Vektor (44 page)

“Smart move taking the Tiger,” she commented.

“They’re going to need all the help they can get. The Tiger might give them the edge they need to pull this off. They won’t have to stick to roads or trails when they get near the border, which is a major improvement to their plan. They should be able to slip through the 21
^st
Motor Rifle Division units along the border,” Berg said.

“Speaking of the 21
^st
, satellite imagery and electronic intercepts confirm that a brigade from the 142
^nd
Motor Rifle Regiment has started to deploy from their base in Biysk. Estimated time of arrival along the border zones for the bulk of the brigade is two hours. Early elements will arrive within the hour,” Bauer said.

“Shit. We’re looking at BTRs, BRDMs, Urals and Tigers. Anything with wheels. They can’t move the tracked infantry fighting vehicles into that area fast enough. How many are missing from the base in Biysk so far?”

“They’re still counting. At least thirty BTR-80s and seventy Tigers, along with a dozen utility trucks. All headed west.”

“Add that to the 122
^nd
Recon Battalion’s sixty plus Tigers to the east and we can conclude that somebody’s pissed back in Moscow,” Berg said. “Audra, can you direct one of the satellites to babysit the checkpoint Blackjack just eliminated? Eventually, someone is going to wonder why the checkpoint isn’t responding and take a look. I want to give Blackjack a heads-up when that happens,” he said, standing up.

“Sure. You headed somewhere?” she said.

“I need to make a call,” he said.

“Your guy in Russia?” she said.

“Could be a woman. I was a hot ticket back in the day,” he said, winking.

She shook her head and started typing instructions to the NRO satellite handlers, leaving Berg to his phone call. He was glad she quickly assumed he was calling Kaparov. It made sense given the fact that Vektor had been attacked. At some point during the night, if it hadn’t happened already, Kaparov would be awakened with the news that a facility containing samples of biological material suitable for weaponization had been breached. Of course, there would be no mention of the bioweapons laboratory. Kaparov would be asked to analyze the threat posed by the possible theft of viral samples like smallpox and avian flu. He’d wait for Kaparov to call with the “shocking” news.

No. Berg had a different call to make. One he couldn’t make in the CIA operations center. If anyone discovered what he had arranged behind all of their backs, he ran the risk of losing the asset before it could be employed. It was better that they discovered his plan when the consequences of shutting it down outweighed letting it proceed.

He exited the “Fishbowl” section of the operations center and walked toward the exit, eager to retrieve his cell phone.

“I need to make a call outside of the operations center,” Berg said, addressing the two security guards manning the entrance station.

Less than a minute later, he stood in the hallway outside of the operations center. He walked through the deserted hallway and speed-dialed the number he needed. He waited for the call to connect, which took several seconds, since the signal had to travel halfway around the world and negotiate encryption protocols at its destination.

“Weatherman standing by for you to authenticate.”

Berg pressed the ten-digit combination of numbers assigned for the operation.

“Good evening, Mr. Berg. Black Rain is spooled up and ready for launch.”

“Good timing, Weatherman. Launch Black Rain immediately and proceed to holding area over Lake Kulunda.”

“Roger. We’ll have her airborne in a few minutes. Time to station estimated at 0425 local.”

“Copy 0425. I’ll open a channel in the operations center for terminal control at approximately 0400 local. Have a safe flight,” Berg said.

“We always do. I’ll expect to hear from you at 0400 local. Weatherman out.”

Berg put the phone back in his jacket pocket and leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. He was extremely nervous about the next three and a half hours. If he got lucky, Farrington’s team would slip through the Russians’ net and drive right across the border to be picked up by Black Magic. Black Rain would never be used, and it would be high fives all the way to the White House. Berg was no stranger to luck, but his breaks didn’t come so neatly wrapped. Three and a half hours and this would be over, one way or the other, and nobody could accuse him of shortchanging Sanderson’s people. He could live with the consequences of putting Black Rain into play to give Farrington’s team a fighting chance.

