Brad Thor - State Of The Union

Morrell leaned in close and said, “Don’t pull that trigger unless you’re sure you sighted a hostile. We don’t want any casualties among any of the crew or technicians.”

“These two are definitely hostile,” replied Carlson. “Both look like they’re carrying assault weapons.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“All right, take them.”

Carlson’s weapon bucked twice in his large hands accompanied by two muffled coughs. “Tangos one and two down,” he said.

“Let’s strip ’em,” said Morrell as he waved the team forward.

The Spetsnaz soldiers were indeed carrying assault weapons, two nine-millimeter PP-90M submachine guns. Harvath took one, and Avigliano traded Alexandra the Pit Bull for the other. The soldiers were also carrying several fragmentation as well as flashbang grenades, which Morrell divvied up amongst the team. Though it would have helped their cover if they could have gotten Harvath and Alexandra into the Spetsnaz uniforms with their black balaclavas and pretend that Raisa was helping guide them around the ship, there was no time for that. They needed to keep pressing on towards the helicopter parked on the aft deck.

Eventually, one of the engineers was able to restore the emergency lighting and the hallways took on an eerie red hue. Raisa watched with a great deal of apprehension as they passed by four lifeboats outlined in reflected tape just outside the windows. She was beginning to doubt whether Alexandra Ivanova and her colleagues were going to live up to their end of the bargain or if they were more concerned with saving their own skins and sneaking away without a trace. “We need to raise the alarm,” she said. “The people on this ship need time to evacuate. There’s some light now, that will help, but they need to get started. Your fire is going to spread very quickly.”

“Once we have the helicopter in sight,” said Morrell, “we’ll sound the alarm, but not until then.” Seeing the look of concern on her face he added, “Don’t worry. Your colleagues are going to have plenty of time to abandon ship.”

“And once they do? Then what? It’s below freezing outside.”

“There are three nuclear icebreakers and two submarines waiting out there. Trust me, this is one group of people that Russia will not want to lose.”

Raisa reluctantly accepted Morrell’s answer and settled back into line, trying to ignore the remaining lifeboats that they passed.

They were less than fifty meters from the aft deck when Gordon Avigliano dropped to one knee and yelled, “We’ve got company,” as he opened up with his weapon on full auto.

Harvath turned and saw at least five Spetsnaz soldiers as they dove through open doorways on either side of the corridor behind them. “Let’s get some cover quick,” he yelled.

Morrell immediately responded, “There’s no place to go but aft.”

Harvath was about to say something, when two of the Russian troops pointed their weapons into the hall and pulled the triggers.

The corridor acted like a giant funnel, channeling the deadly fire right towards them. Thankfully, the Spetsnaz rounds went high and missed the team who dove to the floor.

“Go,” yelled Avigliano to his colleagues. “I’ll hold them.”

“No way,” replied Harvath. “We all go together.”

“We can’t. Somebody needs to keep them pinned down. I’m not going to argue about this.”

“Gordy, listen,” began Harvath who then stopped as he felt a hand reaching into his coat pocket. Before he could stop her, Alexandra had removed the two fragmentation grenades Morrell had given him and pulled both pins.

“Men,” she snorted as she pitched the devices down the hallway toward where the Spestnaz troops were hiding.

Harvath yelled ‘Grenade,’ but it was hardly necessary. Not only had the rest of the team seen what Alexandra had done, but they were already on their feet running for the helicopter.

Seconds later, the fragmentation grenades exploded, neutralizing the Spetsnaz troops behind them and starting yet another fire. This time, Raisa didn’t wait for Rick Morrell’s permission. At the next fire alarm they passed, she pulled it and ran.

Before they even burst outside onto the aft deck, they could already hear the heavy chopping of the Assault Helicopter’s rotors. “Sounds like somebody else is trying to leave without us,” said Carlson.

“Damn it,” snapped Morrell, turning to the demolitions expert. “Hit the hull charges and send this fucker to the bottom of the ocean right now.”

Carlson reached into his demo sack and removed a lightweight transmitter, about the size of a portable MP3 player, which was part of an improved Remote Activation Munition System, or RAMS. Developed by the Army Research Lab in Adelphi, Maryland, RAMS allowed Special Operations teams to remotely detonate munitions from ranges of over two kilometers away. In this case, it wasn’t the distance that mattered, but rather the amount of metal the signal had to penetrate to successfully activate the blasting caps on Carlson’s charges.

He depressed the buttons in quick succession. A series of resoundingthuds began at the bow and came racing toward them. The entire vessel shuddered as the muted blasts signaled one gaping hole after another being torn in the enormous ship’s hull. Even if the crew raced to seal off the bulkheads of the compartments now filling with icy water, they wouldn’t be able to prevent theGagarin from meeting its fate.

Charging out onto the deck, the team found that during their time inside, the storm had grown much worse. Thick snow was being driven in heavy sheets by a sharp arctic wind. Visibility had been severely impaired, but not to such an extent that they couldn’t see General Stavropol as he reached the door to the helicopter. Harvath raised his weapon, but before he could fire, the team was under attack from above.

More Spetsnaz troops, this time armed with AK-105s, were shooting at them from the upper deck. While Morrell and the rest of the team maneuvered to return fire, Harvath, along with Alexandra, held their positions.

The ferocious wind was incessant and combined with the thick snow, made it all but impossible to find an opportunity to take a shot as they heard the helicopter lift off. As it did, the blowing snow receded and through the glass Alexandra not only saw General Stavropol safe and sound onboard, but also the lopsided smile stretched across his pockmarked face.

Ignoring the fact that the hull of theGagarin had steadily been filling with freezing water, Alexandra took aim, but just as she applied the final pressure to the trigger, there was a deafening groan and the ship listed steeply to starboard. The Pit Bull discharged, but the round completely missed its target as Alexandra came crashing down hard onto the perilously inclined deck and dropped one of the notebooks. As she did, the chopper’s rotor wash swept the other completely overboard.

Alexandra lunged for the remaining notebook and felt herself sliding down the deck toward theGagarin ’s iron railing. She threw her arms out and fought to find any kind of handhold she could, but it was no use. There was nothing between her and the fast approaching railing to stop or even slow her ever-increasing speed.

She felt herself slip beneath the railing and as if she were a cloud, become perfectly weightless. Her stomach leapt, the same way it did when she took an abrupt hill too fast in her car, and then suddenly she felt a great pain in her arm.But that was impossible. She knew she had slipped beneath the railing. Then she heard the voice and realized how wrong she was.

“Alexandra, help me! I can’t hold onto you.”

It was Harvath.

Alexandra opened her eyes and looked up. Harvath was leaning over the edge of the ship. He was holding onto her wrist with his left hand.