Something he wasn’t sure he could count on should it turn into a shooting war, he not certain how far their ally’s rules of engagement would allow them to go.
They certainly hadn’t made any attempt to intercept the so-called misfire earlier, and if the Russians were to be smart about it, they wouldn’t target the American vessels, only the Japanese.
Forcing the Americans to pick sides.
But in the air, it was an entirely different ball game. If a single pilot on either side fired, just a single round, it could unleash a flurry of missiles that within seconds would leave pilots and airframes hurtling toward the ocean, any decision the Americans had been hoping to put off, made for them.
None of the prospects were appealing.
“We’re not on their frequency, Captain. I’m trying to hail the American commander but have been told he’s unavailable.”
Yamada nodded.
Probably busy wondering if he’s about to start World War III.
He stepped out onto the weather deck and raised his binoculars, staring up at the sky, it now night, the only light from the stars and a full moon.
More than enough to see the contrails streaking toward each other, tiny blotches of black at their heads, each representing a life that may about to be lost.
Whoever fires first will go down in history as the person who started what could be the war to end all wars.
He thought of a quote he had read once from Albert Einstein.
I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.
He shuddered at the thought.
Had mankind come so far only for it all to end over a politician’s unforgivable order to a navy never designed to be more than a maritime defense force?
His XO walked up beside him. “Sir, reports indicate more Russian ships are heading this way, and…”
Yamada lowered his binoculars and looked at his XO, the fear on the man’s face obvious. “What is it?”
“Sir, one of our vessels has just taken fire from a Chinese vessel in the Senkaku Islands.”
Yamada closed his eyes and sighed.
And so it begins.
70
Caucasus Mountains, Georgia
Seven miles inside the border
Acton shivered, his feet blocks of ice. They had been given thick fur wraps that were helping, but his feet were freezing inside his casual shoes, shoes worn for a meeting in a hotel room with a fellow lover of antiquities, not for fleeing from Russian authorities across the mountains of northern Georgia.
His teeth chattered.
Thankfully, the horses didn’t seem to mind. They had been travelling for almost half an hour, the going slow along the trail carved through the mountains over probably hundreds if not thousands of years, but he was happy. They had crossed the border and there was no sign of pursuit. And as every minute passed, with every foot of terrain covered, they were deeper into friendly territory.
Though if he remembered his Georgian geography correctly, they were nowhere near any form of civilization, which meant potentially days of travel on horseback before they could truly be saved.
And that meant days more for the world to erupt in chaos, while the keys to peace lay trapped in the mountains of a country most people didn’t know existed.
We should have got a satellite phone!
71
Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia
“I’ve found them, sir. They’re seven miles inside Georgian territory, but there’s two choppers heading directly to where they abandoned their vehicle.”
Leroux frowned, staring at the images from the newly arriving satellite. “What kind?”
“Mi-24 gunships.” Child cursed. “Looks like they aim to take them out.”
Leroux shook his head. “Where’s Delta?”
A map appeared showing the helicopters, the professors, and the C130E carrying the Delta team at 30,000 feet.
“Christ. ETA?”
“They’re about to jump, sir. Should be less than five minutes until they’re on the ground.”
Leroux shook his head then pointed at Child. “Contact Zero-One, let them know what they’re getting into.” He stared at the screen. “And get me the Director!”
72
Over Georgian Airspace
30,000 feet
Dawson tugged at Atlas’ gear, confirming everything was in good order, then slapped on the man’s helmet, thumbs up exchanged.
“Everybody good to go?”
A round of affirmatives came in over the helmet’s comm system. The jump light was still red but the cargo ramp had been lowered, wind whipping around the cabin, two crewmembers manning either side of the exit.
“Yo, Atlas, don’t forget what I said.”
Atlas glanced at Niner. “What’s that?”
The bass is good on these new helmets.
“You go first so I can land on you.”
“Little man, if you land on me, I’ll split you like a wishbone.”
“Don’t make promises you won’t keep.”
Atlas looked at Dawson, confused for a moment. His jaw dropped. ‘Dude!”
The light went green and Niner grinned, walking backward then stepping off the rear of the plane, blowing a kiss as he disappeared from sight.
Atlas shook his head, turning to Dawson. “We’ve gotta get that boy a girlfriend, soon.”
“Not my department.”
73
Caucasus Mountains, Georgia
Ten miles inside the border
Acton turned in his saddle at the clap of helicopter blades echoing through the rapidly rising mountains. He couldn’t see them, the twists and turns blocking any line of sight, but they were there, there no doubt of that.
His heart raced, his ice cold feet momentarily forgotten.
The Russians clearly weren’t respecting the Georgian border, and with the walloping the Georgians took only a few years ago, he doubted they would mount any challenge to the incursion.
