. Apparently they figured Nero would be able to handle her alone. They were wrong.
“You speak English?” she asked, and they both nodded. “Good. Then you’ll understand me when I tell you I’m the captain now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Washington, D.C.
David Steinham could hardly believe his ears when he received the news about Madari, the American special operators Major Braden encountered, and the rescue of the three federal agents by what could have only been Cyclops.
Steinham hadn’t bought their story about being part of Homeland Security. The lead guy had been especially tense around him during their entire visit. Steinham had been in the defense business long enough to know CIA when he saw them. Hell, those guys might have even been NSA or part of some organization so secret even its name was classified. Steinham didn’t doubt they existed—in fact he knew they did because he’d developed technologies for their use.
And he’d been well compensated. Damn Madari all to hell anyway! Steinham had funneled millions of dollars at that guy and in the end he’d come up with squat. The EMP prototypes should have been his to barter, to sell or exploit as he chose. Instead, Madari had gone off like some madman and ruined all of Steinham’s plans. The only question left for David Steinham was what to do about it.
He had several options. One would be to track Madari and send Cyrus after him, but Steinham wasn’t sure how much good that would do him with the U.S. government. Obviously they would be watching him very closely now, and he’d have to be extremely careful what next steps he took. Undoubtedly they would have both his home and DCDI offices and labs under surveillance. All of his activities the past few years would also be closely scrutinized by agents of the CIA. It was possible he’d even be put on no-fly or fly-watch lists, his face splattered across every national and international antiterrorism database.
“Damn it to hell!” Steinham picked up a ceramic frog his wife had given to him as a Christmas gift one year and hurled it across his office.
“Problem?” asked Jack Cyrus, who sat casually in a nearby overstuffed chair.
“You bet there’s a problem. I still can’t believe you helped those undercover agents. You do realize they’re watching our every move!”
“Look, Steinham, don’t get ugly with me. I told you it wasn’t a good idea going into business with these people, and now all it bought you is a lot of bad will. Not to mention the fact Madari’s the same guy responsible for killing some of my best people.”
Steinham looked horror-struck.
Cyrus continued. “Oh, that’s right—I know all about your little affiliation. I haven’t forgotten that you sent us out on what was doomed to be a suicide mission.”
“I told you before, Colonel, that I had no idea Madari’s people would be entrenched there.”
“You should’ve known who you were dealing with! Ever heard the phrase ‘keep your friends close but your enemies closer’?’”
“I don’t need to be lectured, Colonel Cyrus.”
“Apparently you do. If I hadn’t pulled those boys out of the scrape they’d got into, they’d be looking even harder at you right now. You even sent Braden overseas when you knew good and well he might be walking into some sort of trap. Now you have a CIA operative who’s turned on you and Madari’s in the wind.”
“Maybe,” Steinham said, a new revelation dawning in his expression.
“What do you mean ‘maybe’?”
Steinham rose from his seat and began to pace the room, something Cyrus noticed he did regularly whenever he was scheming.
“I’m beginning to think maybe I know exactly what Madari has planned.”
“So what? You going to keep me in suspense for a while?”
“Not at all,” Steinham replied, stopping to raise a finger. “In fact, I’m about to rely very heavily upon your knowledge and expertise. We know that Madari has at least the prototypes and we know he has the scientific backing that has allowed him to make them operational. It wouldn’t be all that easy for him to get the weapons into Libya and he wouldn’t risk attempting it anyway.”
“You’re saying he’d want some sort of guarantee they were going to work first. He’d want to see them in action.”
“Exactly! I have the sneaking suspicious that he will come…here.”
“What? You mean right here to Washington?”
“Why not? You said it yourself before, Colonel. There’s little doubt that Madari will want to ensure the prototypes are effective in combat. He’s a user—just as he used me and just as he used my CIA contact there.”
“Mishka,” Cyrus confirmed with a nod.
“I knew this about Madari, which is why I didn’t choose to reveal my relationship with him until you told me about rescuing the American agents, or whoever they are, from some of Madari’s people. He’s definitely thought this through—no surprise since I always esteemed him to be somewhat of a clever one.”
“Smarmy would be a more accurate description, sir.”
Steinham offered a stony grin. “If you like. Whatever you might think of him, he’s not an idiot. He will consider any action you took against his people as requiring recompense.”
“Ridiculous.”
“To us, yes. But not to a man like Madari. You see for him it’s a matter of honor. He thinks he has me at a disadvantage, and maybe to some degree he does. But what he seems to have forgotten is that much of his efforts were due to my funding him. I would have never thought he’d betray me.”
“Well then, what did you think?”
“I thought he was a driven man, and so I thought he would do whatever he could to swing Dr. Dratshev around to developing the prototypes. That’s why I spent so much time and effort grooming my contact in the CIA.”
“Seems like your plan backfired.”
“Not really, if my assessment of Madari is accurate.”
“I’m still not following.”
“As I said, I believe he will come here to Washington, D.C. When he does, he’ll bring the prototypes with him.”
“Looking for payback while also testing them out to make sure something doesn’t backfire on him.”
“Or at least to make sure that Dratshev was playing on the level with him. And if he does as I think he will, he’ll play straight into our hands.”
“Because you’ll be ready for him.”
“No, Colonel Cyrus—you will be ready for him!”
“We’re not going to be any match for EMP weapons, Steinham,” Cyrus said, forgetting military or contractual protocol for a moment. “I won’t risk any more of my men or send them to be slaughtered like sheep. You want that, you’ll have to hire some other sacrificial lambs. There are limits to our contract.”
“You’re paid to take risks, Colonel.”
