Once Dead

by Richard Phillips

  In twenty-three seconds, he would get first stage separation. In four minutes, stage two separation would be followed by the payload fairing jettison near Kolpashevo, Russia, two thousand kilometers down-range. Ten minutes into flight, as Rolf’s spacecraft approached the Sea of Japan, separation of the third stage would mark the end of the standard mission trajectory.

  After that, his precious cargo was in for one hell of a wild ride.

  CHAPTER 109

  Vladimir Roskov had just stepped off the stairs when he heard the screams that brought him to a halt. They sounded loud and close, just on the other side of the wall. A door banged against the door jamb as footsteps echoed through the far end of the hallway. The two gunshots that followed put a stop to the screaming.

  His Sig at the ready, Vlad dared a quick peek around the corner. Finding the hallway empty, he took aim on the opening into the change area entry and stepped out, struggling to regain control of his breathing. Nobody had ever rattled his nerves like The Ripper had, but he’d be damned if he’d shrink away from the man. He, Vladimir Roskov, was the hunter, never the hunted.

  Moving forward slowly and silently, stopping just short of the narrow opening into the change area entry, he put his back against the wall and readied himself for the quick turn around the corner.

  When Vlad moved, he pivoted around the corner in one swift motion. But quick as he was, The Ripper was quicker, as if he had known exactly when the attack was coming. As Vlad pulled the trigger, he felt the assassin’s knife punch through the back of his right hand, nailing it, and the gun it held, to the wall. Feeling the recoil of his own shot kick the Sig from his spiked hand, Vlad stifled the scream that threatened to crawl from his throat.

  As Vlad tried to free his hand, the Ripper’s side kick buckled his right knee, and if the black blade hadn’t held him, he would have sprawled on the floor. Instead, it spun him into a seated position, one hand raised high as blood wept down his right arm.

  Seeing the barrel of The Ripper’s Heckler and Koch rise toward his face, he looked up into the red reflection in the killer’s strange eyes and spat.

  “Gregory, you’re a dead man.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  Then, as the distant rumble of rocket engines shook the building, The Ripper’s bullet tore his throat out.

  CHAPTER 110

  Jack Gregory reached up and grabbed the black handle of his survival knife. A strong pull unpinned the dead crime-lord’s hand from the wall, allowing his body to slump into the pooled blood on the concrete floor, as the deep rumble of rocket engines continued to shake the building. The sonic boom that followed that fading roar was echoed by distant reports from Janet’s AS50. Because of her, Jack wasn’t concerned about anyone following him into the building.

  With Roskov out of the way, he had one significant threat left to deal with. Jacob Knox. When Jack had looked deep into Roskov’s eyes, he’d known the Russian hadn’t killed Rita. He didn’t know how he knew, but he did. That left Knox. The CIA assassin had tortured and killed a fellow CIA employee, just to get to Jack. The thought poured liquid fury into his adrenal system. Jack knew he was losing control but, for once, he just didn’t care.

  Suddenly it was as if he could smell the man’s lingering scent. Knox had run into the building ahead of Jack and had passed through this very room, seconds before Jack’s and Roskov’s paths had intersected here. Jack knew, from studying the building plans, that the hallway to the north led to a lobby and medic station, the only way in and out of that area. There was no way Jacob Knox would have trapped himself in there.

  Roskov had entered this room from the south hallway, from the stairwell that provided access to the Control Room. He wouldn’t have continued coming this way if Knox had passed him. That left the two doors on the west wall, doors that provided access to a series of interconnected locker-rooms, restrooms, and storage spaces. Lots of places behind them to hide and wait for a kill shot.

  “Jack? You still with me?” Janet’s whispered query through his earpiece partially cleared the red haze in his head.

  “I’m in. Roskov’s down.”

  “You need me in there?”

  “I’ve got this. Just keep the others away from that door and off my ass.”

  “Good hunting.”

  Jack felt something behind the leftmost door pull him forward, so he took the door on the right. Jerking it open, he followed his H&K into a narrow, dimly lit locker-room. Two rows of sheet-steel lockers lined both walls, a long set of benches separating them. Beyond those, a door in the northeast corner stood open, revealing bathroom stalls beyond.

