The Moscow Offensive
Page 40
Gennadiy Gryzlov snapped off the broadcast with a decisive gesture. Slowly, he swiveled to face Kurakin. “I am shocked, General,” he said coldly. “Shocked to the depths of my soul by these terrible events.”
Kurakin stared at him. “Mr. President, let me remind you that the attempt to kill Governor Farrell was ordered against my best advice. From the beginning, I was the one who warned you that doing so was both hasty and reckless.”
Gryzlov raised an eyebrow. “You misunderstand me, Vladimir,” he said with a sly smile. Seeing the other man’s incomprehension, he sighed. “I’m simply expressing my dismay at learning about the crimes you and these other disgraced ex–Russian soldiers have been committing on foreign soil. I can’t imagine how you were able to steal so much valuable state property—like those experimental industrial robots—let alone use it to carry out wholly unauthorized terrorist actions against the United States.” He shook his head gravely. “I suspect I’m going to have to clean house at the Ministry of Defense, purging it from top to bottom.”
Kurakin turned pale. “But I—”
“You thought I would sanction what you’ve done, especially after this fiasco? You forget: The core of ‘plausible deniability’ is the willingness to deny.” He tapped a button on his desk phone.
The door to his office swung open. Several hard-faced men in police uniforms filed in. One of them, with the two stars of a lieutenant colonel on his shoulder boards, moved directly to Kurakin and laid a firm hand on his shoulder. “Former major general Vladimir Kurakin, by order of the president, I’m placing you under arrest for crimes against the state.”
Kurakin sat rooted in genuine shock. His mouth opened and closed uselessly, like a fish gasping for breath after it had been hooked and reeled in.
The officer who’d arrested him nodded to his subordinates. Silently, they closed in, dragged Kurakin to his feet, and then led him, unresisting, out of the office.
Gryzlov stopped their leader with a glance. “A moment, Colonel.”
“Sir?”
“Major General Kurakin is a very dangerous man,” Gryzlov said mildly.
The lieutenant colonel nodded. “Yes, Mr. President.”
“So he may try to escape,” Gryzlov went on.
“That is possible,” the hard-faced man agreed.
Gryzlov’s eyes were icy. “Be sure that he makes the attempt.” His smile looked as though it had been pasted on. “Do we fully understand each other?”
“Completely, Mr. President,” the officer assured him. He saluted and left.
Russia’s president sat back with a hooded expression. Snipping off loose ends like Kurakin was easy. Arriving at a final solution for dangerous men like McLanahan and Farrell and their master, Martindale, was going to take a great deal more work.
THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON, D.C.
SEVERAL DAYS LATER
President Stacy Anne Barbeau glared at the image of her Russian counterpart, Gennadiy Gryzlov. Over their secure video link, he seemed utterly unfazed by her undisguised anger. In fact, if anything, she realized with mounting fury, he looked remarkably pleased with himself.
“You look unwell, Madam President,” he said coolly, before she could start in on him. “Have you consulted your doctors?”
Barbeau felt her teeth grind together. Of course she looked “unwell,” she thought bitterly. No amount of makeup could disguise the bags under her eyes or the haggard, haunted expression she wore almost constantly these days. With the revelation that the Russians were really responsible for terrorist attacks she’d so vehemently blamed on the Poles and their Iron Wolf Squadron allies, her days in power were numbered. Every poll, every focus group, every high-priced consultant’s report came to the same, inexorable conclusion. Politically, she was a dead woman walking. She was going to lose the November election. The only open question right now was by how wide a margin—and how many congressmen and senators of her own party she would take down with her.
“I’m just fine,” she lied. “Which is more than anyone will be able to say for you in the not-too-distant future, you arrogant son of a bitch.”
Gryzlov raised an eyebrow challengingly. “Is that a threat, Madam President?”
“What else would it be?” Barbeau snapped. “What the hell made you think you could launch a covert war against the United States and stroll away unscathed?”
