But the southward thrusts were different. Nothing about them suggested mere training maneuvers. They followed no previously observed pattern. They fit none of the myriad war-game models with which she was familiar. In short, they served none of the standard strategic imperatives Western powers had ascribed to either the Soviets or the Russians.
But the vectors were plain. The southward thrusts were headed toward Iran. Russian naval presence had increased markedly in the Persian Gulf. This, clearly, was about Iran. Iran, whose nuclear program had been obliterated by weeks of devastating Allied bombing runs. The logical progression led to the unpleasant conclusion that the Russians were coming to Iran’s assistance.
But why so late? There was little left of the nuclear program to salvage. The various enrichment facilities, missile sites, and nuclear plants had been all but destroyed. Iran’s nuclear capacity had been reduced to rubble.
Or had it?
Olivia heard the electronic locks on the communications room door slide open, and Dwyer entered the room.
“You need to be fed.”
“Not that hungry, Dan. But thanks.”
“Nonsense, young lady. You’re eating. I read somewhere that the brain uses up something like a gazillion watts of energy. That means short of hooking you up to a power plant, that big brain of yours needs about six thousand pounds of beef. We’ll force-feed you if necessary.”
“I’m anxious to talk to Jim.”
“I’m anxious to talk to Angelina Jolie. Both of us may be in for a wait.”
“What do you think the Russians are up to, Dan?”
“Same thing as you. Nothing good. Hope for the best, plan for the worst.”
“What’s the worst?”
“From a country with seven thousand nukes?”
“Realistically.”
“Taras Bor is involved, Olivia. You tell me.”
“Have you heard from Michael?”
“Not in a while.”
“Bor won’t stop trying to kill him, will he?”
“Is your concern personal or professional?”
“My concern is immediate. Things seem to be moving faster than we can keep up with. I’m concerned, Dan, that the endgame is approaching, that it will arrive before we have an inkling of what’s really going on.”
“I admit having the same concern,” Dwyer agreed. “But the good news, Olivia, is that your hero and mine, Mike Garin, Defender of the Free World and Guardian of the Realm, is chewing gum, kicking butt, and taking names out there.”
Olivia rolled her eyes.
“But seriously,” Dwyer said, turning sober, “he always wins. Every single time. Without fail. I’ve seen it. Even you’ve seen some of it. And that means right now, as we speak, this very moment, the bad guys are losing, and losing really, really bad.”
CHAPTER 60
NORTHERN VIRGINIA,
AUGUST 17, 11:15 A.M. EDT
There was a loud noise and a flash of light. Then he remembered a dull pain. Next came his older sister Katy’s voice, strong and demanding.
He opened his eyes in a hospital bed, monitors arranged about him. Katy was at the foot of the bed talking to a doctor who was holding a clipboard with papers attached. She had a serious look on her face, like all Garins. They noted that he was awake and came to his side. Katy stroked his hair. She had a sad smile. Garin remembered and knew why.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Good. Are you okay?”
Katy’s laugh was almost a cry. No matter what his condition, her little brother would always respond like that.
“Mom and Dad are dead,” Katy said. Direct, no preliminaries, no softness. The family way. Take care of business, grieve when time allowed.
Garin nodded. It came back in a rush. The family was returning from an awards banquet. Garin had been named an all-state running back. A drunk driver hit them head-on. Garin’s parents were killed instantly. Garin had been knocked unconscious. Katy had barely a scratch.
“Michael, I’m Dr. Lee.” Garin saw a man in his early sixties, tall and lean with a look of confidence. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Dr. Lee raised the clipboard and scanned the charts. He waited a few beats before continuing. “You have a concussion and some contusions. No broken bones. Because of the concussion, we’ll want to keep you under observation for twenty-four hours before discharging you.”
Dr. Lee glanced at Katy before continuing. “When you were brought in we did the typical preliminary scans. The radiologist caught something, so we did a few more scans and tests.”
Dr. Lee continued with a lengthy but not overly technical explanation. Something about valves and chambers. All that Garin remembered was the phrase “congenital heart defect.” Dr. Lee tried to be optimistic, but it was likely Garin would not see his fortieth birthday, maybe not even his thirty-fifth.
A lone tear streaked down Katy’s cheek; otherwise, she was composed. So much so that she followed Dr. Lee out of Garin’s room, ostensibly to go to the hospital chapel, and when Dr. Lee deposited Garin’s exam results at the vacant nurses’ station and proceeded on his rounds, Katy retrieved the results and placed them in her purse. Then she quickly checked the station’s desktop computer to confirm that the results hadn’t yet been entered into the system. All record of Garin’s condition was wiped from the face of the Earth.
Several months later, their grandfather, Nikolai Garin, arrived from Europe to care for them. With his death a few years back, Katy and Dr. Lee were the only ones who knew of Garin’s condition. With passage of time and thousands of exams, Dr. Lee, if he was still alive, had probably long since forgotten.
Katy insisted Garin treat the heart anomaly as liberating. Knowing that he had only half the time he’d expected forced him to live life on fast-forward, compress eighty years of living into, at most, forty. So he held absolutely nothing back. He never paced himself. Although he wasn’t irresponsible and avoided jeopardizing the safety of others, he took risks, confronted dangers, and overcame hazards that would cause others to shrink, flinch, and cower. He felt… invincible.
In some ways, he was tantamount to dead. The dead feel no pain; pain is irrelevant. The dead have no fear; fear is irrelevant.
The same is true for the doomed. Theoretically.
Garin wasn’t dead yet.
The gash from the Butcher’s mouth to his ear was the first thing that came into focus. Within seconds everything else did as well. He was back in the present.
Garin felt a sharp pain from his right ear to the sinus cavity under his right eye. It was the pain that had caused him to lose consciousness, but also roused him awake.
“You were out only a few minutes,” the Butcher informed him. “And you did not scream. That will change.”
Garin blinked several times and shook his head. His right cheek was wet and warm. Blood trickling from his ear.
“Your body’s defense mechanisms are quite good,” the Butcher continued. “Many subjects remain unconscious far longer. A few suffer heart failure. Your heart must be quite strong. But we’re just getting started.”
Garin realized he couldn’t hear out of his right ear. He opened and closed his mouth and worked his jaw as if he had swimmer’s ear. The sensation of pain changed from a sharpness to a dull ache.