by Ted Halstead
Alina.
She had been Neda's debriefing officer when she went to the Russian Embassy in Tehran to defect. Neda’s husband had been plotting to provide three Iranian nuclear test weapons as part of a broader attack on Saudi Arabia. Since there was no American Embassy in Tehran, she had thought the Russians were the only others powerful enough to stop him.
Given the stakes, Alina had not been gentle. She had tried to force details about the plot from Neda, even threatening her with expulsion from the Embassy and into the arms of Iranian security forces.
Neda had refused, insisting she would not provide details on the weapons' location until she was safely out of Iran. Alina had finally agreed, and Neda had eventually reached Moscow and been recruited to the FSB.
Alina had even been their control officer on their last mission in Ukraine. So, Neda had learned to work with Alina.
But they were not friends.
Kharlov had met Alina on that same mission in Ukraine and had been impressed with her competence. But he understood Neda's misgivings.
Kharlov thought of himself as a reasonably handsome man in excellent physical condition. The many girlfriends he'd had over the years would have agreed with that assessment. They might have been even more flattering if he'd chosen any of them as a spouse. However, neither his activities in Russian Spetsnaz special forces nor as a warlord in Ukraine's breakaway eastern provinces had been conducive to marriage.
Ordinarily, Kharlov would have wasted little time trying to date a woman as attractive as Alina. Long blond hair, a trim figure that hinted at excellent stamina, and a face pretty enough to adorn a magazine cover were all excellent incentives.
Until you looked at Alina's icy blue eyes. One glance was enough to know they had seen much their owner would prefer to forget.
And help anyone who saw them realize Alina's fit physique was not there to attract suitors. Instead, it was a byproduct of the continuous training needed to ensure she could deal with any threat, whether or not she had a weapon.
Yes, Kharlov mused, a date with Alina would undoubtedly be memorable. However, he preferred encounters where he didn't have to calculate the odds of survival.
Alina gave Kharlov a smile that made him wonder how many of his thoughts had been visible on his face. Then she closed the door behind her.
"I've cleared the floor. We may speak freely," Alina said, sitting down at the head of the conference table.
Neda sat next to Kharlov. On the side away from Alina.
Alina next gave Neda a smile that told both her and Kharlov she'd noticed.
"I have received new orders from Moscow. Your mission is to proceed," Alina said.
Kharlov nodded. "So, the other Chinese efforts have failed."
Alina shrugged. "I was told nothing of those. But to take the risk represented by your mission, certainly yes. I have been directed to emphasize certain aspects of the orders you have already received and to add one new element."
Kharlov and Neda both sat quietly, knowing Alina would proceed without prompting.
"You must not injure or, worse, kill anyone you encounter while on this mission. That is true even to avoid capture. Understood?" Alina asked.
Both Kharlov and Neda replied, "Yes." They knew from their training that a nod was not sufficient.
"The rocket you will sabotage must explode at a high altitude, and its course must be unaffected before its destruction. If you cannot accomplish this, you must allow the launch to proceed. Understood?"
Both Kharlov and Neda replied, "Yes" again. The Spaceship weighed over five million kilos and was over one hundred twenty meters tall. Allowing it to fall intact on a populated area would be considered an act of war by the Americans.
Or by anyone else, for that matter.
"Now, the new element. Neither of you may allow yourselves to be captured. If it appears capture is imminent, you must take one of these capsules," Alina said, sliding two small plastic containers across the table.
Kharlov grunted. "And I'd thought the life of a warlord was risky."
Neda looked at the containers as though they were venomous snakes. "So, now we know why we weren't told this part in Moscow. And why I'm on this mission with Kharlov rather than my husband. He might have had something to say about this."
Alina shrugged. "Maybe. I think Kharlov's training with rockets and explosives played a role too. But knowing Vasilyev, I'm sure you're right that he would have objected. Remember, though, that if you're successful, it’s possible I won't have to give capsules to him and Grishkov."
A look of fury and loathing appeared on Neda's face that briefly made Kharlov think he would have to restrain her.
But no. It disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, as Neda regained her self-control.
Alina still noticed.
"Please remember that I didn't write these orders. Nor, I suspect, did Director Smyslov. I think it is very likely this part came from the President himself. Remember, he was the FSB Director before Smyslov," Alina said.
Then Alina paused. "For many years, we have relied on exchanges to free captured agents. As recently as 2010, we swapped four persons in our custody for ten Russian agents arrested by the Americans. The President must have decided the Americans would react to the discovery of our role in sabotaging one of their rockets with something besides an exchange offer."
Kharlov nodded. "Yes. Perhaps by destroying one of our rockets in retaliation, maybe killing many Russian citizens in the process."
"Correct," Alina said. "Knowing our President, he would feel obliged to respond, likely setting a cycle in motion that would end with a nuclear exchange."
Kharlov had been watching Neda out of the corner of his eye while he kept Alina talking. He admired Neda's outward composure when he could practically feel the hatred radiating from her in the seat next to him.
At least Neda wasn't lunging across the table toward Alina, which Kharlov had thought a real possibility for a moment.
