“I love bluegrass. Let me know and I’ll come up and see just how good you two are,” said Richardson. I may even bring out something I play,” she said.
Jeffers leaned forward. “Don’t tell me you play too. What instrument?”
Richardson smiled. “I used to play the meanest fiddle you ever heard. It’s been a while, but with a little practice I’ll give a hard lick to the old Orange Blossom Special.”
The small border crossing had been quiet since the borders had been closed. Barricades were up along the highway from Slovakia to Poland ever since the small country had been annexed by Russia. Several cars were parked across the roads and men could be seen in the lit crossing posts casually drinking coffee and smoking. Not far away just before the river was the only set or train tracks from Slovakia to Poland for 100 miles. A small barricade had been set up at an old short steel bridge over a creek. Several railroad ties had been placed between the steel sections of the bridge to derail anything that came along. On occasion, the border guards would patrol the tracks just to make sure everything was in place. In the dead of the winter, the guards almost never ventured out of the crossing post buildings.
Anton Bugayev and three other men made their way along a narrow tree lined road toward the crossing. It was nearly midnight and all the local villagers were staying warm in their beds. An earlier look had told Bugayev that at most there would only be four guards at night. The phone and electric lines had been buried long ago but Bugayev knew which junction boxes to hit in order to cut off the crossing from the outside world. Snow was falling and the four men made their way just behind the tree line so that even if someone came along the road, they could be behind cover. They didn’t have much time.
Upon reaching a spot just under the crossing station, the four men climbed a snow covered embankment until they were at some bushes against the crossing fence. Peering through the bushes, they could see the four guards in the station house. Two were seated in chairs while one perched against a desk and the other stood looking out of the windows toward the highway barriers. The road toward Slovakia was well lit, but there wasn’t as much light on the Polish side. The men were no more than ten feet away. Using silenced pistols, the men pointed them through the brush and took aim. The silenced shots pierced the thin windows and killed all four men in their place. Bugayev bolted over the fence and added another shot at close range to each of the guards before dashing to a small junction box outside the office. He pried off the cover and used his knife to sever the telephone lines inside.
Bounding back over the fence, Bugayev and his men ran toward the train tracks and the small bridge. By the time they reached the old bridge, the others were gasping for air. Bugayev looked at the makeshift crossing barricade. The wooden ties had been stretched between the bridge girders and simply left there. Getting his men together, they began grabbing one end and simply shoving the wooden ties off one side of the bridge. In the distance, Bugayev could hear the rumble of a train approaching. Urging his men forward, they shoved off the last tie and ran back to the other end of the bridge. They stood to the side a little down from the edge and watched as the now fast moving train sped past them in the dark. The lights of the crossing dimly showed the train as it sped past. Onboard were battle tanks covered with some sort of wooden roof. The train seemed to stretch for miles and it took several minutes before the end went past. Bugayev and his men began making their way back to the car they had parked about half a mile up the old road. About half way there they heard a second train speed by. The men reached their car and climbed inside as a third passed. In just a few minutes they were on the main highway headed north. As they drove along, the fourth train seemed to travel with them as the tracks led along the highway. Bugayev stepped on the gas. Despite the snow, he and his men had to reach the outskirts of Krakow to make sure everything was ready.
The G650 landed at Tegel Airport and taxied to a small military terminal on the far side of the runways across from the main terminal. A car was waiting for them. Three very tired people entered the car and were driven to the Bundeswehr, the German defense headquarters. It was quite a ride through Berlin. Jeffers looked out of the windows in wonder at the sprawling city. He was particularly impressed at the mixture in architecture from old Germany to new modern glass structures along the way. They passed the Tiergarten, a massive park in the city, where people were walking back and forth almost as if nothing were happening in the world. Upon entering another district, the car turned left and followed a river until they came to a huge stone structure, several stories tall surrounded by a fence. The car pulled in through a gate where they showed their IDs and were checked on a list before the car deposited them at a set of doors. A young German officer met them.
“Welcome to Germany. I have been asked to escort you directly to the Supreme Commander’s office. If you will follow me please,” the young man said with a smile. He gave some orders in German to the driver. “He will be taking your bags to your quarters. If you need anything, please get it.”
Jeffers already had his briefcase and laptop with him. With a wave, the driver drove off. The three followed the officer into the building.
Inside the bustle was almost like it was at the Pentagon. People were going everywhere. Entering an elevator, they were whisked up three levels and entered a paneled area. Two doors down, they entered a set of heavy wooden doors.
“Claire! It is good to see you again,” said General Dortmund standing in the room. He shook her hand and slapped her arm.
“The same here. I was hoping I would see you again, Helmut. Let me introduce you to Admiral Chris Hustvedt and Lieutenant Commander Rod Jeffers,” Richardson said.
Dortmund’s eyes opened wider. “Well! I certainly wanted to meet this young man,” he exclaimed, shaking Jeffers’ hand. “This plan of yours has even my people in awe. It is good to meet you.”
“I’m just happy to be helpful, General,” said Jeffers.
“Some of our Kriegsmarine officers have been anxious to meet with you as well, Admiral. We are very glad you have come. I regret that Admiral Hammond isn’t here to greet you, but we have a small crisis going on and he asked me to bring you to the war room. I hope you don’t mind,” said Dortmund.
“Lead the way,” said Richardson.
The four made their way to the war room while Dortmund briefed them. “It seems we had an incursion onto Poland last night that was somewhat unexpected. You are about to see where all the decisions are made, but I must caution you. What you are about to see is highly classified. You all have the clearance to see this, but you cannot discuss what you see with anyone. It is some technology which even I do not believe is real. It must be witchcraft,” he said with a wink.
They were escorted into the darkened room where people were issuing orders and trying to counter the threat. Rod Jeffers could not believe his eyes. The three dimensional images filled the middle of the room. He could see everything, from aircraft making their attack runs to tanks on the ground. Hammond was standing in the far corner surrounded by military men and women. They almost appeared to be talking at once. Seeing the three, Hammond grinned and made his way to them. He gave Richardson a hug. “I am so glad you are here. I need some sane people around me,” he joked as he shook Hustvedt’s hand. Then he turned to Jeffers. “Rod. It sure is good to see you again,’ he said, shaking his hand and placing the other on his shoulder.
“Same here, Admiral,” Jeffers said smiling. “Looks like you have a problem.”