Red War

by Flynn Vince

  “Weapons?” Rapp asked.

  “Worse. Batteries. The weight estimates we were given were low by half.”

  The CIA man glanced behind him, confirming that there was no way in hell they were going to get the SUV in there. “How far?”

  “We need to make it to the edge of the tree line. Perhaps five hundred meters.”

  “All right. Then we’re doing it the old fashioned way. Scott, take the left wheel. I’ll get the right. Jarus, you get on the front. Everyone else is in back.”

  The thick wooden spokes provided reasonable handholds, and after a few tries, the cart was rolling again. They were right about the weight. Every time the grade turned up, it put the cart in danger of rolling back and crushing half the team. Once they got their technique down, though, they managed to make progress.

  The light slowly improved as they moved forward, and after a little less than an hour, Rapp spotted a human silhouette ahead. Or, more precisely, half of one. The man’s lower body was hidden in the hole he was digging. When he saw the cart, he jumped out and ran to help.

  “Pull it to the side of the hole and turn it,” Jarus said, just loudly enough for Rapp and Coleman to hear. “We need access to the back.”

  They got it into position and the men collapsed to the ground in exhaustion. Finally, Latvia’s main commercial airport was visible through the trees. Its buildings and runway were partially illuminated less than a mile to the east.

  The power was still on, creating an easy target for the paratroopers who were undoubtedly on their way. Securing the airport and repurposing it as a Russian base would be one of Sokolov’s first priorities.

  Coleman came up alongside Rapp and studied the airfield in the distance. “I feel like I’m going to wake up any minute and find out it was all a dream. This isn’t some hairy op that’s going to get stamped Top Secret and shoved in a filing cabinet in the Agency’s basement. Russia’s invaded NATO. We’re standing right in the middle of a historical crossroad that could set the world order for the next hundred years.”

  • • •

  “Try it again,” Rapp said.

  A series of dull flashes worked their way through the cracks in the cart they’d overturned.

  “It works!” came the muffled reply from the man beneath it. He was standing in the hole they’d dug, slicing through a half-inch steel plate at the bottom. The battery-powered plasma cutter hadn’t wanted to cooperate at first, but now they were under way.

  A secured hatch would have been a hell of a lot more convenient, but Rapp could see why the Latvian command had decided against it. Beneath the plate was a control system that had to be physically attached to a one-of-a-kind remote. Installing nearly a metric ton of live explosives beneath a commercial airport wasn’t something you did without creating a very long list of fail-safes.

  Rapp turned and walked back to the edge of the trees, where Coleman was still looking down on the empty terminal building. The anticipation seemed to be getting to him.

  “How much longer, Mitch?”

  “Not long.”

  Less than a minute later, the drone of approaching planes became audible, causing the activity behind them to grow in urgency. Rapp aimed a night scope at the sky, finally spotting a Russian transport. It was only the first of many, and soon the sound of them drowned out everything else. Canopies began opening and filling the sky, strangely beautiful in the green glow of the lens.

  It was impossible to keep his mind from drifting to the World Wars fought on this land so many decades before. The sheer magnitude of them. Economies completely commandeered. Battles that went on for months or even years. Millions dead from combat and millions more succumbing to cold, disease, and starvation. If humanity couldn’t learn from those mistakes, maybe the whole species was hopeless.

  The men behind him finally shoved the cart off the hole and connected a cable to the circuit board they’d exposed. Jarus approached with a large controller that he held out to Coleman. “General Strazds says it’s your honor. In thanks for everything you’ve done to help protect our country and our freedom.”

  Coleman stared down at the innocuous little box. “Really? He said that?”

  The Latvian nodded and dropped it into his hands before rejoining the men solemnly watching their country being invaded.

  Rapp peered through the spotting scope at the landing paratroopers, scrutinizing every detail as they freed themselves from their chutes and went for position. He had to admit to being impressed. They spread through the complex like a virus. Gear that had been dropped was snatched up almost before it hit the ground. Machine gun placements appeared in maximally strategic positions, disciplined teams fanned out in the terminal that only a few days ago had been clogged with vacationers and business travelers.

  “They’re pretty good,” Coleman commented as Rapp turned his scope back to the sky. A few minutes passed in silence before the sound of a second wave became audible. The runways were secure and now they could expect an endless line of planes landing and being emptied of equipment and men.

  “You’ve got a Russian transport inbound,” Rapp said.

  “I hear it,” Coleman said. “Do you think anyone else is shooting yet?”

  Rapp glanced over at him, having to examine his expression for a moment before he understood the purpose of the question.

  “I doubt it. There’s no plan to resist the invasion at the border, right? And if it were me, the Riga airport would be first on my hit list.”

  “So it could be me,” Coleman said, toggling the master switch on his remote control. “I could be the guy who fires the first shot in World War III.”

  “I don’t think you want a statue for that.”

  “You sure? ’Cause I look good in marble.” He twisted a dial and the power died throughout the entire airport complex. The meticulously prepared Russians immediately began firing up generators. By the time the first aircraft’s wheels touched down, the tower lights were already back on.

