by Ted Halstead
Towards them.
Thanks in part to the instruction to walk back ten paces, Grishkov and Vasilyev were well out of the greatest danger zone, the sixteen meters behind the mine.
Unfortunately, troops were cautioned to be under cover for a full one hundred meters behind the Claymore.
Mine fragments struck Grishkov and Vasilyev, but they were small, and their speed had dropped by the time both were hit. As a result, neither received more than cuts and lacerations.
Painful, but not disabling. And not enough to slow down their departure.
It took only a few minutes to change their clothes and bandage the most serious cuts. The dirty and damaged clothes went into the same hidden compartment in their SUV as the McMillan TAC-50 rifle.
They had already collected all the rifle's spent shells before the thieves arrived. The rounds that had passed through the targets might be found somewhere in the desert beyond by a truly determined search. But neither of them thought that likely.
There was no need to discuss the dead men, their weapons, and their vehicles. Nothing would be gained by examining any of them. They were clearly no more than common thieves who had believed Grishkov and Vasilyev would be easy prey.
And paid the price for their miscalculation.
Vasilyev tapped the GPS and said, "I have set it for Benton, a small town close to the other side of the California border. We should make it there in about an hour, hopefully before local authorities come on the scene we just left. From Benton, we should reach San Francisco in under seven hours. That will give us plenty of time for my questions."
Grishkov said nothing and nodded.
For the following hour, Vasilyev concentrated on driving, making sure he was going the same speed as the rest of the right-lane traffic. There were few other vehicles on US Highway 6, so they crossed the California border in well under an hour.
Grishkov had been tuning the radio to local stations, and they also had an app on their phones allowing them to monitor local police radio bands. There was no indication so far that anyone had come across the scene they had left behind in Nevada.
"OK, first, I recognized that as a Claymore mine from the shape and the 'front toward enemy' stamped on it. It's not a Russian Army device, so how did you even know about it?" Vasilyev asked.
"First, we do have a variant that's quite similar, the MON-50. There are a few minor differences, such as the type of explosive it contains, but the basic device is familiar to me from my time in the Army. As it happens, years ago, one of my men picked up a Claymore from a dead terrorist in Chechnya and used it to help defend my family from an attack led by a North Korean agent."
Vasilyev nodded thoughtfully. "My father told me about that attack, though not how your men and your family were able to survive it. He just said to remember that even inside Russia, an attack by foreign agents was always a real possibility."
"Yes. You may also be wondering what a Chechen was doing with an American mine. I certainly did, so I checked. It turns out Claymores were reported stolen from American military depots in Middle Eastern bases supporting their troops in the Gulf War. From there, I suppose they ended up in the hands of arms dealers ready to sell to anyone with the necessary cash," Grishkov said.
"And how did you obtain this particular Claymore?" Vasilyev asked.
"The Defense Attaché at our consulate in San Francisco is Colonel Geller. He happens to have been my commanding officer in Chechnya and credits me for saving his life there. I believe that is why he agreed to obtain the Claymore for my use. It had to be an American weapon to preserve mission security," Grishkov replied.
"A remarkable coincidence, wouldn't you say? That your old friend from Chechnya just happened to turn up here in California?" Vasilyev asked.
"I had the same thought," Grishkov replied. "I asked, and Geller told me he arrived for his new job just two weeks ago. Director Smyslov told us this mission was critically important to Russia. I think either he or someone working for him has done everything they could think of to help us, including Geller's assignment."
"So, when we report this incident, how will we square it with our instruction to ensure that no American other than the target is killed?" Vasilyev asked.
Grishkov shrugged. "I think an honest report of the circumstances will make it clear there was no alternative. Besides, these criminals are likely known as such to the authorities. If I'm right, suspicion will fall first on rival criminals. Even if the police eventually realize that's not true, I expect by then we will be back in Moscow. And we used no weapon that could be traced back to Russia. Plus, there were no surveillance cameras at our desert location."
"That's true," Vasilyev said with a nod. "Nearly every city in all but the poorest countries now has cameras everywhere. We are fortunate we were attacked in such an isolated area."
"Yes," Grishkov agreed with a sigh. "One more detail we will have to be sure to remember as we stage our attack. And as we make our escape."
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Jiuquan Satellite Launch Center
Gobi Desert, China
General Yang Mingren looked around the Mission Command and Control Center with satisfaction. It had taken a lot of planning to get ready for today's operation, but it had all come together. Barely in time, but in Yang's experience, it seemed as though it was either that or failure.
Then he scowled as he remembered the Americans had managed to destroy a satellite with a missile fired from a fighter in 1985.
Well, today's operation represented a far more significant challenge. The Americans’ target had been a satellite in a long-established orbit, in effect a sitting duck.
By contrast, the satellite payload they would target today would be going at high speed along an unknown trajectory.
