Ground Zero

by Don Pendleton

  They reached the gates, where duty sentries were backed up by cameras and scanners that played over the truck. Their disguises would be pitiful if the sentries and the tech were given time to do their duty. This was where split-second timing would be essential.

  Two of the bombs detonated in the terrain behind them, echoing across the empty land between and throwing up earth and rock. Before the sentries had a chance to react, a third bomb went off. As alarms sounded within the base, the sentry nearest to the truck waved it through, backing up behind it and closing the gates as a fourth bomb detonated.

  Inside the base, forces mobilized to recon and engage with whatever was happening in the hills. As the driver took the truck into the base, he maneuvered to avoid troops and vehicles that were moving toward the gate. Behind them, the last two bombs went off.

  The chaos of sudden mobilization was exactly what Bolan had been banking on. With a sudden concern for whatever was happening on the outside, a supply truck with a driver who had been eyeballed by the sentries as a regular and two men in uniform with no time to check credentials was easily waved through to enable defensive action to take place.

  “You realize, of course, that they will soon find out what exploded and become suspicious?” the driver muttered.

  “And you, of course, realize that if you continue to shit yourself with fear you will give us away and never get to see Russia, freedom and rubles?” Yuri growled. “Remember that, or else I will have to rectify the problem immediately.”

  The driver said nothing as he parked his vehicle in the bay surrounding the chemical labs.

  “You make the delivery as usual and let us worry about everything else,” Bolan said, trying to calm the rattled man. “If you’re asked, we’ve been called to the gates and that’s why you’re unloading alone. Got that?”

  The driver nodded, and as he climbed from the truck and began to mechanically go about his usual task, not daring even to look at them, Bolan beckoned to Yuri to follow him.

  In their ill-fitting uniforms and complexions that did not blend in with the norm, they felt that they were too conspicuous. They had to get to cover as soon as possible.

  Beyond the chemical labs was a section of the camp that was fenced off. That was nothing unusual, as on their way in the soldier had noticed that fencing and additional guard posts had been set up to delineate the different facets of military operation within the borders of the camp. What was significant about this section was that it was one of the blank areas on any plan of the known base.

  Bolan wanted to get inside there as soon as they could. Beckoning the Russian to follow, he made his way to the mesh gate within the fencing that led to the low-level concrete buildings beyond. From the power plant that stood within the fencing, servicing the structures, he could guess that whatever went on behind the concrete facade required a large amount of power. Could it be what he was looking for?

  They closed in on the gate. It was deserted, as the alarms going off within the camp had pulled the sentry from his post. It was only as they reached the gate and walked through to the compound beyond that the sentry ran up to them, barking at them to get out.

  “What is your clearance?” he yelled as he came close.

  “This,” Yuri murmured, stepping forward and punching up with the Stryker in his fist. The blow caused the sentry’s eyes to widen in surprise, and although his mouth opened, no sound could emerge. Without withdrawing the blade, and with his hand still in place, Yuri clasped the sentry in his free arm, supporting him as he continued toward the buildings with Bolan.

  “Find me a corner where I can leave this bastard, Cooper. He grows heavy in death.”

  The soldier moved forward and helped Yuri support the sentry’s deadweight, dragging him across the concrete apron in front of the buildings until they reached a doorway. Bolan heaved at it, and the door gave way to reveal an office beyond. It was deserted, the chairs pushed back from desks, terminals left on, with signs of a hasty departure.

  “Good thing those explosions moved them out,” Bolan grunted as he helped the Russian to heave the corpse onto one of the chairs.

  “Shouldn’t we at least make an effort at hiding him?” the Russian asked sardonically as Bolan moved toward a connecting door.

  “No time. We need to get what we want, then get out,” the soldier snapped.

  Even though their uniforms were ill fitting and they looked out of place, in the general confusion they were able to move with a degree of freedom in the area as the other occupants were not concerned with the military surrounding them. That much was obvious from the way that Yuri and Bolan were ignored as they moved into a more populated section of the first building.

  Bolan was no expert on science and its application in war—only in terms of its end product—but he knew enough to realize that this was a chemical-weapons lab. There was a covered and sealed walkway through to the section beyond, and as they headed toward it, Bolan could see that at the far end the doors were air locked on coded keypads. Within the rooms beyond, he could just make out men toiling at their task of creating chemical death, past the hazmat suits that were hanging from the air lock walls.

  “We put something under them?” Yuri questioned.

  “Can’t risk anything reaching the air that might spread. No, we’ll leave these people for now and drop a report into the UN weapons inspectors.”

  “Yes, like they will be of any use,” the Russian spat.

  “Knowing we know might be enough to deter them until we can find another way. It’s the long game with these guys. C’mon.”

  The two men went back the way they had come and out through the lab and then the office. It looked like nobody had returned in their absence. But on second glance, that was the key problem: there was literally nobody.