  He knew that the closed doors on the locker-room’s east end led to a pair of storage rooms, one of which provided access to a long, east–west access hallway that paralleled the room through which he now moved.

  Except for moments when the distant thunder of Janet’s fifty-cal swept it aside, a menace-filled silence draped these spaces. Jack didn’t fight the adrenaline flow that rushed into his blood stream to stoke his growing need. His heart pounding with anticipation, Jack’s vision misted red.

  Yes!

  Knox was nearby. Jack could hear the man’s cold soul calling to him. Gritting his teeth, Jack glided silently forward. Rita’s killer’s wait was almost over.

  CHAPTER 111

  “Captain, you’re needed in the CIC.”

  Captain Steve Cole turned to see tension tightening the corners of Commander James Rodin’s green eyes.

  Nodding, Captain Cole turned toward the U.S.S. Lake Erie’s Combat Information Center.

  “What’s up, XO?”

  “I’ll let the tactical action officer lay it out for you.”

  Captain Cole stepped into the CIC, greeted by the familiar, “Captain on deck.”

  “Carry on. TAO, what have we got.”

  Lieutenant Commander Carlos Sanchez pointed at one of the four large displays.

  “Captain, we’ve got a track over southeast Russia. It’s on a trajectory that will take it almost directly over the top of us. It’s still a thousand kilometers out at an altitude of two hundred twenty kilometers, velocity six kilometers per second and climbing. It’ll be here in about two minutes.”

  “That’s a standard Baikonur launch track.”

  “Yes, sir. Only one problem. Today’s Baikonur launch was scrubbed. Even if it hadn’t been, that launch wasn’t scheduled to happen until six hours from now.”

  “Who’s on the line from the National Command Authority?”

  “The National Security Advisor, Bob Adams.”

  “Put me on.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Captain Cole cleared his throat. “Mr. Adams, this is Captain Cole, commanding officer aboard the U.S.S. Lake Erie, on station in the Sea of Japan.”

  “Hold on for one second, Captain. President Harris is on his way down to the Situation Room right now.”

  A loud click was followed by the sounds of people moving around a conference table. President Harris’s distinctive voice brought the noise level down.

  “Captain Cole, this is President Harris. I’m in the Situation Room with Vice President Gordon and my National Security Advisor, Bob Adams.”

  “Mr. President, we have a track that matches the expected initial trajectory for today’s planned launch from Baikonur. It’s early and it’s supposed to have been scrubbed. The payload will be passing over our heads here in the Sea of Japan in just under two minutes.”

  There was a very brief pause before the president spoke again. “Bob, what’s the Ground-Based Midcourse Defense system showing?”

  “They say they’ve got nothing showing on their Sea Based X-Band Radar.”

  “Mr. President,” Captain Cole interrupted, working to keep his voice calm, “we’ve damn sure got something on our scopes.”

  “What about the Russians, Bob?”

  “If they’re aware of anything, they haven’t told us about it.”

  Two more beeps sounded on the line a
s a voice announced the addition of CIA director Frank Rheiner and NSA director Jonathan Riles.

  “Mr. President, this is Admiral Riles. We have very little time if you want to have the Lake Erie try to intercept. Based on our earlier discussion, I think your choice is clear.”

  “Nonsense,” the DCI responded. “As good as the Aegis systems aboard the Lake Erie are, we’ve got negative confirmation from the GMD’s SBX-1 radar, and it is optimally positioned for this.”

  Captain Cole glanced at the display and swallowed. “Mr. President, we’re seeing what looks like third-stage separation. We’ve got sixty seconds if we’re going to shoot this.”

  More voices babbled unintelligibly out of the speakers in the CIC before Bob Adams once again spoke up. “GMD is still saying they’ve got nothing on that trajectory showing up in their system.”

  “Mr. President . . . ” Admiral Riles’s voice rose a couple of notches in volume. “I firmly recommend that you engage this target. Worst case, you shoot down a satellite that wasn’t scheduled to be launched.”