The most difficult technical challenge hadn't been adding a new engine to the Russian Kh-47M2 Kinzhal missile. Yang had thought swapping it for one that could operate both in atmosphere and in the vacuum of space would be quite tricky, particularly since the new engine had to fit precisely in the Kinzhal casing.
But no. That was the only part of the project to finish ahead of schedule.
Instead, the greatest and most expensive challenge had been developing the capability to track a small, rapidly moving object through space. The Americans had spent billions over decades to do so because of their anti-ballistic missile (ABM) program.
The Americans had their first successful ABM test in 1999, though there had been failures as well. Most galling, they had even managed to shoot down a ballistic missile from a ship in 2020.
China's most advanced interceptor missile, the just deployed HQ-19, was only effective against medium-range ballistic missiles. Practically speaking, that meant against rockets fired from India or eastern Russia.
The problem was that intercontinental ballistic missiles, or ICBMs, built up far greater speed over their higher and lengthier trajectory. Though an ICBM only reached its top speed of seven kilometers per second in the terminal phase of flight, even earlier, its speed made it difficult to track with precision.
Yang had received funding to build additional space tracking capabilities only with great difficulty. In particular, because he hadn't been willing to explain in detail why he wanted it. Security for the antisatellite weapon program was paramount since it was a top American espionage priority.
By contrast, ensuring security for the SU-34's launch with its new antisatellite missile had been relatively easy. Qingshui Air Base was only a few hundred kilometers away from Jiuquan Satellite Launch Center.
Even better, for years, Qingshui's only purpose had been training pilots to fly the Chengdu J-7, a fighter based on the ancient MiG-21. Despite numerous upgrades and enhancements since its introduction in 1965, production of J-7s had finally ceased in 2013. Though some later model J-7s were still flying, it had caused no comment even within the Air Force when Yang had declared Qingshui "surplus to requirements."
Only a small security detac
hment and the antisatellite missile's engineers were now based at Qingshui, living in rather spartan conditions. Yang would have never reached his present position as Air Force Commander if he hadn't recognized the danger those conditions posed to both morale and security.
Unhappy troops complained to anyone who would listen in any country's military.
Yang had promised everyone at the base an immediate promotion once he had successfully deployed the antisatellite missile. He had every intention of keeping that promise.
Besides, Yang knew if the attack on the American rocket's payload failed, he wouldn't be around to worry about it.
Yang smiled as he looked at the feed from the American news network shown on the massive display screen that dominated the Mission Command and Control Center's front. Kind of the Americans to give them real-time updates on the Spaceship's launch.
Just like the Chinese, the Americans announced some launches and provided full details and video images of the rocket as it climbed into space. For others, they didn't.
Yang had no idea how Lin had managed the destruction of the rocket in Florida. On the one hand, nothing had been said publicly by the Americans to suggest they thought China had been responsible. "Under investigation" had been the only public comment so far.
Well, however Lin had done it, it seemed the method couldn't be repeated.
Two SU-34s, each with the new antisatellite missile, were at Qingshui. One was scheduled for deployment and was now on the runway. The other was a backup in case anything was reported wrong by the instruments onboard either the first plane or its missile.
So far, according to the monitor sitting in front of Yang relaying reports from those instruments, everything was green.
Yang was unhappy to have only a single backup. But though he had plenty of SU-34s, only three antisatellite missiles had been produced so far.
And Yang had reluctantly authorized one of them to be fired in a test that only evaluated the missile's in-atmosphere performance. He would have preferred a real test that sent the missile into space. But Yang had to agree with his engineers that the chances of detection outweighed the value of what they might learn.
Those engineers seemed very confident that their missile would work in space. Well, it was time to see whether the engineers' confidence was warranted.
Launch! Yang watched as the Americans' newest rocket made its second ascent. This time, nothing would interfere with its climb into space.
But with luck, its purpose would still fail.
Yang's eyes flicked to one of the half-dozen monitors in front of him showing data relevant to the mission. This one showed the countdown for the SU-34's launch.
It was a delicate calculation. On the one hand, the American rocket was fast indeed.
On the other, it first had to climb into space. Then, the rocket had to travel the distance between America and China before it could deploy its satellite payload.
His SU-34 had enough fuel to climb to the high altitude needed for missile launch and then return to base. It didn't have enough additional fuel to loiter indefinitely at high altitude.
More important, Yang wanted to minimize the time the SU-34 was aloft at precisely the same time as the American rocket. He doubted the Americans were able to track his fighters so far inside China.
But why take the chance?
And the Russians were always a concern. True, they might no longer have military bases in Mongolia, a mere one hundred fifty kilometers north.
Nevertheless, the Russian President's 2019 visit to Mongolia's capital and his signing of a "permanent treaty of friendship" showed that relations were still close. And why not, since Soviet troops had been responsible for Mongolia's independence from China in the first place?
And Russia still supplied over ninety percent of Mongolia's energy needs.
