Before he could consider the serious implications of his line of thought, Severov heard the sound of jet engines in front of him. He scrambled to lift the binoculars hanging around his neck and get a look at what was making the roar in the sky. He hoped it was just Russian jets they had brought up as support. The giant fireball that filled the lenses of his binoculars confirmed his worst fear as he tracked the dot in the sky and could just make out U.S. markings on the wings. One of their forward attack F-16s had just devastated the road in front of them. God knew how many men perished in the swirling inferno that was already fading back to just a small fire in the road.
The action had stirred the men in the truck in front of Severov. Some leaned out to try to get a view while others started to pray. Severov understood the reasoning behind both courses of action. Unfortunately, if the Americans decided to work their way down the line, neither praying nor having a good view would save your life.
Someone in the Russian high command had misjudged what the U.S. and NATO would do in response to the invasion. The question now was, would this be enough to stop the Russian juggernaut? Severov was prepared for combat and even to give his life for Mother Russia if necessary. He wondered how many other men traveling with him felt the same way. This attack would give the commanders pause and slow everything down.
Exactly what the Americans wanted to happen.
It’d taken some fast talking, but Derek Walsh had convinced Tonya Stratford to let Charlie walk away from the front of her brownstone. Walsh gave him twenty dollars to find his way back to Manhattan and grab something to eat. Then he had turned his attention to convincing the FBI agent she had to get him into Thomas Brothers Financial.
She turned her dark eyes toward him and said, “This goes against everything my partners and I have been discussing for the past few days. You need to be in custody, not dragging me into your own investigation.”
“You know I might be onto something or you wouldn’t even be considering it. Just twenty minutes in the office. I’ve explained what I want and why I have to do it myself. I trust you enough to have surrendered. Show me a little consideration. This conspiracy could be big. I want to help.”
“What if it turns out that there’s nothing to your story at all?”
“Then you charge me. I’m not sure with what charges, but I’ll accept them.”
Agent Stratford said, “I have an indictment we’ve been working on. Right off the top of my head we’d hit you with fraud by wire and then the good old standard, U.S. Code 18.656—theft and embezzlement. You see, it’s always better to make an arrest first, then add on charges. We’re considering some kind of treason charge if it turns out you knowingly helped enemies of the country. I don’t know any of the statute codes on that because I’ve never investigated a case of treason. My partner, Frank, would add on a dozen more charges if he got the chance.”
Walsh held up his hands and said, “Just check out what I’m saying and we might save you a lot of trouble. If I’m wrong, you lose nothing and I go to jail. Considering how much work someone put into this scheme, I’ll be happy to not be dead.” He kept a steady gaze on her.
“You haven’t told me where the security plug is.”
“You haven’t told me you’re going to go along with my plan yet.”
“Smooth. And after what happened with the Russians, I can understand your concerns. But I need some assurances I will get some return on my risk.”
“What assurances would you like?”
“You get one chance to pull up the photos from your security plug. After that, if it doesn’t work, you cooperate fully with me.”
“I thought I was cooperating fully.”
“We’ll get in there about eight thirty, before the bulk of the other FBI agents show up but not too early to raise suspicions.”
“I like this plan. It’s the first plan I’ve liked since this all started.”
“You better hope it works out.”
Walsh knew the FBI agent had no idea how much he hoped it would work out.
39
Sitting on the cupola of his tank, staring to the horizon, Anton Severov realized there was no secrecy left and the Russian military presence in Estonia was now worldwide news. That fact was reinforced by several squadrons of Russian-made MiG fighters roaring ahead of them to clear out any NATO air threat. The earlier strike had taken out four tanks and two supply trucks. When they rolled the burning remains of the vehicles off the road, Severov caught the unmistakable stench of burned flesh. There were three bodies near the truck, but no other human remains were obvious. He could tell by the demeanor of the men in the truck ahead of him that it had a severe effect on morale. He could fight toe-to-toe with tanks, but they were woefully unprepared to handle air strikes without the assistance of the Russian air force.
Severov still viewed the field from the top of his tank, confident that the NATO forces had not put snipers in the field yet. It also gave him a chance to keep an eye on Amir, who was still sitting in the rear of the truck directly in front of him. He leaned on the Kord heavy machine gun, making sure the belt-fed 12.7 mm ammo was seated properly in the receiver. If something did happen, he could bring the Russian-made gun on target in a matter of seconds.
Far in the distance ahead of them, he saw flashes in the sky and realized it meant the Russian jets were engaging NATO jets in air-to-air combat. This was quickly escalating more than any of his comrades had thought it would.
Was Estonia really worth another war?
Major Bill Shepherd checked his watch and then the gear strapped to his back and sides. It was midafternoon when the Black Hawks set down outside Mustvee, Estonia, on the banks of Lake Peipus. Shepherd looked over the tiny town of fewer than two thousand residents, who were not prepared to see U.S. Marines spreading out near the highway that passed through it. He hoped the quaint town would be spared any damage, but experience told him that wouldn’t be the case. Reports had the bulk of the Russian force on this highway, with the lake on their left.
His force of about eighty marines had taken on twenty-two Estonian soldiers, who carried shoulder-fired rocket launchers and some C-4. They split into ten groups, each armed with a variety of portable weapons designed to slow down the tanks. Without a screening force of infantry in front of them, the tanks were vulnerable to small arms and rocket fire. Despite what he’d been told by the colonel, Shepherd decided to go with one of the teams. He didn’t want to say he missed the opening shots of World War III. He also felt the younger men would benefit from the presence of a senior, battle-tested officer. At least that’s what he intended to tell his superiors if anyone got their panties in a bunch that he was out here.
Behind them, Shepherd heard the engines of an F-16 as it struck at another target. He figured the F-16 was part of a small detachment in Estonia meant as a deterrent to a Russian incursion. Apparently the Russians didn’t believe the U.S. would use force to protect the small country. Shepherd couldn’t blame them. Even as he heard the jets attacking and his team prepared to fire a rocket-propelled grenade, he was surprised the U.S. leaders had committed to action so quickly. Perhaps they realized that if a few soldiers were killed immediately by Russian arms, the public sentiment would swing dramatically in favor of fighting for Estonia. That was not an idea most Americans considered. Some people understood that it was the right thing to do to try to straighten out some of the regimes in the Middle East and that a side benefit included a flow of oil. But the idea of defending a small country like Estonia—with no natural resources that the West needed—would confuse the average American.