  “And if you do that,” said Frank Rheiner, “we’ll be firing an antiballistic missile right over North Korea. It could very easily trigger a war.”

  “Bob?”

  “Even if it’s real, Captain Cole says the trajectory matches a satellite launch trajectory, not a ballistic missile attack. I recommend we do not engage.”

  “George?”

  The vice president spoke for the first time. “I agree with Bob.”

  Captain Cole interrupted the brief pause that followed. “Thirty seconds, Mr. President.”

  As he stared at his four CIC displays, his XO and TAO beside him, the president of the United States of America kicked him in the teeth.

  “Stand down.”

  CHAPTER 112

  Rachel Koenig had seen the lean American with the shark eyes talking with her husband. Upon being introduced to Jacob Knox, she had taken an instant dislike to him. Now, staring up into his face as he dragged her roughly to her feet, she liked him even less.

  The plastic cuffs that had long since put her hands to sleep bit into her wrists so sharply that they pulled a cry of pain from her lips. The American paid no attention, shoving her away from the others seated along the square locker room’s south wall, through a short hallway, and into a clean-room changing area, leaving a lone gunman to guard the rest of the hostages.

  When he pulled her to a stop near the north wall and put a gun to the middle of her forehead, she found herself shaking so hard she could barely remain standing. After all she’d been through on this hellish night, after the gun battles that had raged outside and then inside the building, was she going to be executed in the middle of this austere space?

  “Do you see that hallway?”

  Knox motioned to the short hallway that exited the room on her left. Rachel blinked tears from her eyes and nodded.

  “Very soon now, The Ripper will come around that corner. He’ll see you before he comes into my line of fire. When he does, I’m going to give him a choice. You can probably guess what that choice involves.”

  At the mention of Jack Gregory’s nickname, a small seed of hope sprouted in her clenched gut.

  Jacob Knox leaned in closer. It wasn’t clear what he’d recently eaten, but if sharks breathed air instead of water, they would have breath like his.

  “I’m going to walk across this room and into that storeroom,” Jacob continued, nodding toward the door in the room’s southwest corner. “If you so much as twitch, I’ll kill you right now. Let’s keep hope alive a while longer, shall we?”

  Unable to work up enough saliva to speak, Rachel again nodded, then watched as Jacob Knox walked diagonally across the room, keeping his pistol’s red laser dot locked on the same spot on her forehead. Stepping through the door, he kept it cracked open just wide enough to enable him to see her and a small portion of the L-shaped hallway he had said Jack would use to enter the room.

  She didn’t hear it, but movement at the leftmost edge of her peripheral vision caused her to look that way. This time she found herself staring down the barrel of another weapon, this one held in Jack Gregory’s two-hand grip. He stood at the corner of the short L-shaped hallway, his body shielded by the wall as he aimed the handgun around it. From where he stood, he would have to come around that corner and advance another three feet before he could get a shot at Knox. Of course that meant Knox couldn’t yet see him either.

  Rachel glanced back across the room at the open slot through which Jacob Knox aimed his gun at her. Shit. She could almost feel that laser dot steady on her head. There was no doubt that Jack could see it too.

  Knox spoke, his voice loud and clear.

  “Hello, Jack. Glad you could make it.”

  When Jack failed to respond, Knox continued. “You’ve got quite a reputation for being unpredictable. Funny when you think about it. What you really have is a penchant for getting people you care about killed.”

  Rachel saw Jack ease silently around the corner, inching ever closer to the spot where he could get a shot at Jacob Knox.

  “Your brother’s name was Robert, right? Maybe it’s only the R people you can’t protect. First there was Robert, then Rita . . . I took my time with her. But you’ve seen that video, haven’t you?”

  Rachel found herself unable to take her eyes off Jack’s face. The way the red laser dot reflected in his pupils sent an icy chill up her spine, sapping what little strength she had left.

  “And now that brings us to Rachel. You see that laser dot on her pretty face. Fast as you are, as soon as you start to turn that corner I’m going to splatter her little head all over the wall.”