  “Where has the bastard gone?” Yuri asked, astonished.

  “I don’t know, but I think the bigger question is what can he do?”

  “I was sure he was dead.”

  “We will be unless we move,” Bolan bit off before leaving the building with his SMG ready. If it had been hazardous enough before this, now it was truly a question of keeping their backs covered.

  * * *

  IN THE CONFUSION of the explosions and the mobilization of the troops within Parchin, the absence of one man was not, at first, noticed. When his immediate superior did realize that he was a man short, a search was not foremost on his mind; rather, it was the charge he would bring against the soldier when he eventually turned up. This line of thought was dismissed when he drew back from directing his men into recon parties for the area surrounding the blasts to find the missing man dragging himself across the ground. Two men rushed to his aid.

  As he reached him, the officer realized two things. The first was that it taken all the soldier’s strength to get himself that far, and that he had nothing left with which to convey a message. The second thing was that this man had been guarding the gate into the hazard zone.

  The officer stopped dead in his stride—as dead as the man before him—and suddenly pivoted on his heel, yelling orders to those men within immediate earshot before using his radio to report in.

  He had realized that there may be no threat from the hills beyond, and that even if there were men there, they did not matter. The important thing was that Parchin had been breached. How, he did not know; that didn’t matter.

  There was someone on the inside, and he or she had to be captured.

  * * *

  “CHEMICAL SHIT IS one thing, but it’s not what we’re looking for, right?” Yuri gasped as the two men sprinted between the buildings.

  “Nuclear warheads,” Bolan stated between breaths.

  “They wouldn’t store them here?” Yuri returned as more a question than statement.

  Bolan shook his head. “This is a military base
, not a launching facility. I don’t even know if they have the capacity. But they might have the research facility, and that’s what we want.”

  “More proof for the weapons inspectors,” the Russian said.

  “And the IAEA. But we don’t just report it if we find it. This one we knock out if we can.”

  Yuri nodded and did not waste any more breath.

  There were seven buildings in the uncharted area. Two of them they had covered. A third loomed ahead. Bolan beckoned to the Russian to take the left side of the structure. There were reinforced glass windows down the sides, and as the two men ran toward the far end, they could see the work going on in the interior. In here, there were engineers working on standard weaponry, taking it to pieces and reassembling it. There were scopes that had digitized elements, missile guidance and triggering systems that worked on computerized elements and cumbersome panels that Bolan recognized as the piloting systems of tanks. Each component that had been analyzed and replaced had also had some small chip or component added.

  The two soldiers reached the far end of the building and came together at the entrance. Bolan shook his head. This was not what they were looking for. However, it did register that this may be a prototyping lab for the adaptation and enhancing of existing weaponry.

  Four buildings remained, and time was tight. He knew that as much from instinct as from the change in the note of the sirens that were still blaring. If they could recon the buildings before the military got on their asses, they could look for a route out. In his mind’s eye, he could see the plan of the base that he’d memorized before they’d reached the main gates. At the far end of the unknown area, where they were headed, there was an airfield that would have planes or choppers. They would need all the skill they could muster between them, and a lot of luck, but if they could reach that point they had a fighting chance.

  But first there were still four buildings to negotiate. And just maybe they had hit pay dirt. The four were clustered away from the three they had just checked and were connected by covered walkways. The cinder-block buildings had windows that were heavily frosted and shatterproof, and as they drew nearer they could see that the buildings and interconnecting walkways were accessible by only one entrance and exit, which was protected by a keypad locking system and an air lock with CCTV coverage.

  If there was anything of a fissionable nature within, then this was certainly the way to protect it.

  As they neared the portal, Bolan indicated that Yuri should fan out so that the two men were separated and would stand on either side of the doors. The Russian looked at him, puzzled. Why didn’t he just try to blow the door off if they were short on time?

  Bolan knew what the Russian was thinking, and he knew that whoever was inside would figure the same thing. It was a certainty that despite the general alarm, a section of the facility this important would have a guard stationed inside whose orders did not cover responding to a general alarm. If he was there, he would be watching them, and Bolan would have bet that the guard or guards inside would be waiting for him to do exactly what the Russian had figured.

  So if he didn’t, then it would take some nerve under the current circumstances for the guard not to take the offensive, which was just what he wanted.

  He signaled Yuri to hang back as they reached the doorway and shot out the CCTV camera. Breathing steadily, he counted to himself and placed his ear to the wall. Before he had reached ten, he knew from the sound coming through the noise surrounding them that his gamble had worked.

  The lock clicked and the door swung open toward the Russian, who stepped back to clear himself some space. The head of an Iranian guard cautiously poked its way out and found Bolan standing to one side of him, the SMG raised. A short burst took the man’s head almost off his shoulders. Before he hit the concrete, the soldier had stepped over him and into the air lock between the two doors, Yuri at his heels.

