"Perhaps Brewer is bluffing!" the president's chief of staff noted.
"How could he bluff about such a thing?" the foreign minister asked. "He was right about the plutonium missing, he was right about who stole it, and he was right about where the theft took place."
The president sipped vodka. "But if he is right about what happened, could he be right also about the plutonium being on a ship?"
Foreign Minister Kotenkov addressed that. "We were assured by Giorgy Alexeevich that the plutonium had been taken to Chechnya."
"Giorgy Alexeevich!" Evtimov thundered. "He was useless as a defense minister. And he's useless as a dead man. He was useful only in delivering Aslambek Kadyrov the materials he needs to build a Chechen bomb."
"Perhaps the Americans are right, " Kotenkov added, "perhaps the plutonium is at the bottom of the sea. If they are right, then we must know."
Evtimov turned to his chief of staff. "Contact Admiral Voynavich. Tell him I want the Black Sea Fleet to find this ship on the bottom of the sea, and then find out if it has plutonium on board."
"Yes, Comrade President."
"And issue a statement denying that any plutonium is missing."
The Al Alamein
100 miles south of Gotland Island The Baltic Sea
Captain Sadir looked around the bridge at the men who had volunteered for this mission – the men who had eagerly volunteered for martyrdom. Sadir looked over at Salman Dudayev and nodded.
Dudayev nodded back.
It was time.
"Gentlemen, I bring you here today to the bridge of this great ship because each of you has volunteered to give your lives in what will be the greatest act of jihad in history."
He relished their fierce, piercing eyes. These were the eyes of true warriors.
"You all know that we sailed into the Black Sea and took valuable cargo from the Russian freighter. You all know what that cargo was, and you all know that there is a great weapon to be used to Allah's glory in the belly of this ship.
"What you do not know, at least not yet, is our final destination. I know that all kinds of rumors have floated around the crew. Some have hoped for New York. Some thought London. And believe me, when we sailed through the English Channel, I felt tempted to change our mission and pay back the British for being America's footstool in their satanic war against holy Islam."
Enthusiastic nodding from at least half his officers.
"But we have another mission. And until now, only Mr. Dudayev and I have known that mission. But now is the time for you to be brought into the fold.
"At this point, we are approximately two hundred fifty miles southwest of the Gulf of Finland." Their eyes glued to him. "When we get there, the Al Alamein will turn due east. We will sail past Estonia to our south and Finland to our north. We will sail until we reach Kotlin Island. This island is about twenty miles west of the main part of St. Petersburg. But we will not stop there.
"Igor, the map please."
"From Kotlin Island we will sail past the causeways and sail to the l l d ll l h d l h mouth of the Neva River, the prize jewel of the city. We will never dock, but instead, from this bridge, I will initiate the process that will turn our ship into the largest hydrogen bomb in the history of the world."
Applause, cheering, and fist shaking.
"Through us, Allah will repay the godless Russians a hundred thousand fold for the blood and carnage they have poured on our country. The entire city of St. Petersburg shall be vaporized, and the radiation shall kill millions of Russians hundreds of miles away, all the way to Moscow!"
More cheering and shouting.
"Those who are left behind shall demand a permanent withdrawal of the Russians from Chechnya, and shall demand freedom for our country while we dance with a thousand maidens in paradise!"
"Glory to Allah for this privilege!" one of them shouted.
"And blessed be the prophet Mohammed, peace be upon him!" another said.
Sadir raised his hands. "Glory to Allah indeed. Now let us all return to our stations and finish the work we have begun."
CHAPTER 30
The White House
Mr. President, " Admiral John Ayers spoke with an elevated urgency in his voice, "USS Charlotte reports that the Al Alamein is now turning east from the Baltic Sea into the Gulf of Finland."
"When?" Mack asked.
"Within the last hour, sir."
"Let's see the charts."
"Yes, sir."
The president, along with the vice president, the secretaries of defense and state, the White House chief of staff, the director of central intelligence, and the national security advisor looked on as Admiral Ayers spoke.
"Right now, the Al Alamein is about one hundred twenty-five miles southwest of Helsinki and some three hundred miles from St. Petersburg."
"What's going on here?" Mack wondered out loud.
"At least it's not London or New York, " the secretary of defense muttered.
"Why would they want to threaten Helsinki?" Vice President Surber asked. "Sure, Finland is a member of NATO, but they had their shot at London, for goodness sakes."
"Maybe, " Secretary Mauney said, "we're all off base and there's nothing on that freighter but freight."
"Surely they're not targeting St. Petersburg?" Vice President Surber said.
"That makes no sense, " said Cynthia Hewitt. "Neither al-Qaeda nor the Council of Ishmael seems to care much about the Russians. They want to kill Westerners. I can't imagine them using a nuclear device – if that's what they have – on an insignificant target like that."
"Unless this is somehow all related to Chechnya, " Vice President Surber noted.
"Possible but unlikely, Mr. Vice President, " the CIA director noted.
"Do we have a dossier on the Egyptian skipper yet?" Mack asked.
"Not yet, but we're still working on it, sir, " the CIA director responded.
"That's not good enough! I need info on this skipper, " the president said. "And I need to find out what the target is! We need something that supports our suspicions that this freighter is carrying that nuclear fuel!" He eyed his CIA director. "Director Winstead, put the heat on your people for that dossier. That may give us a clue. Remember, time may be running out."
"Yes, sir."
St. Nicholas Naval Cathedral St. Petersburg, Russia
Television lights, cameras, and media representatives from every major nation dotted the packed, ornate, cathedral-turned-courthouse.
The three Russian military judges had been gone an hour now, and Zack wondered if the enlongated recess was extended to prepare his arrest warrant for violation of the Russian slander laws.
Zack sipped the chlorine-heavy Russian water. He glanced over at Pete Miranda, who looked pale.
Zack could handle about anything the American judicial system could throw at him. In America, in the military justice system, he knew the rules.
But this?
This was an international sideshow designed to win over wavering nations back into Russia's camp by making America look bad, and everybody knew it.
If that's the way the Russians wanted to play, so be it.
"All persons stand, " the translation came through the headphones, as the three grim-faced officers made their way from the side doors in the front of the cathedral, through a cascade of flashes, to their tables. Good. No arrest warrant for Zack.
"Is the prosecution ready to proceed?"
"We are, " Major Peter Andropov announced.
"Very well. Call your first witness."