OK, so he wasn’t taken by surprise, and maybe even cared. Good. She wouldn’t have to convince him the whole story was some sort of psy-ops trick.
“Major-General I know this call is highly irregular. Believe me I know. I am about to commit treason. And you will ask yourself why you should trust what I’m telling you, and I can only tell you I am calling you as the grandmother of your child, and not as the US Ambassador to Russia.”
“Go on.”
“Major-General, my country is currently preparing to conduct an above-ground nuclear missile test off the Russian Kuril Islands. We are also moving strategic nuclear assets into position to conduct a retaliatory strike on Russia should you continue your misadventures in Alaska. Following the test, our President will issue Russia with a final ultimatum to withdraw from Saint Lawrence Island, and I can assure you it is final. If you do not comply, there will be a full retaliatory nuclear strike by the USA.”
“With respect, why should I believe you?” the man asked.
“We know the Bering Strait incident is a pretext. We know you intend to occupy Alaska. We know almost to the hour how and when you plan to invade. I can’t tell you how we know, but I can tell you, we will not allow it. I have a Commander in Chief who would rather be known as the man who started World War Three than he would be known as the man who surrendered Alaska.”
“I will pass your message to my superiors,” Bondarev said.
“No damn you!” Devlin said. “Your superiors already know they are risking nuclear war. They have made their choices. I am talking to you, on behalf of your child and her entire generation! You are the theatre air commander — there can be no invasion without air cover. Ground your aircraft. Before it’s too late.” There was nothing but silence at the other end of the line.
Devlin held the phone out to Carl Williams, “I think the bastard hung up.”
“HOLMES, can you confirm?” Carl asked into the handset.
“I can confirm Carl, the line has been cut and that telephone is now offline.”
Looking around the corner of the corridor, Rodriguez saw the wheel on the inside of the blast door spinning. It had been disabled when they had locked it from their side, but it still spun. She heard a shout, in Russian, and more muffled voices, then pulled her head back and checked her weapon.
“You got any last messages you want me to give anyone?” Bunny asked her. “You know, in case you don’t make it out?” She had a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Oh, in case I don’t make it?” Rodriguez responded. “Because of course you will.”
“Of course,” Bunny said. “Don’t you watch war movies? The tough but likable kick-ass grunt always makes it.”
“Really? And you are the tough but likable kick-ass grunt?”
“Yeah mate. The commanding officer never makes it though. Usually they sacrifice themselves so their subordinates can live, unless they are British, in which case their own troops shoot them first.”
“You watch a lot of war movies?”
“When I was a kid. So anyone you want me to contact?”
“That’s a very personal question Lieutenant,” Rodriguez said.
Bunny took a swig of water, then handed her the bottle, “OK, I’ll share first shall I ma’am? I’ve got no one.”
“No one?” Rodriguez was surprised. “No family?”
“Mother dead, no brothers or sisters, father is a rolled gold shit,” Bunny said simply. “Cousins plenty, none I ever cared about. When DARPA called, I took three seconds to say yes.”
“No… love interest?”
“Well, that’s a very personal question Lieutenant Commander,” Bunny smiled. “No. I tend to piss people off if they hang around me too long.”
Rodriguez could believe it. “I’m married,” Rodriguez told her. “He’s serving on Guam.”
“Actually I knew that,” Bunny admitted. “But you don’t wear a ring. So…”
“He wants kids,” Rodriguez said.
“Fair enough.”
“I don’t,” she said.
“OK. That’s fair enough too.”
“I do love him though,” she said. “It’s complicated.”
Bunny lifted her rifle and sighted along it, “OK ma’am, tell you what. I’ll make up some stuff at your funeral about how we were talking about him right before you sacrificed yourself to save my life. Happy ending for everyone.” She drew a deep breath. “Shame though, we never did get those tattoos.”
Bondarev dropped the telephone back into a pocket on the leg of his flight suit. Borisov looked at him, “What was that about?”
“Misdirection,” Bondarev told him. He slapped the blast door. “You have two doors and eight men, including yourself. We still have no idea who or what is behind them. What do you propose?”
“I propose Major-General that we plant explosives in that tunnel we entered through, go topside and turn this cave into a tomb for whoever is in here,” the Captain said.
Bondarev looked around him, his eye-catching on the gleaming grey skin of the amphibious Fantom still poised on the launch ramp. It was generations ahead of his Okhotniks, he knew that now. Together with the other tech and software still intact inside the base it was too great a prize to seal away like a pharaoh in a burial chamber.
“No,” Bondarev said firmly. “The mission is to take this base intact. If you are not capable Lieutenant, call in additional troops as I proposed.”
Borisov stiffened, was clearly about to reply then realized it was an act he might regret. “The Comrade Major-General has miscounted. I have nine men, including himself,” He turned looked the blast door up and down. “A positive breach charge should ensure we get this door open and stun anyone directly behind it. Myself and five men will clear the facility behind this door leaving two to cover the other door in case the Americans try to exit that way.” He nodded to one of his men, who unslung a duffel bag he was carrying over his shoulder. From within it he began pulling explosives and detonators.
Bondarev watched him, “Do you have a spare rifle?”
“No Major-General,” Borisov said, not sounding particularly apologetic. “That is why you will join the men watching that other door.”
Bondarev looked down at his little Makarov. It suddenly seemed very small indeed.
It all happened in seconds.
Dave opened the manhole cover. He held a backpack over his head with one hand, the other hand hanging on the ladder as he moved up, then as he reached a step just below the lip of the opening he put both of his hands in the air, poking out of the manhole to show he wasn’t holding a weapon.
Perri saw a movement below him, saw the Russian soldier. The same soldier he had seen in the schoolhouse in Gambell. The same one he had shot outside Savoonga!
The man was watching Dave’s hands and arms emerge with the radio and he was grinning. His uniform tunic was soaked with blood on his right side and he held that arm tucked into his chest. In his left hand he held a pistol, and as Dave was opening the manhole cover, he lifted up the pistol and sighted on the top of the tank.
Perri didn’t wait to see if he was just being careful, or meant to fire on the area of the tank where Dave had to be. Crouched with one eye to a hole in the tank, the muzzle of his Winchester XPR sticking through a hole just beneath it, he racked the bolt on his rifle, made a guess at where he should aim, and fired.
He missed!
The soldier swung his pistol around, pointed at Perri and fired three quick shots. The bullets hit the steel above his head. Perri had taken a custom built 10 round magazine from the general store when they had looted it. As fast as he could, he worked the bolt again, fired, worked the bolt, and fired again. And again. The Russian soldier went prone, resting his pistol arm on the ground as he fired up at the tank. Perri saw spurts of dust beside the Russian as his shots went wide and corrected his aim but the Russian’s semi-automatic pistol shot much faster than Perri could fire with his bolt action rifle.