End Game

by Alex Lukeman

  The whop whop whop of rotors intruded on her thoughts. She looked up as a black helicopter slowed and hovered, then landed on a narrow area near the benches. A man jumped out of the chopper and strode toward her. He looked at a picture in his hand and then at her. The woman looking back at him with suspicion matched the photo. The rotors on the helicopter were still turning.

  "Valentina Antipova? Please come with me."

  "I do not think so. Who are you?"

  "Please, Ms. Antipova. Your sister said to tell you that you are needed back in Virginia."

  "My sister?"

  "You should have received a phone call telling you we were coming."

  "My phone is not on."

  "Your sister is Selena Connor, correct? Married to Nicholas Carter? You work for Director Harker?"

  "Yes, but…"

  "Don't worry about your vehicle. It will be shipped back to Virginia."

  Valentina took a last, regretful look at the canyon. People stared at the tableau, wondering who she was and what was going on. A park ranger emerged from the building at the end of the viewing area and strode toward the helicopter. He had on a green uniform and a flat brimmed hat. He looked angry. He walked up to the man who had gotten out of the chopper and stood right in front of him.

  "Who the hell do you think you are?" he said. "You're not allowed here. Helicopters aren't allowed here. You're endangering park property and the visitors. I'll have your license for this."

  "Don't worry about it," the man said. "We're leaving."

  "Damn right, you are."

  The park ranger pulled a notebook from his pocket .

  "I'm going to write down your registration number. When I'm done, you and that chopper are going to be permanently grounded."

  He stomped over toward the helicopter and suddenly stopped.

  "Where the hell is your number?" he said.

  "Ms. Antipova, if you're ready?"

  "I am not ready, but I will go with you."

  They walked past the red-faced park ranger and climbed into the helicopter.

  "I'd stand back if I were you," the man said as they passed him. "You don't want to get blown off into the canyon, do you?"

  Speechless, the park ranger retreated. Valentina and her escort got into the chopper. It was a four seater. A pilot and copilot sat in front, their eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. Valentina got into the back. Her escort climbed in after her and pulled the hatch shut. A moment later they were soaring up above the canyon. Valentina looked down at the astounding view.

  "It is very big, your canyon," she said.

  As the helicopter veered away to the south, she wondered why Harker had gone to all this trouble to retrieve her. She'd find out soon enough. Years of dealing with the Byzantine bureaucracy of Russia had taught her patience.

  Valentina watched the Arizona landscape streak by below. The last time she'd been in a helicopter, she'd been part of a covert mission to North Korea. It hadn't been anything as comfortable as this, not to mention the fact that no one was shooting at her. It was too bad she had to cut short her tour of the country. She'd wanted to drive all the way to the West Coast and see the Golden Gate Bridge. There might never be another opportunity.

  It had to end sometime, she thought.

  She settled back to try and enjoy the ride.

  Chapter 29

  Gregor Kondor was old and he was sick, but none of that lessened his willingness to destroy anyone who posed a threat to his plans. It was a lesson he'd learned early in life. All his years and experience had never given him any reason to change his mind. As far as Kondor was concerned, there were only two kinds of people in the world. There were those who ruled, and those who were meant to serve. Early on, he'd known which one he was going to be. He hadn't become one of the richest men in the world by being a nice guy, and he hadn't gotten that rich without a network of people who kept him informed about things he needed to know.

  Kondor had many sources of information scattered around the world. It was a mid-level officer in the American CIA who let him know that the disbanded group called the Project was still around, although under a different name. The same people who had destroyed AEON and murdered his friend were trying to track down the bombs, with the connivance of Langley and a White House pretending to look the other way.

  That meant they were a problem.

  Kondor remembered the last time he'd seen Johannes. He remembered the hospital stink of his room. He remembered Gutenberg's terrible burns, caused as he escaped the flaming collapse of his home. A fine man, persecuted and murdered by the same people who now threatened to prevent his plan to transform the world from bearing fruit.

  He should have taken care of them sooner, but he'd been absorbed in the preparations for establishing a world government. It didn't matter. There was still time enough to eliminate them. Kondor pressed a button on his desk to summon his head of security .

  No one would ever mistake the man who came into the room for anything but what he was, a former special forces soldier who had left all of his compassion on some obscure battlefield. Harlan Crowther was a few inches over six feet tall, broad shouldered, with muscles that stretched his shirt to its limit. His arms were as thick as some people's legs. He'd grown up in coal country, in the hills of West Virginia. At seventeen he'd lied about his age and joined the Army. He'd put up with the military bullshit because he loved the challenge of special forces. He would've put in his thirty, but he'd punched out an officer in Afghanistan and earned a dishonorable discharge.

  After the Army, he'd joined a mercenary outfit. That was where Kondor's spotter had found and recruited him.

  Crowther had an instinctive ability to lead and the kind of amoral ruthlessness Kondor admired. It had only taken him a few years to rise to his position as head of security. Crowther earned two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year. Kondor considered it cheap at the price.

  "You sent for me, sir?"

  "Sit down, Crowther. I have a job for you."

  Crowther took a seat.

