Executioner - Blood Circle Part 15

Bolan stared at the wall. "You tell me, Aaron. Will the administration make a deal? Even if they believe Baibakov will do it?"

"No. If they do, then they've given over United States world policy to anyone who can build a crude nuclear device and smuggle it into the country."

"That's what I'm thinking. Now, what happens if the Red Falcons go ahead and blow up Was.h.i.+ngton anyway?"

"Armageddon as far as Serbia is concerned. The American people will want blood, and they won't give a d.a.m.n that it was some splinter group that did it, either. We'd probably level Serbia with conventional weapons and turn them into the fifty-first state."

Bolan nodded. "I don't believe that's what the Red Falcons want, do you?"

"No."

"So the question is, what do they really want?"

"Well, according to everything we've come up with, they want to punish the United States for its involvement in Bosnia."

"And?"

Kurtzman sounded bemused. "They want to break our will to fight and drive us out of Bosnia. Once the United States is out, most of the NATO forces would probably withdraw. Then Bosnia becomes part of Greater Serbia again."

"Exactly. Now, does blowing up the capital of the United States help accomplish that goal?"

"No. It doesn't. But then again, Mack, that's a.s.suming that we're dealing with rational human beings. Not a psychopath leading a group of armed fanatics."

The Executioner nodded slowly. "All right, that's a given. But since we don't have any other red-hot ideas at the moment, let's a.s.sume that Baibakov and his friends are rational and they have a definite plan."

"All right, I'll bite. What's your idea?"

"I don't have one, Beara"that's your department. I need you to get your team working, and I need an answer fast."

"Go ahead. Shoot."

"I need a target that accomplishes the Red Falcons' goals. Something that would make the President and the American people lose the will to stay in Bosnia, but falls short of dragging all of Serbia into a war with the United States. And it has to be a target you'd use a small nuke on."

"Now, that is an extremely interesting set of target parameters."

"So get on the stick. I don't think we have a whole lot of time on this one."

"I'm on it. Kurtzman out."

Bolan punched the link off. Svarzkova stared at him with a raised eyebrow. "So what do we do now?"

Bolan rose from the table. "How about a bath and food?"

Svarzkova perked up at the mention of food. "Ah!"

Baibakov looked down at the thermonuclear device. It was roughly the size of a large suitcase and painted in the dull, nonreflective Russian military shade of green. A small panel on the top allowed access to the simple controls. It was a variable-yield device. The twist of a dial altered the efficiency and timing of the detonation, and that allowed the selection of an atomic yield between one and ten kilotons. There was a timer, arming and safety switches and little else to it. Its ant.i.tamper measures were simple but effective. Once the weapon was in place and armed, motion sensors inside the casing would detonate the weapon if they detected anyone cutting into the primary casing.

The charge itself was crude by modern standards. It was a simple gun-type nuclear device. Within the outer casing was a three-foot steel tube. At either end of the tube was a subcritical ma.s.s, which consisted of twenty pounds of uranium 235. On detonation a small charge of high explosive would fire one of the subcritical ma.s.ses down the tube like a bullet to slam into the other one. When the two subcritical ma.s.ses collided together, they would instantly go critical, and nuclear fission would occur.

Baibakov stared at the device speculatively. A nuclear-demolition charge wasn't the most effective of nuclear weapons for ma.s.s destruction. It was essentially a tool, and its military function was to blow huge holes in things. The primary targets of a charge of this type were large, solid structures such as hardened underground bunkers and dams.

The giant grinned wolfishly. The designer probably hadn't envisioned the particular use Baibakov had for the device, but the giant had little doubt that it would be totally effective. His grin faded as an unwelcome thought crept from the back of his mind. He was still disturbed that he had been unable to kill the senator. He knew that in the larger plan it wouldn't matter. Killing Senator McCain would have been a symbolic act more than anything else.

However, it wasn't the fact that Eudora McCain still breathed that sat burning in the back of Baibakov's mind. He was a hunter, and he considered himself the best that had ever lived, yet knew from long experience that not all hunts were successful. Sometimes the quarry escaped. Even he would admit that. What truly galled him was that the American commando had beaten him yet again. Senator McCain would have been an easy kill if not for his meddling. The commando had thwarted his every effort in the United States, and in the process killed almost all of the Red Falcons Baibakov had brought with him. The commando had bested him in America.

Something would have to be done about that.

Baibakov glanced over at Krstic. She stood enthralled as she looked down at the device. She stared in awe as if it were the Holy Grail. For her it was. The thermonuclear charge would be G.o.d's vengeance upon the Americans, and the first step toward a unified Greater Serbia.

The Russian put the American commando from his mind. The mission would have to come first. He needed to get more men, then he needed to transport the device and plant it at the target site. Baibakov smiled again as he imagined the detonation of the device and its consequences. America would reel with his blow; their will to fight and be "peacekeepers" in Bosnia would be crushed.

Then, while America lay stunned, he would arrange for the American commando to come to him.

19.

