Brad Thor - State Of The Union

Though he stole occasional glances at the vessel itself, his eyes were predominantly focused on the assault helicopter’s tracking and display systems. From what he could tell as they made their pass, theGagarin was being watched over not only by the three nuclear icebreakers, but by no fewer than three Russian submarines as well. Getting out was going to prove a lot harder than getting in.

As the helicopter banked and approached theGagarin ’s landing pad, they went over their plan one more time. Speed, surprise, and overwhelming force of action were the keys to a successful outcome, though every one of them had silent reservations as to whether this was really going to work.

When the Mi-17-1V touched down on theGagarin ’s aft deck, Carlson quickly unbuckled the pilot and yanked him into the cargo area. He removed the man’s helmet and then knocked him out with a quick punch to the head. “You’ve got to be the worst pilot I’ve ever flown with,” said Carlson who then looked up at the rest of the team staring at him. “What? He gave us that shitty ride on purpose. Fuck him.”

No one disagreed. Avigliano and Morrell quickly gagged the man, tied him up and stashed him in the back of the copter. A pistol was placed in the hand of the dead co-pilot and he was positioned in such a way that if anyone should happen to look in through one of the windows, it would appear as if he was diligently posting guard over a large plastic suitcase.

When they were good to go, Morrell and his men rolled down their own black balaclavas, readied their Russian assault rifles, and opened one of the helicopter’s side doors. Carlson and Avigliano jumped out first and were joined by Alexandra. Next came DeWolfe, who shoved Harvath out onto the deck and kept his weapon on him as Morrell slid the door shut behind him.

As two of theGagarin ’s crew members rushed up to attend to the helicopter, Alexandra barked at them to back off. She told them that the pilot and co-pilot had been instructed to guard their cargo with their lives and to shoot anyone but herself or General Stavropol who came too close. She asked where she could find the general and one of the men gave her instructions on how to find the control center. Then he and his shipmate immediately backed away.So far, so good.

The control center was located just beneath the bridge near the bow of the ship. As the imposing party of would-be Spetsnaz troops, a beautiful blond woman, and their prisoner entered on the main deck level and purposely made their way forward, every soul they came across jumped to get out of their way.

The whole team-Harvath, Ivanova, Morrell, Carlson, DeWolfe, and Avigliano-mentally recorded security measures, evacuation points, crew makeup, and force strength as they marched towards the bow. From what they could see, a good portion of the ship had been retrofitted, though some Soviet-era trappings were evident from time to time. From the state-of-the-art infirmary and movie theater to the restaurant, health club, and indoor swimming pool, theGagarin had been designed to remain on station and completely self-sufficient for very extended periods of time.

Turning a corner, they arrived at the elevator for the control center, and Carlson and DeWolfe immediately disappeared down an adjacent stairwell into the bowels of the ship, while Morrell and Avigliano accompanied Alexandra and Harvath to their rendezvous with General Stavropol.

The elevator doors opened onto an enormous, dimly lit room filled with technicians seated in high-backed, ergonomically designed chairs at wraparound workstations with everything within arm’s reach. The seats reminded Harvath of those in the Navy’s Mark V Special Operations Craft, which were designed to keep SEALs stable and comfortable during prolonged insertions, extractions, and patrols on even the roughest seas.

As Alexandra pushed him out of the elevator, Morrell and Avigliano followed right behind. They stepped up onto a raised floor that was designed to accommodate the massive tangle of computer cables and wires running beneath. Though it was absolutely freezing outside, an air conditioning system was running at full strength to prevent the massive amount of equipment in the room from overheating.

While Harvath had expected to see something that resembled NASA’s Mission Control in Houston, Texas, what he found was something completely different. Instead of tiered sections grouped in order of importance and facing a common set of screens at the front of the room, there were semi-circled networks of workstations grouped around what could only be referred to as viewing screens. They were concave pieces of Plexiglas that were not only full color, two-sided monitors, with different images playing on both sides, but were also completely transparent depending upon what angle you were looking at them from. Technicians manipulated data not by plugging away at traditional keyboards, but via keyless entry systems, the likes of which Harvath had never seen before. In fact the more he looked around the room, the more he realized the technology he was seeing would be more at home aboard theStarship Enterprise than a Soviet-era research vessel. The sophistication of it all was literally beyond his imagination, and Harvath had a pretty good imagination.

The last thing he noticed was the utter lack of security. Whoever was in charge of this operation was feeling pretty confident.

“Agent Ivanova,” said a man with a salt and pepper-colored crew cut who spun his chair around and stood up from one of the workstations. He was at least six-foot-three inches tall and a good two hundred seventy-five pounds. Looking past the malformed nose, which had obviously been broken on several occasions, and the pockmarked skin, Harvath took in the General’s dark, penetrating eyes and understood why the enormous man had been nicknamedRasputin. He had an extremely intimidating presence.

“General Stavropol,” replied Alexandra politely. “Here I am, as promised.”

“Excellent,” he smiled.

“What about my reward?”

“What about it?” he asked, the smile never leaving his face.

“I have brought you the American as you asked, and his nuclear device is in the helicopter. The pilots have been instructed not to let anyone but you or me near it.”

“Very neat and tidy, but wouldn’t you agree that it is somewhat unusual to demand a reward after having betrayed your country?”

“I have done no such thing,” she replied, maintaining her composure. “We have a deal and I expect you to honor your end of the bargain.”

“That’s funny considering the fact that your father-”

“Do not mistake me for my father,” interrupted Alexandra as her icy stare bore into Stavropol’s own. “Not only have I delivered the American and his weapon to you as promised, but I risked everything coming here.”

“Really?” replied Stavropol. “What did you risk?”

“My life. My career.Everything.”

“Or so you would lead us to believe.”

“If you don’t believe me, believe Helmut Draegar. He was one of the men who tried to kill me.”

“He already has told us.”

“And you still question my loyalty?” asked Alexandra.

“That depends,” Stavropol responded. “What did Nesterov tell you?”

“Nesterov?He didn’t tell me anything. I barely got the chance to talk to him before Draegar killed him. This is ridiculous. Where is Draegar? I want to talk with him myself. I will not have my loyalty questioned like this.”

“He’s in America at the moment. Unfortunately, one of our operatives seems to have gotten cold feet, but it’s none of your concern. Draegar will see to it,” smiled Stavropol.

That was all Harvath needed to hear. His plan had been to pinpoint Draegar’s whereabouts onboard the ship so they could take him out as well, but now with him gone, there was no reason to delay the rest of their mission.