O’Neil heard the conversation and was looking over their shoulders as the ark came into clear view. “Holy shit! How did a barge get there?”
“I know. Makes you wonder.”
“How come the defense department hasn’t released these to the public?” To McLeary, it only seemed to make sense that proof of such a find should be shared.
“Do we really want to show the military leaders of other countries how proficient we are at spying? I think not. We’re the only ones who use the amalgamation of three different cameras in millions of different spectrums to produce one picture. No one else can figure out how. Thank you, Steve Jobs.”
“I can’t believe that’s sitting in your computer chip, and you act like it’s nothing.” McLeary’s mind was doing flip-flops trying to grapple with the conformation of the biblical flood.
“I know what you’re going through. I did it myself when I first saw this thing. You look at the world with a new perspective — for a while. Don’t try to figure it out until this trip is over. Right now Uncle Sam needs your undivided attention.” Josh was right. He could show them many things that would blow their minds, but he wanted to make sure they kept their heads on straight for now.
He returned the screen to ODIS, which had a lens coming off mainland Russia and drifting into the Arctic Ocean. It was then that he saw the small, faint red dot begin to blink. A millisecond later, the computer latched onto it and identified it as the ship they were looking for. The Saratov was coming up.
Before Josh could open his mouth, the sonar room reported. “Sonar to bridge. Hull popping. We have a fix. Dead ahead, ten miles.”
Jim didn’t bother to respond. Instead he went for the RRCC and Josh. “You got him, Brand?”
“Yes. Caught him just before the sonar.”
“Like hell you did!” yelled Bumper. “I had him first.”
“He’s on top now, sitting still.” Josh smiled.
“All stop,” ordered Andri.
“All stop,” returned his engineer.
Andri had climbed up into the sail and was opening the hatch as the Saratov drifted slowly in the waters. A small breeze bit at his face, but in contrast, the sun gleamed brilliantly from the sky. He stood, stretching in the cool air as he gazed through binoculars, sweeping the lens across the horizon. Sasha joined him.
“All ready, Captain.”
“Good, Sasha. Then there is no reason to wait. There will be no turning back after this. Succeed or die.”
Sasha was unwavering. “I understand. We will not fail.”
To Andri’s surprise, he had noticed that as the plan progressed Sasha had become caught up very deeply in what they were going to accomplish. Andri enjoyed his unwavering loyalty, but he was concerned about the man blindly following his every command. He reminded Andri somewhat of the old German Nazi officers. Nothing seemed to faze them, no matter how unpleasant. That was unsettling, no matter what he was about to do. When men have no conscience about their actions, then evil runs amok, he thought. So it happened in my country. Now we take it back.
“Go below and secure quarters for launching.”
“Aye, Captain.” Sasha dropped away.
Below, Andri could hear the warning bells announcing the securing of the ship. When everything calmed down, he picked up the microphone to the bridge and relayed his orders.
“Open missile hatch.”
On the stern of the ship, the massive hatch that covered the missiles slid back and exposed two missiles sitting abreast.
“Raise platform.”
The whirring of more hydraulics continued as the projectiles spun out of the bay five feet above the back of the Saratov. Both lay simply on a carriage that was connected to what could only be described as something like an auto lift that garages use to raise the cars above the workmen’s heads.
The carriage was able to lift, spin, and point the missiles in the direction they needed to be fired. A computer guidance system tied into the lift then angled the projectiles at the right height and direction and calculated the time it would take for them to travel to their targets. All it needed was the coordinates.
A small keypad by Andri’s hand served as the final sequence before launching. He entered the location of the target, and the computer configured the launch angle and direction. The missiles spun quickly around once and settled on a low trajectory looking over the south horizon. The pad flashed red, and another bell rang through the ship, signaling that one missile was armed. He picked up the mic to utter the final order. “Fire.”
There was an eerie silence in the War Eagle. Those who didn’t know exactly what was going on knew something bad had happened. All eyes and ears were trained on the RRCC. Jim sat next to Josh as they watched the whole launch sequence.
“Can you track it?”
“As long as it doesn’t go too far south, yeah.” Josh was more fascinated by the launch than worried about it. The same couldn’t be said for Jim.
Mikhail had appeared in time to watch the event. “How far away are we?” he asked.
“Ten miles.” Jim was trying to think of the proper procedure, but he couldn’t remember a scenario for this particular situation. “Linc. Make sure everyone is prepared for nuclear war.”
“Aye, Cap,” Linc sounded from the back.
The order caught Josh’s attention. “That’s a little extreme, isn’t it?”
“I want to make sure we are ready for nuclear fallout. We don’t even know where that thing is going to land.”
“Someplace close,” interrupted Mikhail. “The missile is only going to be airborne for about five minutes. Maybe less. He kept it low, on the surface. It’s a solid fuel rocket, and it’s small. The range is not great.”
Josh was confused. He assumed that every country had a defense for this situation. “Can’t Russia stop it? Can’t they shoot it down? You would think they would have picked it up the minute it was launched.”
Mikhail shook his head. “Things haven’t changed that much in Russia. The old Soviet response is slow. The missile will hit its target before they can launch any countermeasures. They saw it launch, but there’s little they can do.”
Their names are not important. The two Russian army privates were rabble-rousers and were sent to one of the most hated posts in the whole Russian army. It used to be called Red Army Base 29. Now no one knew for sure what the title meant, but they did know that the Russian government still wanted it protected.
It was a tract of land twenty kilometers square. Maybe more. Their job was to continuously drive around the perimeter repairing the twenty-foot-high chain-link and barbed-wire fence. There was only one entrance to the base, located on the west side. All other roads leading out of the square had been fenced over years ago, disappearing under the wild grass. No one ever went in or came out. The lock on the main entrance had rusted over with age, and to get through it one would have to use a blowtorch.
It was break time for the two. They were enjoying some soda and pornographic magazines when they heard it. Both craned their neck upward and upon seeing the missile threw themselves to the ground as their training dictated. It whistled away and headed for the mountains in the distance. Ten seconds later, they witnessed a small flash of bright light. Twenty seconds after that came the roar of the explosion, and then they saw the mushroom cloud. It was tiny, but it was lifting above the mountains.
The two scrambled into their jeep just as a small shock wave hit the vehicle. The motor died, and all the electronics were fried by the resulting EMP burst of the blast. They got out and started running. This would have to be reported in person.