“Me?” he said with a cold, dismissive laugh. “Have you forgotten the precedents you set yourself? Long ago, you washed your hands of any responsibility for the actions of Scion’s Iron Wolf mercenaries, remember? You practically got down on your knees and begged me to absolve you of their sins against my country. And I agreed.” He smiled thinly. “Why then should I take any blame for the actions of a few criminal ex-soldiers who acted without any authorization from my government?”
For a moment, Barbeau could only stare at Gryzlov, flabbergasted by his sheer gall. “You can’t seriously believe anyone will believe that crock of shit?” she demanded at last. “Who are you going to claim paid this General Kurakin and his men? The Chinese? Some criminal syndicate? Little green men from Mars?”
Gryzlov shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows? Life is full of mysteries.” His gaze turned even colder. “In one way at least, Madam President, my government has proved itself more cognizant of its obligations under international law than yours. You claimed to be powerless against the depredations of Martindale’s Scion. Russia is not so weak or negligent. The deaths of the criminal Kurakin and his closest associates prove that.” He showed his teeth. “So you see, justice in my country is swift . . . and certain.”
“Knocking a few pawns off the board won’t cut it, this time,” Barbeau retorted.
“Will it not?” Gryzlov said lazily. Abruptly, he leaned forward. “Don’t waste any more of my time with paper threats, Madam President. We both know you don’t have the stomach for real war. And even if you did, who will follow you into the abyss? You have no allies. No friends. Your own Congress would impeach you, if only to save its own skin.”
Barbeau saw red for a moment. Oh, for a knife and just a couple minutes alone with this bastard, she thought darkly, clenching her fists below her desk. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Luke Cohen starting to get up from his chair. Impatiently, she waved him back down. At last, she breathed out, regaining a small measure of self-control. “You really think you’ve won something here, Gennadiy?” she retorted. “Because from where I’m sitting, you look like a loser.”
He only smiled.
“You think I’m wrong?” Barbeau continued cuttingly. “Well, I hope you enjoy reaping what you’ve just sowed. Come January, you’re going to face a new American president, someone who’s openly hostile to you and your ambitions. A president allied with Martindale and Sky Masters . . . and”—she swallowed a curse—“with McLanahan.”
For the first time, she saw Gryzlov look uneasy. “I do not fear any of them,” he said quickly.
“Then you’re a moron,” she said flatly. “Because you damned well should be afraid.” Before he could reply, she broke the connection and sat back breathing hard.
Finally, Barbeau turned to Cohen and Rauch. Both men had been listening in on the call. “Did you hear Gryzlov gloating? There’s no doubt about it. That son of a bitch is guilty as hell.”
“And free as a bird,” Rauch pointed out bluntly. “Because he’s right. Unless we’re willing to declare war over this, there’s not much we can do . . . at least in the short term.”
Barbeau snorted. “The short term is all I’ve got, Dr. Rauch.”
“True enough,” he agreed. “Fortunately, this nation’s long-term interests and security don’t depend on any single person—most especially not on you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure I like your tone very much, Ed.” She scowled at him. “I suggest you leave the half-assed political commentary at the door next time.”
“There won’t be a next time, Madam President,” Rauch said calmly
. He stood up, pulled a letter from his jacket pocket, and put it on her desk.
Barbeau stared down at it. “What the hell is that?”
“My resignation,” he said. “Effective immediately.”
She looked at him with cold contempt. “So you’re just another rat leaving the sinking ship, Dr. Rauch?”
“No, Madam President,” Rauch replied with equal contempt. “In this case, the only rats here are the ones who’re staying.”
Then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the Oval Office—leaving Stacy Anne Barbeau speechless behind him.
