Donaldson groggily answered.
“Mike, it’s Fahimah here. I need you to open your secure Internet line this instant.”
Less than two minutes later, Donaldson was still dressing as he jumped into his car and raced towards the Polaris Complex. Across the city, General O’Reilly was also on the move. Mitchell’s team had stumbled onto every government’s worst nightmare.
Jackson sat there looking over into Sam and Cardinal’s faces. He had just finished outlining his plan to rescue Jen and Mitchell and was waiting for their thoughts, but neither one said a word. They were ready, and it showed in their eyes. He knew it was a risky plan made on the fly, but doing nothing until someone showed up to help was undoubtedly a worse option. When they nodded their heads, Jackson knew they were ready. Leaving Sam and Cardinal alone for a minute, Jackson moved over and checked the equipment in his knapsack, making sure that he had enough explosives for the mission.
With Cardinal covering them from the top of the tower, Jackson and Sam made their way downstairs and out into the cold. Moving stealthily, they silently made their way down through the snow-covered rocks, towards the nearest edge of the mining camp. High above them, Cardinal made his .50 cal sniper ready and started to zero in on his targets. He knew that he had to make every shot count if Jackson’s plan stood the remotest chance of working.
38
Mitchell sat there growing colder by the minute; his breath hung in the air while internally he stewed about his inability to do anything as the first nuclear bomb was securely placed onto the trailer at the back of his ATV and then quickly covered with an old canvas tarp. Two men in grungy-looking blue coveralls, led by a thin man wearing an old red baseball cap, jumped in beside Mitchell. Turning the engine over, the ATV drove slowly to the tunnel entrance. Staring into the uninviting darkness, Mitchell could see that the cold, damp tunnel seemed to go on for hundreds of meters before unnervingly disappearing down into pitch-blackness. Parking just inside the tunnel, the man with the red baseball cap got out of the ATV and moved back beside the bomb. Mitchell could see that he was checking and re-checking a box on the top of the bomb, which Mitchell surmised was an electronic arming device.
A few seconds later, Mitchell heard a jeep pulling up. Turning his head, he saw Romanov and his daughter Alexandra get out. Accompanied by several bodyguards, Romanov strode over and stopped beside the bomb with a smug look of satisfaction etched on his face.
“Still confused as to what is going on, Mister Mitchell?” asked Romanov contemptuously.
“No, not at all,” said Mitchell, turning his head so he could get a better look at Romanov’s arrogant face. “If you are planning on doing what I think you are, then you intend to detonate these nuclear bombs inside the volcano in order to trigger a massive landslide that will send a mega-tsunami of almost unbelievable destructive power hurtling towards the shores of Europe; to be precise, towards the United Kingdom and Norway.”
Romanov clapped his hands and said, “I should have hired you instead of some of my other people. Not only are you an unbelievable irritant, but you are also quite intelligent, Mister Mitchell. Not what I would have expected at all from a man who works for a glorified security guard company.”
“I’m flattered by the offer,” said Mitchell insincerely. “But the fact of the matter is that I don’t work for psychos. Also, I watched a special on the Discovery channel about mega-tsunamis last month, so I’m not actually all that bright.”
A look of disgust flared in Romanov’s eyes at Mitchell’s insolent remarks. He took a deep breath and then continued. “Just think about it for a moment, Mister Mitchell. When the bombs go off they will superheat the ice trapped in the rocks throughout the eastern face of this volcano, causing it to tear itself apart in a spectacular explosion that will be heard around the world. I have been assured by my experts that something in the order of twenty cubic kilometers of rock, the equivalent of—”
“500 billion tonnes,” said Mitchell, interrupting Romanov’s thought.
“Yes, of course. 500 billion metric tonnes will, within seconds, drop straight down into the Atlantic Ocean, causing a massive tidal wave to begin. In less than four hours, a wave up to one hundred meters high, travelling at close to eight hundred kilometers an hour, will hit western Norway and Scotland. The destructive power of all that water should travel for tens of kilometers inland before the wave finally dies out. I expect that at least five million people will die from the tsunami, but that is not the best part. The wave will race down the North Sea between Norway and Great Britain, destroying every oilrig from here to the coast of the Netherlands. The entire oil-producing capacity of western Europe will be eliminated in a single day. With winter gripping Europe, they will naturally turn to Russia to give them what they need or face freezing in the dark. A Russia, I might add, that will be led by me in the next twenty-four hours.”
Mitchell stared blank faced at Romanov; he had thoroughly misjudged the man’s megalomania. “Ok, I’m impressed,” said Mitchell. “So how much will it cost the West for you to not explode your bombs?”
Romanov laughed aloud as if Mitchell had just a good joke. “No, Mister Mitchell, it is all far too late for that. As we speak, your vice-president is on his way to meet me at my yacht in order to discuss my orderly transition into power as the next president of Russia. Naturally, I will agree to his more than generous offer of support. Unfortunately, just before I can assume power, rogue rebel forces will detonate these bombs, thereby crippling the West for decades. However, my first act in power will be to set things right, by handing back to the people the crown jewels of Russia and accepting their invitation to become its ruler. After that, through an undisclosed, but thoroughly reliable source, I will leak to the US where the hidden rebel bases are. Within hours, planes from the mighty US Navy, with token Russian military support, will crush the remaining rebels, thereby allowing my family to assume control over a major portion of the world’s oil supply, which I will then sell to the West for a phenomenal profit.”
“You do realize that this blast will be thoroughly investigated, and the radiation signature on this island will be detected. Each one is unique; you do understand that, don’t you?” said Mitchell. “They will eventually trace it back to you.”
“Mister Mitchell, your State Department has by now been informed of the theft of two South African nuclear bombs by an unknown terror organization. I made sure that sufficient information was leaked to tie the theft to one of the more radical nationalist groups tearing Russia apart right now. In the post-9/11 world, a state of paranoia has probably already set it in. I must admit that you and your government are so predictable.”
Mitchell shook his head in disgust and leaned forward. “Why the hell are you doing this?”
Romanov stepped close, so he could look deep into Mitchell’s eyes. “Because I can, that is why.”
Mitchell had heard enough. Like a coiled cobra, he shot his head forward and smashed his forehead down onto Romanov’s nose, shattering it and sending blood gushing down his surprised victim’s face.
Instantly, a rifle butt flew into Mitchell’s head, snapping it back. Stars filled his eyes; his vision blurred for a moment, but thankfully, this time he did not black out.
Romanov staggered away from Mitchell, his jacket covered in a slick patch of his own blood.
“Bastard!” screamed Alexandra as she pulled out her pistol, pulled back on the slide and then aimed it at Mitchell’s head.
Mitchell sat there staring into the cold dark eyes of Alexandra Romanov, waiting for the gun to go off.