They were at the Russian’s mercy.
Yet they did have one thing working for them.
He could see no place for them to land.
“Let’s move!” shouted Zorkin. “Faster!”
Acton urged his mount forward when he heard the distinctive sound of ringing. One of their escorts pulled a phone out, bending up the distinctively thick antenna of a satellite phone.
Are you kidding me? Why haven’t we used that!
The conversation was one sided, mere grunts from this end, the occasional word uttered that Acton couldn’t understand, though the glances at them were clear.
Something was wrong.
“Get down,” whispered Zorkin, he clearly getting the same feeling Acton was.
Acton dismounted, casually, placing the horse between himself and their escorts, Laura doing the same behind him, walls of flesh their only protection from the men surrounding them.
Zorkin slowly backed toward a large rock outcropping to their right, it almost a divot in the mountainside. “Get ready.”
And the conversation was over, the phone shoved back in the pocket, and something shouted, weapons abruptly raised.
Zorkin’s Beretta was out almost instantly, three rounds squeezed off, the three men in the rear dropped in seconds before he dove behind a large rock near the edge of the path, rolling to a halt only inches from the steep ledge. Acton shoved Laura into the alcove, drawing his own weapon, squeezing off several rounds at the group in front of them, hitting at least one, the man crying out before falling off the path and into the valley below.
Gunfire rang out, the chatter of AK-47s echoing through the pass, shards of rock splintering off all around them. Acton glanced over at Zorkin, one hand on his hip, the man in pain.
“Are you shot?”
He shook his head. “I think I broke my goddamned hip!”
Acton fought a smile, the man clearly more embarrassed than concerne
d.
Though he should be concerned.
He wasn’t going to be any use to them if they had no move.
“What’s going on?”
Zorkin fired two rounds blindly. “Apparently there’s a five million ruble reward for our capture.”
Acton frowned. “Lovely. I figured we’d be worth at least ten.”
“Funny. I thought it was all for me.”
“Ha ha.”
“Any suggestions?”
Zorkin nodded. “Yeah. Don’t get shot.”
74
Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia
“Something’s going on.”
Leroux agreed, that much obvious from the satellite feed. The horses were bolting, leaving their until now difficult to make out riders in plain view. He pointed toward three unmoving heat signatures. “Please tell me that’s not them.”
There was silence as everyone examined the footage, he praying that all of this hadn’t been for naught.
He pointed. “There. There’s two heat signatures, almost out of sight, like they’re tucked under the rock.”
“They’re hiding!” Tong pointed. “And the other one, behind that rock, the one that looks like he’s lying down. I think he’s firing at the others.”
“They’ve turned on each other,” said Leroux, watching the action play out in front of them, helpless to do anything. “But why?”
“I might have an answer to that,” replied Child. “I’ve been monitoring all the traffic in the area like you told me to and got a hit mentioning the professors. Moscow has announced a five million ruble reward for their capture.”
Leroux whistled. “Christ, in that part of the world it might as well be a billion. That’s life changing money there.” He paused, turning toward Child. “Any mention of what they get if they’re dead?”
“Two million.”
Leroux shook his head. “Still life changing money.”
Child agreed. “And it looks like they’ve decided to go the easy route.”
Leroux watched the footage on the large screen. “Knowing the professors, I wouldn’t count on it being easy.” He turned to Tong. “Get me Delta.”
75
Inside Georgian Airspace
“Sir, we’ve just crossed into Georgian territory.”
Dymovsky leaned forward, peering through the cockpit window, adjusting the microphone in front of his mouth so he could reply to the pilot. “Any indication the Georgians have detected us?”
The pilot shook his head, glancing back at him. “Negative. We’re low and in the mountains, so we should be okay unless we’re spotted from the ground. As long as we find them soon.”
Dymovsky nodded, leaning back in his seat. And that was the key. Finding them. He was sure there were several ways through the mountains, and they knew none of them.
Though they had time.
More of their forces were on their way, but for now Moscow had only authorized two choppers to violate the border, probably not wanting to tip anyone off as to the location of the relics.
It didn’t matter.
They would find them, in time.
And then he’d have a decision to make.
Kill them.
Arrest them.
Or let them go.
With whatever it was both his and the Japanese governments wanted so desperately.
76
Incirlik Air Base, Turkey
USAF Major Chariya “Apocalypta” Em jumped into her cockpit, her F-15C Eagle’s engines immediately beginning to power up as she started a rapid pre-flight check. She gave a thumbs up to her crew chief as the canopy closed around her, then turned to check her wingman, Captain Rosie “Riveter” Bugnet, a thumbs up received while the mighty mega-million dollar jet began rolling toward the taxiway on a priority clearance.
This was the real thing.
And she couldn’t wait.
