Treason, page 12
She finally heard something, barely audible above the chirping crickets. The faint sound grew louder until she spotted a Black Hawk helicopter plummeting toward the clearing with alarming speed. The helicopter slowed its descent as it approached the ground, landing softly in the meadow grass. Not far away, a second Black Hawk touched down.
Four soldiers exited the nearest helicopter, taking defensive positions around the Black Hawk, down on one knee and weapons pointed outward. Each man’s rifle swung slowly left as they surveyed the tree line. When one man’s rifle was pointing directly at Christine, he halted, keeping his aim on her. Another soldier swung his weapon around, locking on to Kalinin. The first man beckoned with his arm, urging Christine and Kalinin forward.
Christine led the way, with Kalinin pulling up alongside, as both soldiers kept their weapons trained on them. When they closed to within range of the helicopter’s rotors, Christine ducked and approached the man who waved. He lifted his night vision goggles and scrutinized Christine and Kalinin, then lowered his weapon as he stood.
“President Kalinin, Miss O’Connor,” he said, then pointed toward the Black Hawk cabin.
Christine and Kalinin climbed in, joined quickly by the four soldiers. The helicopter lifted off as they took their seats, barely clearing the treetops as it raced toward the Black Sea. Not far behind, the second Black Hawk followed.
In the dark cabin, faintly illuminated by the green cockpit controls, the first soldier extended his hand to President Kalinin. “Captain Joe Martin, Delta Force, U.S. Army.” Martin put emphasis on U.S. Army, then added a grin. “Welcome aboard.”
Kalinin returned the smile. “I appreciate your assistance.”
“Buckle in,” Martin said. “It’ll be an hour before we land at Bartin Air Base in Turkey.”
Christine shrugged out of her backpack, then let out a deep breath. Their ordeal was almost over.
As she reached for the seat harness, the night sky lit up with an orange flash, accompanied by a loud explosion and debris pinging off the Black Hawk’s metal skin. The helicopter tilted suddenly, making an evasive maneuver, throwing Christine from her seat. As she grabbed on to the nearest fixture, she spotted the other Black Hawk engulfed in fire, falling from the sky. Christine pulled herself onto her chair and was searching for the seat harness when she spotted a red trail racing up from the forest toward them.
Flares and chaff were ejected from the Black Hawk, then the helicopter turned sharply down and left, almost throwing Christine from her seat again. The missile locked on to the decoys and passed by as the Black Hawk leveled off just above the treetops. Christine buckled herself in just before the helicopter tilted on its side and swerved right. She looked out the windows, spotting the forest through one side and moon through the other. The helicopter righted itself, but only for a second before zigging left.
Another round of flares and chaff were dispensed, then Christine’s stomach leapt into her chest as the Black Hawk dropped into a rocky clearing. Another missile streaked overhead, distracted by the decoys as the helicopter plunged toward jagged rocks.
The helicopter leveled off, but was now racing toward towering pines directly ahead. The Black Hawk tilted upward at the last second, leveling off again after barely clearing the treetops. Christine twisted around in her seat, looking out the windows for other inbound missiles. She spotted another one closing from behind, but the helicopter took no evasive maneuvers.
Through the cockpit window, Christine spotted two more missiles speeding toward them, from thirty degrees on either side. The pilots were having a terse conversation, deciding what to do. The conversation ended and decoys were ejected again, then the Black Hawk maneuvered radically to the left, followed by another round of chaff and flares. Blinking red lights on the countermeasure panel indicated they had expended their decoys. Christine didn’t have much time to think about it, as she was whiplashed by another maneuver.
The decoys fooled two of the missiles but not the third, which adjusted course toward the evading helicopter. Only a few seconds remained as the missile closed the distance, and the Black Hawk swerved left again, pitching Christine against her seat harness.
An explosion roared through the helicopter, ripping its tail off. The Black Hawk spun as it tumbled from the sky, the rate of rotation increasing as it fell, ejecting two Delta Force soldiers into the darkness. The forest rushed up toward them, and then there was the sound of splintering tree branches and crumpling metal.
