Overlord (53 page)

Jenks stepped back as a dark-haired woman grabbed Everett by the fur-lined jacket he was wearing and turned him to face her. She kissed him deeply as Jenks raised his thick brows in wonder. Carl picked Anya Korvesky up and swung her around. He hugged her and then set her down with a serious look on his face.

“Sarah and Jason?”

Anya pointed to the ship’s gangway she had just run down to the consternation of the safety officials on the dock. Sarah and Ryan were walking down the thick planking with their bags. Sarah saw Everett and she waved, surprised to see him. Ryan was stunned as well as they reached the bottom and then hurried toward the waiting trio.

“Well, I see you’re done cruising with the Russian Navy,” Carl said as he hugged Sarah. He shook hands with Ryan, who immediately saw the new shoulder boards on the admiral’s fur-hooded parka. His eyes widened.

“Whose ass have you been kissing … sir?” Ryan asked as he turned to Sarah in mock horror.

“He better start by kissing mine since I have the fate of his men in my ample hands,” Jenks said as he eyed Anya up and down appreciatively.

“Master Chief?” Sarah said for her second shock in as many seconds.

“Hello, little lieutenant, glad to see you and Mr. Ryan made it off the communist pig boat alive.” He accepted the strong hug from McIntire. Jason shook the man’s hand and then shook his head. He turned to Anya and explained.

“Once upon a time, the admiral here sank the master chief’s boat … on purpose, if I remember.”

Anya smiled as she saw the memory was an especially fond one for Carl and Ryan, but not so much to the scowling little man they faced.

“Goddamn right it was on purpose.” Jenks started to turn away from the group. “And it’s
Professor
Jenks to you from now on, Commander Short Shit,” he said to Ryan as he started to walk off. “Now if you ladies would like to escort an old sea dog to his aircraft, we have a flight we have to catch.”

“I too have a flight to catch,” a voice said from behind them. Carl looked up and saw a Russian officer as he approached.

“Captain Lienanov,” Sarah said as she saw the man in full black dress uniform. “What’s going on?”

“It seems the powers that be have declared me shipless. The
Pyotr Veliky
has been declared unfit for sea duty and is to be scuttled immediately in a very much witnessed fire at sea, so as to make others believe she succumbed to her battle damage with her cargo still strapped on her deck.” He looked back sadly at the ship he had commanded for only five days. The very same crane that had lifted off the alien power plant was now lowering a duplicate mock-up onto the fantail where men of the missile cruiser were waiting to tie it down.

“I’m sorry, Captain, for the loss of your command,” Ryan said in total sympathy. The Russian officer raised his seabag and then stared at his company.

“Thank you, but she wasn’t really mine.”

“What now?” Sarah asked as Carl realized exactly what was planned for the captain.

“I would guess that the orders in your pocket are directing you to a place called Camp Alamo?”

“Yes, they do, and a transfer to another ship, but my orders are confusing at best,” he said in very good English as he looked closely at the twin stars on Everett’s shoulder boards. “Excuse me, Admiral, but they are rather ambiguous orders. It seems I’m being transferred to a vessel that is situated in the middle of Antarctica.”

“Well, Captain Lienanov, welcome to the world of ambiguity, and I suspect you are hitching a ride with us.” He pointed to the large transport truck leaving the dock area with the power plant strapped to its giant trailer. “And that too, to the aforementioned Camp Alamo, another rather ambiguous name that has connotations in American history that my colleagues here will gladly explain to you later.” Everett gestured for the small group to follow the master chief.

With one sorrowful look back at the now doomed
Pyotr Veliky,
Captain Lienanov turned and walked away from his first command.

*   *   *

The two enormous C-5M Super Galaxies were fully loaded to their capacity. Two hundred and seventy thousand pounds of men and cargo crowded the largest aircraft in the United States inventory. Sitting next to the Super Galaxies was the most obscure aircraft to take to the skies in many years. This strange aircraft would be carrying only one item in its bulbous belly: the alien power plant.

