“So you’re still going to do what they want you to do?”
“No, I’m not doing what they want me to do — I would’ve done this any way. It’s time that Russia be held accountable for what it’s done to me and my family — and the rest of the world.”
“Sir, please don’t do this. Millions of innocent people are going to die.”
“Good-bye, Osborne.”
Sandford ended the call. Osborne tossed his phone onto his desk. He needed a miracle.
Sandford dialed Strategic Command. He didn’t wait for an answer.
“Do it!” Sandford said. “Launch the missiles now!”
Nothing.
“Hello? Are you there? I said, ‘Launch the missiles now!’” Sandford demanded again.
Silence.
“Who is this? Stop screwing around and affirm this order!”
“I’m sorry. Who is this?” came the familiar voice on the other end.
“You know good and well who this is — acting President Gerald Sandford. Now do your job!”
The voice on the other end paused again before speaking. “I’m sorry, sir, but I only take my commands from the President of the United States.”
“Who do you think you are?”
“This is General Timothy Hill, sir. I’m sure you remember me — I’m the one you recently relieved from duty.”
“Then what are you still doing there? Hand the phone to someone who has some real authority!”
“Sir, I’m afraid I am the ultimate authority here since President Briggs reinstated me a few minutes ago. And we aren’t starting a war today, per his orders. Is that clear?”
Sandford slammed the phone down and let out an agonizing scream, which quickly turned to sobbing. Through his bleary eyes, he looked at the picture on his other phone — a horrific image of Sydney. He only had himself to blame — and now he’d surely be able to do nothing about it.
For the next several minutes, Sandford stared at the wall, absorbed in an ocean of regret. How could I have let this happen? How could I have ever given up looking for Sydney? This is all my fault. He shuddered to think how his misguided actions had nearly led him to start a war.
Two Secret Service agents knocked as they entered the room. They told Sandford he needed to leave and that they were his escort out of the office. He slipped his phone in his pocket and wondered if he could’ve done anything more — anything to save his daughter.
CHAPTER 65
The alarms wailed, piercing the smoke and Flynn’s ears. Flynn rushed back into the control room to find Sydney lying in the corner. Dashing over to help her, Flynn eased her back to her feet and led her out of the room. If she didn’t want to go with him, Flynn couldn’t tell. Her compliance shocked him.
On their way toward the exit, Flynn nearly tripped over Buscape, who lay on the floor gasping for air.
He grabbed Flynn’s leg.
Flynn stopped.
“This isn’t over,” he mumbled in a raspy voice. “You’ll see. We’ll win, eventually.”
Flynn paused to pity the man, if only for a moment. The feeling left as quickly as it came, once he remembered the evil this man had propagated.
“It won’t be today.”
Whooosh!
Suddenly the room was engulfed in more flames. Flynn pulled free from Buscape, leaving him to die. Hoisting Sydney across his shoulder, Flynn hurried down the hallway through a thick blanket of smoke and distanced himself from the inferno as quickly as possible.
They rounded a corner before a large explosion rocked the building again.
After ambling through the building for several minutes, Flynn found the exit he was looking for — a small side exit he remembered being on the building’s plans. It appeared to be built for such a time as this, serving as an escape hatch that led them a quarter of a mile away from the building and deeper into the Urals.
Flynn allowed Sydney to go first. Crawling on her hands and knees wasn’t easy, given her injury. Every few feet, she winced with pain. Flynn felt sorry for her on one level, for he was the one who inflicted such misery upon her. But on another, no remorse. Sydney made her own decisions, one of which was to align herself with an extremist group of communists bent on causing destruction to the world in an effort to establish communism worldwide. It went against everything Flynn believed, even if a more cooperative humanity seemed like a better world. He just knew such ideals rarely escaped the incubation of the mind’s inception. The real world contained vile agents of corruption, distorting good ideas and turning them into the seeds of hatred and violence. True peace would never be obtained through the violent will of a few being imposed on the rest of the world. Yet Sydney once believed this — whether she still did or not made no difference to Flynn. He simply wanted her out of there so she could have a chance to decide for herself.
For fifteen minutes they crawled. Flynn continued behind her, dragging his pack with his foot. They edged their way down the chute until they finally arrived at the doorway to the outside. It too had a keypad, requiring a retinal scan.
Without a word, Sydney put her eye in front of the scanner and waited. The scanner whirred and hummed for a few seconds until finally— click! The door lock released and opened slightly into the woods. Sydney crawled out first and stood up before collapsing. Flynn followed, scrambling over to where she had fallen on the forest floor.
Flynn’s eyes struggled to see in the cold darkness. He located a small light in his pack to be able to examine Sydney more thoroughly. He then dug out a tightly packed emergency blanket for her. During the day, the blanket’s silvery shimmer would reflect light and make them a target. But at night, it was safe. And Flynn knew if they wanted to stay alive, they needed to get out of the Urals as soon as possible.
Noticing a few more spots where Sydney’s wound began to ooze, Flynn administered some more pain medicine after re-cleaning the area with an anti-septic wipe. Sydney remained calm and quiet, refusing to say the first word to Flynn. After ten minutes of him fussing over her, Sydney finally uttered something: “Thank you.” She then fell back down onto the forest floor in search of some much-needed sleep.
Flynn wanted to call Osborne again, tell him what happened. But it would have to wait until the morning, until he and Sydney were safe, until they both escaped Russia without being detected. He looked around and found a cave nearby where they could seek shelter for the night. They would have to leave early in the morning, as the area would likely be crawling with Russian soldiers looking for the cause of such blasts in the middle of the night.
In the cave, Sydney nestled next to him in an effort to keep warm. She cried quietly, saying nothing. Flynn decided to let it go — let her purge whatever pent up emotions she had built for the past fifteen years.
As he lay down on his back, he heard the distant cry of a wolf. Flynn didn’t even jump. If he’d made it through this mission successfully without getting killed, he wasn’t going to lose any sleep over wolves.
CHAPTER 66
Three days later, Flynn awoke in his familiar Washington hotel. The Liaison always provided him with superb customer service and a good night’s sleep. His stay this time was no different. It was imperative that he received a good night’s sleep and why he insisted on the CIA putting him up there. Flynn wanted to look his best when he met President Briggs.
In the downstairs lobby, Osborne waited for him. Flynn chuckled when he thought about how this was as it always was — Osborne sitting around while someone else did real work. But Flynn needed Osborne along with all the intel and gadgets to help him achieve a successful mission. Without the proper equipment and devices, Flynn would have failed. Yet he didn’t. And Osborne came off looking like the smartest man in American intelligence.