Sarah tilted her head, and then a curious look crossed her face. “Don’t tell me Jack’s already in trouble,” she said as she left the classroom and stepped into the elevator.
Compton smiled just as both Will and Anya Korvesky stepped inside. Anya was also carrying her teaching aids in a case on her Introduction to Surveillance 101. She looked at Sarah with the question written on her face.
“Level seven, please,” Niles said to the Europa-controlled elevator.
All three waited while Niles watched the digital display of the floors passing by when he suddenly stopped the elevator’s progress. The air-cushioned ride stopped.
“Look, Virginia had to know because of her position as AD, so she was brought in on a loop the president wanted kept to a minimum. I wanted to tell all three of you the truth of what’s happening, both in the North Atlantic and of our suspicions in Russia. Jack and his team have been diverted to the situation I referred to in the Atlantic; reasons will be explained later. I wanted to explain this to you because for the next day or so, I will be working with Dr. Morales on a research assignment ordered directly by the president involving suspicions with our Russian friends. I will not have the time to take with you three asking questions. Yes, the assignment Colonel Collins is on is dangerous. They will be in harm’s way. You’ll just have to trust me when I say it will be explained when this is all confirmed. For now, leave Dr. Morales alone to his work. Bite the bullet. Personal relationships aside, this is business of the most serious time.”
Sarah started to say something, but Niles cut her off by ordering the elevator to continue. Sarah got the hint and shut up. The doors opened, and Niles stepped out without a word, and the doors closed again. The three occupants stood there not knowing what had just happened. The elevator started to move downward on its silent, air-cushioned ride.
“Well, I guess our boys are in trouble again,” Will said.
“And we were left out of the loop.”
Sarah looked at Anya. “Is there some light you can share on what the director was referring to when he brought up the Russians?”
Anya shook her head. “Wasn’t my area of expertise, and getting anything out of Mossad, as you know, is difficult at the best of times. No, I have nothing.”
“All I know is Jason and Charlie are now moving to the East Coast by supersonic transport,” Will replied.
“And?” Sarah said, looking at Mendenhall.
Anya smiled. “He’s mad because he doesn’t get to play with the other kids.”
Will frowned and hit the floor button instead of using the voice command.
“You’re damn right I am. Bastards.”
HER MAJESTY’S NAVAL BASE (HMNB)
PORTSMOUTH, ENGLAND
The sun was an hour away from broaching the skies to the east when Jack, Carl, and Henri were driven to the farthest reaches of the British naval base at Portsmouth. The United States Marine guards were silent as they pulled up to a large dock area. Jack glanced back at Carl when they saw the inordinate amount of navy shore patrol. It was also noticed that none of these patrolmen had their standard sidearms and nightsticks. They were fully armed with British-made L85A2 IW standard assault rifles. Collins counted no fewer than thirty-five of the naval security men. The marines remained quiet and offered nothing other than a “Good morning” to the three men as they stepped from the American-made Humvee.
The three found themselves looking around at the mass of personnel but, with the heavy roll of fog in the area, couldn’t see anything much beyond the pier they stood upon.
“Colonel Collins?”
Jack turned at the sound of the voice. A tall man in a green flight suit stood with a clipboard in his hands. He saw the Union Jack in a lighter shade of green on the man’s shoulder. Next to him were two other men dressed similarly. These two carried four large duffel bags.
“I’m Collins,” Jack said as he stepped forward.
“Sir, I am Flight Lieutenant Daniel Killeen. These are for you and your men, Colonel.”
The two men standing next to the Royal Navy officer stepped forward and handed three duffel bags to Henri and Carl. One other they sat next to Jack.
“I believe we were able to accommodate everything that was requested by your State Department.”
Jack exchanged another look with Carl. The mention of the State Department was a surprise. They quickly deduced that Niles was running a game on somebody. It was the never-ending song and dance in regard to covering up anything and everything about the Event Group. Jack knew it was wise not to comment on the observation. He leaned over and unzipped the bag at his feet. His brows rose as he spied the contents.
“The M4s and ammunition are from the stores of USS Breckenridge. She’s a destroyer escort visiting Portsmouth. My boss says your boss felt you would be more comfortable with American arms rather than British.”
