Exeter smiled.
“No kidding. We worked together several years ago on the AD CAP program. That man didn’t miss a thing.”
“He’s still as sharp as ever,” reflected Richard.
“You really don’t appreciate how brilliant he is until you work for him. He’s a source of constant amazement.”
“Well, you guys continue to do excellent work. I hope you know how much it’s appreciated. Now, how can we help you this morning?”
Richard answered the Captain’s question carefully.
“Scuttlebutt has it that the Razorback has been on the trail of a suspected Soviet submarine in these waters lately. I have good reason to believe that not only was this same vessel directly responsible for the Titan’s demise, but that it could very well threaten the space shuttle Condor as well.”
Taking in this revelation, both officers appeared astounded by what they were hearing. It was Exeter who broke the silence.
“That’s a mouthful. Dr. Fuller. If this so-called bogy does indeed exist, how in the hell could it be responsible for knocking a missile out of the skies?”
Richard didn’t hesitate.
“It’s carrying a nuclear powered electromagnetic railgun. Able to induce velocities of up to forty-six thousand miles per hour, such a weapon would only have to hit the Titan a single time to send it hurtling back to earth.
“Recently, I completed an examination of this same rocket’s nose cone. Etched in its base was a hole that provides what I consider to be indisputable proof that such a weapon made the Titan fail. What concerns me now is the fear that the same fate awaits the Condor.”
Though no words were spoken, the glance exchanged between the Razorback’s two senior officers said it all. They were definitely receptive to his warning, and then some.
Playing devil’s advocate, Patrick Benton asked, “If you’re so certain of all this, then why hasn’t the shuttle launch been postponed? I believe that the latest news dispatch showed the Condor still going up today at noon, as scheduled.”
Richard could only shrug his shoulders.
“That’s the alarming part. Though I presented my concerns to the Air Force colonel in charge of operations here, the man wouldn’t even pass them on. I even tried to inform Secretary of the Air Force Fitzpatrick, who’s currently visiting Vandenberg, yet he was totally unreachable.
I felt as if I was knocking my head against a brick wall. And then I remembered the Razorback.
Even if they won’t cancel the launch, at least you can be out there on the lookout for any unwelcome intruders.”
Again checking his watch, the Captain responded, “That’s an interesting theory, Dr. Fuller. We’ll certainly keep it in mind when we begin our patrol, which should be in five more minutes. Though we’d love to have you along, I’m afraid we’ll have to ask you to leave now.”
Confident that he had gotten his point across, Richard rose.
“Thanks for your time, gentlemen.”
“And yours,” countered Exeter, who removed the ice pack and struggled to stand himself.
Holding onto the wall while he got his balance, the Captain added, “Let’s just hope to God that you’re wrong, Doctor. But in the meantime, you can count on us to make certain that no harm comes to the Condor from the sea. Can you find your way back topside?”
Nodding that he could, Richard took a last look at the two men who now had the responsibility. Sighing in relief, he then turned to make his way out of the stern access trunk.
That left the wardroom empty except for the Captain and his XO. It was the XO who tested the waters.
“Well, Captain, what do you think about all that?”
Exeter released a sigh of his own.
“That was sure one for the books. Electromagnetic railguns still sound like science-fiction, yet if he’s working for Roselle, he’s got to be a smart one. My first impression said he could have a screw lose, yet my gut tells me that Dr. Richard Fuller just might have stumbled onto something hot.”
“I agree,” returned the XO.
“The sooner we get out there, the quicker we’ll all know for certain.”
“Then let’s do it, Pat. Get that deck crew down here, and notify Willingham. I want us making steam just as originally planned, so get these kids moving!”
As the Razorback inched its way into the Pacific, Grigori Yagoda and Dmitri Andreyev sat nestled in a circle of rocks, a quarter of a kilometer away from Slik 6’s northern security perimeter. Appearing to blend in with the surrounding terrain, the camouflaged commandos studied that portion of the launch complex visible before them.
Beyond the dual set of barbed-wired-topped fences was a large bunker filled with snaking pipes and various-sized tanks. Both operatives assumed this to be the gas-storage area. Separating this facility from the launch pad itself was a wide, barren plain, empty except for a series of access towers. This afforded them an excellent view of the shuttle vehicle as it sat perched beside the trio of boosters that were designed to guide it into the heavens.
The fog had long since lifted, and the sky was crystal blue, without a cloud visible. Already the warmth of the sun was noticeable. After wiping dry his soaked forehead, Dmitri Andreyev rechecked the magazine of his M16 rifle.
“I tell you, Grigori, this all looks too simple. You would have thought that the Americans would show a little more concern for the safety of their precious shuttle. This will be like shooting a fat chicken that’s locked in its pen.”
His blond-haired teammate looked up from the sixty-inch-long tubular weapon that he had been working on.
“Don’t underestimate the crafty Americans so readily, comrade. Though we’ve seen only a minimal show of security so far, they’re out here all right. I’ll guarantee you that they have video cameras and other electronic monitors covering every square centimeter of that perimeter. Just you try penetrating it.
“Who needs to penetrate it bodily?” returned Dmitri with a wink, as he gently patted the shiny black, bazooka-like instrument that Grigori had been assembling.
“With this baby, that fence will be completely useless.”
“Let’s just hope that there are no major delays with the launch,” reflected Grigori.
“We’ve only got provisions for two more days at the most.”
“If that occurs, we’ve only got to go into the nearest town for supplies. We’ve got plenty of U.S. dollars, and I understand that their supermarkets are most adequately stocked with any food that you might desire.”
Grigori shook his head and fought to hold back his laughter.
“I could just see us merely walking into one of their stores dressed like this, comrade. We don’t exactly look inconspicuous.”
“I don’t know about that, Grigori. After all, this is a military town. Most probably, they’d never even take notice of us.”
A familiar, muted chopping sound was heard in the distance, and both men instantly scanned the skies for its source. It was Dmitri who pointed out the dark green helicopter that was sweeping in over the rugged hills that lay to the east.
“It’s a UH-1 Huey,” he observed breathlessly.
“And it seems to be headed straight for us!”
Without hesitation, Grigori carefully lowered the Stinger.
“Help me with the camouflage netting, comrade!”
Both men reached out for the piece of brown and green netting that lay spread out behind them. It took them only seconds to grab each of its sides and pull it over their heads. Appearing almost indistinguishable from the surrounding terrain, the disguise was soon put to the test when the helicopter seemed to hover directly above them.
The sound of the chopper’s engines roared with a vengeance, and Dmitri had to speak right into his teammate’s ear to be heard.
“Perhaps their video cameras have spotted us, Grigori. Do you think that you should blast them from the skies with the Stinger, and then turn it on the shuttle before we’re discovered?”