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Authors: Joe Weber

Defcon One (1989) (27 page)

BOOK: Defcon One (1989)
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The airborne sensor system had been on-line less than two years. The AOA provided a wide field of view and high resolution for intercepting attacking missiles. However, the SDI satellite network was absolutely essential for the AOA program to function correctly.

Matuchek was concerned about the airborne instability in so many regions of the Northern Hemisphere, along with the frailties of the SDI system.The skies were crawling with Soviet and American warplanes.

' John, if this alert blows over without a major confrontation, if we survive this insane mess, I'm going to retire early and dig out my fishing gear.

J.B the surprised Canadian responded, you can't be serious.

You've been selected to become vice chief of staff the first of April.

John, I've had it. The kids are grown. Alice is supportive of my desire. I'm developing, or have developed, a bleeding ulcer.

Matuchek looked up at Honeycutt. Alice and I want to retire on a lake somewhere not sure where and take the pack off. If the idiots and lunatics of the world want to blow it to smithereens, John, I don't want to be the first to know. I want to be fishing with Alice when the switch is pulled.

J.B you need to take some time off. Two weeks, at minimal, and relax with Alice. You deserve some rest.

No. My decision has been made, John. It's over. Time to retire.

The NORAD commander and his deputy were interrupted by the alert and warning alarm. The startled generals looked at the airspace situation display.

The massive Soviet bomber groups had altered course again, closing on the territorial waters and shores of the United States.

Most alarming were two new threats. A third Soviet group of bombers had become airborne heading over Taymyr Peninsula, due north, directly over the North Pole. Their flight path, if not altered, would take the Russian nuclear bombers over Thule, Greenland, and northern Canada.

The fourth group of Soviet warplanes was flying parallel to the Koryak Range, just off-shore in the Bering Sea, headed for Alaska.

The NORAD leaders looked at each other and made simultaneous decisions.

Let's get everything up, John, Matuchek stated as he actuated the fighter scramble order for all Air Force Tactical Fighter Wings deployed in the high-threat areas.

Matuchek pressed another switch, then a third. He waited, then pressed two more alarm switches. Status and tracking displays illuminated instantaneously, changing colors and formats.

Satisfied, CINCNORAD pressed another button which displayed an overview of all space and satellite activity. Nothing unusual at this point, Matuchek noted, punching his intercom.

Colonel Griffin, what is the real-time status of the orbiter?

The assistant operations officer replied without hesitation.

One of the crew members is preparing to enter the airlock at this time, General.

Good. Keep me informed on their progress.

Will do, sir, Griffin responded, scratching event/time notes on his pad.

One other thing. Bob.

Yes, General, Griffin replied, placing his pen on his console.

Are the two deployed satellites working satisfactorily?

Matuchek would be ecstatic to have the basic SDI system in place and functioning correctly.

' Yes, sir. We haven't seen any anomalies in the data procurement.

Excellent. Matuchek looked relieved. How about the down-link channels for the two satellites they've already deployed?

We see no problem, sir. Okay status on all SDI downlinks checks with Space Command, Colonel Griffin replied as he rechecked both reporting systems.

Good work. Bob. Keep me informed.

Yes, sir.

Matuchek looked at his Canadian friend. Honeycutt's normally relaxed face wasn't smiling.

THE AGENTS The two agents were approaching Staraya, near their pickup point at Novgorod. Wickham had decided against taking the train. Too many risks and too much exposure.

The Lada had just rounded a curve when the two men heard the sounds.

Wickham cocked his head to one side, motioning Dimitri to be silent.

The CIA agent pulled the vehicle to the side of the road and stopped under a grove of barren trees.

His shoulder continued to throb and he felt light-headed from the loss of blood.

Wickham released the hot-wire switch, killing the engine, and rolled down the window. The staccato sound was still unclear, almost muffled.

What is it? Dimitri whispered.

Sh-sh, the American hissed, straining to interpret the alarming sound.

Wickham opened the door of the Lada and stepped out into the cold air.

He listened intently, then walked closer to the roadside, hesitated a moment, then jumped back in terror. His mind could not comprehend what his eyes were seeing.

Low on each side of the road, less than three kilometers away, were two Soviet Mil Mi-28 advanced combat helicopters.

It was obvious they were conducting a methodical search-and-destroy mission.

The Russian helicopters remained low and moved slowly, checking every square dekameter of ground.

The American agent now understood why the engine and rotor blade sounds had been muffled. The trees and rolling terrain had distorted and masked the sounds of the approaching gunships.

No question about their purpose. The two CIA operatives were being stalked in a deadly game of persistent pressure.

Fatigue and panic would take their toll eventually.

The stunned American yelled at Dimitri. Get some tree branches for camouflage. Move! Move!

Dimitri leaped into action, stumbling through the brush.

Wickham jumped back into the Lada and started the engine.

The two Mt-28s, NATO code name HAVOC, were only two kilometers away when Wickham ran the Lada under the base of the trees, smashing the right front fender.

The sound of the helos was becoming distinct and loud as Wickham and Dimitri yanked down tree branches and limbs to cover the car. The trees were practically void of foliage in the cold February winter.

Both men, in desperation, threw dirt and branches on the Lada.

Come on, Dimitri, the American yelled, holding his right shoulder with his left hand.

The two hunched figures raced down the adjacent embankment and splashed through a narrow stream. Their progress was impeded by thin ice and slush along the bank. The footprints wouldn't be hard to follow.

Wickham struggled up the other side of the narrow stream and motioned for Dimitri to follow. It was imperative that the two men find a hiding place in the next few seconds.