“No offense meant,” Everett said as he lifted one of the small M4s from the bag and examined it.
“None taken, Captain.” The Royal Navy man then reached back, and one of his men slipped a parcel into his hand. “Also, this was forwarded through your embassy for delivery to you. I have instructions that say to tell you it’s a gift from a Dr. Morales.” A confused look crossed the officer’s face. “He states you may need Marilyn Monroe’s advice at some point. He said in his instructions to you that it is a closed-looped system and is not attached to the rest of her body. I hope you understand what that means, because we, sir, do not, which was obviously intended.”
Collins smiled as he took the larger-than-normal laptop computer from the British officer.
“Thank you. It does make sense.”
“I’m beginning to believe that kid knows his stuff,” Carl said as he and Jack again exchanged amused looks.
Lieutenant Killeen looked at the wristwatch under his rolled-up sleeve. “The other members of your party will be arriving shortly. They are currently en route from London. It seems at least one of the new arrivals was extremely unhappy about their flight accommodations thus far.”
“Jenks,” both Carl and Jack said simultaneously.
“Yes, I believe that was the name your air force crewmen claim. They seem not to like that man very much.”
Henri opened a duffel and pulled out a black Nomex BDU. He held it up to Collins with raised brows.
“Relax, Colonel, you’ve always looked good in black,” Everett said as he placed the M4 back inside the first bag.
The thump of heavy rotors broke the still of the morning. The fog parted as the British officer again looked at his watch. “Right on time.”
Jack, Carl, and Henri watched as a United States Navy Seahawk helicopter, the naval version of the army’s Blackhawk, slowly pushed the fog away and settled down to the ancient wooden pier. They heard the loud cracking and popping as the large helicopter and her extreme weight taxed the ancient dock. Collins was beginning to wonder just how far out in the boondocks they were if the pier was that old. Someone didn’t want others to even know they were there, or didn’t want prying eyes to see something the British wanted kept hush-hush.
With the four-bladed rotors still turning, the sliding door on the port side opened, and an angry Master Chief Jenks hopped out, pushing the crew chief’s helping hands away. He removed a cold cigar and was about to chew the young man’s head off when Jason Ryan jumped out and got in between them. He was followed by a purely thrilled Charlie Ellenshaw, looking ridiculous in a blue flight suit that had been supplied to him by the US Air Force. Ryan waved at the waiting trio and then gently nudged the angry master chief forward.
Ryan saluted Collins and then shook hands with both Henri and Everett.
“So, how was your little flight?” Jack asked as Charlie joined them.
“I’ll tell you how it was.” Jenks lit a fresh cigar and then angrily looked at Collins. “At times that air force jockey flew so low I thought we hit several seagulls.”
“From my understanding, we’ve lost more B-1s to bird strikes t
han enemy fire,” Everett said with a smile.
“The flight was good, Colonel,” Ryan answered quickly while looking at Jenks in a successful attempt at shutting his complaining down. “The master chief, like myself, I fully admit, doesn’t like anything he’s not in control of.”
“What in the hell does the air force know about control? That jock was all over the sky!”
“Jenksy, my understanding is that the B-1B Lancer not only had to hide from Russian eyes, but it also had to avoid a little thing called Hurricane Tildy,” Jack said as he started to distribute equipment.
“While almost doing double the speed of sound. It was quite a ride,” Jason said as he accepted a Nomex commando BDU from Everett.
“Yes, positively thrilling,” Charlie agreed as he looked at his new commando BDU. Again, his eyes widened with pure delight.
“Gentlemen, please, we are now officially behind schedule. You may prepare and dress aboard our transport.”
The six men looked around at the rising fog, confused as to their mentioned transportation. And again the British flight officer looked at his watch.
“Ah, listen. Here she comes.”
A whine pierced their ears. The old pier they stood upon shook and rattled, and even more ancient nails popped free of the grip they had at holding the old wood together. Suddenly, an earsplitting sound erupted from the sky, and they all felt the heavy downdraft as a large craft penetrated the remaining fog. The four jet engines easily evaporated the veil of fog closest to the wooden pier as the strange-looking aircraft started to settle.