Her heart slammed with excitement, there a hint of fear, but that just kept you smart. As long as you didn’t let it take over, it helped fuel your reflexes, the surge of adrenaline keeping you sharp.
But it could exhaust you if you kept it up too long.
And she’d need every fiber of her being at 100% when she reached the combat zone, where she had no idea what she might be facing beyond two Russian gunships with apparently hostile intentions.
In Georgia.
Where? She didn’t care. Why? She didn’t care. She had a mission. Protect those being targeted by the Russian forces violating Georgian airspace and territory.
And that last word had her a little curious.
Territory.
That suggested to her there might be a ground component as well.
She shoved her throttle forward and her F-15C blasted down the runway, reaching almost two hundred miles per hour in seconds, the thrill of lifting off the ground something she’d never tire of.
God I love the Air Force!
She checked her display, confirming her wingman was away, then fed her destination coordinates into the flight computer.
Preparing for an unfriendly welcome.
Since the Georgians had no idea she was coming.
77
Caucasus Mountains, Georgia
Ten miles inside the border
More gunfire from the terribly inaccurate AK-47s on full auto sprayed their position. Acton was content to just wait it out as their enemy used up their ammo, but the choppers were getting louder, and he had no doubt they were Russian.
So they might be facing an even more massive enemy.
In fact, no matter what happened, they would be. Even if they eliminated these men that had betrayed them, they would still have to face Russian soldiers, and with three handguns and three mags each between them, there was no way that was going to end well.
He glanced over at Zorkin.
Should we surrender?
The idea went against every fiber of his being, but he had to think about what was best, not his pride. And what was more important? Was it his life? His wife’s? The Imperial Regalia?
There was only one thing of which he was sure.
Zorkin would happily die here, today. The man was in pain yet smiling, enjoying the firefight, enjoying the incredibly unbalanced odds. If Zorkin was the man Acton thought he was, he was a man who regretted surviving, a man who never thought the Cold War would end, who never thought he’d be tossed aside in the decade of peace Soviet bankruptcy had bought the world.
Zorkin probably thought he would die on the job, retirement not even a thought.
He knew this, because he knew how Kane thought.
Though he wondered if his former pupil thought differently now that he had apparently found love.
He glanced over at Laura.
It changes everything.
And he was determined to make sure she survived.
And that was more likely in the hands of the Russians than these criminals.
He rose and squeezed off two rounds, winging one of their attackers.
78
Inside Georgian Airspace
Passing 10,000 feet
Dawson surveyed the ground below, unable to make out anything beyond their target destination projected onto the visor of his helmet. Atlas and Niner below him continued to exchange barbs, Niner having positioned himself a couple of hundred feet above Atlas, threatening to keep his promise to land on him.
It helped pass the time.
He loved jumping out of perfectly good airplanes, especially from ridiculous altitudes, only minutes from entering the fray, if there was a fray to enter. If they were lucky they’d hook up with those already helping the professors, secure a position and wait for extraction, extraction he knew was already on its way.
His comm squelched.
“Zero-One, Control, come in, over.”
“Go ahead, Control.”
“We’ve still got those two choppers inbound. It looks like they don’t know where the professors are and h
ave been travelling up and down the mountain passes.”
“That’s good news.”
“It was. It looks like they’re about to get it right. If they stick to their pattern, the next pass is the right one, and they’ve got a ton of hardware sitting on the other side of the border, just waiting to cross when they get the word.”
“Lovely. I’m surprised their holding.”
“It’s our assessment that they don’t want to risk whatever it is the professors have in their possession.”
“ETA on those choppers?”
“We expect ten minutes. And there’s more. It looks like there’s some gunfire on the ground. Apparently the Russians are offering a five million ruble reward for their capture.”
“Isn’t that like fifty bucks, or something?” asked Niner. “If so, can we collect the reward?”
“One-One, you are more than welcome to present yourself to the Kremlin to collect.”
Niner grunted. “I think I’ll pass. But I do need the fifty bucks. Anybody want to take bets on whether or not I can actually land on top of the big guy?”
“I’ll take a piece of that,” said Spock.
Jimmy jumped in. “Me too. And I’ve got fifty that says you break something in the attempt.”
“Now Jimmy, is that anyway to talk to a comrade during combat?”
“Kiss my pale white ass, you’ve said a lot worse to me.”
“Zero-One, Control. Is it always like this?”
Dawson grinned. “You have no idea. We’ll be boots on the ground in two minutes. How many hostiles?”
“There were twelve, but it looks like the professors have managed to take out four so far.”
Dawson chuckled. “Knowing them, they’ll have that thinned out some more before we get there.”
Leroux laughed. “Knowing them, by the time you get there, you might not be needed.”
Raging Sun (A James Acton Thriller, #16) (James Acton Thrillers) Page 18