  "I want you to take care of a problem for me. There are some people who are interfering with my plans. It will require travel."

  "Where am I going?"

  "At the moment they are in Washington, although that may change. There may be additional travel."

  "When do I leave?"

  "Soon. First I need to be certain they are still in America." Kondor pushed a folder across his desk. "This is the information you need."

  Crowther opened the folder. It contained photographs and a list of names and addresses.

  "You want a full sanction? "

  "Yes. Everyone in that folder. You will need to use caution. These people are not typical. They are highly trained, usually armed, and should be considered quite dangerous."

  "I've always liked a challenge, sir."

  "Do not underestimate them, Crowther. Pick a few men to go with you, men you trust to do what has to be done and keep their mouths shut."

  "That's not a problem."

  "Do this for me, and there will be a large bonus for you and your men when you return. I will let you know when it's time to move."

  Crowther stood. He knew when he was being dismissed.

  "Yes, sir. I won't let you down."

  As he left the room, Crowther smiled to himself. The job paid well, that was for sure, but it was boring as hell. Except for a few isolated incidents, there hadn't been much to do except train and keep his men in a state of readiness. That wasn't easy in the peaceful quiet of Switzerland. It was about time he had something to do that would require all of his skills.

  Kondor had said the targets were dangerous. Maybe so, but he was certain they'd never come up against somebody like him.

  By the time he exited the château, Crowther was whistling to himself.

  Chapter 30

  Butler had taken the bomb apart and reassembled the key components in their new home. As he'd promised, the final result would fit inside a container t
he size of an apartment refrigerator. It didn't have to be streamlined. It wasn't going to be dropped from a plane.

  The bomb was a classic two-stage design, just as it had been in its original form. Everything was positioned in a steel casing and surrounded by polystyrene foam. When triggered, a chemical explosion in the primary charge set off a reaction in a cylinder made of heavy metal. The job of the primary was to initiate fission and release x-rays. The secondary charge with the plutonium was contained in a different cylinder. The x-rays released by the primary bounced off the casing and turned the foam to plasma, igniting fusion. The result was a nuclear explosion. All of it took place in a split second.

  Butler had done his best to dial it all the way up. Whatever the final result was, the destruction would be enormous when it went off.

  It would create a huge ball of fire, brighter than the sun. Everything within a five mile blast radius would be totally destroyed. An instant later, winds topping four hundred miles an hour would obliterate whatever was left. The light from the blast would permanently blind any man or beast unfortunate enough to be looking at it, even miles away. That wasn't all. The explosion would ignite a gigantic firestorm that would generate more winds and incinerate everything within many miles of ground zero. Nothing would survive above ground. Anyone in a basement or underground shelter would be killed by the heat .

  The bomb was a gift that would keep on giving. Fallout from the mushroom cloud would drift with the prevailing wind for hundreds of miles, damning everything in its path to a slow and excruciating death by radiation.

  But Butler wasn't thinking about that as he contemplated his creation. He was pleased with his work. He'd done a damn good job, neat, tidy, and efficient. It wasn't everybody that could take one of those babies apart and make it work. He was already thinking how he could improve the package with the two remaining weapons.

  All that remained was to connect the cell phone that would trigger the blast. He took one of the phones Ruslan had provided and wired it to the bomb, careful to make sure it was turned off. Then he called the Chechens in.

  "I want you to show me it works," Beslan said.

  "You're going to have to take my word for it," Butler said. "Look, it's triggered by the phone. You turn the phone on and give it a call. Then, boom."

  "I still want to see that it works."

  "I do that, it will be the last thing you ever see. Trust me, it will work."

  Akhmad laid a hand on Beslan's shoulder to calm him.

  "We trust you, Bobby. This is very good work."

  Butler accepted the praise as his due.

  "It is safe to move?"

  "Sure. It can't go off unless you call the phone. It's heavy, so you need a few men to move it, or a forklift. You can put it in a crate, a big toolbox, inside a refrigerator, whatever you like. They'll never know it's a bomb."

  "When will the others be done?"

  "It will go faster with them. A week, maybe less."

  "Excellent. You are happy with your new companion?"

  Butler grinned. "Yeah, I'm happy. She's just what the doctor ordered."

  "Good, good."

  Soon you will need more than a doctor, Beslan thought .

  "We will leave you to your work," Akhmad said. "I will have people move this out of your way."

  When they were outside he turned to Beslan.

  "Have Alaudin get the forklift and move the bomb to the truck. We'll put it in a crate with transmission parts. There won't be any problems at the border, I've gone that way before. The guards are pigs, they are easily bribed."

  After Akhmad and Beslan left the room, Butler lit a cigarette and thought about them. They made him uneasy, especially Beslan. A couple of times he'd caught Beslan looking at him in a way that bothered him. Butler didn't like it. A million dollars was a lot of money. They'd paid him a hundred thousand up front, but maybe they were thinking they'd keep the rest, once he finished doing what they wanted him to do.

  Butler wasn't stupid. He'd overheard their plans and he knew he was vulnerable. There wasn't much he could do if they decided to kill him. They wouldn't do it before the other bombs were ready, but it wouldn't hurt to have a little insurance, just in case.

