When his father finished, the young officer said, “May I speak openly, sir?”
The request was extremely irregular. In the Russian Army, even speaking informally to a komandir or nachal’nik-a commander or chief-was unacceptable. The answer to any question was not da or nyet, yes or no, but tak tochno or nikak nyet-exactly so or in no way.
“Yes, of course,” General Orlov replied.
‘Is this why you sent me to chaperon this shipment?” Nikita asked. “To keep me from the front?”
“When I first contacted you, son, there was no front.”
“But you knew it was coming,” Nikita said, “you had to. At the base, we’ve heard that where you are now there can be no surprises.”
“What you’re hearing are the death throes of the propaganda machine,” General Orlov said. “The operation took many high-ranking officials by surprise, myself included. And until I find out more about it, I don’t want the money leaving the train.”
“What if General Kosigan plans to use it to buy cooperation from local Ukranian officials?” Nikita asked. “Delaying the money may cost Russian lives.”
“Or save them,” General Orlov pointed out. “It costs money to wage a war.”
“But is it wise to second-guess him?” Nikita asked. “I’ve heard he’s been a soldier since he was a boy-”
“And in many ways,” General Orlov said sternly, “he is still a boy. You’ll deploy your troops with round the-clock watches in the train so that none of the cars can be approached, and admit no one without clearing it through me.”
“Yes, sir,” said Nikita. “When will I hear from you again?”
“I’ll let you know more about the money or the Il76T when I do,” Orlov said. “Nikki, I have a feeling you’re closer to the front than either of us realizes. Be careful. ”
“I will, sir,” said Nikita.
The lieutenant pressed the button to the left of the mouthpiece and clicked off. He asked Fodor to clean the snow from the dish, then turned to the map on the computer. His eyes drifted along the route on the map, from Ippolitovka to Sibirchevo to Muchnaya and northward. Then checked his watch.
“Corporal Fodor,” he said, “we should be arriving in Ozernaya Pad in approximately a half hour. Tell our engineer to stop when we do.”
“Yes, sir,” said Fodor, who went to the front of the car to use the intercom they’d rigged from the locomotive.
Nikita would see to it that the train was safe. This was for the future of Russia, and no one-not even his father, the General-was going to stop it.
FOURTY-ONE
Monday, 7:10 P.M., Washington,, D.C.
“Got it!”
Hood was napping on his couch, happy to turn over some of the routine duties to Curt Hardaway and the night crew, when Lowell Coffey entered his open office door with a flourish.
“Signed, sealed, and-ta-ta!-delivered.”
Hood sat up and smiled. “CIC said yes?”
“They said yes,” he said, “though it had nothing to do with me. It was the Russians themselves that got this for us by sending one hundred thousand soldiers into the Ukraine.”
“I’ll take it,” Hood said. “‘Did you tell Mike?”
“I just saw him,” Lowell said. “He’ll be coming over.”
Hood regarded the document with Senator Fox’s signature right on top, where the good conservatives would see it. He was glad to see it too, though. Lying here, he had already resolved to back Rodgers on the Striker mission. Checks and balances were good, he had decided, but sometimes decisive action was better.
As Lowell left to inform Martha Mackall, Hood sat back down on the sofa, E-mailed Hardaway, then rubbed his eyes and remembered exactly why it was he wanted to run Op-Center at all.
Hood and everyone he knew-including the President, with whom he often disagreed-did what they were doing, first and foremost, because it wasn’t enough to salute their flag with the hand and a pledge. They needed to give it their lives and their full commitment. Rodgers had given him the brass plaque that sat on his desk, something Thomas Jefferson had once written: “The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.” From the time he was in college, he had wanted to be a part of that process.
That sacred process, he corrected himself.
Rodgers and Bob Herbert arrived then, and after shaking hands the men hugged each other.
“Thanks, Paul,” Rodgers said. “Charlie’s eager to do this.”
Hood didn’t say it, but he knew they were both thinking it: now that they had what they wanted, they both prayed it turned out right.
