Treason, page 29
“I understand, sir,” Wheeler said. “We’ll monitor the situation.”
General Wheeler’s image faded from the display, along with the NATO satellite feed. The president was about to address his staff and cabinet when the IT specialist’s voice came across the speakers again.
“Mr. President. Director Cherry is on the line. She has a video feed she’d like to send us.”
Cherry was monitoring events from the CIA operations center in Langley.
“Patch it through.”
President Kalinin appeared on the Situation Room display, sitting at a control console as he spoke to his countrymen. His speech was repeated in English by a CIA translator, who voiced over Kalinin’s remarks as he explained what had occurred: a military coup, which had been defeated. The men responsible would be held accountable.
89
MOSCOW, RUSSIA
In the upstairs study of his two-story home in the Moscow suburbs, Colonel General Viktor Glukov glanced at the pistol on his desk. He was partially dressed in his ceremonial uniform; everything except for his jacket, which hung from a hanger on the door. It had just come back from the cleaners and Glukov was pinning his medals back on, paying meticulous attention to the spacing and alignment. In years past, his wife would’ve done this for him, but she had passed away not long ago. They had no children, so Glukov had dedicated the rest of his life to his one remaining love. His country.
Upon seeing President Kalinin’s image on the television this morning, he knew it wouldn’t be long before the Interior Ministry or FSB forces apprehended him. Kalinin would have his head, but not before making a public spectacle of him, sending a message to those who might entertain similar treasonous thoughts. That was something Glukov would not allow. He had served his country admirably and would do what he could to prevent his name from being dragged through the mud. Yes, he’d supported the coup, but for all the right reasons.
Like the Germans in World War II, NATO would eventually want what Russia had—enormous reserves of oil and natural gas. It was only a matter of time before natural resources ran low, and Western European countries struggling for their economic survival looked east. Although NATO was currently weak, it was a twenty-nine-country alliance against—Russia. It wouldn’t take NATO long to rebuild their militaries, or worse yet, resort to tactical nuclear weapons to take what they wanted. Glukov supported the coup for the sole purpose of protecting Russia. There was no personal gain involved, only risk.
There was a screech of tires outside. Glukov went to the window and pulled back the curtain. Interior Ministry police were streaming from several vehicles, encircling his house. There was a heavy pounding on the front door.
Glukov put on his dress uniform jacket and buttoned it slowly, then sat at his desk. He heard the front door splinter into pieces, followed by men shouting and running. As heavy boots surged up the stairs, he reached for the pistol on his desk. He placed the barrel in his mouth, then pulled the trigger.
90
SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA
NCIS Special Agent Joe Gililland rode in the passenger seat of the black Buick headed east on Interstate 280, having landed at San Francisco International Airport an hour ago with his driver, Kelly Lyman. Local law enforcement officials had arrived at their destination this morning and confirmed the presence of their suspect, who had reported to work as expected. Gililland reviewed the information on his laptop computer in preparation for today’s arrest.
After Clark Curtain Laboratory identified the culprit microprocessor chip, NCIS had opened an investigation into DavRoc Enterprises, the company that manufactured it. DavRoc had the requisite bona fides: an American-owned company managed by American citizens, and a preliminary review of its employees identified no one noteworthy. Gililland had been prepared for a laborious investigation into every employee’s background to identify the traitor, but the answer had been tossed into his lap yesterday.
Russia’s GRU had contracted for the microprocessor alteration, and after President Kalinin regained power, he’d ordered the new director to cough up the details. Gililland reviewed the information on his laptop one final time, then closed the lid as the Buick pulled into the parking lot outside DavRoc’s main building. Gililland called the specified number on his cell phone, and several detectives and uniformed police officers crossed the street toward the black Buick. Gililland and Lyman stepped from their car, then led the entourage into the lobby.
“Fifth floor,” one of the detectives said.
* * *
Keith Vierling heard a buzz of commotion and looked up from his cubical desk. It wasn’t hard to figure out the walking suits exiting the elevator were detectives, as they were followed by uniformed police officers. He felt a rising trepidation when he spotted the officers, then panic stabbed into him as they turned toward his cubicle. Vierling looked straight ahead at his computer monitor, then took a deep, shaky breath and tried to focus. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach was slowly replaced by anger. He would never be discovered, Ed Sutton had told him.
Making the requested changes had been easy; just a few subroutines added to the chip circuitry. The quick work had returned dividends over the last ten years, although he was certain the Russians paid him that long to keep him quiet during the decade-long navigation update to America’s nuclear weapons. Nothing would come of it, Vierling had convinced himself, justifying his actions. A full-scale nuclear war was too horrifying to imagine, something neither side would resort to.
A man and woman stopped at the entrance to his cubical.
“Keith Vierling?” the man asked.
Vierling considered, just for an instant, denying who he was. But the question was merely a formality. He nodded.
“I’m NCIS Special Agent Joe Gililland, and this is Special Agent Kelly Lyman. We’d like you to come with us.”
91
WASHINGTON, D.C.
Seated behind his desk in the Oval Office, the president pressed the intercom button on his phone, connecting him to his secretary in the adjacent office.