"When do we leave?" Neda asked.
"As soon as you can gather your materials," Alina said, waving her hand over the table.
Neda said nothing and began folding and stacking the papers covering the table.
As Kharlov stood to help her, he asked Alina, "How will we get to Florida?"
Alina smiled. "The same method we used in Ukraine. We will be using the regularly scheduled diplomatic mail run between the Embassy and our consulate in Houston."
Kharlov frowned. "My knowledge of American geography may be lacking. But is Florida really on the way to Houston?"
"It is not. However, we will turn off the normal route once we reach a city called Chattanooga, in Tennessee. It is close to Georgia, a state bordering Florida. We have detected FBI surveillance several times during this run, but it has never continued past Tennessee and usually stopped well before then," Alina replied.
"I'm sure this detour will cost us some time, yes?" Kharlov asked.
"Not too bad. It will take us about nine hours to get to Chattanooga and the same time to get from there to our destination in Florida. Driving direct would have taken about fourteen hours, so a short delay, but one worth making to maintain security. Most of the time, the FBI doesn't bother following this mail van, but…" Alina shrugged.
"Agreed. As you say, security must take priority," Kharlov said as he folded the last of the papers they had used to prepare for the mission.
Kharlov had been curious about their upcoming trip. But in truth, he'd been more concerned about avoiding an eruption between Neda and Alina.
So, he was not looking forward to the answer to his next question.
"Who will be our driver?" Kharlov asked.
Alina smiled. "To begin with, I will. I still have much detail to cover regarding your mission. And even more regarding our subsequent departure from Florida. I see you've collected all your papers, so let's head to the basement parking lot to begin our trip. Your clothes have already been packed and loaded."
Kharlov nodded and fol
lowed Alina out the door, careful to stay between her and Neda.
A glance back at Neda told Kharlov that was a good idea.
Kharlov sighed. It was going to be a long drive to Florida.
Chapter Nineteen
Zhongnanhai Compound
Beijing, China
President Lin Wang Yong once again let General Yang Mingren stand for a while after an aide escorted him to his desk.
In fact, Lin ignored Yang totally for several minutes while he once again reviewed the report on his desk of the laser weapon's failure.
Then, Lin pointedly did not invite Yang to take a seat. Instead, he asked him, "General, do you have anything to add to your report?"
Yang reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a single folded sheet of paper. Placing it on Lin's desk, Yang replied, "Just my letter of resignation, which I wished to present to you in person, along with my profound apologies for this failure. My deputy stands ready to try again with a different weapon we have been developing."
"A different weapon," Lin repeated slowly. He looked at Yang for a moment, who was still at attention, staring straight ahead.
Finally, Lin made his decision.
"Have a seat, General. Describe this weapon," Lin said in a tone making it clear he expected the description to be succinct.
Yang didn't disappoint him. "It is a missile fired from a modified Russian Sukhoi SU-34. We plan to destroy the entire payload of the next American rocket launch. It will carry four hundred satellites and is due to launch soon from Florida. Most of those satellites are planned for deployment to countries near China."
Lin nodded. "I am aware of this planned launch. Has your new weapon been tested? Can a missile launched by an airplane destroy a target in space?"
"We have not tested this weapon against a target in space. But the Americans have already proved an air-launched missile can destroy a satellite," Yang replied.
"Really? When?" Lin asked.
"In 1985. An American F-15 fired an ASM-135 missile from an altitude of about eleven kilometers and destroyed a satellite weighing about one thousand kilos orbiting at an altitude of over five hundred kilometers," Yang replied.
"1985," Lin said, shaking his head. "Can your plane fly that high?"
"We have flown the SU-34 at altitudes over fifteen kilometers high without problems. We are confident the missile will perform as well as the American model, if not better," Yang replied.
Lin grunted skeptically. "You thought so as well for the laser weapon, didn't you?"
"Yes, sir," Yang replied stoically. "But the laser weapon did work and destroyed five American satellites. Our failure was not anticipating the American's quick detection of our attack and then using one of their satellites to ram our weapon in response. But the Spaceship's payload will have no such capability. We will strike the payload as soon as it separates from the rocket before the satellites move into their assigned positions."
Lin was unconvinced but still curious. "Tell me about the missile that will destroy the payload."
"We are using the outer casing of the Russian Kh-47M2 Kinzhal missile. It was built to withstand the rigors of supersonic flight over a range of more than two thousand kilometers, so using it saved our designers much time. It was also easy to mate to the Russian-built SU-34 jet. The engine is our design since it had to work both within the atmosphere and in space. The warhead is made of tungsten, with no explosive content," Yang replied.
"Why not?" Lin asked with a frown. "Wouldn't an explosive warhead be more effective?"
"Yes, sir," Yang replied with a nod. "However, we must consider deniability. The destruction caused by explosives would be detected as such by the Americans. But an inert object striking a satellite or payload might be explainable as an accidental collision with a small asteroid or piece of space debris. It has happened before, and once it was even our fault."
"Really? When?" Lin asked.