Bolan sat in the mess hall at Fort Huachuca and watched Valentina Svarzkova shovel down pancakes. If the st.i.tches in her lip were causing her any pain, it wasn't slowing her down for a second. She was working on her third plateful.

Bolan sipped his coffee as he waited for the Russian agent to finish her meal. It had been seven hours since he had talked to Kurtzman. He and Svarzkova had showered, eaten, slept and were working on their second meal. The Executioner knew the computer whiz had done none of the above. He and the cybernetics team at Stony Man Farm would be working at full throttle until they came up with some kind of answer.

Svarzkova pushed her plate away with a happy sigh and looked at Bolan incredulously. "This is military food?"

Bolan nodded. "Yes, but it's Sunday, and you've never had creamed chipped beef on toast."

The woman stared into s.p.a.ce for a moment as she mentally ran that through her files. "Ah. Yes. s.h.i.+t on a s.h.i.+ngle. I have heard of it."

Both of Bolan's eyebrows rose as he lowered his coffee. "I'm impressed."

"It is I who am impressed. In the Russian military soldiers do not often get meat, much less complain about it."

The Executioner shrugged. "Soldiers complain in every army."

Svarzkova nodded sagely. "Yes, this is so. However, I do not believe American soldiers have ever been exposed to ha and selyodka."

"And that is?"

"Millet gruel and salted herring," she replied, scowling.

Bolan sipped his coffee. "American military service does have its benefits."

An Air Force sergeant wound his way through the mess hall and approached Bolan and Svarzkova's table. "Good morning. We have a priority communication for you in the message center, Mr. Belasko."

Thank you, Sergeant." Bolan finished his coffee and rose. "Let's go."

They followed the sergeant out of the mess and down the street to the message center. The sergeant took them to another secure communications room. "I'll be outside if you need anything."

"Thank you, Sergeant." Bolan saw that the message was on standby and punched the intercom. "What have you got for me, Aaron?"

Kurtzman was obviously restraining his excitement. "We may have your target, and we don't think it's even in the United States."

"Tell me about it."

"Given your targeting parameters, we think the USS Theodore Roosevelt is our best bet."

Bolan paused. "The Theodore Roosevelt is a nuclear aircraft carrier."

"Exactly, and the Theodore Roosevelt and the escort s.h.i.+ps in her battle group are currently deployed in the Adriatic Sea, approximately fifty miles off of the coast of the former Yugoslavia."

"That's a big target."

"He has a nuke."

Bolan nodded. "You have a point."

"The more I thought about it, the less sense a target in the United States itself meant. Any nuclear attack on anything on United States soil would blow up in the Red Falcons' faces. It kept coming back to your bottom line, Macka"what do the Red Falcons really want?"

Bolan calculated. "You think they want to blow up an aircraft carrier?"

"By the parameters you gave me, it makes perfect sense. It comes down to legitimate targets. D.C. just isn't a legitimate target for the Red Falcons. But an aircraft carrier is one of the great symbols of American military might. Simply parking one off the coast of another country demonstrates our military power and our political will during a crisis. The Theodore Roosevelt is stationed off the coast of Yugoslavia. It's already launched numerous air strikes against Serbian positions outside of Sarajevo. Unlike Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C., the Theodore Roosevelt is a genuine combatant over there, and that makes it a legitimate military target." Bolan nodded. It did make sense. Kurtzman pressed his point.

"Think about it. At any given time the Theodore Roosevelt is crewed by anywhere from six to seven thousand servicemen. Those are guaranteed casualties with a nuke, and that's many times more KIAs than we had in the entire war in the Persian Gulf. The Roosevelt carries a standard complement of twenty-four F-14s, twenty-four F/A-18s, fourteen Intruders, ten Vikings, four Hawkeyes and about half a dozen helicopters. That's millions and millions of dollars' worth of military hardware. It takes years to build an aircraft carrier, at a cost of over a billion dollars each. The Theodore Roosevelt is one of the Nimitz cla.s.s, one of our best and the latest carriers, with all of the newest technological upgrades. It would be an irreplaceable loss."

"So would the loss of American prestige if it were blown to bits by terrorists."

"That price would be astronomical, but it goes far beyond the reaction abroad. The reaction at home would be the real killer. There are a lot of Americans who think we have no business being in Bosnia in the first place, and the House and the Senate are still divided about our deployment over there. If we lost an entire carrier and its crew, there would be immense revulsion in the public and Congress. A lot of people would demand we pull out before we suffered any more losses. If I was President, I can't see what I could do about it. When the Red Falcons threatened to blow up Was.h.i.+ngton last night, the president of Serbia was contacted. He said he had no control over the Red Falcons' activities, and frankly I believe him. I don't believe the administration would declare war on Serbia over an aircraft carrier blown up by a splinter group. Bringing the boys home might well be our President's only real option."

Bolan nodded slowly. He had to give Kurtzman credit. He had given the man a set of target parameters, and he had filled them perfectly. He had to give Baibakov credit, as well; if this was his plan, it was brilliant. The Red Falcons would martyr themselves by the legion to accomplish it. "I think you have our winner, Aaron."