Hood fell into the chair behind his desk. “So they’re free to go in,” he said. “What’re we going to do to get them out?”
Rodgers said, “However the CIC went, my friends at the Pentagon have given us the Mosquito.”
“Which is?”
“A top-secret aircraft, Stealth variety. The Pentagon hasn’t finished field tests, and brought it to Seoul because they thought it might be useful in a pinch during the crisis we had there. But it’s the only way we can get into and out of Russia without being seen, heard, or smelled, so we really don’t have a choice.”
“Charlie’s okay with it?” Hood asked.
“He’s like a kid with a toy.” Rodgers laughed. “Give him a big, new hunk of hardware and he’s very happy.”
“What’s the timing on this?” The Mosquito should be on the ground in Japan around ten A.M., local time. The transfer to the 76T should take another forty-five minutes, and they’ll wait there until we give them the go-ahead.”
Hood asked quietly, “What if the Mosquito goes down?”
Rodgers took a deep breath. “It will have to be destroyed as completely as possible. There’s a self-destruct button for that, and it’s pretty thorough. If the crew can’t blow it up for some reason, Striker will have to. The Mosquito can’t fall into Russian hands.”
“What’s the backup if the Mosquito fails?”
“Striker’s got just over six hours of darkness to cross twelve miles to the 76T,” Rodgers said. “The terrain’s hilly but negotiable. Even in a worst-case scenario, with the temperature going down to five degrees above, they’ve got warm clothes and night-vision glasses. They’ll be able to make it.”
“How will the 76T hold up?” Hood asked.
“She’s a cold-weather bird,” said Herbert. “Nothing will freeze on her unless it gets to about ten below, which it shouldn’t.”
“And if it does?” Hood asked.
“If the temperature starts to drop,” Herbert said, we’ll take off, notify Striker, and they’ll have to hunker down until we can extract them. They’ve had the survival training. They’ll be fine. According to Katzen’s geographical studies, there’s plenty of small game just west of the Sikhote-Alin’ Range, and the hills are laced with caves for shelter or hiding.”
“So we’re okay if we get that far,” Hood said. “What are our contingencies if the Russians ID the 76T and realize it isn’t one of their own?”
“That’s not likely,” Rodgers said. “We managed to snatch an IMF beacon from one of the 76Ts they lost in Afghanistan. The Russians haven’t changed their Identification Friend or Foe technology in years, so we’re okay there. It’s not like our planes, which broadcast millimeter-wave microwave signals to transponders on other crafts and at monitoring stations.”
“What about communications with the 76T?”
“Our only contact with the plane has been in code,” Rodgers said. “The Russians are used to us sending false communications to tie up their resources, and they tend to ignore outside communiques to their own planes. Over the next few hours we’ll talk to more of their planes to make sure they think that’s what’s going onthat we’re harassing them on account of their troop buildup. Meanwhile, the 76T will maintain radio silence like most of the other Russian transports. If Russian Air Defense starts to get antsy, we’ll talk to them. The cover story we’ve given the pilot is that he’s bringing in ordnance machine shop spare parts from Berlin and rubber fuel bladders from Helsinki. Rubber’s in especially short supply in Russia right now. If for some reason the Russians noticed the 76T earlier, this will explain why they were in Germany and Finland.”
“I like it,” Hood said, “very much. I assume they’re taking the long way around Russia to stay out of the air lanes and out of the Russians’ hair?”
Rodgers nodded. “Those skies are pretty crowded right now. If the 76T is forced to talk to the Russians, they’ll buy that, since what we’re allegedly carrying isn’t as crucial as troops, rations, and weapons.”
“And if their cover is blown for any reason?” Hood asked. “Which STOP do we use?”
“If we have to execute a Sudden Termination of Pro ject over Russian airspace,” Herbert said, “our radio goes dead and we get the hell out. Plus, there are a few tricks we can use as we retreat. They won’t shoot us down unless they’re absolutely sure we aren’t one of theirs-and they won’t be.”