go higher up than that–doesn’t sound like something they’d have access to
immediately.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t really say, sir, but there’s a system for assigning these
code names–or at least there was, years ago. These two I think I
recognize. But it’s been years,” he said, almost to himself. “They can’t
still be in place, not after that many years.”
“What are you talking about?” Busby said sharply. “If it has to do
with CVIC, I’m cleared for it.”
The intelligence specialist glanced at the other technicians in the
room, and then made a small movement with his head. Lab Rat took the hint.
“Everyone else out for a few minutes, okay? We’ll get you back in here as
soon as we can.”
The other technicians dispersed reluctantly, intrigued as they were by
the voice coming over the ancient equipment that hadn’t operated in years.
Sure, they’d done periodic maintenance checks on it, and even maintained it
in readiness as part of their watch, but none of them had ever seen it
used.
When the last of them filed out, the intelligence specialist checked
the door behind them. Satisfied that it was shut, he turned back to
Commander Busby. “CIA. Many years ago, during the Cold War. I’ve seen
those two names a couple of times on intelligence reports, back when I was
with DIS–Defense Intelligence Service. But that was ten, maybe fifteen
years ago.”
“The CIA? You’re sure?” Busby asked.
The technician nodded. “As sure as I can be after all these years,
Commander,” he said. “You remember how it was back then. The Soviets had
nuclear ballistic submarines deployed north of the Aleutians in the Bering
Sea. As part of our surveillance program–paranoia, we’d call it now–the
CIA had a number of agents in place, scattered around the islands. Their
orders were simply to observe and report back. You may remember, there was
a time when the CIA was afraid Russia was going to invade via the Aleutian
Islands. At the very least, having tactical control of the passages
between the islands put them in a better position if they ever had to
sortie their submarines for an attack on the continental U.S. So we had
people there.” The technician shrugged. “I’m sure it seemed like a
reasonable precaution at the time.”
“But they’re still in place?” Busby asked. “After all these years?”
The technician nodded. “Evidently so. Or at least, someone who’s
pretending to be them. There’s no way I can authenticate these
transmissions, since these stations were supposedly deactivated years ago.”
“What are they transmitting on?”
The technician reeled off a series of numbers and nomenclature, none
of which answered the real question pounding in Busby’s head. “Okay, so
maybe some of them kept an HF radio after the CIA withdrew support. Gear
like that would be useful. Hell, they could always tell the Company it was
lost.”
“I think you’d better talk to them, sir,” the technician said quietly.
He handed Lab Rat the microphone. “Because if what they’re saying is true,
we’ve got a real problem here.”
CHAPTER 7
Thursday, 29 December
0800 Local
Adak
Twenty knots was considered calm on Adak Island. Given that, and with
unlimited visibility and a relatively stable air mass to the north,
Tombstone’s takeoff from Adak Island was uneventful.
As it had on their inbound flight, a Russian Bear-J aircraft joined on
them shortly after takeoff, once they were clear of U.S. airspace and over
international waters. The electrical problems that had plagued the
aircraft had been fixed, and the flight to Seattle was uneventful.
As the C-130 taxied in, a contingent of U.S. Marines rushed out to
meet the aircraft. The pilot quickly brought her to a halt and waited for
the metal boarding stairs. Tombstone was the first one off the plane.
“Come on, sir,” a Marine major said loudly, struggling to be heard
over the still turning engines. “Your aircraft is ready for you.”
“Flight gear?” Tombstone shouted.
“Waiting for you in the Operations Center.” The Marine Corps major
paused, waiting for Tombstone to do exactly what he’d asked.
Tombstone shrugged and followed the sharply dressed major across the
tarmac. The noise level dropped appreciably. “Where is she?” Tombstone