39
AIR FORCE ONE
It was mid-afternoon as Air Force One made its descent toward Joint Base Andrews, just outside Washington, D.C. The president was seated at his desk, reviewing the latest intelligence report detailing the Russian troops committed to the invasions of Ukraine and Lithuania, when there was a knock on his door. After he acknowledged, Dunnavant, Cabral, and Colonel Dubose entered, with Dunnavant carrying a thin folder. Their expressions told the president they were about to deliver bad news.
“What do you have, Bill?”
“I’ve got two updates,” he said as he sat on the couch across from the president. “I’ll start with our nuclear triad. We found the problem.
“Curtain Labs discovered two dormant programs in a microprocessor chip in their navigation upgrade, activated by an external message. One routine creates a power surge strong enough to destroy the connected B-2 electronics, and the second program relays a position update to the Trident missile flight algorithm, altering the flight path. The bad news is that there doesn’t appear to be a way to prevent the Russians from interfering, short of replacing the navigation circuits, which will take time.”
“How much time are we talking about?”
“Curtain Labs is working on a revised circuit board. Their production line is still warm, so it should be only a few weeks before we have new cards. The B-2 upgrade should be easy, but the missile upgrade can’t be done while the missiles are in their tubes or silos. They’ll have to be returned to the refurbishment facilities. It’ll be at least a year before a respectable percentage of our nuclear missiles are upgraded and returned to service, and much longer to fix the entire inventory.”
The president asked, “Is there a way to address the missile issue faster? Can we jam the Russian signal that activates the dormant programs?”
“There’s no way to block all satellite communications during the missile’s entire flight path. The only viable way is to block the transmission at its source. But we have no idea where they’re transmitting from, and it could be from multiple locations. I’m afraid the only way to address this issue is by replacing the navigation circuits. Curtain Labs is trying to develop a more immediate solution to restoring our nuclear deterrence, but the odds are slim.”
The president nodded his understanding.
“In other bad news,” Dunnavant said, “the extraction of President Kalinin and Christine didn’t go as planned. We lost contact with both Black Hawks during their return trip.”
“Do we know what happened?”
Dunnavant pulled a photograph from his folder and handed it to the president, who examined a satellite image of two helicopter wrecks ablaze in a thick forest.
“Any survivors?” the president asked.
“Unknown,” Dunnavant said. “We slewed a satellite onto the area ten minutes after we lost contact with the Black Hawks. No one has emerged from the wreckage since then. If there were survivors, they had already departed the scene. However, there’s not much left of either helicopter. The odds of survival are low.”
40
KRASNODAR KRAI, RUSSIA
An hour earlier, Christine’s helicopter had plummeted toward the forest, its rapid descent ending with a crescendo of splintering tree branches, crumpling metal, and helicopter rotor blades disintegrating into pieces. The dreadful noises had lasted for only a few seconds, followed by silence.
Everything seemed to shift into slow motion after the crash. Christine surveyed the wreckage. What remained of the Black Hawk had come to rest tilted down thirty degrees and heavily to starboard. She was dangling from her seat, still strapped in. Kalinin was on the floor of the mangled cabin, wedged against the starboard bulkhead, his right foot jammed beneath a cargo seat. Fires burned in the cockpit, illuminating the two pilots sitting lifeless at their controls, crushed in the front of the crumpled helicopter. Of the two Delta Force soldiers remaining in the cabin, one was dead and the other, Captain Martin, was badly wounded.
Christine released her seat harness and fell onto the cabin floor, sliding toward Kalinin. He was conscious, but groggy. In the yellow glow from the cockpit fires, she checked him for injuries. He seemed okay except for his right foot, which was at an awkward angle. Kalinin slowly came to his senses, his eyes gaining clarity.
“Can you move your leg?” Christine asked.