The colossal storage area of the French-owned Airbus A300-600ST “Beluga” had absorbed the heavy power plant like a hungry animal as the strangely shaped Airbus began lowering her top-mounted loading bay. Two other French-built Airbus A300-600ST Belugas had taken off earlier as a decoy and these too were flanked by two C-5Ms from Airlift Command in an attempt to fool any prying eyes that may be watching, as it was the designers of this part of Operation Overlord who knew they were pushing not only the program’s luck, but were also betting the lives of over six hundred men, women, and soldiers that transporting them in the bright sunlight of day would catch the Grays off guard.

The eight combined and extremely powerful General Electric TF39 Turbofans of the two Galaxies were brought up to full power, drowning out the full three squadrons of Royal Air Force Sea Harriers as they flew up and over the long runway at Orkney. The fighters would escort all three aircraft most of the way to McMurdo Station’s Pegasus runway, where the American weather station operated the only landing site on the Antarctic continent that could support the heavy transport aircraft that was arriving there.

As the Beluga lifted off with her heavy load, no less than sixteen Sea Harriers took up station, above, beside, and under the French Airbus. The Beluga made a radical change of course and then climbed to the north before they would make a course correction and hopefully one that would confuse any unwanted onlookers.

Admiral Everett was invited up to the Galaxy’s large fly-by-wire cockpit as a courtesy to the navy by the air force and allowed to sit at one of the engineer consoles as the colossal transports took off. Once in the air the pilot nodded his head at his copilot and the Air Force colonel removed a message flimsy from his clipboard and tapped his headset so Everett could put his on so he could hear over the roar of the powerful turbofans. Carl slipped the headphones on and accepted the message.

“Just to let you know, these four aircraft are hot. I think the Defense Department has them on their stolen vehicles list.” The colonel looked to the pilot and then back at Everett. “The acting president and his new chairman of the Joint Chiefs ordered us home two days ago, but we all developed engine trouble in the extreme cold down here,” the copilot said as he smiled with tongue firmly planted in cheek. “The Air Force Chief of Staff and the head of Air Force Intelligence send their regards and hopes this operation is worth it.”

“So do I, Colonel, so do I.”

Carl raised the message and read.

Gray attack on Camp Alamo and Operation Overlord imminent …

Operation Gray Strike is fully activated with truncated training schedule …

Defensive command at Alamo has been warned as per this message …

Operation Overlord will commence within two days …

Good luck and God speed …

Caulfield, General (USA Ret.)

Carl folded the message, then thought better of it and handed it to the engineer, who noticed the worried look on the admiral’s face. He accepted the message, tempted to see what it said.

“Destroy that as soon as you can, but pass it around to your men first, they deserve to know.” Carl removed the headset, then stood and first patted the pilot and then shook the colonel’s hand in the right seat. “Thank you, gentlemen … for everything. As soon as you make your drop off get the hell out of Dodge as soon as you can. I have a feeling the skies in this part of the world’s going to turn hot real fast. Get home safe.”

Everett moved off and down the stairs and saw his friends as they explained what they could to Captain Lienanov. Jenks was at one of the fold-down desks that were arranged for the relief crews to file reports during flight. He had headphones on, listening to his engineering notes. He nodded his head at Sarah, Ryan, Anya, and Lienanov, then moved aft and down another short flight of steps and saw the men he was looking for.

He saw the two teams of commandos as they rested against the vibrating skin of the giant aircraft. He shook his head as he noticed that the SEAL and Delta teams were still separated by their disrespect for each other’s abilities. He became angry but held it in check as he grabbed hold of a safety strap and leaned in to the two operational leaders of the two teams. Both officers were new as the first two had never made it out alive after the attack on the Space Center.

“I want these men broken up into mixed teams.”

The naval lieutenant and the army captain looked up. Both had questioning looks on their faces as Everett leaned in.

“Sir?” The SEAL turned and offered the same questioning look to the Army Ranger picked to replace the Delta team leader. The Ranger just sat there with his training schedule locked in his hands.

“Look, I know the engine noise in here is loud enough to drown out a locomotive, but if I have to say things to you gentlemen twice I’ll throw your asses right off this aircraft. Do you understand what I’m saying now?”