Epilogue
JELITKOWO BEACH, ON THE BALTIC COAST, NEAR GDANSK, POLAND
WINTER 2021
Major Nadia Rozek loped alone along the wide, windswept stretch of sandy beach. She gritted her teeth against the icy cold, dug into the loose sand, and kept going—striving to master her new prosthetic running blades. They were the last piece of the challenge she’d been wrestling with ever since the surgeons at Fort Sam Hood amputated both of her mangled legs below the knee.
Weeks of agonizing hospitalization in the United States had been followed by months of painful and exhausting rehabilitation at home in Poland. She’d already relearned to walk using other, more conventional prosthetic legs. Now she was determined to prove that she was not a helpless cripple to be thanked for her service, awarded a pension, and then gently set aside. Men like Douglas Bader, the World War II RAF fighter ace, had already shown that double amputees could fly and fight in the air. Her task was to convince her superiors that she was fit to serve, even without her legs, as an active-duty officer in Poland’s special forces.
And so every day, in all kinds of weather, she ran up and down this long, empty stretch of beach—rebuilding her strength, her stamina, her agility, and her speed. Already, she was beating the personal records she’d set with two real legs.
But she always ran alone.
Nadia ducked her head and sprinted across the sand, trying to focus on what was just in front of her . . . and not on what might lie in her future. Since she was a child, she’d only really been afraid of one thing—the chance that she might live out her life as a solitary being, alone and loveless. For years, the comradeship of her fellow soldiers had filled the void . . . though only imperfectly. Then she’d met Brad McLanahan, and it was as though a new sun had risen in her world, bringing with it a glorious feeling of warmth and growth and joy.
But now? When he looked at her, would he still see the woman he loved? Or would Brad’s eyes be continually tormented by the sight of her scars and missing limbs? He blamed himself for the wounds she’d taken in that final battle . . . as unfair as that was. During his visits to her hospital room and then later in the rehabilitation center, his feelings of guilt and regret had lain between them like the black shadow of the moon as it eclipsed the sun.
If only he’d been free to spend more time with her—learning to cope with what had happened just as she had. But he was a serving soldier in the Iron Wolf Squadron and his time was not fully his own . . . especially in a world reeling from the aftermath of Grzylov’s most recent vicious schemes.
Right now, Nadia feared she might lose him forever. America’s newly inaugurated president Farrell had lifted all of Barbeau’s sanctions and threats of prosecution against those who’d served with Iron Wolf and Scion. She’d heard the joy in Brad’s voice when he phoned her with the news that he and his father were flying back to the United States to visit with family. Weeks had passed since they’d left, with only an occasional, awkward call or e-mail or text. What if Brad decided to stay in the land of his birth rather than return to Poland? Through all their time together, she’d known in her heart that he’d never fully reconciled himself to the possibility of a life spent in exile.
She knew she just feeling sorry for herself, that as a member of the military she should expect to make sacrifices. After all, Whack Macomber was also going through his own rehabilitation—in his case for several shattered ribs and badly broken arms and legs. He hadn’t suffered any amputations, but the big man joked that he had more pins in him than there had been in his grandmother’s sewing kit. Each time they spoke in the hospital or on the phone, the colonel’s encouragement in spite of his own injuries had helped her stay motivated. Yet even with her determination to overcome her physical limitations, Nadia felt emotionally raw.
She stopped to catch her breath, staring down at the hard-packed sand in front of her blades without seeing anything more than a blur. You will survive, she told herself, whatever happens.
Steeling herself to push through the next five kilometers, Nadia looked up . . . and saw a tall, broad-shouldered figure in the dark, rifle-green uniform jacket of the Iron Wolf Squadron. He stood alone on the sand, waiting for her.
With new energy, she sprinted toward him . . . and found herself caught up in his arms. “Hi, there,” Brad said. “I’m back.”
Nadia looked up at him in wonder. “I was afraid you would go home now that your president makes it possible. Home to America.”
Smiling gently, he shook his head. “America. Poland. Anywhere in the world. It doesn’t really matter to me. My real home is wherever you are, Nadia Rozek. Always and forever.”