“I’m also paid to keep my men alive. Cyclops can’t do you any good if we’re either spread so thin we’re ineffective or there aren’t enough left of our numbers we can effectively repel an attack against you or your assets. Those are the plain facts in the matter whether you like them or not.”
“If you’ll do me the courtesy of allowing me to propose a new strategy, I think you’ll find the risk to you will be very minimal. And you also seem to forget that if I can lay my hands on those prototypes or even Dratshev, you will stand to benefit, as well. Think of it! Your PMC will be credited with recovering the technology even our own SOGs were unable to acquire, and I will then have the only resources close enough to making EMP a practical reality in modern weaponry. We’re talking billions in profits with the added distinction of serving our country! Isn’t that why we’re in this business, Colonel?”
Cyrus stood and crossed the room to stand in front of Steinham. He folded his arms and let his eyes scan Steinham’s face. Finally he said, “Be careful, David. Be very careful, because if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re starting to sound an awful lot like a fanatic yourself. And I, for one, will risk neither my assets nor my reputation on the ravings of a madman.”
“Need I remind you, Jack, that you wouldn’t have a reputation if it weren’t for me? Everything you have I practically gave you! So I’d appreciate it if you’d show a little loyalty.”
“Loyalty is a two-way street, Steinham,” Cyrus said, turning on his heel and heading for the door.
“Where are you going? Is this your way of terminating our agreement?”
Cyrus stopped in his tracks and turned to look at Steinham once more. “No, you don’t get off that easily. You still owe us money and I expect you to honor the debt. And you can be sure I’ll hold up my end of the bargain, even going so far as to implement this crazy plan of yours. But so help me, sir, if you cross me again or this mission compromises my men unnecessarily, I’ll make it my personal mission in life to hunt you down and kill you myself. Am I being perfectly clear with you?”
Steinham’s bottom lip trembled in fear, mostly from the expression of murderous determination he saw in Cyrus’s eyes. Yeah, the guy would make good on his threat.
“You are,” Steinham replied.
Cyrus nodded and left.
* * *
Stony Man Farm, Virginia
“AFRAID THERE’S NOT much left.” David McCarter’s voice sounded a little tinny through the speakers in the operations center at the Farm.
Normally their communications channels were clear but there was a mother of a storm between them, and the dedicated satellite was having difficulty penetrating the disruption at that particular point in its orbital path. They didn’t worry about it. Any garbled transmissions would resolve in the next few minutes once that satellite had cleared the storm perimeter.
“David,” Price said, “were you able to determine if the prototypes are legit?”
“Very little doubt of that,” McCarter said. “I don’t understand most of this bloody stuff but it seems T.J.’s got a handle on it.”
“Talk to me.”
Hawkins’s voice chimed in. “We found at least a dozen supersize tanks of liquid helium inside the bunker. There were no lines connected to them but there were compression fittings on all of the tank outlets.”
“God help us,” Brognola muttered.
Price looked at him but her voice was directed toward the speakers. “That’s not the kind of news we were hoping to hear. We had hoped that Madari was just blowing a lot of steam. But if they were cooling the weapons with liquid helium, there’s little doubt the prototypes are the real deal.”
Kurtzman interjected. “We may have something else to confirm our suspicions.”
“What is it?” Brognola asked.
“I just got an alert that a Hellenic patrol boat encountered the yacht we were looking for, which was in position not far from where we lost Muriel Stanish’s signal. They attempted to stop the boat per the information we gave them regarding its general size and description. According to our NSA sources, the ship refused to heave to and they fired a warning shot across the bow. One moment they’re bearing down on this rather innocent-looking yacht and the next moment their aft-deck gun exploded and a better portion of the upper tiers of the ship hull were melted to slag in just seconds.”
“Holy sweet bollocks.” It was McCarter’s voice.
“Not exactly my sentiments but I think you captured it well, David,” Price replied.
“I’d have to say that makes the threat about as real as it gets,” Brognola said. “Not to mention it verifies what’s had us worried from the beginning. Dratshev has actually managed to crack the code to successful scaling of electromagnetic puls
e weapons.”
“I think this has gone on long enough, Hal,” Price said. “I know that secrecy is our primary mandate, but I think we’d be wise to involve the military at this point. We should at least put the Mediterranean Joint Command on alert.”
“Agreed,” Brognola replied with a somber nod.
“I also think we should see if they can dispatch the nearest vessel to intercept and destroy that vessel.”
“Why involve the Navy?” McCarter said. “We can handle this.”
“You are going to handle it,” Price said. “I want you guys airborne in twenty. Just leave what you have there. I doubt it’s in any danger of being discovered until we can send in an appropriate team to clean house.”
“Meanwhile,” Brognola added, “I’ll get the Man on the phone to see if we can’t get some cooperation from the Navy. I’m sure they’ll be able to tell us the closest ship for intercept.”
“Right.” Price nodded. “David, you and the rest of Phoenix Force will rendezvous with that ship once we’ve identified it. They’ll be at your disposal to launch a mission with the objective of destroying that yacht at any cost.”
“You sure we’ll have their full cooperation? Some captains are sticky widgets about giving up control.”
“The captain will still be in charge of his vessel, but Phoenix Force will be in charge of the actual operation.”
“Don’t worry, men,” Brognola clarified. “You’ll have the authority of the Oval Office behind you. Just be polite and smile a lot. I’m sure you can do that.”
“Sure, I can,” McCarter replied, the grin evident by the tone of his voice. “But I’m not sure about the rest of these savages I’m leading. They didn’t attend the same charm school as I did.”
“Somehow I’m sure they’ll manage under your expert tutelage,” Price replied. “I have faith in you. Just get it done and be safe.”
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