The Army Ranger braved getting thrown off the Galaxy. “I hear you, sir, but don’t follow.”

“Yeah, you’re Army, all right,” he said. The Navy SEAL tried to hold back the small snicker that escaped his mouth. Everett just leaned closer to the SEAL and glared. “I know the SEALs have changed since my days in Team Five, and the navy has had to make hard choices about who they accept these days for the duty, but don’t advertise the fact that you’re a dumb fuck that doesn’t know shit, all right, Lieutenant Shit-for-brains?”

Not even the Army Ranger was tempted to laugh at the dressing down of his counterpart.

“Now, take your rosters and mix these men up evenly between ingress and assault. I want the new team rosters before we land at McMurdo. Is that clear, or do you want me to stand here and explain why an admiral always gets his way?”

Both young officers remained silent for the longest three seconds of their lives.

“Yes, sir,” both said simultaneously.

“I’ll meet the men in fifteen minutes to explain why their part of this mission will be either their moment of triumph or the biggest cluster-fuck since Operation Eagle Claw in Iran. It all depends on how they work together. Am I clear?” The famous 1980 foul-up in the Iranian desert had occurred when differing and mixed commands brought the rescue operation to free the embassy hostages to an abrupt and disastrous conclusion.

“Yes—”

“I said, am I clear?” he shouted, getting the attention of the two teams lining the bulkheads of the Galaxy.

“Yes, sir!” the two officers said as they jumped to their feet, colliding with each other as they did.

Carl let go of the strap and then started to say something else, but was interrupted by a familiar voice from behind.

“Admiral, can I have a minute?”

Carl turned, ready to continue his tirade against whoever had the balls to interrupt him. His eyes took in Jason Ryan as he removed his cold-weather parka and then held the cold, blue, angry eyes of his friend.

Carl turned and gave the two men a look. They were still standing at attention even with the heavy rocking motion of the transport.

“Gentlemen, rosters before we land, and tell the men I’ll speak to them in fifteen.” Everett turned and followed Ryan back toward the front of the Galaxy.

Ryan stopped near a pile of strapped-down gear and turned to face Carl. “Admiral—”

“Look, don’t do that.” Everett too removed his cold-weather jacket and then tossed it on the cargo netting holding some of the assault gear in place on their pallet.

“Do what?” Ryan asked, knowing full well the meaning of Carl’s statement because he had felt the exact same way after being promoted to full commander a month earlier.

“Address me by that rank.”

“Okay, then I won’t call you that, but they will,” he said, pointing toward the two frightened officers he had just left.

Everett lowered his head and then turned and looked at the two men as they looked lost and at a loss on where to start with the extraordinary orders they had just received. He turned back and took in the small, dark-haired naval aviator.

“They don’t know you as Carl, or Captain, or as a friend from a closed Group. Those men know you as Admiral Everett and will never know anything else. They have come to terms with the fact that someone far over their heads thinks of you as someone who can pull off whatever way they have designed to get you”—he again nodded back at the men—“and them killed. But maybe, just maybe those people who saw fit to promote you actually knew what they were doing, Admiral, just like they knew what they were doing when they placed Jack into the same situation. They have seen you two work together and know that they have a fighting chance to succeed with you two in the positions you now hold. Those men deserve Admiral Everett, and not the SEAL you still think you are. Because to tell you the truth, they
are
that good and will die proving it.”

Everett eyed his friend for the longest time and then shook his head. “Just when in the hell did you become so deep thinking?”

“I guess being separated from Will has made me look smarter. I’m still the same ruggedly handsome naval aviator I was a few days ago.”

“Well, thanks anyway.” He started to turn away and return to the men he was to train, but stopped and held onto some loading straps to face Ryan. “And I guess those same powers that be saw something in you also, Commander Ryan.”

“Nah, they were just mesmerized by my rugged good looks too.”

BLAIR HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Giles Camden listened to his new designee for the directorship of Central Intelligence, Daniel Peachtree, as he explained his run-in with Virginia Pollock at Walter Reed.