Was data from Mongolian radars relayed to Russia? Who knew?
But why take the chance?
So, for now, the SU-34 sat ready on the runway. But not for much longer.
There! With the rocket's launch, the intercept calculation was now complete and showed the time had arrived.
Yang transmitted the order for the SU-34 to set off on its mission.
Then he sat down, dreading to hear that there was some problem with one or, even worse, both SU-34s.
No. One of Yang's displays showed the flight telemetry being received from the mission SU-34. No need to deploy the backup fighter.
So far, so good.
Now it was time to see whether the engineers had overcome what they considered their greatest challenge. Continuous real-time communication allowing precise control of the missile once it was launched.
As a practical matter, this meant a data link from the engineers monitoring the rocket from the Mission Command and Control Center to the SU-34. And then another data link from the SU-34 to the missile while it was in flight.
The engineers had given Yang a long and complex explanation when he had asked the obvious question. Why not control the missile directly from the Mission Command and Control Center?
Yang believed the answer amounted to one fact he reluctantly had to accept. It would have taken too long to reproduce the Russian targeting system in the SU-34 and install it where Yang was sitting for this mission.
There were so many possible points of failure. The SU-34. Its pilot. The Kinzhal missile. The equipment tracking the American rocket. The communications system between that equipment and the SU-34. And between the SU-34 and the Kinzhal missile.
Yang grit his teeth and tried to will away those thoughts. None would help him now. He had worked for months to solve every problem he could foresee.
And so far, it looked like those efforts had paid off. The SU-34 had reached its launch altitude, and the American rocket appeared to be right on its expected course. All communication links were working just as they should.
Five minutes to go.
No matter how hard Yang tried, his mind persisted in showing him ways the mission could still go wrong.
Including the most frightening thought of all. That just as with the laser weapon, something would go wrong Yang had entirely failed to predict.
At last, the five minutes were up.
Yang ordered the firing of the modified Kinzhal missile.
Now the massive display screen in front of the Mission Command and Control Center split into two side by side images. On the right, the American news network's real-time coverage of the rocket's progress.
On the left, the computer's estimate of their missile's location relative to the American rocket.
Now came the final challenge. If the missile hit the rocket too early, his engineers had admitted the payload might still survive and deploy. Particularly if the missile struck a lower stage of the rocket.
Too late, and some of the satellites could deploy and escape destruction.
It was the first time this Spaceship model had survived to leave the atmosphere, so Yang had only his engineer's estimate of the right time to strike.
When the missile had been at the design phase, Yang and his engineers had debated whether or not the tungsten warhead should detach. Yang had pointed out the warhead would be much harder to detect from the ground than an entire powered missile.
Also, a missile making course corrections couldn't be mistaken for anything else. Like a piece of space debris or asteroid fragment.
The problem was that this decision had been made when the missile's task had been destruction of a satellite with a known and static orbit. Now it had to hit a target moving at high velocity.
Using what amounted to an educated guess. Yes, backed up by billions invested in ground tracking stations and computers.
But still a guess.
Yang was swept by a wave of anxiety. Had he been mad to risk his future on the accuracy of that guess?
Warhead separation from the missile was announced on the left side of the display. Moments later, the right side reported the imminent de
ployment of the rocket's satellite payload.
Yang sat ramrod straight in his chair and did his best to project the confidence he absolutely did not feel.
After all, if this worked, Yang would get the credit. Even more, if it appeared he'd never had any doubts about success.
And if the missile failed, nothing else would matter.
The tungsten warhead was on its way, and nothing anyone did could change its course. They had only been able to track the missile's progress because of its data link to the SU-34, which had been relayed to the Mission Command and Control Center. Now that the warhead had detached, there was no longer a link.
All everyone present had to do was watch the display.
And hold their breath.
The American news network announced that with the rocket's successful deployment of its payload, they were about to switch back to their regular programming. Yang knew they had only stayed with it this long because the rocket was a new model, and its first launch had ended in a spectacular and camera-friendly explosion.
Yang went numb. Had they failed?
"We're getting breaking news on the launch. SpaceLink's launch center lost contact with the rocket just as it was putting its satellite payload into orbit. Or with the payload itself. It's not clear right now. We'll take a break and have more for you shortly."
With that, the American news anchor's face was replaced by an ad for detergent.
Yes, Yang thought to himself. This is why we are destined to replace the Americans on the world stage. Even during their greatest moments of crisis, they still chase money.
The news anchor's face returned. "It's still not clear what happened. But something is definitely wrong with SpaceLink's satellite deployment."
"High-speed tungsten is what's wrong!"
One of the engineer's voices cut through the broadcast with a clarity that its owner appeared to immediately regret.
Every head turned to Yang for his reaction.
Yang wanted to curse the engineer for jinxing the operation. There were plenty of reasons the Americans could have lost contact with their rocket's payload that had nothing to do with the warhead carried by the modified Kinzhal missile.
