James Huston - Fallout

The night had brought strange noises and frustrated traffic from the closed road. The Indian ground crew had gone from unbounded enthusiasm to bored waiting. The hours passed slowly, punctuated only by the activity of Luke and Vlad unstrapping and climbing out of their jets every so often to relieve themselves behind the nearest structure.

Luke found himself fighting unconsciousness. He was exhausted, but he didn’t want to be found sleeping when the big call came. It was hard enough to get a jet ready for takeoff from an unimproved roadway. But the problem was magnified infinitely when one tried to get airborne while fighting the fog of recent, deep, satisfying sleep. The result was a fitful, restless existence for Luke, strapped into the confines of a Russian cockpit battling sleep every minute of the night. He would find himself drifting off and shake his head to just short of a headache. He would pinch himself just short of a bruise. Anything to stay awake.

Without any warning, the telephone rang.

Morrissey sat in his office with the NSA specialists, numerous transcripts of telephone conversations spread out in front of him. “What do we have?” Morrissey demanded impatiently.

“Several calls. Some from Russia, and a couple to Russia. The most interesting are from this man he identifies as Gorgov.”

“Who is he?”

The Russian linguist who had translated them and listened to the originals answered. “We’re not sure. He behaves like someone with a lot of power—the kind that comes from holding a gun to your head. He has some control over this Vladimir.”

“What about the others?”

“There is a call to a Colonel to apparently take care of this Gorgov. To get him off his back. The Colonel apparently is intending to take Gorgov out.”

“And?”

“And then there’s a call from Gorgov, telling Vlad his Colonel friend had failed in his attempt to kill Gorgov. He tells Vlad he’d better come through this time, basically. I think he was supposed to make sure the Pakistanis pulled off the attack on San Onofre. Turned out they got there too late to stop them anyway. But there’s some other event that’s going to happen, and Vladimir is supposed to be in a place to make sure it comes off. It is very unclear.”

Morrissey put his head in his hands as he realized what was happening. “Khan is going to strike India. We just sent an American pilot and Vladimir to India to stop them. And the request originated with Vladimir’s suggestion to the Russians, who passed it on… We are screwed,” Morrissey declared as he jumped up and grabbed the phone. He looked at a list and dialed a number, then waited for the international connection. Finally someone answered. “Sunil, please.”

“I’m sorry, he is not available.”

“Find him.”

“May I ask who is calling?”

“Bill Morrissey. This is an emergency. Put him on right away,” he said.

“Yes, sir, I’ll put you through.”

Morrissey heard an unusual set of clicks that sounded as if he was being forwarded through innumerable switchboards. Then the unmistakable voice of Sunil came on through what sounded like a digital cell phone. “Yes?” he said.

“Are you secure?”

“Yes,” Sunil replied. “Bill Morrissey?”

“Yes. Look, two pilots are on their way there. Luke Henry and a Russian—”

“Yes, I have met them.”

“We have reason to believe that the Russian is under the control of Khan, or the Russian Mafia who are helping Khan. He’s going to help the strike succeed, not stop it. We’ve got a lot of other things to do to confirm it, but he shouldn’t be on that mission. We can’t rely on him.”

“How do you know this?”

“We’ve got some phone conversations that are pretty clear.”

Sunil sounded distressed. “It may be too late. They are already in place at a remote road location.”

“You’ve got to stop them!”

“I’ll see what I can do, but I am not optimistic.”

“Then you’ll have to get the other Indian fighters to go after the two MiGs as well.”

“To shoot down our own airplanes? How would they know which one had this Russian in the plane?”

“They wouldn’t. They might have to take both of them out. Look, we have to stop Khan. If he succeeds, there will be a nuclear war, and you know it.”

Sunil was silent. “I will go there myself and inform your pilot. I will let him decide.”

“You must hurry!”

The ring was amplified and broadcast by a PA system throughout the small area. Luke’s heart pounded in his chest as he sat up straight and watched the ground crew scurry around. The officer in charge of the ground crew held the phone to his ear, spoke quickly back, then put it down. He ran to Luke’s ladder and climbed up to talk to him. “One of our border guards reported that a flight of jets just flew over him at very low altitude. Very fast.”

“Pakistani?” Luke asked as he tightened his lap belts. He looked up at lights from a helicopter that was approaching from the east. The craft’s anticollision lights intruded on the otherwise pitch-black sky.

The Indian officer gazed at the helicopter with a puzzled expression, then replied, “Has to be. We aren’t flying anywhere near there. They are on their way.”

“Your airborne radar planes didn’t see anything?”

“I don’t know, sir. I am just telling you what they told me.”

“Where are they?” he asked, trying to disguise the unsteady voice he heard in his own head. The helicopter continued to approach, making conversation harder.

The officer handed him a chart and shone a flashlight on it. “They were coming through a small pass… here.” He pointed.

“That’s about two hundred miles from here. Heading?”

“He couldn’t tell. But he estimated southeast.”

“Let’s go!” Luke said. “Get this info to—”

“He already has it.”

“Then let’s get on with this,” Luke said, starting to envision a low-level intercept at night. Khan clearly had night-vision goggles and knew how to use them. Luke hadn’t even thought about asking for goggles.

Luke was about to close his canopy when out of the corner of his eye he saw a figure jogging toward him from the helicopter. Suddenly Vlad scrambled down from his cockpit with something in his hand. He ran and caught up with the man from the helicopter, who turned slightly to talk to Vlad. The red rotating beacon caught the side of his face; Luke could tell it was Sunil. Strange, Luke thought. What’s he doing out here?

He waited to start his engines. They finished their conversation, and Sunil turned toward Luke. He waved, and Luke waved back. Sunil turned and ran back to the helicopter, which was quickly airborne again.

Vlad ran around to the port side of the MiG and scurried up the ladder. As Vlad reached the cockpit level, Luke got a glimpse of what was in Vlad’s hand—something long and sharp and metal. His heart jumped. All his doubts about Vlad came flooding back, all Brian’s doubts, all Katherine’s unwillingness to take Vlad at face value. Luke saw it all before him, as he envisioned himself at Vlad’s mercy beneath a tree in Nowhere, India. He was still strapped in and had no chance to do anything about it if Vlad meant him harm.

Vlad stood next to Luke and leaned over toward him. He grabbed Luke by the helmet and pulled him toward himself. Vlad brought his left hand up and showed Luke he had a screwdriver in his hand. He said loudly through Luke’s helmet, “I am going to use this. Don’t tell our Indian friends. In the left wheel well of our airplanes is a small box that I will open. It will set our engines on their war mode. Hotter temperatures and more thrust. It will give us all the thrust this engine was intended to put out. Don’t tell them, because it will probably also ruin the engines!” Vlad smiled a huge, energetic smile.