"In 2013. By a piece of debris caused by our 2007 antisatellite test, the only one we have publicly acknowledged. We used a ground-fired SC-19 ballistic missile for that test, a modified version of the Dong-Feng 21 missile still deployed today. The debris damaged a Russian scientific research satellite. Of course, we denied responsibility. The Russians never pursued a claim against us, so I see that incident as validating our approach," Yang replied.
Finally, Lin had no more questions. He frowned as he considered Yang's proposal.
Then he shook his head.
"No. I have other plans for that rocket in Florida, which you do not need to know. You're dismissed," Lin said.
Yang saluted and turned on his heel. He had nearly reached the office door when he heard Lin's voice behind him.
"Wait," he said.
Yang turned around, trying hard to keep the hope he was feeling from showing in his expression.
He doubted he'd been successful.
"Yes, sir?" Yang asked.
"Do the Americans have any more of these Spaceships ready to launch?" Lin asked.
"Yes, sir. They have one in California already tested and scheduled for launch later this month, assuming Florida's deployment is successful. A third has just been manufactured and is undergoing final readiness checks in Florida, a short distance from the launch facility. The one in California is due to launch four hundred SpaceLink satellites, like the one the Americans are about to send into orbit. The newly manufactured Spaceship is intended for a test of military cargo transport," Yang replied.
"Very well. For now, I will keep your resignation letter. But I will wait to accept it depending on your new weapon's success against the rocket in California. If indeed this American billionaire is foolish enough to launch it," Lin said.
"Yes, sir. We will be ready for your order," Yang said.
Yang hurried to the building's entrance, his mind full of all that had to be readied in a very short time.
Yang reached the entrance just as the Army Commander, General Shi, was arriving. Probably to discuss the Army's role in the "border crisis" with India that President Lin had engineered to distract China's citizens from the Party's inept management of the economy.
And much else.
General Shi looked exactly like the tanker he had been for his entire career before moving into command positions. Short and squat, Yang mused that Shi would have had no trouble fitting into the small tanks available when he began service as a mere private.
Shi had barely met the military service's old height standard at one hundred sixty-two centimeters, or about five and a quarter feet.
Yang frowned as he remembered reading that the height standard had been lowered by two centimeters just a few years ago. Even though Chinese adults' average height had been increasing for years, thanks to improved nutrition made possible by a growing economy.
It turned out the change had been necessary to widen the recruitment pool to include brighter and more educated recruits. Needed because more advanced equipment was finally being made available for the Chinese military. To use such equipment effectively, intelligence and education were what mattered.
Not height.
Yang had been impressed to learn that Shi was one of the rare service commanders to have risen from the enlisted ranks. It said quite a bit about his energy and drive and made Shi an especially valuable ally in his plans.
As Yang approached, Shi said nothing. Instead, he merely raised his right eyebrow.
Translation: Do you still have a job?
Yang nodded curtly as he passed Shi on the way to his vehicle.
Shi gave Yang a slight smile and nodded back.
Translation: Glad to hear it. I look forward to continuing our collaboration.
Yang had nearly lost it all today.
That could never be allowed to happen again. There was only one way to make sure Yang could never be fired.
The military needed to take control from the corrupt and incompetent politicians.
Yang had been working on a plan to do just that with Gene
ral Shi for months. Until today, though, he'd believed the moment had not yet arrived to execute it.
Yes, Yang nodded to himself as his driver and escort vehicles drove through Beijing's busy streets back to his office.
It was now or never.
Chapter Twenty
Cocoa Beach, Florida
It had been well after midnight when they had arrived at the small house Alina had rented as a base for their mission. Boris Kharlov had pled exhaustion, so Alina and Neda Rhahbar had shifted back and forth as drivers during the nearly eighteen-hour drive from Washington DC via Tennessee.
Kharlov's real purpose had been to keep either Alina or Neda busy talking at all times. He was sure leaving them together for any length of time would have had unfortunate consequences.
Kharlov's initial hope that Neda's anger at the prospect of a suicide pill being presented to her husband by Alina would cool on its own had faded with each passing kilometer.
As Alina and Neda took turns at the wheel, Kharlov had engaged each in conversation, trying to ease the tension that hung in the van like a fog.
It had only worked to a point. All Kharlov had achieved was to prevent Neda from starting a physical confrontation between the two women.
Kharlov wasn't sure how such a contest would have ended. Alina certainly had far more experience in hand-to-hand combat. But Kharlov had seen sheer determination triumph over superior capabilities before.
And Kharlov had been sure he didn't want to be in the same small space while Neda and Alina settled their differences.
As was his habit, Kharlov had woken with the dawn. He didn't need much sleep, and that was fortunate. The few hours he'd managed had left him energized, and Kharlov began brewing a large pot of coffee in the surprisingly well-stocked kitchen.
Once coffee had begun to trickle into the pot, Kharlov looked around him with approval.
Windows on all sides of both the kitchen and the living area. Though the house was not new, the furnishings appeared to have been recently replaced.
A blinking red light near the entrance to the house announced the presence of a security system.