“Send SecDef Dunnavant in.”
The door to the Oval Office opened and SecDef Bill Dunnavant entered, along with Chief of Staff Kevin Hardison and Colonel DuBose.
“What have you got, Bill?” the president asked as the three men sat before him.
“As you’re aware,” Dunnavant began, “the mission to restore Kalinin to power was a success, although it didn’t go exactly as planned. We lost six SEALs inside the Ministry of Defense building, plus eight wounded. Add to that the four Delta Force and five SEALs killed during Kalinin’s extraction from Russia, and we’re looking at fifteen dead, of which we’ve recovered thirteen bodies. The two Delta Force soldiers ejected from the Black Hawk before it crashed remain unlocated.
“The remaining SEALs, along with Christine, are on their way back to Washington aboard a C-32 we sent over, along with thirteen coffins in the cargo hold. We’re making arrangements for a coordinated burial ceremony in Arlington National Cemetery.
“Regarding Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and NATO countries, Kalinin kept his word. All troops have been withdrawn to Russia, although he did leave an additional battalion of his newest anti-air missile batteries in Kaliningrad Oblast, something NATO previously objected to. I recommend we not quibble over it, considering what we were looking at a few days ago.
“Kalinin dealt swiftly with the military coup, and four of the five commanders of the Russian military branches have been arrested, with the fifth, Colonel General Glukov, committing suicide. The arrests include General Zolotov, in command of Russia’s Strategic Missile Troops. The idea to divert American ballistic missiles was his brainchild, although it was envisioned for defensive purposes only. Russia has had this capability for the last ten years, increasing to one hundred percent as we rolled out our navigation upgrades to our ballistic missiles and B-2 bombers.
“In addition to the heads of the five main military branches, the four military district commanders have been arrested, along with the generals in charge of the GRU and national guard. Kalinin is ferreting out whoever else was involved in the coup, but it looks like they’ve got the main players except for General Andropov, whose whereabouts remained unknown until the SVR tracked him down yesterday, hiding out in a dacha in Siberia.”
“When do they plan to take him into custody?” the president asked.
“That’s the interesting part,” Dunnavant said. “It turns out that President Kalinin has as wicked of a revenge streak as you.”
The president leaned back in his chair, evaluating whether Dunnavant’s comment was a compliment or not.
Dunnavant continued, “President Kalinin wants us to take General Andropov out in a unique way.”
“What does he have in mind?”
“Andropov implemented the Zolotov option, eliminating our nuclear ballistic missile capability. Kalinin has proposed we kill Andropov with one of our conventional ballistic missiles.”
“How does he know we have that capability? It’s a Top Secret, compartmented program.”
“It is. But they’ve obviously figured it out.”
“It could be a ruse,” Hardison said. “An attempt to figure out whether we have the capability or not.”
“That’s true,” Dunnavant answered. “But it’s not critical, in my opinion. These missiles are difficult to employ against countries with intercontinental nuclear weapons due to the inability to distinguish between incoming conventional and nuclear-warhead-tipped missiles. It’s unlikely we’d ever use these missiles against Russia.”
“So Kalinin wants us to kill Andropov with a conventional strategic missile strike?”
“Yes, sir. We’d coordinate with Russia’s missile troops so they’d be aware of the launch, and they’d verify the missile’s trajectory takes it into remote Siberia where Andropov is hiding.”
“I like it,” the president said. “Proceed with the preparations and brief me when we’re ready.”
92
USS MARYLAND • SIBERIA, RUSSIA
Commander Britt Skogstad stood on the submarine’s Conn beside the Group Ten admiral, waiting for the expected message. USS Maryland was at its normal patrol depth with one of its communication buoys deployed a few feet below the surface, keeping Maryland in continuous receipt of the Very Low Frequency broadcast. Skogstad checked the clock in Control. If satellite surveillance confirmed the target was at the specified location, Maryland would receive the Emergency Action Message, although this one would be a conventional version.
He’d been informed of the plan two days ago, directed to pull Maryland into one of the explosive handling buildings for yet another on-load, this time for a Trident missile carrying conventional warheads. There were two variations of conventional Trident warheads, which provided long-range strike capability quickly without having to wait for ships or aircraft to transit within range. The missile loaded aboard Maryland carried tungsten rod flechettes, which would rain down on the target, destroying everything within a three-thousand-square-foot area. The other conventional warhead type could destroy hardened bunkers deep underground.
Although the missile being launched today carried conventional and not nuclear warheads, the launch procedure would be similar due to needing access to one of the launch keys, which was contained in a safe the crew didn’t have the combination to. In the Cold War days, the crew possessed every key required to launch its nuclear missiles, but someone must have woken up at night in a cold sweat, realizing there were a dozen American submarine crews at sea that could initiate a nuclear war if they chose to, with no safeguards in place other than training and procedures that said they couldn’t. One of the keys was now kept locked in a safe in Missile Control Center, with the combination provided in the launch message.
The message Skogstad was waiting for finally arrived.
Alert One! Alert One!
