Ricci thought a moment. Things just weren’t making sense. Nimec’s briefing had indicated the attack on the Brazilian ISS facility was a multi-pronged and precisely coordinated affair, planned around a detailed knowledge of the compound’s layout. There had been airborne infiltration, scattered ambushes, the works. Though its objectives remained a question mark, there was no doubt that whoever had directed it was proficient in commando-style dispersal and distraction tactics. What he was seeing here, this column of jeeps coming at their guns, was a suicide run.
He expelled a breath. “The TRAP T-2s… what’s the max distance their operators can stay back from the firing line?”
Sharon leaned over toward a lean, bespectacled black man at the console to her immediate right.
“Ted, I need you to tell me—”
“Sixty meters,” he said without looking up from his screen.
Ricci did an approximate mental conversion. Two hundred feet, give or take.
“Notify the men at the perimeter that they’re to fire soon as the jeeps are in range,” he said. “I want two thirds of the weapons on lethal settings… we hit them with gas and fireworks first, give them a chance to back off. They keep coming, it’s shoot to kill. The QR teams should be ready as our second line of defense.”
Ted nodded.
“Sir,” Sharon said, looking quickly over her shoulder at Ricci. “Something’s happening here I don’t understand.”
He made a winding gesture with his hand.
“I’m getting an IR hot spot like nothing I’ve ever seen before from inside the center… at the north end.”
“We have pictures?”
“ ’Manta’s nanosensor range is far beyond its electro-optical—”
“In plain English, Sharon, please.”
“It can detect heat and energy emissions from a distance, but video’s limited to point of sight… objects directly below it.”
Ricci ran a hand back through his hair.
“North end’s the industrial section,” he said. “Bring up a map of the area. I want to see exactly what buildings are over there.”
Computer keys clicked to his right. Ted gestured to a monitor in front of him.
“Done,” he said.
“Sir.” This from another man who had come rushing over from across the trailer a second earlier. “Don’t know if it’s relevant to what we’re seeing here, but we just got word from north sector of some friction between our people and a couple of VKS guards at their checkpoint.”
“Friction over what?”
“Russian with lieutenant’s boards arrives in a truck, gets into a snit about showing us his documents, the VKS guards override our security procedures and wave him through. Same kind of thing we’ve been dealing with all week. We’ve already lodged a complaint with VKS command, but I thought you should know.”
Ricci looked at him.
“When did it happen?”
“About ten minutes back.
Ricci studied the map on the screen. Yes, yes, of course. That fit the M.O. Fit it just perfectly.
“The cargo-processing facility,” he said, leaning over Ted’s shoulder. “You realize what’s kept in there?”
Ted craned his head around and stared back at him for a long time before replying, his eyes wide behind his lenses.
“The ISS module,” he finally said.
TRAP T-2 was another of those ubiquitous acronyms used by weapons and technology designers — the initials here standing for Telepresent Rapid Aiming Platform (Version) T-2.
As specifically configured for UpLink International, the sixty TRAP T-2s situated around the Cosmodrome consisted of a mix of tripod-mounted VVRS M16 assault rifles and Heckler & Koch MSG semiautomatic shotguns linked via microwave video, fiber-optic umbilical cable, and precision target-acquisition-and-firing software to man-portable control stations with handheld viewfinders and triggering units. The weapons platforms utilized two types of surveillance cameras: a wide-field camera on the tripod, and another on the receiver of the gun that provided a shooter’s-eye perspective through its 9-27X reticular scope. Their video images were transmitted both to the firer and command-and-control centers from which the engagement was being directed.
In plainest English that would almost certainly have satisfied Ricci, the TRAP T-2s allowed their users to hit their opposition with heavy, accurate fusillades of gunfire from locations that were secure and relatively out of harm’s way, making them ideal for installation defense.
Following Ricci’s orders to the letter, the Sword remote gun teams in their trailers behind the east perimeter fence waited until they could see the whites of their attackers’ eyes — figuratively speaking — on the displays of their viewfinder/joystick control units before rotating the TRAP T-2’s outside the fence into position, firing off salvos of 70mm smoke, white phosphorous, and CS rounds, while broadcasting a cease-and-desist warning alternately in Russian, English, and Kazakh. They had almost no hope the CS could be used to any effect, as the men in the jeeps were wearing gas masks, but were keeping their fingers crossed that the pyrotechnics would give the attackers pause.
The air around them bursting with lights and smoke, the line of jeeps slowed but did not stop.
Hands on their firing controls, the Sword gunners waited tensely to see what would happen next.
Ricci rang Petrov on his hotline before leaving the snoopmobile.
The space program director sounded in a near-panic. “What is happening? The shooting—”
“This facility’s under assault, and starting now I intend to conduct its defense per the terms of your original agreement with UpLink. Which means—”
“Wait a moment — assault from whom? You must tell me—”
“Which means I want the VKS to stay out of my way inside and outside the Cosmodrome, and allow Sword personnel unrestricted access to all buildings we deem under threat,” Ricci interrupted. “With all due respect, Mr. Petrov, I advise you to make that happen, or the sky just might wind up falling down around your head.”
As had been the case with the warehouse penetration in Brazil, the invaders gained access to the cargo-processing facility through a rear loading-bay door. What was different as Kuhl and his men went in now was that every alarm, door lock, piece of audio/visual surveillance equipment, computer — everything, everything that contained wires and circuits and fed off electrical current, including the light fixtures and air conditioners — had been neutralized. And because the precise calibration of Ilkanovitch’s device had disrupted rather than destroyed the power and computer grids, most if not all of the systems would reactivate within several minutes to half an hour, leaving the intrusion undiscovered. Convinced someone was determined to halt the space station program by the Orion explosion and subsequent attack on the Brazilian ISS facility, the Russian and American defenders of the Cosmodrome would repel the decoy strike force at the east gate and congratulate themselves on having saved the launch vehicle.
Never would they guess that its successful launch always had been Harlan DeVane’s intention. That the attacks and sabotage had been both cover for his actual plan to send Havoc into orbit aboard the ISS, and a means by which Roger Gordian’s resources could be needlessly squandered, his political ties in Russia and Brazil frayed, his spreading operations in Latin America weakened and destabilized.
Their FAMAS guns shouldered, optical display helmets and visors covering their faces, Kuhl’s team made their way through the ruler-straight corridor leading to the room in which the space station module was housed, following an interior plan they had long ago committed to memory. The Havoc device and antenna in Kuhl’s backpack weighed only twenty pounds, and was the approximate size of a portable stereo. Planted discreetly aboard the boxcar-sized space-station module, it would not be detected by the engineers who transported the module to its launch vehicle, or the cosmonauts responsible for its linkup to the orbital space station. Once having accomplished the connection, the Russians were scheduled to return to Earth, and there would be several weeks before the first permanent crew was sent aboard, by which time DeVane would have accomplished his blackmail of Russia and the United States. Only the checkout engineers might have noticed it prelaunch — and their final inspection had been conducted the day before.