Petyr nodded in understanding. “Thanks.”
Ricks raised his hands. “Don’t thank me, I’m just a whole bunch of experience thrown together with some duct tape. Besides, I have a sneaking feeling your family just relocated to get away from all the bombings. I’ll help you find them,” he said. “Now come on. We both need some rest before we try out these new tactics tomorrow.”
Petyr stood up. “I could use the rest, but you may need to help me lead this group. Remember, I never had any training in ground tactics.”
“Hell, I never thought about that,” said Ricks with a grin.
Patriarch Gregory had just finished morning prayers when a squad of men burst into the room. All of them were armed and looked like they meant business. The Patriarch smiled at the men and spread his arms. “How may I help you gentlemen?”
The leader of the group, a tall man with a scar across his cheek stepped forward. Patriarch, it has come to the attention of our government that you have been rallying the people against the state. As a direct result of your efforts, a group from St. Petersburg rebelled last night and caused a mass of casualties. You must come with us,” he demanded.
A quizzical look acme over the Patriarch’s face. “So I am the one rallying the people in St. Petersburg? Interesting, since I led mass from here last night,” he said.
“Nevertheless, you must come with us.”
Gregory gave him a stern look. “You realize I am the Patriarch of Moscow and of all Rus,” he admonished.
The man gave him an evil grin. “I don’t care who you are,” he hissed as he grabbed the Patriarch and shoved him out the door. The Patriarch fell in a heap on the marble floor. Several priests tried to help him but were shoved away.
When they reached the outside door, a crowd was gathering, wondering why a military vehicle was parked outside the cathedral. When the doors flew open there was an audible gasp from the crowd as they saw their Patriarch being manhandled toward a van. There was a trickle of blood coming from his mouth.
“They are arresting our Patriarch!” someone shouted. Now the crowd erupted, tearing down the barricades and rushing toward the van. More people in the square ran to their aid from seemingly everywhere. The driver’s door was pried open and the driver dragged from the vehicle. As the guards tried to open the van door to shove the Patriarch in, they were surrounded by the angry mob. They threw themselves at the guards. Overwhelmed by the numbers, the men were flung to the ground and beaten savagely before they could lift their weapons.
When they came to, the Patriarch was gone. The van was ripped apart and had been set ablaze. Their weapons were gone and even their radios were missing. One of the men tried to go into a local shop to call for help, but the shop owner yanked his own phone out of the wall and simply said, “It isn’t working.” The squad of men ended up walking back to their headquarters. After an extensive search of the area, the police were left with a dilemma — the Patriarch of Moscow and all Rus was missing.
Roberto Venusi pedaled his bicycle between the tightly packed buildings along the Naples streets. He needed to get to the Basilica San Franchesca di San Paolo where he had a small tourist shop. Last night had been quieter than other nights. For some reason, most of the sailors usually crawling around the city were not there. No matter, it had happened in the past when there was some sort of training or something going on aboard the American carrier. The Abraham Lincoln had become a fixture out in the middle of the bay sitting at a strange angle on the bottom. There had been barges next to the big ship for a couple of months, but even last night he could see the lights flickering around the ship. Many were making bets she would never leave where she was.
Rounding a corner, he turned his bicycle down the Via Partenope and rode along the waterfront. The sun was coming up and it looked as if it would be a beautiful day. He glanced out over the bay of Naples toward Vesuvius to see if there was any steam today. Suddenly he stopped the bike and stared toward the bay.
The American carrier was gone. Only the night before he had seen her out there, but now there was a flat sea. Straining his eyes, he looked out into the Mediterranean, but there was no sign of her. The Abraham Lincoln had vanished as if she were never there.
Hammond sat at the head of the table surrounded by his entire general staff. The go or no-go day had arrived and it was time to make the ultimate decision. “Alright, it’s time for the final check. Air assets?”
“All assets are in place and awaiting the orders. All bases are closed and crews standing by. We have enough supplies to operate at one hundred percent for eight months on hand with more in the pipeline. We’re ready,” said General Ames. “I’ll add that it is none too soon. The Polish, German and French air forces have taken the brunt of all this. Once operations begin, they will regroup and take a short break before rejoining the Allied forces when they are rearmed,” he said.
“I agree. Naval forces?”
Sir Richard looked up from the papers in front of him. “Ready in all respects. The Lincoln will follow the rest of the landing force when they transit the Bosporus tonight. The French and the HMS Prince of Wales are in position in the Norwegian Sea for strikes at Murmansk. The Pacific forces are in place and ready, and Admiral Hustvedt and his landing forces are outside Istanbul waiting for the go signal. Our submarine forces are in place, as far as we will ever be able to tell, and ready for unrestricted warfare. Anything flying a Russian flag will be hit. Naval air forces are likewise ready. I wanted to let the Lincoln have a couple of days to train up, but the air commander will have none of it. Quite right too,” he said with a grin. “Amphibious forces are ready to begin the assault once in position.”
“Ground forces?”
General Moynahan tapped the table. “Ready. Airborne troops and their equipment are ready to go on schedule. Assault troops are aboard ship and from what I understand, eager to get off of them,” he said. There were chuckles across the table. Current forces are maintaining their efforts, but the additional assault forces are in place behind them. Once the time comes, everything goes at once.”
“What about the drones?”
“They will lead the way along with the Predators and other allied versions. I also have the nonlethal systems in place. Between the sounds, the heat generating units and dropping all that slick stuff, the Russians should be kept off guard for a while,” Moynahan said. I also checked on our opposite numbers. There’s only about a division of troops guarding the Turkish border. Between them and the Caucuses there’s not much of anything. Our airborne troops should be able to get in without difficulty.”
“Good. Going back to the air forces, have you been able to get all the timing coordinated so that everything hits at once?” asked Hammond.
“Yes, sir. The bombers will loiter if they need to so that we all come together. It’s a little tough for those coming from the United States, but we have it worked out,” said Ames.
“Good. Admiral Hayes, your people have done an amazing job at the Transportation Command. Are you going to be able to keep the resupply up?”
“I’ll say yes to anything except if they use nukes. Of course, if they do, everything will be thrown into a cocked hat,” said Hayes. “Even then, my people have the equipment to keep going for a while. It should be a good buffer if nothing else,” he said.