“My God, I thought she was just a rumor,” Ryan said as he allowed the black Nomex suit to fall back into the open duffel.
“We hope the Russians have a similar way of thinking,” the Royal Navy officer said as he watched the fifty-five-foot airframe settle onto her extensive undercarriage. It looked like a larger version of the American-built Boeing V-22 Osprey VTOL, the vertical takeoff and landing system designed for the US Marine Corps. Instead of propellers, this version held four turbofan jet engines for each engine stanchion at the far edges of the tilt-wing craft. These started to wind down as the newest version of the amazing machine landed.
Jack looked at Ryan, who stood amazed. The aircraft was black and had a Royal Navy bull’s-eye emblazoned in even blacker paint along her fuselage. As she settled, a rear ramp slowly started to open.
“Gentlemen, this is your ride into the Atlantic,” Killeen said as he also examined the aircraft. “This is a joint venture between your Marine Corps and our Royal Marines. There are only four like it in the world—two here and two at Camp Pendleton in California. They are all still going through testing. This one is assigned to us. I give you the V-25 Night Owl. She’s capable of carrying seventy-five fully equipped commandos and introducing them into hostile theaters of war with stealth and speed. She is capable of supersonic flight with her swept-wing delta design. She is one amazing piece of equipment, I can assure you.”
The six men exchanged uneasy looks, and it was of course Jenks who had to voice the concern they were all feeling.
“Okay, that’s a good speech. Now, tell us how many copies have you lost in her testing phase.” Jenks stared at the officer and puffed on his cigar.
“Six.”
Jenks just nodded. “If my engineers had a success rate like that, we would have been out on our asses faster than—”
“Okay, Master Chief, we get it,” Jack said, eyeing Jason as if Jenks’s outburst was somehow his fault.
“Gentlemen, I assure you we will get you to your destination … alive.” Lieutenant Killeen smiled as he slapped the master chief on the shoulder, which elicited a scowl, and then gestured for them to board the amazing-looking aircraft. “Your magic carpet awaits.”
“I remember when the navy actually used ships. Wasn’t that a freakin’ novel time.”
They all smiled as Jenks turned and left for the boarding ramp.
“As much as I hate to agree with that foul little man, I myself have serious reservations about flying into a hurricane with that thing,” Henri said as he too followed Jenks.
Jack swallowed as the V-25 Night Owl started to spool her four wing-mounted engines up. Carl leaned into Collins.
“You okay?” he asked. “Did you bring your music?”
Collins shook his head.
“Well, I’m sure we can dig something up.”
Jack swallowed again as he watched Charlie, Ryan, and Jenks board the Night Owl. Everett took both duffel bags in hand and then gestured for Jack to go ahead.
The assault upon a ship that had become even more famous than the specter of the famous ghost ship the Flying Dutchman was under way.
Tildy’s circling winds were now over 155 miles per hour.
6
KIROV-CLASS BATTLE CRUISER PETER THE GREAT
NORTH ATLANTIC
The mighty warship rolled heavily to port, knocking most of the crew on the battle bridge from their feet. A one-inch-thick window smashed inward as the green sea poured into the bridge. The large space of bridge was filled with the stench of vomit as men could no longer bear the attack on their inner ears and the motion sickness caused by the merciless rolling seas.
Captain Kreshenko regained his feet with the assistance of Second Captain Dishlakov.
“Seal that breach!” the XO shouted above the roar of the hurricane.
“Hang on!” someone shouted as another forty-foot wave cascaded over the immense deck of the battle cruiser.
Kreshenko cringed as he heard steel being sheared away from their uppermost mast. Electrical circuits shorted out all across the electronic suite of the battle bridge. Fires erupted as Kreshenko calmly replaced his hat.
“Captain, we are receiving a distress call from the Ustinov. They say they have lost their forward missile mounts and are taking on water in their engineering spaces.”
