by Dave Edlund
“You mean as in handed over to the Russians?” said President Taylor.
“More likely,” Collen said, “an individual willing to make a small fortune by selling the samples. We’ll need to conduct a complete audit of smallpox samples at the CDC, beginning with the lot that was lost and rediscovered last year.”
“Get on it. You have my authorization to use any government resources needed. Howard, make sure the Director of the CDC understands the importance and urgency of this investigation. Tell him I expect nothing less than complete transparency. This is not about blame; we need to know where the misplaced virus came from and whether or not it’s all accounted for. Later we can sort out how it happened.”
“Thank you, sir,” Colleen said. “I think it worthwhile to have FBI agents question Aldrich Ames and Robert Hanssen. Maybe they have some relevant knowledge, something that was said by their Russian handlers.”
Taylor nodded. “Do it.” He stood, his signal that the meeting was over. As the Secretary of State and NSA Director exited, President Taylor addressed his military advisors. “Does this information have any impact on Bright Star?”
General Hendrickson answered without hesitation. “No, sir. The operation is underway. A combined Marine Corps and Air Force assault on the international airport in Minsk will commence at 5:30 a.m. local time. At the same time, Alpha Strike Force from the Strategic Global Intervention Team will insert at the chemistry building on the BSU campus and secure the safety of the civilian hostages.”
President Taylor lowered his gaze. “It’s a terrible loss, what happened to the Delta teams.”
General Hendrickson nodded. “The SGIT operatives will be inserting by parachute from very high altitude, a stealth insertion. We have every confidence in their success.”
“I know they’ll do their best,” said President Taylor. But the conviction was lacking in his voice.
Chapter 17
Minsk
June 16
PETER LED HIS FATHER AND friends back through the mailroom and into the break room where he’d stashed the makeshift flamethrower. Hefting the close-range weapon onto his shoulder, he addressed Gary. “I think the safest place for the moment is in the storeroom where we were locked up.”
“Good idea. We can top-up the sprayer with more flammable liquid, too.”
Peter grabbed the last bottle of ammonia from under the sink. It was only three quarters full, but it could be handy. Then the group entered the hallway and raced the short distance to the storage room. It was easy to spot from the blood-stained floor, although the two NPA bodies were no longer there.
The door was ajar, and Peter pushed it open cautiously. Unoccupied, the small room was just as they had left it.
“Quickly,” he encouraged them in and closed the door. “Do you still have the key?” he asked Gary.
With the door locked, Peter felt a small amount of comfort. He decided the first order of business was to take stock of their weapons. Peter clung onto the light machine gun, and he estimated that about 30 rounds of ammunition were left in the belt. Gary had the AK-74 with a full magazine. And then there was the sprayer converted into a flamethrower, plus the bottle of concentrated ammonia.
“Not much to take on a modern army,” Ian Savage said.
“Dad, take a look around and see if you find anything useful, anything we might have missed.” Peter slipped the flamethrower off his back and set it against the wall.
Ian nodded and started a systematic search. If nothing else, the distraction would help to take his mind off thoughts of impending doom, if only for a few minutes.
“If we just had access to the chemistry stock room,” Dmitri said. He and Ian both looked tired. They had been awake for close to 24 hours, but there was more to it, Peter knew. Fear was taking a toll.
“Dmitri,” Peter said. “Tell me about this machine you overheard General Gorev talking about.”
He gathered his thoughts before answering. “Well, he sent some of his guards to the roof to make sure it was ready, that it would still function.”
“On the roof. Of this building?”
“Yes, that is my understanding.”
“And what does this machine do?”
Dmitri shrugged. “I don’t know. They didn’t say—only that it is ready. It must be important.”
Peter considered what Dmitri shared, trying to piece the puzzle together. “Dmitri, you said before that the air intakes are also on the roof, yes?”
Dmitri nodded. “Does that mean something to you?”
“It means something. Just not sure I know what.” Suddenly Peter remembered the cell phone he took from the guard killed by the harpoon gun. He dug it out of his pocket and examined the display. Relieved that he had a cell signal and plenty of battery power, he dialed a number he knew would bring help.
The phone rang five times, and Peter was beginning to think it would go to voice mail. Instead he heard a feminine voice. “Who are you calling, please?”
“Uh, Commander James Nicolaou. Did I dial the wrong number?”
The voice paused for a moment. “Commander Nicolaou cannot take your call now. May I relay a message?”
“This is Peter Savage and it’s urgent that I speak with him. Do you have an alternate number where I can reach him?”
Lieutenant Lacey drew in a deep breath. While on a mission, Jim’s personal and office phones were programmed to ring through to a number she monitored.
“Dr. Savage. It’s Lieutenant Ellen Lacey. We met following the incident in the Aleutian Islands. Do you recall?”
“Yes, Lieutenant. Look, I need to speak to Jim, it’s urgent.”
“That’s not possible.”
Peter paused, trying to understand. “Why not?”
“Dr. Savage, this is an unsecured line.”
Suddenly it made sense. So, Jim is on a mission.
“I need to ask you a few questions. But please phrase your answers carefully. We have to assume this conversation is being monitored.”