  Knox’s laugh held no mirth.

  “Then again, why should I wait for that?”

  With rising terror freezing Rachel in place, she saw Jack shift his aim, his bullet spinning her slender body back into the shelves on her right. Then, amidst the fading sounds of more gunshots, the enfolding darkness swept her pain away.

  CHAPTER 113

  Jacob Knox heard the gunshot as he started to pull the trigger, saw Rachel’s body spin away from his aim point as the Sig bucked in his hand, his bullet missing her head by two inches. His surprise cost him a third of a second of reaction time.

  Jacob ducked sideways as The Ripper spun around the corner, firing, his first bullet spraying a flurry of concrete chips and dust into Jacob’s eyes. The rounds that followed splintered the door frame, only intended to keep him pinned behind the wall as The Ripper crossed the room toward him.

  Blinking to clear his watering eyes, Jacob leveled his gun at the doorway and waited. When The Ripper hit the door, he exploded into the room. Having anticipated Jacob’s aim point, he twisted his body as he fired his own weapon. Jacob’s bullet missed The Ripper’s stomach, catching him low on his left side. Although it caused the ex-CIA agent’s shot to miss Jacob’s head, it sent Jack into a spin that he converted into a spinning side kick that knocked the Sig from Jacob’s right hand.

  Lunging forward, Jacob seized The Ripper’s gun hand as he drove him backward over a pile of boxes, sending them both rolling across the concrete floor. With both hands locked around Jack’s right wrist, Jacob felt Jack’s left elbow break his nose. The blow that followed loosened his front teeth and filled his mouth with blood.

  As Jack continued battering Jacob’s face in an attempt to free his gun hand, Jacob drove his right thumb into the bullet hole in the man’s left side. The Ripper countered by gouging his left thumb so deeply into Jacob’s right eye that Jacob felt his eyeball pop free of the socket, the nauseating wave of pain causing him to lose his focus on Jack’s gun hand.

  The gunshot caught him high on the right side of his chest and the scream that it pulled from his lips carried a bloody froth. When Jack pistol-whipped him on the side of his head, Jacob felt his body go limp, but somehow managed to stay conscious.

  As strong hands lifted him to his feet and shoved him back against the wood shelves, The
Ripper’s gravelly voice whispered in his ear.

  “This is for Rachel.”

  The long knife blade penetrated his stomach just below the solar plexus, driven with such terrible strength that it passed almost all the way through his body. As he felt a fresh rush of blood and bile fill his mouth, The Ripper growled again.

  “And this is for Rita.”

  The knee that hit him in the midsection hammered into the haft of the knife, severing Jacob’s spine and spiking his body to the two-by-four behind him. As Jacob dangled on the impaling blade, paralyzed from the waist down, partially blinded, and bleeding out, he watched The Ripper turn his back and walk out of the storage room, pausing just long enough to close the door behind him.

  CHAPTER 114

  Blood ran freely from the hole in Jack’s left side, but he ignored it. The bullet had punched a hole in the old Calcutta wound, so he knew it had missed any vital organs. He’d have to do something about the bleeding, but first he needed to get Rachel stabilized.

  He’d aimed the bullet just below her left clavicle so the wound shouldn’t be too bad. But bullets sometimes did strange things once they entered a body, and shock was nobody’s friend. He’d have liked to have just winged her, but he’d needed enough impact to hurl her out of Knox’s target line. So he’d made the best compromise available.

  Rachel lay face down in a spreading pool of blood next to shelves containing an assortment of disposable clean-room garments. Kneeling beside her he put a finger to her carotid artery. The good news was that she had a pulse and was still breathing. The bad news was that her pulse was rapid but weak and her skin felt clammy, all symptoms of shock.

  Ripping her blouse, he examined the exit wound, sighing with relief at the sight of the small hole. His bullet had missed the bone. Grabbing two hand towels and some of the plastic garments from the shelves, Jack carefully rolled Rachel onto her right side and applied an improvised pressure dressing to the entry and exit wounds. As he bound them in place, a sound to his left brought his head around.