Kalinin slid his right foot out from under the seat, wincing immediately. He had either a broken or badly sprained ankle, but otherwise seemed fine.
She turned her attention to Captain Martin, who was sitting on the deck, his back against a cockpit seat. A chunk of the helicopter fuselage protruded from his chest and he was bleeding heavily; his uniform was already saturated. Christine applied pressure to the wound with her hands, but the warm blood still oozed between her fingers. Her eyes searched the wreckage for something she could use as a wound compress after removing the fragment. She was no medic, however, and she worried that the bleeding would worsen if she removed it. Captain Martin deciphered her thoughts.
“Leave it in,” he said. “I’ll bleed out faster if you take it out. I’m not going to make it either way.” He coughed, spraying specks of blood onto Christine’s face as he winced. “Go,” he said. “It won’t be long before they get here.”
He pulled his pistol from its holster. The sight of Martin’s weapon spurred Christine to search for hers, and she spotted one of the two pistols she and Kalinin had carried aboard, along with one of the Russian cell phones. She retrieved the pistol and phone.
“Leave the phone,” Kalinin said as he pushed himself to a sitting position. “This mission was compromised. Andropov’s men either tapped into the conversation or traced the signal.”
Christine dropped the phone and went to assist him. “Can you walk?”
“Yes,” Kalinin said, “one way or another.”
He climbed to his feet, grimacing when he put weight on his right foot. “Let’s get to level ground,” he said.
Christine slid from the cabin, then helped Kalinin out. He stood on one leg, leaning against the helicopter as Christine found one of their backpacks and took a pistol and night vision goggles from the dead Delta Force soldier, handing the pistol to Kalinin. He gradually put weight on his right foot again. He could stand on his own, but the pain was evident on his face. When he took a step, however, he crumpled to the ground.
She helped him to his feet and he draped one arm across her shoulders. With her arm around his waist, they took a few gingerly steps. He was still in pain, but they could move. She turned to say good-bye to Captain Martin, but his eyes were closed, his face pale. The pistol was still in his hand, resting in his lap. With one final look at Martin and the burning wreckage, Christine headed into the forest, Kalinin limping beside her.
* * *
They’d been traveling through the forest for an hour now, their pace slowing as Christine grew tired. She was in excellent shape, but Kalinin leaned heavily on her as they walked. There were no trails to follow and the terrain was uneven, making the transit treacherous. They’d fallen three times already.
Not wanting to risk using her flashlight in the darkness, Christine had slipped the night vision goggles into place, searching for a suitable resting place along the way. As they pushed their way through the dense foliage, they halted abruptly, almost walking into a stack of decaying logs about ten feet high. They took a breather as Christine examined the obstacle in their path. It wasn’t a stack of logs; it was a wall. A log cabin wall. She leaned Kalinin up against it and worked her way around the perimeter, finding an opening. Peering inside, she confirmed her hunch.
They had stumbled into an abandoned cabin. The door and windows were missing and half of the roof was caved in. She retrieved the flashlight from her backpack, then lifted her night vision goggles and turned the light on, examining the interior. It was bare.
Christine figured this was as good a spot as any, and definitely better than resting against a tree in the open. The night chill was setting in and she was already cold, wearing only a skirt and thin blouse. Plus, the cabin was well-concealed within the overgrown forest. Ten feet to either side and they’d have passed by without noticing it.
She helped Kalinin into the cabin and leaned him against the wall, helping him to a sitting position. She settled beside him.
“Now what?” she asked.
“Communication,” Kalinin said. “You need to obtain a cell phone.”
“How do I do that?”
“There are several small towns in the area. I lost track of our location while the helicopter maneuvered, but we can’t be more than a few kilometers from the nearest one. In the morning, follow the slope until you reach the hilltop, then climb the tallest tree and look around. You can climb a tree, correct?”
“Of course I can climb a tree.”
“Once you spot a village, go there and fetch a phone.”
Christine said, “There’s an awful lot of you and not much we in this plan.”