Radio’s 1-MC announcement reverberated throughout the submarine, reporting they’d received an Emergency Action Message. Junior officers streamed into Control as they were trained, not yet knowing what type of EAM had been received.
Unlike nuclear EAMs, the message was transmitted in plain text, so the extra steps of decoding the message, validating it against the authorized message formats, and verifying the nuclear release codes wouldn’t be required. However, the message would contain the pertinent launch details and the combination to the launch key safe.
Two junior officers, each holding the message, approached Skogstad. Since the message contained the combination to the launch key, two-man control was required.
The senior of the two officers reported, “Sir, we are in receipt of a conventional strike message. No authentication is required.”
Skogstad replied, “What are the launch instructions?”
“Missile tube Two-one, carrying conventional warheads, has been released.”
The two officers placed the message where Skogstad and his XO, standing beside him, could read it, and both men verified the message released the missile in tube Twenty-one.
“I concur,” his Executive Officer said.
Skogstad picked up the 1-MC microphone. “Man Battle Stations Missile for strategic launch. Spin up missile Two-one.”
The two junior officers departed with the message, headed to Missile Control Center to retrieve the launch key as the crew manned battle stations. Meanwhile, the section on watch made the initial preparations for missile launch.
“Helm, all stop,” the Officer of the Deck ordered. “Dive, bring the ship to launch depth. Prepare to hover.”
The Helm and Diving Officer acknowledged, and the main engines went quiet as Maryland took a ten-degree up-angle, coming shallow and slowing in preparation for launch.
Maryland’s angle leveled off as the submarine coasted to a halt. After the Chief of the Watch engaged the hovering computers, the Diving Officer announced, “The ship is hovering at launch depth.”
The Chief of the Watch reported, “Battle Stations Missile is manned.”
Skogstad picked up the 1-MC again. “Set condition 1-SQ for strategic launch. This is the Commanding Officer. The release of conventional weapons has been directed.”
Skogstad left Control and opened the safe in his stateroom, then returned with one of the twenty-four keys in his safe. He handed it to a missile technician waiting to arm missile tube Twenty-one’s gas generator, which would launch the missile above the ocean’s surface, where the missile’s first-stage engine would ignite.
The two junior officers with the message returned to Control with the CIP launch key, which they handed to Skogstad, who inserted it into the Captain’s Indicator Panel. He turned the key ninety degrees, then flipped up the Permission to Fire toggle switch. The panel activated, illuminating the status lights for all twenty-four missiles.
Only missile Twenty-one was brought on line, spinning up its inertial navigation system. Skogstad monitored the progress as the indicating light for missile Twenty-one illuminated, indicating it had successfully communicated with the submarine’s navigation system. It now knew its starting location. The next indicator toggled from black to red as the missile accepted its target package, carrying the impact coordinates for its warheads.
The light in the third column of the Captain’s Indicating panel turned red as the missile techs in Missile Compartment Lower Level armed the explosives in the gas generator.
USS Maryland was ready to launch.
Skogstad turned to the watchstander beside him. “Phone-talker to Weapons. You have permission to fire.” The phone-talker passed the order to Missile Control Center over the sound-powered phone circuit.
Skogstad listened to the orders going out over the MCC communication circuit.
“Prepare Two-one.”
The light for Missile Tube Twenty-one’s muzzle hatch turned red, indicating the hatch was open and locked in place. The starboard missile team relayed its report back to MCC.
“Two-one, ready.”
Seconds later, Skogstad felt Maryland’s deck flex when the Weapons Officer squeezed the trigger, ejecting the sixty-five-ton missile from the tube. Missile Techs checked the panel indications and the small glass portal in the side of the tube, then reported to MCC.
“Two-one, away.”
* * *
General Andropov turned off the television, then placed the remote control on the couch beside him. A few days ago, upon learning of the pending American assault on the main Ministry of Defense building, he’d considered being in the National Defense Control Center in the middle of the night, if nothing more than to greet the crestfallen former president of the Russian Federation. However, Andropov was a cautious man and he’d hedged his bets, choosing to visit a Moscow suburb for the evening. Based on how things unfolded, he wondered if he would’ve been better off if he’d faced Kalinin in Moscow. Perhaps he could have put a bullet in him.
The whole thing was infuriating. He shouldn’t have been forced to take matters into his own hands in the first place. Had Putin still been president, he would have realized the wisdom of Andropov’s plan. Russian forces would still be in possession of half of Poland, the Baltic States, and a portion of Romania. In the coming weeks, Putin would have negotiated a compromise, ceding Poland and Romania back to NATO in exchange for friendly Russian governments in the Baltic States and Ukraine. A simple plan, lacking only a Russian president with the guts to see it through.
Andropov pondered his future. He had few allies left, but there were some who could be counted on. Former Fleet Admiral Georgiy Ivanov, fired by President Kalinin after the events at Ice Station Nautilus, harbored a grudge, and there were several generals who had served under Andropov who would demonstrate their loyalty if given the proper opportunity. As the evening wore on, while staring at a dark TV, General Andropov plotted his revenge.