Wickham turned and sprinted toward some large mounds of earth piled next to a field. A rubbish dump was only two meters from the knolls.

Dimitri rushed after the American, scrambling along in a renewed effort.

We'll have to dig in for now and hope the helos keep moving, Wickham stated as both men dove behind the earthen mounds and crawled into the edge of the rubbish.

Their spot was precarious, under the circumstances. The only good cover was a ragged tree line two hundred meters away. They couldn't reach that concealment until the helicopters passed.

Listen, Dimitri, not a word, not a single move. Don't even blink.

Dimitri lay sprawled in the garbage dump, paralyzed with fear. He could actually feel his heart palpitating. The adrenaline shock to his cardiovascular system was exacting its levy. Dimitri felt faint and nauseated as he lay in the garbage, staring at a rat crawling under a pile of rotting trash.

Stay down. It'll be okay, Dimitri, the CIA agent soothed the terrified young man.

Both men watched the approaching Russian gunships, camouflaged in brown and sand colors. The Mi-28s sprouted 57mm rockets and a nose-mounted 30mm gun. The helicopters represented the state of the art in Soviet rotor-wing assault aircraft.

Don't look up, Dimitri. Don't do anything.

The American agent watched the nearest Mi-28 pass directly over the camouflaged Lada, then continue on.

So far, so good. Easy, Wickham comforted Dimitri, while he surveyed their surroundings. The only movement was his eyeballs.

The second gunship was across the road and approaching the wrecked Lada.Wickham stopped breathing as the helicopter passed the vehicle, climbed slightly, and continued down the road.

The agent could clearly see the pilot and nose gunner.

Wickham slowly let his breath out and turned toward Dmitri, studying his face. Think you can travel in a few minutes?

On foot?

Yes, Dimitri said, regaining a bit of confidence.

Dimitri, I'm going to go ahead and send the satellite message.

Wickham pointed the antenna straight up and punched in the various codes. He waited ten seconds and repeated the steps. We will have to change our pickup point a ways, but The American saw Dimitri's face turn ashen, then reflect stark terror.

What's wrong? Wickham said as he turned his head.

The attack helicopter on the far side of the road had indeed spotted the Lada.

The Russian pilot had been looking across the road, at a low angle, and had spotted the stolen Soviet vehicle. The crew had completed a 270-degree turn to the left and now approached the car from across the road. They were coming to a hover ten meters over the pavement.

Keep down! the American ordered, yanking on Dimitri's soiled coat sleeve.

The second gunship helicopter was returning also, its nose low as the Mi-28 raced along the roadway.

Defcon One (1989)<br/>THE WHITE HOUSE

Admiral Chambers was in the process of briefing the vice president and secretary of defense. The other chiefs were garnered in the Situation Room, as was Ted Corbin.

The group had finished the soup and light sandwiches, along with the hastily prepared dessert. Everyone sipped coffee, or hot tea, and listened intently to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

Ms. Blaylocke, we are in a state of readiness unparalleled in the history of our military. Every ship, aircraft, and ground unit is at the ready.

Chambers looked at the Air Force chief. General Ridenour, and received a nod before he continued.

The Stealth aircraft are in the air, too. We are going to stay in this condition until the SDI system is fully online.

Chambers turned to Cliff Howard. Perhaps the secretary of defense will provide us an update on Columbia. Mister Secretary?

Howard, eyes bloodshot and baggy, responded slowly to the request.

Doctor Hays told me they expect to have the problem solved inside of two hours. Actually, an hour and forty-five minutes from now.' Howard leaned back, not really focusing on Chambers.

Ms. Blaylocke, Chambers continued, it is the considered opinion of the Joint Chiefs that you, or your designate from this staff, be on board the airborne command post until we downgrade to DEFCON-Three.

The E-Four, as you well know, has nonjammable communications.

Chambers spread his hands on the table, fingers outstretched.

We believe, in the event of a full-scale Soviet preemptive strike, that someone from the White House should be in the airborne command post.There simply won't be time to transport a staff member, or yourself, ma'am, if the Soviets push the button.

Blaylocke, hands clasped together on the table, did not respond immediately. The room remained quiet while the vice president pondered the recommendation.

Admiral, I believe it is my duty to remain in the White House until the president is physically in this room.

Blaylocke, poised and radiating confidence, paused a moment and continued. It is my opinion. Admiral, that General Ridenour, being Air Force, should be the on-site commander in the command post.

Everyone nodded in agreement, except Cliff Howard, before Chambers spoke. Any problem with that. Milt?

None whatsoever. Admiral. I'll be on board within the hour.

Ridenour rose from his seat, reached down for his cover and attache case, then faced the vice president. By your leave, ma'am.

Blaylocke rose from her seat and offered her hand. Good luck, General.

Ridenour had just departed the White House Situation Room when an aide rushed in and conferred with the CIA director.

The members of the staff stared curiously. The news at first brightened Corbin, then saddened the director. Corbin addressed the group.

We have heard from the agents. Central communications received the message approximately seven minutes ago. Seems they are alive, but the rendezvous point has been changed. We're not sure why. Corbin coughed into his fist. It's only a matter of fifteen or twenty kilometers.

Blaylocke didn't understand. Was there some kind of trouble after the initial problem in Moscow?

Apparently so, Corbin responded, then cleared his throat.

We don't know. The signal just arrived, so it will take some tim

How will the pilots find them in the darkness so far from the prearranged rendezvous, Ted? Blaylocke was relentless.

BOOK: Defcon One (1989)
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