“Okay, but I don’t have much time.”
“Understood. Are the civilian hostages safe?”
The question angered Peter at first, until he realized that Lacey could not possibly know all the details of what had transpired with the failed rescue attempt. “Uncertain. I lost contact following the destruction of the helicopters.”
Lacey had hoped for a more positive answer. “Are they still held at the same location?”
“As far as I know. Look, I’m being hunted so I can’t give you those details—”
She interrupted, “Do not state your location.”
Peter slowed down and collected his thoughts, organizing what he felt he could and couldn’t say. “There’s no way out. This building is locked down and unless you have a spare battalion of Marines in the neighborhood, I don’t see us fighting out.”
“Something better, have some faith,” she said. “Have heavy weapons—armor, mobile missile launchers—been moved in?”
“I don’t know.” Peter’s tone hinted at his growing frustration. “I can’t see the roads.”
“Can you move to a location where you have visibility?”
“Yeah. Headed that direction anyway. Something I want to check out.”
Lieutenant Lacey let the comment pass, focusing on the immediate priority. “Good. How soon can you call back?”
“I don’t know, maybe 30 minutes.”
“As soon as you can; it’s important. I’ll be monitoring this number. Out.”
“Wait a minute.” Peter caught her before she disconnected. “I need to know. Did Ethan and Joanna make it safely to the embassy?”
Lacey felt like an idiot for not telling Peter sooner. “Yes, they are safe and under protection of the Marine guard.”
Peter closed his eyes and felt a burden lifting. He slid his back down the wall, oblivious to the deep ache, until he was sitting on the floor. Then Lacey was speaking again. “You need to focus, Dr. Savage. This is important; w
e need your help. Don’t worry about your children; they are safe and out of harm’s way. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Peter’s voice was heavy with fatigue and emotion. “I’ll call when I have something to tell you.”
“Make it soon, please.”
Chapter 18
Minsk
PETER POCKETED THE PHONE and relayed the essence of the phone conversation with Lacey.
“You think Jim is sending help?” Professor Savage asked.
Peter nodded. “That’s why she asked me to see what’s out there in the commons or the street, anywhere I can get a look. Dmitri, can you lead me to the roof?”
“Yes. We must take the stairs. But the door to the roof is normally locked and I don’t have a key.”
“I suspect this is a master key,” Peter said, removing the key from the door handle. “Gary, I need you to stay here with Dad. No telling if we may run into more guards; you’ll be safer here.” Then Peter handed the machine gun and ammunition belt to Gary. “If you get discovered, use this, but conserve your ammo. Let me have the AK, it’ll be easier to carry.”
“Good luck, son. Be careful,” Ian said. Then he faced his good friend. “Take care of him Dmitri––he has a knack for finding trouble.”
“You have my word, Ian.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll be back. It may take a while, so just stay here and wait. Since we only have the one key, maybe it’s best to leave the door unlocked so you aren’t trapped in here. But don’t get any crazy ideas about coming to look for us.”
In the hallway, Dmitri spoke in a whisper. “Follow me.” It didn’t take long to reach the stairwell, the same one Ethan and Joanna had descended earlier. Fortunately, they didn’t run into any NPA soldiers along the way.
Dmitri reached for the door, intending to open it when Peter grasped his shoulder. “Let me go first,” Peter said.
He opened the door slowly, leading with the rifle. The coast was clear, and Dmitri quickly followed Peter. They climbed the stairs, Peter cautiously in the lead, sighting ahead with the rifle at every bend just in case the enemy was also there.
After a nerve-wracking ten-minutes, they had climbed five flights and reached the roof door. Grasping the rifle in his right hand, finger on the trigger, Peter tested the doorknob with his left hand. Locked, as Dmitri had warned.
“Dmitri, try this key, but squat low and to the side in case there are guards on the other side ready to shoot.”
Peter stood to the side, the concrete block walls providing some measure of protection to both men, while Dmitri followed the instructions. With a soft click, the door latch turned. Dmitri shoved it open, expecting bullets to whiz through the doorway. Instead, there was only silence.
As before, Peter led the way with the rifle. He emerged onto the roof, Dmitri right behind him. “Stay here. I’m going to look around,” Peter said.
The flat roof was bordered with a waist-high wall that served to enhance the esthetics of the structure from the ground level, the wall mostly obscuring the dozen or more ventilation stacks and air-intakes that penetrated the roof. The ventilation stacks were a foot in diameter and were located in a line running down the center of the roof, each stack extending to a height of ten feet and capped to keep rain and snow out. The air intakes were built from two-foot-square ducting, also capped. They were much shorter than the ventilation shafts so as not to draw in any noxious fumes emanating from the stacks.
Squatting low, Peter scrambled to the edge and looked out over the commons. Although many of the lamps were dark, no doubt damaged from the battle that transpired in front of the chemistry building, the still-burning Blackhawk wreckage plus the remaining functional lights provided adequate illumination. Peering over the edge, he systematically scanned the expansive space.