Chapter 59

2:35 AM

Kamen-na Obi

Russian Federation

Lieutenant Colonel Maxim Odenko ran his finger along an unfolded road map of the Altai Krai region, squinting to make out the details. Battle lights bathed everything within his command vehicle in a dull red glow that preserved the occupants’ night vision, but cast a monochromatic film over his map. He could barely make out the terrain features, not that it really mattered. He didn’t have the resources to start scouring small valleys or posting units on hilltops. He barely had enough vehicles to cover the roads adequately.

He had the three hundred kilometer stretch of Highway 380 between Novosibirsk and Barnual locked down to the best of his battalion’s ability. Sixty-three vehicles were spread along the highway at ten to twenty-kilometer intervals, covering all of the major western roads or trails they could identify using local maps and satellite imagery. A smaller number of vehicles had been dispatched along Highway M52, but the local law enforcement response from towns along the highway had been swift to respond, blocking the north-south route at Cherepanovo and Tal’menka within thirty minutes of the terrorist action against the state institute in Koltsovo. Unless the police were full of shit, there was no way the terrorists could have travelled Highway M52 quickly enough to make it through those cities before the roadblocks were established.

His bet was on Highway 380, not that he thought it mattered at this point. Unless the perpetrators had taken an hour-long nap on the side of the road, they had already cleared these roads and headed west. He’d requested permission to start moving his units along the roads they were guarding, but the request had been quickly denied pending updated intelligence. Orders from the 41
^st
Army commander had been explicit, and in true bureaucratic fashion, it was too soon to consider a shift in tactics, regardless of the obvious.

His battalion would seal the highway from Novosibirsk to Barnual and let the 21
^st
Motor Rifle Division and Border Guard Service barracks in Karasuk handle the border…despite the fact that the terrorist attack had taken place nearly two and a half hours earlier and the perpetrators had not been seen since the ambush outside of Koltsovo. His patience was starting to wear thin with headquarters, especially at two thirty in the morning. Sitting on this road was a waste of time, and everyone in his command knew it. Now it was apparently taking its toll on his men.

“How long since checkpoint twelve reported?” Odenko said.

A bleary-eyed lieutenant holding a radio handset answered from across the small table. “They missed the one-thirty check-in, so it’s been over an hour at this point.”

“That’s too long, damn it! I’ll hang the sergeant in charge of that group and relieve his platoon commander if we find out they fell asleep. Send that useless fuck over to check on his men. I shouldn’t have to tell him to do this! Or you!” Odenko said.

“Zulu Three this is Alpha Zulu, over,” the lieutenant said over the command net.

“This is Zulu Three, over.”

“Send one of your vehicles to investigate Zulu Two Five’s position and report their status immediately, over.”

“This is Zulu Two actual. We’re trying to raise radio contact with Zulu Two Five, but suspect communications gear issues or possible atmospheric interference, over.”

Odenko swiped the handset from the young lieutenant and responded. “This is Alpha Zulu actual. You need to quit suspecting every reason under the sun for their failure to follow orders and get someone over there to confirm what happened. I want a report within ten minutes, out.”

He heard the communications net key a few times, as the lieutenant on the other end of the line debated whether to respond. He’d closed the loop on any response by ending his transmission with “out,” which he hoped ended the conversation.

“If he says one word, I’ll call an airstrike down on his position,” Odenko said.

“Do we have air assets on station, sir?” the lieutenant asked.

His battalion master sergeant snickered from the front passenger seat as Odenko stared at the lieutenant in disbelief. “Did any air assets check in with you tonight?”

“Negative. There are no air assets. I answered my own question,” the officer said, clearly intimidated by his plum assignment to the battalion command vehicle.

“Next time answer it before you ask it!” Odenko said, noting that the master sergeant had not stopped his muffled laugh.

“Don’t laugh, Master Sergeant. It only makes me more irritable,” Odenko said.

Given the level of dysfunction he had witnessed so far, he’d have to schedule more night training for the battalion. The battalion barely received enough fuel to conduct basic daytime maneuvers, but he didn’t care if they just sat in a field and counted the stars. Mobilizing the battalion out of a deep sleep had been a painful experience he did not care to repeat. He could foresee many emergency recall drills in the upcoming months. Twelve minutes later, the radio came to life.