Kreshenko and Dishlakov ran to the aft windows and raised their binoculars to the north. At first they couldn’t see the missile cruiser, and their hearts simultaneously skipped a beat. Then they saw the smaller cruiser’s radio and electronic warfare mast rise above the crashing sea. Their momentary relief was stolen away as they watched an explosion erupt on the forward spaces of her deck. The fireball rose until the raging sea and high winds consumed it.
“She’s going to buckle, Captain!” Dishlakov shouted as more seawater rushed in through the damaged bridge window on their own battered warship.
“Helm, give me twenty degrees to port. We’ll circle slowly and assist as best we can. Have a rescue team ready to take on survivors if needed.”
“Aye.”
“Belay that order, please.”
Both officers turned as a man came through the port hatch, shaking water from his rain gear.
“Helm, bring her around,” Kreshenko again ordered.
“I said disregard that order,” Colonel Salkukoff said as he stripped the rubber parka from his body.
“We have a ship in trouble. Those are Russian sailors out there. We will assist.”
Salkukoff smiled and then nodded toward the Russian marines stationed on the battle bridge. With his nod, both guards pulled out their sidearms. One was leveled at the nineteen-year-old helmsman.
“Captain, it will be you who causes the death of your helmsman if he obeys that order. We are near to breaking through into the eye of the hurricane, so we shall remain on course. Do you understand?”
Before the glaring Kreshenko could respond, Peter the Great heeled hard over to the starboard side. This time it felt as though the giant battle cruiser could never recover. She was close to capsizing.
“Helm, turn her into the roll!” Kreshenko yelled over the din.
Another heavy wave crashed into the ship as the order was given. This time they all felt the pressure as Peter the Great was totally submerged for the briefest of moments before she rose back from the killing seas and took a large imaginary breath of life.
“Captain, we have
a distress call from the Ustinov. She has buckled along her centerline mass. She has hull plate separation. They are requesting assistance.”
Dishlakov looked from the two marines holding their weapons on the captain and the helmsman toward the barbarian who was ordering their ship to turn their backs on a sister vessel in distress.
“Captain, we have lost the forward missile-loading hatch. We’re taking on water in the forward spaces.”
Kreshenko cursed as the calls kept getting more desperate and frequent.
“Send out a call to the Admiral Levchenko: assist the Ustinov and take on her crew.”
“No, I want the Admiral Levchenko to form up with us. We will break into the eye together. The Ustinov is on her own. Send a message to her captain and crew; they will never be forgotten for their bravery,” Salkukoff said as blandly as he could.
As Peter the Great went down into another trough, Kreshenko pushed his way past his men to face the Russian colonel. When one of the marines faced him with a loaded weapon, Kreshenko merely batted the handgun away angrily. “Stand down, marine,” he said menacingly. The rest of the bridge crew became aware of the confrontation and watched. Most were ready to assist their captain after the recent order to abandon their fellows had been said aloud, which would have angered any sailor the world over.
“Captain, if you do not follow my orders, I will command your weapons officer to target that cruiser and finish sinking her. Do you understand?”
Kreshenko was silent as he took a firm hold on the helm console when the battle cruiser once more fought her way back to the surface of the roiling seas.
The bridge-wing hatch opened, and ten of the colonel’s commandos entered the bridge. These men didn’t look seasick at all. They all had automatic weapons held at port arms. The colonel never removed his dark eyes from the captain. He was sure his bluff was about to be called when the announcement was made.
“Ustinov just broke her back!” one of the bridge lookouts called.
Kreshenko screamed a curse as he snatched the binoculars from his first officer and focused to the north. Tears of rage and frustration filled his eyes as he fought to see through the ravages of the hurricane. He felt his heart sink as the raked bow of the Ustinov rose high into the air at the same moment her stern section with her proudly proclaimed name in Cyrillic rose and then, astonishingly, the two halves of the ship crashed together, shredding steel and men in one massive action. She had snapped in the middle. A giant wave struck the forward section and slammed it into another advancing wave. Then her stern slipped beneath the waves, and as it did, a tremendous explosion illuminated the dark world in which they had entered. Kreshenko lowered the glasses and angrily tossed them to Dishlakov. He stormed toward Colonel Salkukoff, who stood bracing himself against the rolling waves.
Beyond the Sea--An Event Group Thriller Page 11
