scant feet above the dark and oily waters. Striking the base of the
westernmost of the two huge concrete towers, the warhead triggered, one
hundred kilograms of high explosives detonating in a savage blast,
raising a vast cascade of white spray and hurling chunks of concrete far
out into the water.
Three seconds later, a second missile struck the tower. Those towers,
designed to exacting engineering specifications to support tremendous
weight or withstand hurricane-force winds, were simply not designed to
absorb that brutal and sudden a punishment. With both northern legs of
the suspension system damaged, the span between them sagged. The
hangers, the vertical wire ropes supporting the deck, began snapping,
first one by one, then in rippling, crashing volleys. The deck itself;
individual sections like shallow boxes and paved over with a
one-and-a-half-inch layer of mastic asphalt; the design provided
flexibility, as it had to on an engineering project of such scope, but
it also allowed the two explosions to generate shock waves that rippled
out from the towers, with the deck itself convulsing in a titanic game
of crack-the-whip.
Vehicles and people alike were scattered like toys as the asphalt
flexed, tossing them into the air and smashing them down again. A third
missile detonated against the eastern tower, somewhat higher up the leg
than the first blast, gouging through to the pillar’s hollow core. With
a vast and thunderous shudder, the northern leg of the tower shattered,
cross struts crumbling, suspension cables writhing, hangers snapping
apart like rapid-fire gunshots. Three more missiles arrowed in out of
the north in rapid succession, two striking the span near the eastern
side, the third hitting the western pylon once again. The deck tilted
even more precipitously to the north, spilling vehicles and people into
the yawning gulf below.
With the failure of the northern half of the suspension rig
accelerating, the southern half began to go, too. The eastern tower
sagged heavily toward the north, an avalanche of splintering concrete
cascading into the water. The entire thousand-meter-plus center span of
the northernmost of the Bosporus bridges whipsawed back and forth, the
oscillations building until the main cables snapped, spilling the box
sections of the deck into the strait far below.
The navigable channel up the center of the Bosporus was not wide, a few
hundred yards across at most, and as the smoke and spray cleared,
observers aboard nearby vessels could see that it was almost completely
blocked by fallen deck boxes and a vast and incoherent tangle of wire
rope. Miraculously, there were survivors, struggling in the wreckage as
small craft moved in to begin rescue efforts; the screams of the injured
mingled with the continuing splash and crack of falling concrete, and
the mournful hootings of ship horns.
Almost immediately, a Turkish naval vessel, the guided-missile patrol
boat Gurbet, moving toward the center of the channel at high speed,
shuddered, then slewed to a dead stop, two of her four propeller shafts
fouled by the unraveling strands of wire rope that stretched above and
below the surface of the water like a deadly trap designed expressly for
ships.
Clearing out that tangle of debris would require a major engineering
effort. .. and weeks, possibly months of time.
And until the wreckage of the fallen bridge could be cleared, no vessels
would be passing between the Black Sea and the Sea of Marmara. .. or to
the Aegean Sea beyond.
1006 hours (Zulu +3)
Tomcat 218
At eight thousand feet, Dixie and Mickey flashed southwest between the
impossibly blue sky above and the deep, ultramarine sea below. Glancing
right, he could see “Badger” Cunningham and “Red” Burns off his
starboard wing in Tomcat 210.
“I’m making multiple bogeys ahead,” Mickey said. “At least ten. .. ah,
make that twelve contacts in three groups.”
“Roger that, BARCAP Two,” Watch Dog replied. “We’ve got them.”
The radar picture ahead was clearing slightly as the Tomcats drew closer
to their contacts, until the F-14s, AWG-9 radars gave a better picture
than the more powerful but far more distant electronics of the orbiting
Hawkeye. With the onboard data link, Tomcats and Hawkeye could share an
incredible volume of two-way data, all of which the Hawkeye was relaying