Acknowledgments
Thanks as always to Patrick Larkin for his skill and hard work.
Weapons and Acronyms
96L6E—Russian surface-to-air missile search radar
AH-64D Apache—U.S. Army attack helicopter
AIM-120—radar-guided air-to-air missile
AK-400—Russian assault rifle
ALQ-293—American advanced electronic warfare system (SPEAR)
APC—armored personnel carrier
AT-4—Russian antitank rocket
B-1B Lancer—U.S. Air Force strategic heavy bomber
B-21 Raider—U.S. Air Force next-generation stealth bomber
B-2A Spirit—U.S. Air Force strategic stealth heavy bomber
B-52H Stratofortress—U.S. Air Force strategic heavy bomber
BMP-1, BTR-82—Russian armored personnel carriers
C-17 Globemaster III—U.S. Air Force heavy-cargo aircraft
CH-47 Chinook—U.S. Army heavy-lift cargo helicopter
CID—Cybernetic Infantry Device, manned combat robot
CIWS—Close-in Weapon System, U.S. Navy ship defensive weapon
CO—Commanding Officer
DARPA—Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, U.S. Defense Department agency developing new military technology
DEFCON—Defense readiness Condition
DTF—digital terrain following
E-2C Hawkeye—U.S. Navy carrier-borne radar surveillance and control plane
E-3 Sentry—U.S. Air Force radar surveillance and control plane
E-4B—U.S. Air Force National Airborne Operations Center, flying command post
E-8 JSTARS—Joint Surveillance Target Attack Radar System, U.S. Air Force ground surveillance radar aircraft
F-15—U.S. Air Force air dominance fighter aircraft
F-15E Strike Eagle—U.S. Air Force tactical bombing and fighter aircraft
F-16 Fighting Falcon—U.S. Air Force multirole tactical fighter
F-22 Raptor—U.S. Air Force fifth-generation stealth air dominance fighter aircraft
F-35 Lightning II—American multiservice fifth-generation multirole tactical fighter aircraft
F-4—American multirole tactical fighter aircraft
FAA—American Federal Aviation Administration
FSB—Russian Federal Security Bureau (formerly KGB)
FXR—Francis Xavier Regan, multinational business mogul
Glock 22—Austrian .40-caliber semiautomatic pistol
GLONASS—Global Navigation Satellite System, Russian space-based satellite navigation system
GPS—Global Positioning System, American satellite navigation system
Groza-4—Russian Special Forces assault rifle
GRU—Glavnoye razvedyvatel’noye u
pravleniye, Russian military intelligence
GSH-30-1—Russian heavy rapid-fire cannon
Hellfire missile—American air-to-ground laser- and radar-guided attack missile
HH-60G—U.S. Air Force special operations helicopter
HUD—heads-up display; displays flight and weapon information in front of the pilot
Huey—nickname of the American UH-1 Iroquois utility helicopter
HUMINT—Human Intelligence
IR—infrared
JAS 39—Swedish-designed multirole tactical fighter
Kh-35UE—Russian air-to-ground attack missile
klicks—kilometers
KVM—Kiberneticheskiye Voyennyye Mashiny, Russian manned combat robot
LEAF—Life Enhancing Assistive Facility, robotic life-support system
LED—Light Emitting Diode, advanced lighting system
LZ—Landing Zone
M1911A1—American .45-caliber pistol
M1A1—U.S. Army main battle tank
M-60—U.S. Army main battle tank
MFD—Multi Function Display, electronic information system
MP7 submachine gun—German-made compact personal defense weapon
MQ-55—American unmanned combat aerial vehicle
MRAP—Mine Resistant Ambush Protected, American heavy armored personnel carrier
NEXRAD—Next Generation Radar, American weather radar system
NSA—National Security Agency, American global electronic surveillance agency
NSC—National Security Council, American national defense and foreign policy group
PR—public relations
PSS—Russian silent pistol
PZL SW-4—Polish light utility helicopter