  He got up and rummaged around in a box of electronic parts on the bench until he found what he was looking for, then went over to the bomb. Ten minutes later he was done. He took out the phone he'd hidden and put it in his pocket.

  There was no cell reception in the bunkers. He'd have to go up top. The Chechens were accustomed to him taking occasional smoking breaks up top. Beslan had objected, but he'd been overruled by Akhmad. The only condition was that he stay out of sight once he was out in the open. Butler picked up a pack of cigarettes and stepped out of his work room, holding the pack in his hand where it could be seen. He passed one of the Chechens. He couldn't keep all their names straight, but he thought this one was called Apti.

  He held up the cigarettes.

  "Going up top for a smoke," he said.

  Apti grunted .

  Probably doesn't even speak English, Butler thought. The guy looks like an ape.

  When he emerged from the ramp he was surprised to find it was early evening. Down in the bunker, he tended to lose track of time. A cool breeze was blowing, bringing with it the earthy scent of the Hungarian countryside. He lit a cigarette and took out the cell phone, one he'd modified for satellite use. He dialed his own number back in Dallas and waited for the answering machine to pick up. If worst came to worst and these Chechen creeps didn't keep their bargain, at least they wouldn't get away with whatever it was they were planning. But he was pretty sure it wouldn't come to that, not after he told them what he'd done.

  "Hi there, this is Bobby. Leave a message."

  At the beep, he began talking. When he was done, he hung up and dropped the phone back in his pocket, pleased with himself. Mrs. Butler's boy wasn't born yesterday. If the Chechens tried anything, they were in for a big surprise.

  Chapter 31

  Valentina sat next to her half sister on the couch in front of Elizabeth's desk. Looking at the two women sitting side by side, it was easy to see the resemblance. Both had high cheekbones and exotic eyes. While Selena's eyes were usually deep blue or violet, Valentina's eyes were a piercing, intense green. Selena was a little taller, Valentina a little more full-bodied. Both were fit, athletic, trim. They were women who drew second glances no matter where they went. It wasn't just that they were both attractive. The two sisters exuded an undefined sense of presence that couldn't be ignored.

  "I do not like Chechens. I do not like Hungary," Valentina said.

  "I know, Val, but we have to stop these people. They're in Hungary, so that's where we have to go."

  "You are going, sister? I thought you were done with missions?"

  "I thought I was too, but it's all hands on deck for this one."

  Valentina looked puzzled. "This is idiom, no?"

  "Yes. It means everyone has to be involved."

  Elizabeth sat behind her desk, tapping her Mont Blanc pen in a nervous tattoo on the hard surface. The entire team was in the room.

  "Steph, tell us what you've discovered."

  "Freddie looked at every abandoned military site in Hungary where the bombs might be hidden. We eliminated everything that was too obvious, too close to a populated area, or too small. We looked for something off the beaten track and obscure."

  "And? "

  "It boils down to two possibilities. One is outside Budapest, but I don't think they would use that one. It's well known. The government is always trying to keep tourists away."

  "What's the second possibility?"

  "There's an abandoned Soviet missile base in the southeast. There's nothing much around it. The closest city is Kaposvár, but that's a good distance from the site. The nearest town is called Tamási. It's not very big and it's miles away. The base is out in the country. It's marked off-limits and dangerous by the government. Nobody goes there. It was on
e of the principal Soviet installations during the Cold War. It's a large complex, and most of it is underground. It would be perfect for them."

  "Dangerous? Why?" Nick asked.

  "Old buildings in danger of collapse, chemical spills, low levels of radioactivity. The place is an environmental disaster."

  "Have we got surveillance on it?"

  "Only old photos. Nothing current."

  "I've asked Clarence to put a satellite on it," Elizabeth said. "We need up to date shots."

  "Let's see the old ones."

  "Freddie, put up the old pictures of the site," Stephanie said.

  They looked at the black and white photographs.

  "Pretty typical," Nick said. "Looks like a headquarters building, barracks, motor pool, the usual stuff. Do we have plans of the complex?"

  I anticipated your request, Nick. I have obtained plans of the missile base from archives in Moscow. Would you like to see them?

  "Good work, Freddie. Please put them up on the monitor."

  They all looked at the monitor.

  "Big," Ronnie said.

  "They had nuclear tipped intermediate range missiles in there," Nick said.

  "Shit, that's a rat maze," Lamont said .

  "Look at those tunnels," Selena said. "They go everywhere."

  "I have seen places like this," Valentina said. "Soviet military had unlimited funds. They are very solid, built to last. I think everything will still be there."

  "The bombs could be anywhere in that complex," Elizabeth said

  "Maybe not," Nick said.

  He got up and walked over to the monitor.

  "It looks like the main access to the underground bunkers is here."

  He pointed at a ramp on the plans that dropped down from the surface into the rooms below.

  "The bad guys could drive down there with the weapons and pick one of these rooms to work on them. There isn't any reason for them to use the tunnels."

  Ronnie brushed a speck of lint from his Hawaiian shirt, a riot of colorful birds and flowers.