A mechanical sound, still distant, caught his attention. It seemed to be coming from the opposite side of the building. He dashed across the roof and gazed down at the four-lane thoroughfare. The streetlights cast a yellowish glow and beyond the street was Independence Square. The mechanical rumbling was getting louder, coming from the northeast.
Peter recognized the sound. He’d heard it before, at construction sites—the sound of steel tracks clanking against drive sprockets, overlaid on the roar of heavy diesel engines.
He squinted, trying to make out details in the distance, wishing he had a spotting scope or good pair of binoculars. Still straining to make out detail, he glimpsed the first tank passed under a streetlight. He continued to watch until the last vehicle rolled into Independence Square.
A soldier—Peter thought him to be an officer because he seemed to take charge of the gathering of tanks, armored personnel carriers, and missile carriers—descended from his steel shelter and conversed with another soldier. The vehicles then revved up their engines and deployed around the BSU campus.
Peter retrieved the cell phone and dialed the number he knew Lacey would answer.
“Lacey,” she said.
“I’m on the roof. The commons is clear, except for about twenty soldiers. Small arms. They could still have RPGs or shoulder-fired missiles, I can’t be certain.”
“Good, that’s what we expected.”
“No, it’s not good. I just watched six tanks, six armored personnel carriers, and one missile launcher drive into Independence Square. Two men got out, had a short conversation, and then the vehicles moved to locations around the campus. I can see two tanks and the missile carrier still parked in the Square.”
“Can you describe the vehicles, especially the missile carrier. That’s the biggest threat.”
“I’ll tell you what I can, but I don’t know how to identify these vehicles.” Peter edged up and peeked over the short wall. “The tank has a really long barrel, and it looks squashed and modern, not like the World War II Russian tanks; I don’t know how else to describe it. The personnel carrier looks like a compressed box on tracks. No guns are visible. And the missile launcher has four big missiles aimed upward. I think I can also see a dish antenna, and the missile launcher rotates.”
“That’s good. I’ll make sure this information gets to the right people. Is there anything else that might be important?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Do you see anything that would indicate they have set booby-traps, or maybe an ambush?”
“No, nothing I can identify.”
“Okay. Any names?”
“Yes, two. Major Leonov and General Gorev. He’s in charge. Does that mean anything?”
“Yes. Gorev’s known to us. That’s helpful.”
“I snatched what I think is an order from Gorev’s desk. It’s in Russian, but a friend translated the document and said it refers to Spetsnaz troops here under Gorev’s command. Something about ensuring the safety of ethnic Russians. And we found Russian rubles and a photo on a dead guard.”
“I get the currency, but the photo?”
“It has a stamping on the back. My friend says it’s a popular chain of film developing stores in Moscow.”
“Anything else?”
“Maybe, I don’t know if it’s significant or not. Gorev mentioned a machine. He was discussing it with Major Leonov and some other soldiers. I don’t know what it’s supposed to do, but Leonov was in charge of placing it on the roof near the building air intakes.”
Lacey paused as she thought about this information, recalling the recent horrors of Tbilisi. “Can you describe the machine to me?” she said, a renewed sense of urgency straining at her voice.
“No,” Peter answered. “I haven’t looked for it yet.”
“Understood. Try to find it and report back ASAP. But don’t touch it; we don’t know yet what we’re dealing with. Out.”
Peter returned to Dmitri, who was huddled next to the roof-access door, right where Peter had left him.
“We have a new assignment.”
Dmitri responded with inquisitive eyes.
“Let’s find that machine you heard Gore
v and Leonov talking about.”
Chapter 19
Air space over Central Europe
THE SGIT COMBAT KING AIRCRAFT was still speeding for their target, a point in empty space from which Alpha Team would descend into blackness. Commander Nicolaou was working the plan over and over in his mind, anticipating deviations and contingencies. He was keenly aware of the fact that plans seldom went as expected—there were simply far too many variables to anticipate, too much that was beyond his ability to control.
Bull approached. “Sir, Lieutenant Lacey requests a word.”
Jim entered the communication suite and closed the door for privacy. “Nicolaou,” he said.
“Commander. I’ve been in communication with Peter Savage. He’s with his father, Gary Porter, and Professor Dmitri Kaspar.”
“Good news. Are they safe?”
“Yes, for the moment, but they did not escape. We were speaking on an unsecured line—he dialed your number. I told him not to mention his location, but he slipped up and said he was on the roof.”
“Of the chemistry building?”
“Affirmative. He’s our only set of eyes that we can communicate with directly. He reported armor settled in around the campus about twenty minutes ago, tanks and APCs, plus one mobile SAM launcher. No doubt a defensive perimeter; they are likely preparing for another assault. I’ve already requested current satellite images. With the thermal images we’ll have vehicle locations pinpointed shortly. The GPS coordinates will uplink automatically to the EWO’s targeting computer.”
“Roger. Any details on the SAMs?”
“The launcher set up in Independence Square. From Peter’s description, likely SA-11 or SA-17.”
“Medium range missiles. We will be deploying at the maximum engagement range, but it’s still a credible threat. Looks like the flight crew will be busy. I’ll inform the pilots and weapons officer.”