  There was a second guard. Torn between raising his weapon and firing or slamming the second door shut, he hesitated for a fraction of a second. That was all Bolan needed. One tap on the SMG’s trigger and the second guard hit the floor, stitched across the torso. Bolan stepped through into the first of the four buildings, indicating to the Russian that he should leave the doors open. Neither man knew the combination and they would need to escape quickly from what looked like the only route.

  Once inside the buildings, Bolan could see that they were interconnected and had fissionable material within at least one of them. Radiation suits hung by the entrance into the building, and much of the lab equipment in this section was familiar to him from past experiences.

  There was no doubt that nuclear research of some kind was going on there, and as Iran had declared their peaceful research to the IAEA without any qualms, something this secret could only be weapons based. He had already seen enough to confirm this to Hal Brognola when they reached safe airspace. The question was, what would he do about it in the interim?

  Within this section of the facility there were five scientists, all of whom looked frozen in shock. Three men and two women. There were weapons on the walls, and he had no doubt that they had been trained to use them. His Russian compatriot obviously felt the same way.

  “Please do not move, and then we will not have to shoot you,” he barked clearly in Farsi. “You will answer our questions quickly, or we will shoot you anyway.”

  Not subtle, Bolan thought, but concise if nothing else. It did not, however, elicit the reaction that either of the men expected. One of the scientists stepped forward, her face flushed with anger. She was young, maybe an idealist, and certainly in no mood to lie down easily.

  “You will put those weapons down now and wait for our militia. Any further actions would be pointless. You would be stupid to fire in here, as you could set off a reaction that would not only destroy you, but most of this base.”

  Bolan cracked a grin. “You’re taking a hell of a chance, lady. That might be exactly what we want.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  She drew back, eyes wide with shock and anger. Bolan moved forward and pulled her away from the lab bench. Yuri moved from behind him to cover the rest of the room.

  “So what are you doing here?” the soldier asked.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” she said coldly.

  “Try me.”

  “We are developing a compact and protected fissionable device from the by-products of our energy suppliers in order to attach it to any kind of timer and detonator you would care to mention.”

  “Warheads,” Bolan said coldly.

  “More than that. A portable device that will be adequately shielded to cause no harm to those men used to transport them to wherever they are required. Suicide bombers like you haven’t seen before. Such things do already exist, but the technology is patented and kept from us, as it is from India and Pakistan. The West does not wish us to have this.”

  “Can you blame us?” Bolan muttered, knowing as he spoke that his words were pointless.

  “The woman speaks like a stupid film,” Yuri said hurriedly. “I don’t care what they’re doing. She is playing for time. Let us do what we have to and then go.”

  Bolan nodded. “You might be right. I’ve confirmed what I was sent for. All we need to do is take out enough of this facility that they can’t keep the experiments going before the IAEA are alerted.”

  “Then let’s stop talking and do it,” the Russian said in exasperation.

  Bolan knew he was right, but he also knew that he was no physicist or nuclear scientist. He wanted to destroy as much of the equipment and facility as possible without triggering any kind of nuclear explosion, or even generating any leakage. He needed guidance, and the only people he was likely to get any kind of guidance from in here were not the sort to cooperate.

  “Okay. Start shooting up the computer equipment a
nd I’ll lay some explosive charges to bring down the building.”

  “You won’t do that. You do not want to kill yourself by cancer,” the woman said with a sneer.

  “Chances are we won’t get out of here, lady,” Bolan told her. “Might as well take it all down.”

  He pushed her away and reached for the Semtex he was carrying. The immediate area was filled with the roar of the Russian’s SMG as he took out the computer equipment. If it brought the server down as well, then maybe they could take out that side of the operation in one blast. The noise forced four of the scientists back into a huddle, with only the woman standing firm. Her dark eyes were defiant and full of hate...but not fear. It told Bolan what he wanted to know.

  “C’mon, Yuri, let’s take them through to the next building. We’ve got ten minutes to do all of them,” he said, gesturing to the Iranians to move.

  “Cooper, what if there is fissionable material here?” the Russian queried, trying to keep the nerves from his tone.

  “Not in this building,” Bolan stated, seeing by the woman’s reaction that he was right.

  The two men drove the scientists through the walkway and into the next building. But before they left, Bolan took the extra precaution of leaving a little bomb behind, something to delay pursuit.

  As they entered the structure, they were met by a guard, who tried to fire at them through the encroaching crowd of scientific personnel—both those corralled from the previous building and those who had been working in this one—but he was deflected from his aim by the need to avoid friendly fire damaging his charges. Bolan had better nerves and better aim: one tap of the trigger was all it took.

  This building was different. There were lead-lined cabinets with reinforced glass that held rods and equipment that screamed nuclear materials at Bolan. While the soldier covered the assembled personnel, Yuri took out the computer equipment and smashed electronic measurement tech that lined one side of the room.