In the center of the second-tier balcony, flanked by a dozen of Russia’s highest-ranking Ground and Aerospace Force generals, Russia’s Chief of the General Staff, General Sergei Andropov, sat behind a frosted glass railing emblazoned with a five-pointed star, assessing the situation along Russia’s western front.
Thus far, his plan had worked flawlessly. In Ukraine, Russian forces had reached the Dnieper River and were preparing defensive positions at the bridgeheads and all shallow portions of the river. Russian troops in Lithuania were doing likewise on both sides of the eighty-kilometer-wide corridor stretching between Kaliningrad Oblast and Belarus. Meanwhile, NATO Forces appeared paralyzed. Not a single unit had begun transit, not even the Alliance’s Very High Readiness Joint Task Force.
NATO leaders realized that committing their single brigade against the fifty-two Russian Ground, Airborne, and Spetsnaz brigades would have been suicide. It would take America’s full commitment and several weeks to mobilize enough troops to attempt an offensive against the fortified Russian positions. Of course, the defensive positions were a ruse. Once the additional brigades from the Central Military District arrived, Andropov would be ready to execute the second phase of his plan. With the United States paralyzed for at least a year, there would be no one to stop them.
Andropov’s executive aide approached and leaned close, speaking into Andropov’s ear.
“Colonel Savvin has requested a private videocon.”
Andropov entered a secure conference room, instructing his aide to activate the video. Colonel Savvin’s grainy image appeared on the display, transmitted from a command and control van near Gelendzhik.
“Good evening, General,” Savvin began. “We intercepted a signal from one of President Kalinin’s communication devices earlier today. Christine O’Connor contacted the American president and arranged a rescue. We determined the approximate location of the transmission and moved anti-air assets into place. An hour ago, we detected two inbound helicopters, which we shot down during their return trip.”
“Were Kalinin and O’Connor killed?”
“We inspected the wreckage of both helicopters, and found only their communication devices. It appears they survived and escaped on foot.”
Andropov’s frustration began to mount. “You need to bring this to a close quickly, Colonel. Kalinin cannot survive.”
“Our resources are limited, General. We have only one hundred twenty men. There are additional assets we can task, but we have to be careful about who learns we are hunting President Kalinin. When we are finished, no one outside our inner circle can know he was executed.”
“What is your plan?”
“We know where they started from and that they’re on foot. They can’t get far. We’ve established checkpoints at every road leading out of the area, which means they’ll be contained to the forest. There are a few air reconnaissance and attack units I trust, which I will bring to bear on the matter. I will also coordinate with local authorities, concocting a story about a fugitive on the run. We will mention only O’Connor, as we don’t want to reveal we are searching for Kalinin. If we find O’Connor, Kalinin shouldn’t be far. It will take time as we sweep the forest and search for clues, but we will find them.”
42
CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS
Nightfall was creeping across New England as Steve Kaufmann sat at his desk in the Curtain Labs building, staring at his computer display. His fingers rested on the keyboard, his thoughts wandering. A few hours ago, they had decapsulated every microprocessor chip on the navigation circuit board, confirming what they suspected. The chip that melted had been modified from the approved engineering sample. Agent Lyman, still by his side, had informed him that NCIS was opening an investigation into the company that manufactured the microprocessor. But the onus was still on him to find a solution. No one knew the navigation software or circuit card design better than he did.
Unfortunately, the Russian implementation had been flawless. Had they simply locked out the chip after sending the updated navigation coordinates, Kaufmann was confident he could have found a way to break the cycle, allowing the chip to accept additional updates. But the Russians had overclocked the chip, generating enough heat to destroy itself. Without that chip, there was no way to override the Russian command after it was received.
Suddenly, a solution dawned on him. He hit himself on his forehead. It was so obvious. The answer had been in front of his nose the entire time.
Agent Lyman noticed the eureka gesture. “What’s up?”
Kaufmann explained the potential solution to Lyman, who pulled back with a skeptical look.
“Yeah, that could work,” she said. “But…” She pulled her cell phone out and called Agent Gililland, who arrived shortly with Director Mascarenhas.
After Kaufmann explained his proposal, Gililland asked Lyman. “Will it work?”
“It should,” Lyman said, “but it’s unconventional.”
“I’ll say,” Gililland replied. He turned to Mascarenhas.
“If Steve says it’ll work, it’ll work,” she said.
Gililland retrieved his cell phone from his jacket and punched in a number. After explaining the situation twice, being put on hold afterward each time, he was connected to someone even higher up the food chain — Secretary of Defense Bill Dunnavant. Kaufmann listened as Gililland explained the proposal yet again, then hung up.
He turned to Lyman. “Take Kaufmann home to pack. We’re taking a trip.”
“Where to?” Kaufmann asked.
“Washington. You’re briefing the president at 8 a.m.”
The blood drained from Kaufmann’s face.
Lyman said, “Now don’t tell me you’ve never briefed the president before.”
“That’s not funny,” Kaufmann replied.
Lyman placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’ll do fine.”
43
KRASNODAR KRAI, RUSSIA
Christine woke to find the cabin illuminated by weak morning light filtering through the forest canopy and rotting roof. She was still sitting against the wall, her head nestled against Kalinin’s chest, his arm around her. She looked up at him. Kalinin caught her movement and met her gaze.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he said quietly, then grinned.
Christine extracted herself from under his arm. “Yeah, right. I bet I’ve never looked better.” She examined herself: her black skirt had made it through without much wear and tear, but her white blouse had seen better days. It was marred with grime from hiding in their hillside recess, and had torn in two places during their nighttime trek through the woods. Plus, her hands were red, stained with Captain Martin’s blood. A couple of leaves and a twig in her hair would complete the look. She felt around and found one leaf.
She turned her attention to Kalinin, who had his legs sprawled out before him, her eyes going to his ankle. “Have you taken a look yet?”
He shook his head. “I’ve been waiting for better light. We can take a look now.”
Christine gingerly pulled his pants leg up and pushed his sock down. Kalinin had loosened the shoelace but kept his shoe on. His ankle was swollen to twice the normal size, with dark purple bruises.
“Should you take your shoe off?”