“You will leave me here,” Kalinin said. “In the morning, it will be even more difficult for me to walk. Go to the nearest town and steal a cell phone. We can then call the American president without being tracked and make arrangements for another rescue.”
Christine mulled over Kalinin’s idea. She hadn’t come up with anything better. She turned to Kalinin, who had his eyes closed.
“Should we take turns on watch?”
Kalinin shook his head, his eyes still closed. “If they find us here, it will not matter.”
Christine turned off the flashlight and stared into the darkness, listening to the forest sounds. The cool night was even more noticeable now that they weren’t moving, and she slid sideways, beside Kalinin. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
41
MOSCOW, RUSSIA
Overlooking the Moskva River, the Main Building of the Ministry of Defense contains the supreme command and control center of Russia’s armed forces. With 930 miles of tunnels and communication conduits beneath a thick layer of reinforced concrete, the facility is designed to withstand a nuclear detonation. Deep beneath the protective concrete layer lies the three-level National Defense Control Center. The bottom floor of the control center contains over one hundred consoles arranged in seven rows. The two upper levels are open, framed by balcony stations looking down on the main floor and toward a one-hundred-foot-wide screen dominating the far wall.
In the center of the second-tier balcony, flanked by a dozen of Russia’s highest-ranking Ground and Aerospace Force generals, Russia’s Chief of the General Staff, General Sergei Andropov, sat behind a frosted glass railing emblazoned with a five-pointed star, assessing the situation along Russia’s western front.
Thus far, his plan had worked flawlessly. In Ukraine, Russian forces had reached the Dnieper River and were preparing defensive positions at the bridgeheads and all shallow portions of the river. Russian troops in Lithuania were doing likewise on both sides of the eighty-kilometer-wide corridor stretching between Kaliningrad Oblast and Belarus. Meanwhile, NATO Forces appeared paralyzed. Not a single unit had begun transit, not even the Alliance’s Very High Readiness Joint Task Force.
NATO leaders realized that committing their single brigade against the fifty-two Russian Ground, Airborne, and Spetsnaz brigades would have been suicide. It would take America’s full commitment and several weeks to mobilize enough troops to attempt an offensive against the fortified Russian positions. Of course, the defensive positions were a ruse. Once the additional brigades from the Central Military District arrived, Andropov would be ready to execute the second phase of his plan. With the United States paralyzed for at least a year, there would be no one to stop them.
Andropov’s executive aide approached and leaned close, speaking into Andropov’s ear.
“Colonel Savvin has requested a private videocon.”
Andropov entered a secure conference room, instructing his aide to activate the video. Colonel Savvin’s grainy image appeared on the display, transmitted from a command and control van near Gelendzhik.
“Good evening, General,” Savvin began. “We intercepted a signal from one of President Kalinin’s communication devices earlier today. Christine O’Connor contacted the American president and arranged a rescue. We determined the approximate location of the transmission and moved anti-air assets into place. An hour ago, we detected two inbound helicopters, which we shot down during their return trip.”
“Were Kalinin and O’Connor killed?”
“We inspected the wreckage of both helicopters, and found only their communication devices. It appears they survived and escaped on foot.”
Andropov’s frustration began to mount. “You need to bring this to a close quickly, Colonel. Kalinin cannot survive.”
“Our resources are limited, General. We have only one hundred twenty men. There are additional assets we can task, but we have to be careful about who learns we are hunting President Kalinin. When we are finished, no one outside our inner circle can know he was executed.”
“What is your plan?”
“We know where they started from and that they’re on foot. They can’t get far. We’ve established checkpoints at every road leading out of the area, which means they’ll be contained to the forest. There are a few air reconnaissance and attack units I trust, which I will bring to bear on the matter. I will also coordinate with local authorities, concocting a story about a fugitive on the run. We will mention only O’Connor, as we don’t want to reveal we are searching for Kalinin. If we find O’Connor, Kalinin shouldn’t be far. It will take time as we sweep the forest and search for clues, but we will find them.”
