James Huston - Fallout

“Bill!”

“Who’s this?”

“Cindy.”

“I can’t really talk. What do you need?”

“We just got something I think you should see.”

“From whom?”

“Go secure.”

“Okay. Stand by.” He came back on line. “Okay.”

“It’s from the NSA.”

“What is it?”

“Transcript of a telephone conversation in Russian.”

“Whose?’

“Between Russia and Tonopah, Nevada. It was the Russian guy at the school out there. The guy who just set up this whole India thing.”

“And?”

“And somebody in Russia is involved. He was accusing this Vladimir guy of trying to murder him and of sending a Colonel to try to take him out. They’re checking this guy’s voice. They think they can ID him. He’s with the Russian Mafia.”

“What was he saying?”

“It sounds very tense, I’m told. All we have is the transcript. They’re checking all the tapes for phone calls between Russia and Nevada over the last few weeks. It will take some time.”

“They’ve already left for India! What are we supposed to do with this?”

“The NSA seems to think Vladimir is working with the other side. It may be under duress, but he may be against us.”

“So the whole thing is a trap? Shit!” Morrissey said, trying to think of what to do next. “Get whoever knows about these calls to pull it all together and meet me in my office. I’m on my way.”

Luke’s face had now been on CNN hundreds of times as the one who was in charge of the now famous school where the attack had been launched on the San Onofre nuclear power plant. Everyone in the world was aware of what had happened, and where it had happened from, and who owned and ran the school from which the catastrophe had begun. Yet no one seemed to glance their way as they walked off the 747 into the terminal in New Delhi. They didn’t know who was to meet them or what they were to do next. They’d simply been told someone would be waiting.

Luke and Vlad followed the signs to baggage claim. As they were walking down the long hallway, two men began walking next to them. “Follow us, please.”

“What about the bags we checked?”

“We’ve already retrieved them.”

“Where are we going?” Luke asked as they walked down a flight of stairs and out of the terminal into the muggy morning air.

The first man pointed to a waiting Falcon Jet, a two-engine business jet. The engines on the Falcon were screaming with anticipation as Luke and Vlad were ushered inside and the door closed behind them.

“Are you both from the squadron?” Luke asked.

“We’re on the General’s staff.”

“Thanks for meeting us. Where are we going now?”

“To the air base.”

“Straight there?”

“Yes, sir, nonstop.”

Luke was impressed. “Any developments?”

The first Indian officer, who was doing all the talking, sat down across from Luke. A small table was between them. The man said loudly, “Several of their F-16s have been towed inside the hangar. We think they are being loaded.”

“How much time do we have?”

“We don’t know. Do you think they’ll go during the night or day?”

“You think they’ll really do this?”

“We have seen what they did to you.”

“Anything else?”

“We’re trying to move some air defenses to the area without anyone noticing, but it is extremely difficult. We don’t have that many mobile systems, and we don’t want them to be obvious in their movement. Have you thought about how to defend the nuclear plant?”

Luke nodded. “We need a lot more information than we have right now. And we’ll need to know who’s available to go with us, who has experience.”

“There is a meeting set up with the commanding officer of the Archers. He’s prepared to give you whatever you need.”

“If they’re loading them now, they could be launching within an hour.”

“That’s why I asked you whether you thought they would go at night.”

“I don’t really know whether they have much of a night capability. I sure as hell hope not.”

“What if it were you?”

“I’d go at night. Without a doubt. Especially against your fighters. Sorry…”

“That’s why you’re here. Someone else must agree with you. You think they’ll come in low?”

“I had assumed so.”

“There are many airline routes that fly over Pakistan and India. They might disguise themselves as an airliner, then drop down. It would allow them much greater range and less likelihood of detection.”

“That’s possible, but I doubt it. My guess is he will come right at us.”

The man looked troubled.

Luke looked out the window as the Falcon lifted off quickly from the New Delhi airport, then back at his host. “If we’re in time.”

The business jet shut down its engines just outside the hangar and was towed in. Luke and Vlad started to get up but were told to wait until the jet was completely inside the hangar and the doors were closed behind. Someone was being very cautious.

Luke hurried down the ladder behind the two Indian officers. There were ten people waiting for them. One was clearly the leader of the group. The commanding officer of the MiG-29 squadron, no doubt, Luke thought, spotting the yellow Archers patch on his flight suit. He walked directly toward the distinguished-looking man. He was perhaps forty years old, with dark skin and thinning, carefully combed hair.

They shook hands. “Welcome. My name is Prekash. We have been expecting you.”

“Luke Henry. This is Vladimir Petkov.”

“Yes, I know,” the Colonel said as he smiled at Vlad. “How have you been, Vladimir?”

“Well, Colonel. You?”

“Very well. Thank you.”

“How are the MiGs holding up?”

The Colonel showed some ambivalence. “Not too bad. We have some maintenance problems, but nothing too horrible. Come this way,” Prekash said, pointing toward the back of the hangar.

“Why the closed hangar doors?” Luke asked.

The Colonel glanced at him. “This man who is intent on attacking us, we are told he is very resourceful. He has many friends, even where one wouldn’t expect. We are taking all precautions to ensure he doesn’t know you are coming or that we are expecting him. We want to show nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Towing a Falcon into the hangar and closing the doors isn’t out of the ordinary?”

“Fair enough,” he replied. “But given the circumstances, we didn’t want two foreigners walking off the plane. Better to wonder what’s wrong with our jet.”

“Have you done any planning? Do you have any charts? Any signs they’re getting ready to launch?”

The Colonel indicated a room in the corner of the cavernous hangar. They entered it and closed the door. The room was full of pilots in their flight suits who were obviously waiting for Luke and Vlad. It was a mission-planning room, with charts and flight information on the walls and planning materials on a large table in the middle of the room. “We have everything you need,” the Colonel said. “You have your flight gear?” he asked.

“In the bags.”

“Excellent.” He looked at one of the pilots, who immediately left the room to take care of the flight gear.

Luke and Vlad wanted to examine the charts, to study the defensive situation, and to try to determine how much time they had. The commanding officer of the Indian MiG-29 squadron wanted everyone in the squadron to meet the two pilots. They came forward in what soon became a receiving line to introduce themselves to Luke and Vlad. They all had bright eyes, but Luke detected some resentment. He knew he would be resentful if some foreign pilots were brought in to do his job and defend the United States from attack, implying that those who were supposed to do it were somehow incompetent or, at least, less capable.