  Not that it mattered. Another button caused pillars of flame to erupt from the runway. A geyser of shattered asphalt caught the plane beneath one of its wings, turning it on its side and spinning it into a grassy field where it caught fire.

  “Ever see one of those shows where they demolish buildings with explosives?” Coleman asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Check this out.”

  A series of small charges exploded near the base of the tower, kicking up a cloud of dust and causing the structure to topple into the building next to it. After that, Coleman just ran a finger along the switches, detonating charges hidden all over the complex.

  The result could only be described as carnage—both human and structural. The runway was dotted with deep craters and most of the complex’s buildings were beginning to burn. The Russian troops that had been so impressive a few moments ago lost all cohesion. Rapp watched through his scope as they sprinted in any direction that would put distance between them and the airport buildings. In truth, though, most were fucked—either torn apart by the initial explosions or trapped in the ensuing inferno.

  Coleman dropped the controller and raised two middle fingers in the air. “That’s Coleman with a C, motherfuckers!”

  Rapp swore under his breath and grabbed the man by the collar, dragging him back toward their vehicle.

  CHAPTER 38

  THE WHITE HOUSE

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  USA

  EVERYONE stood when President Alexander walked into the conference room. Irene Kennedy looked around her at the ashen faces of generals, politicians, and advisors as they waited for America’s leader to speak. Instead, he just motioned for them to sit and pointed at his UN ambassador.

  She nodded respectfully before speaking. “Everyone agrees that Latvia has been unambiguously invaded by Russia. Article V, the collective defense clause, will be voted on and approved later today.”

  “So later today we’ll be at war with Russia.”

  “Y
es, sir.”

  “Where’s Jim Templeton?” he said, referring to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs.

  “Poland,” Kennedy responded. “He’s helping to wind back up the military presence there and integrate more of our troops.”

  Alexander turned to his ranking army general. “What’s the latest information we have?”

  “Latvia, Estonia, and Lithuania scattered their militaries, evacuated their cities, and have started preparations for protracted insurgencies. Our analysis is their actions spooked the Russians. Based on the position of their troops and equipment, it appears that they originally planned a simultaneous invasion of all three countries. Instead, they attacked only Latvia and are now in the process of reconfiguring their resources to support the incursion force.”

  “So Estonia and Lithuania are still more or less intact?” Alexander said.

  “More or less. They’re still dealing with the aftermath of the Russian hacking effort, but they still have a significant portion of their infrastructure intact. The cities have been mostly evacuated and will probably stay shut down until the situation stabilizes a bit and they feel confident the Russians aren’t going to move against them.”

  “Latvia?”

  “That’s a different story. The Riga airport is a ruin, with significant Russian casualties. Other airstrips, bridges, and anything else the Russians would find useful are either destroyed or in the process of being destroyed. Mines are being placed, buildings are being booby-trapped, and surface to air defenses are being set up.”

  “But our role is basically nonexistent.”

  “We have approximately twelve hundred NATO troops in the fight there, led by the Canadians. We’re also doing what we can to transfer supplies from our ships in the Baltic to shore, but it’s a very limited operation. We simply weren’t prepared for this.”

  “But we can ramp it up?” Alexander said, turning to the chief of naval operations.

  “In theory, yes, sir. We have a significant presence in the area, as do the Europeans. But there’s a lot of Russian naval activity in the Baltic and they’re going to want to cut off those supply lines. The question is, how far are you willing to go?”

  Alexander fell silent for a moment, pinching his lower lip between his index finger and thumb. “I assume that everyone here has been briefed on the CIA’s evaluation of Maxim Krupin’s health?”

  Nods around the table.

  “Do you still stand by that, Irene? He didn’t look weak speaking to the Federal Assembly yesterday.”

  “I do, sir.”

  “And the attack on him?”

  “Overly convenient. The Russian media has announced that he’s been moved to an undisclosed location where he can lead the war effort safe from assassins. They’re also implying that the attempt on his life was the work of my organization.”

  “So you’re saying it was a publicity stunt. That he did it to himself.”

  “Almost certainly. It’s a typically brilliant move on his part. It doesn’t matter anymore how sick he gets or how difficult his treatment is. No one expects him to appear in public anymore.”

  The president considered his words carefully before speaking again. “What nobody in this room knows is that Krupin finally returned my calls this morning. He said his forces have complete control of Latvia and that he considers it to be back in the Russian fold. Their military has set up tactical nuclear weapons throughout the country and has them aimed at Europe’s major cities. He made it crystal clear that any attempt to take back the country will trigger a nuclear response.”

  The solemn nods around the table suggested that no one was surprised. This kind of a move had been studied by military experts for years. In the end, though, it had never been considered a credible threat. The assumption was that Krupin would calculate too much risk for not enough reward. Until now.

  “In light of his health, we have to take his threat seriously. This isn’t about long-term strategy, expanding Russian territory, or buffering NATO. This is about him looking strong enough to hold on to power while he figures out if he’s going to live or die. Irene? Are we on the same page?”