“Alpha Zulu, this is Zulu Two actual. Zulu Two Four reports that Two Five is not at the checkpoint, over.”

“What do you mean they are not at the checkpoint?” Odenko said, well past using proper radio protocol.

“They’re missing, sir.”

“Well, you need to find them!”

“This is Zulu Two. I’ll shift vehicles and start a search of the area, over.”

“I’m coming myself. We’re less than fifteen kilometers away. Out,” Odenko said.

This was a regular clusterfuck. He didn’t know who had screwed up at this point. Was Zulu Two Four looking in the wrong place? Or was Zulu Two Five sitting in the wrong spot, oblivious to their error…and apparently the radio? He’d soon find out.

“Kamarov, let the other vehicle know that we’re headed to Two Five’s checkpoint location,” Odenko said.

Eight minutes later, Odenko spotted a lone vehicle on the road through his night vision goggles, crushing any hopes of finding Zulu Two Five along the road. According to his handheld GPS, they were less than a kilometer from the assigned checkpoint location, so the lone vehicle had to be Zulu Two Four. Now he started to worry. He couldn’t think of any reason why they would be off the highway. He lowered himself into the hatch, out of the 65 mile per hour wind buffeting him.

“Can you confirm that’s Two Four up ahead?”

“Wait one, sir!” the lieutenant replied.

Odenko climbed back up and gripped the Pecheneg machine gun for stability against the gale-force wind created by the Tiger’s speed along the highway. A few seconds after that, Odenko saw the vehicle’s headlights flash twice.

“It’s Two Four, sir. They just flashed their lights!” the lieutenant said through the hatch.

“Got it!” he replied.

Not good. Two of his Tigers, carrying eight of his men, had vanished into thin air, either leaving their checkpoint without authorization or never arriving. He started to climb down into the vehicle to talk with the Tiger on the road, when his night vision goggles flashed bright white, effectively blinding him. He immediately raised the goggles attached to his helmet and tried to pierce the darkness with his degraded sight. The deep sound of an explosion reached him seconds later, just as his vision had cleared enough for him to determine that a fireball had erupted behind a line of trees to the east of the highway. He pulled back on the Pecheneg’s charging handle and swiveled the mount in the direction of the dissipating flame. He felt someone climbing through the hatch and looked back to see Private Second Class Marakev squeezing through.

“I got this, sir!” the private said.

Odenko grabbed his shoulder. “Scan three hundred and sixty degrees. We have no idea what we’re dealing with!” He struggled to yell over the wind.

Private Marakev lowered his night vision and squeezed by to take charge of the machine gun, relieving Odenko of his duty to protect the command vehicle from immediate threat. Odenko dropped into the rear compartment of the Tiger and took the handset from his lieutenant.

“Two Four, this is Alpha Zulu actual. What is your status? Over.”

“This is Two Four. I sent two men on foot to investigate Tiger tracks heading toward the river. They had just reported finding one of the Tigers when the explosion occurred. I’ve lost contact!” the sergeant said frantically.

“Sergeant, take a deep breath, and get a hold of yourself. My unit will investigate the explosion and bring back your men. Stay alert and watch the road. This could be a diversion of some sort. Out.”

“Master Sergeant, get us over to the explosion. Lieutenant, I need you topside with your rifle.”

He popped back through the hatch just as their Tiger started to slow to make the turn at the checkpoint. Through the pitch-dark night, he could make out the shapes of both soldiers on top of Two Four’s Tiger. His driver gingerly dropped them onto the shoulder and pointed the Tiger in the direction of the treeline. Odenko lowered his night vision goggles and immediately saw the bright green glow of a burning vehicle through the trees. The Tiger moved forward slowly.

“Watch your targets. We have two friendlies in the immediate vicinity of the explosion,” Odenko said.

“Yes, sir,” the private replied, scanning the darkness with the machine gun.