Kurtzman sounded pleased but hesitant. "It's still a guess. A d.a.m.ned good one, in my opinion, but we're still just guessing."

Bolan considered the tactics of it. "Baibakov couldn't use a plane. Even a kamikaze attack would never get through the Roosevelt's air defenses. It would be intercepted miles away by the fighters once it was picked up on radar, or shot down by one of the guided-missile cruiser escorts."

"I agree, and the same would go for fast-attack boats. They'd never get close enough. They'd either be blown out of the water by the escort s.h.i.+ps or chopped to pieces miles out by fighters."

"He'd have to go in sneaky."

"He'd have to get in close, too. A nuclear-demolition charge like the one Baibakov has generates a relatively tiny fireball. The Theodore Roosevelt is over ninety thousand tons of welded steel and more than a thousand feet long. Outside of five hundred yards she and her crew would stand an excellent chance of survival. Outside of a thousand the blast would probably only shove her sideways through the water. Ideally the Red Falcons would want the charge in direct contact with the hull like a limpet mine. That would guarantee almost ninety percent of the carrier's hull being vaporized."

"They'd have to go in and do that personally. I'm thinking an underwater a.s.sault with divers."

"That would be the most likely, but the problem with a swimmer a.s.sault is they still have to get fifty miles offsh.o.r.e to the carrier."

Bolan frowned. "They might have a swimmer-delivery vehicle stashed somewhere. They're not that hard to get. The Russians will sell just about any kind of gear on the black market for hard currency. That was how Ramzin got his nuclear devices." Bolan's frown deepened. "Even then something would have to take the delivery vehicle out into deep water. Fifty miles is still way beyond their range."

Kurtzman cut in suddenly. "Ferries. The Adriatic Sea is only slightly more than a hundred miles across at its widest point. There's literally a web of ferry lines stretching between the major port cities of Italy, former Yugoslavia, Albania and the western tip of Greece. If you paid the right people, a ferry boat could easily slide a swimmer vehicle off its ramp. There's also a large number of small islands off the coast, a lot of them with fis.h.i.+ng villages on them. I'm sure some of them might be a viable launch point, as well." Kurtzman paused. "What are you thinking, Mack?"

The Executioner grimaced. "I'm thinking if we pull out the carrier and its battle group, Igor Baibakov will still be at large with a thermonuclear device."

"You think we should let him make a try?"

"Ideally we should try to find him before he goes out. I don't think he'd detonate the weapon on Serbian soil. It doesn't help his cause, and he's not the suicidal type, either. I think we need to hunt him down, and we have to move fast."

"You think he'll move that soon?"

Bolan nodded. "He's followed standard Russian tactics throughout this whole campaign. Speed, surprise and firepower have been the name of his game. I don't think he's going, to wait around while we sort things out. Our only advantage is that last night Baibakov was in Arlington and his device was in Mexico. They have to meet and get to the Adriatic and get set up. If we act now, we can get there before he does."

"That's a.s.suming we can find him." Bolan grimaced. "Maybe he'll find me."

"That tactic almost got you killed last time."

"Give it to Hal and run it by the President. Svarzkova and I will fly back to Was.h.i.+ngton in the meantime."

"All right. Kurtzman out."

Bolan closed the line and rose. Svarzkova stood and stared at Bolan resolutely. "We go hunting?"

He nodded. "Yes. We go hunting."

20.

The captain of the Theodore Roosevelt stood in his ready room with his arms folded and looked back and forth between Mack Bolan and Valentina Svarzkova. He was a short man with his gray hair in a military crew cut. He had a great deal of command presence, and as he looked at Bolan again a deep line slowly creased between his eyebrows.

He wasn't pleased with the prospect of his s.h.i.+p being blown up in a nuclear frogman attack.

Bolan could understand his irritation. The USS Theodore Roosevelt was arguably the largest and most powerful wars.h.i.+p in history. He had at his command a tactical air force superior to that of many countries, as well as the weapons on board to fight a limited nuclear war. The major threats the captain had to worry about were enemy attack submarines, missile-armed surface s.h.i.+ps and strike aircraft. To combat these potential adversaries he had a fleet of escort s.h.i.+ps armed for the antis.h.i.+p, antiaircraft and antisubmarine roles, as well as the Theodore Roosevelt's own ma.s.sive air power.

Frogmen were generally not considered much of a threat to deep-water vessels, much less vessels as powerful as a Nimitz-cla.s.s carrier surrounded by her escorts of cruisers, destroyers and frigates.

The captain looked at Svarzkova. "So this Baibakov character is one of your boys?"

The lieutenant cleared her throat. "Captain Baibakov is a former officer of the Russian army. His current activities do not reflect the will or policy of the Russian government."

The captain didn't seem very relieved. "Ah." He looked over at Bolan again. "So I'm supposed to just steam along, business as usual, and see if this guy shows up off my bow with a nuclear bomb?"