  “Yes, sir. The key to this situation is understanding that it’s entirely about optics. Latvia denied Krupin impressive battle victories by not actively resisting, and video of the disaster at the Riga airport is already making its way through the media. The Latvians are tough and know their territory. Russia is about to find itself in the middle of a very bloody insurgency that isn’t going to play well on TV.”

  Alexander’s national security advisor spoke up. “But with Russian troops being diverted from the borders of Lithuania and Estonia, Krupin’s going to have an overwhelming force. That insurgency may not last.”

  “It will with our help,” Alexander said. “This isn’t just about Krupin being sick. The Russians have been pushing harder and harder every year. They can’t get their own shit together so they have to try to bring everyone else down to their level. They’re becoming the wrench in the machinery of the world.”

  “But if we really believe that Krupin will retaliate with tactical nukes—and I agree we should—it limits our ability to act,” his national security advisor said.

  “We just have to stay below the threshold of an act that would bring about that kind of response,” Alexander said. “We can provide supplies, advisors, and spec ops teams, right? We can move in heavy to Lithuania and Estonia, surrounding the Russians. And we can give the Latvian air force a virtually unlimited number of planes and pilots—all based safely across heavily fortified NATO borders.”

  “We can do all that,” the air force chief of staff agreed. “But we’ve got to start before the Russians can get their surface-to-air capability fully up and running. And it’s still going to be an ugly fight. The Russian air force isn’t going to just turn tail.”

  Alexander turned to the chief of naval operations. “Can we get control of the Baltic Sea?”

  “With the combined navies of the United States and Europe? Definitely. But our ships—and to a somewhat lesser extent our subs—will be vulnerable to attacks from land-based systems.”

  “But we wouldn’t be as vulnerable to those kinds of attacks farther out to sea, correct?”

  “I don’t understand the question, sir.”

  “What would it take to sink every deployed vessel in the Russian navy worldwide?”

  The man’s eyes widened noticeably. “It would take a lot.”

  “But it’s doable.”

  “NATO’s combined naval strength dwarfs Russia’s. The question would be finding them and getting into position. Also, I assume that when they figure out what we’re doing, they’ll hit back hard and make a run for the safety of Russian waters.”

  “But if we anticipate that, couldn’t we cut off that retreat?”

  “To a large extent, yes.”

  “What about it, Irene? If we start sinking Russian ships everywhere we can find them, what would Krupin do?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s risky, but not a direct assault on Russian territory. Certainly it would counter the image of strength and control he’s trying to project.”

  “Are we going too far here?” Alexander’s national security advisor said. “What about just releasing the information we have on his illness? Show the Russian people that all this is a political stunt by a dying man.”

  “It’s a strategy we’re exploring, but we want to make sure it doesn’t blow back on us,” Kennedy said. “That’s a direct attack on Krupin and we’re concerned about the retaliation. Any way you look at it, he’s not going to go quietly.”

  There were nods around the table and Alexander leaned forward in his chair. “Let’s take a break. I’ve got a call with England’s prime minister in a few minutes, and I imagine everyone needs to touch base with their offices for updates. We’ll reconvene in thirty minutes.”

  Everyone rose and started filing for the door except Kennedy and Alexander.

  �
��What did you want to talk to me about?” the president asked. “I’ve got two minutes before I have to take that call.”

  “We believe that we have a good chance of locating Krupin and Sokolov.”

  “Are you talking about an assassination attempt?”

  “I think it’s unlikely that opportunity will present itself, but if it does, it’s something we should consider. Krupin is out of control and Sokolov is a psychopath. Normally, we worry about succession, but it’s hard to see how it could be worse.”

  “You don’t have to sell me, Irene. I’ll wait for the navy’s assessment, but my intention is to completely wipe out Russia’s naval capability. A lot of good men are going to end up dead for no reason. If you can take him out and give the United States even barely plausible deniability, I’m on board. We can figure out how to deal with the fallout later.”

  CHAPTER 39

  CENTRAL LATVIA

  RAPP reached over and pulled the phone out of Jarus’s pocket, then shoved it into his hand. The young Latvian army officer suffered a moment of confusion but then fumbled with the screen to start filming.

  He was a smart, solid kid, but not exactly battle hardened. Watching the Riga airport blow apart from a mile away had been the first action he’d seen. Now he was getting a close-up look at the face of war that Rapp had become numb to so long ago. He assumed that he’d once worn the same horrified expression as his new comrade, but honestly couldn’t remember anymore.

  The farmhouse visible through the trees wasn’t much different than any of the others in the area—a compact structure built from local wood grayed by the years. A steep, shingled roof created a silhouette against the dawn breaking on the horizon.

  Angled sunlight made the grass glow a deep green that contrasted with the blood splattered across it. The source of that stain was a man lying facedown in the yard. A woman who appeared to be his wife was kneeling beside him, wailing and pulling back and forth on his shirt as though he could be awakened. Hovering over her was a Russian army officer, shouting unintelligible questions.