Brad Thor - State Of The Union

The mausoleum door had been closed, but not locked and Harvath quietly pushed it open. Knowing that Alexandra still had her radio, he ignored Rick Morrell’s repeated hailings demanding to know what his situation was, and maintained complete radio silence.

He knew that Morrell, Avigliano and Carlson would eventually come and investigate the source of the explosion they had heard and as Harvath pressed himself up against the cold stone façade of the mausoleum, he started off into the most likely direction they would be coming from.

Suddenly, he heard what sounded like the sharp clap of small arms fire, followed by the broken voice of Rick Morrell crackling through his earpiece, “…under fire…been hit and have two men down. I repeat, we are under fire and I have two men down.”

Harvath began running toward them. He wished like hell that he could have called in for a Sit Rep to see where the shooter was, but it was out of the question. The greatest advantage he had going for him was that Draegar and Alexandra thought he was dead.

As he passed the last mausoleum, an incandescent glow from inside caused Harvath to stop dead in his tracks. With his Beretta pistol clasped in both hands, he crept closer to the entryway and used his left elbow to pry open the iron door. The entire mausoleum appeared to be lined with lead and it was now clear why they had failed to pick up any heat signatures in the cemetery. He used his night vision goggles to scan the interior and what he saw scared the hell out of him. The marble faceplates of all six crypts had been removed and each one contained a Russian tactical nuke, their display panels flashing, indicating the weapons had been activated.

It was now apparent how the Russians had been so successful in hiding their nukes all of these years. Harvath had been right on the money when he had said, “Dead men tell no tales.” It was also apparent that the previously unaccounted-for nukes were not in the cities of U.S. allies after all, but were right here in Washington.

There was enough in this crypt to blow the entire capital off the face of the map and Harvath had a feeling that no matter what speech the president gave, the Russians fully intended to send an overpowering message that times had changed and that they were now in control.

The Russians had made one fatal mistake-they hadn’t cleared their message through Scot Harvath, and he was going to be damned if those lying communist bastards caused the collective head of the United States of America to bow even a fraction of an inch in deference to the new world order they planned to unleash. He’d been to Russia, and he’d seen what a shitty country it was. As far as he was concerned, they’d gained too much prominence on the world stage, and it wasn’t time for the United States to step back, it was time for someone to shove the Russians the hell off.

When a shadow fell across Harvath’s shoulder, he knew he was in trouble.

“Don’t bother turning around,” said a voice from behind which he was sure belonged to Helmut Draegar. “Just put your hands up in the air where I can see them.”

Harvath did as he was told.

“Good. Now drop your weapon and kick it away from you, please.”

Once again, Harvath complied.

“I didn’t know if I would be seeing you again,” Draegar continued in English so perfect, there wasn’t even the hint of an accent, “but I’m glad you’re here. I’m going to slide a pair of handcuffs across the floor to you and I want you to clip one end to your left wrist.”

“Why bother?” asked Harvath. “The whole graveyard is surrounded. You’ll never make it out of here alive.”

“Neither will you I’m afraid,” said Draegar as he laid a pair of cuffs on the ground and kicked them over to Harvath. “Now, do as I say.”

“Why don’t you just shoot me?”

“Your friend Gary Lawlor left me to die in much the same fashion and now I intend to return the favor.”

“By what? Handcuffing me to one of these nukes? I hate to tell you, but when this thing blows-” said Harvath as he started to turn around to face Draegar.

“No moving!” yelled Draegar. “I told you to stay still. And keep your hands up where I can see them.”

“They’re up and I’m not moving anymore, okay? Let’s just all stay calm here.”

“Mr. Harvath,” said Draegar as he regained his composure, “Naturally, once the bomb detonates, there will be nothing of you left behind to identify. I realize this. If my goal is to cause Mr. Lawlor an excessive amount of grief, he must be fully aware of how you suffered. Thankfully, I have a cell phone with a built in camera, which I borrowed from a young government aide who won’t be needing it anymore.”

“So that’s your plan? You’re going to strap me to one of these devices and leave me to die?”

“Like I said, it’s exactly what Gary Lawlor did to me. I’m sure the symbolism of my returning the favor won’t be lost on him. Of course, you’re free to try and chew through your wrist or arm to get free. Trapped animals in the wild, especially wolves, have been known to choose that option. I assure you it’s not a very pleasant alternative, but you do have that choice. You’ll need to make up your mind very quickly though, as the timers are set to give me just enough of a head start to outrun the blast.”

“So regardless of what the president says in his State of the Union address tonight,” replied Harvath, “you’re still going to detonate these nukes.”

“You took all of our sleepers offline. All of them! What choice have you left me? My superiors might disagree with my actions at first, but in time I think they’ll come around. Especially with what’s to be gained.”

“What could you possible gain from this?” asked Harvath as he lowered his hand toward his leg pouch where he’d placed his flashlight.

“What’s to gain? The gains are boundless,” sneered Draegar. “September 11th might have drawn your country together, but an attack of this magnitude coupled with the loss of your entire national leadership will absolutely decimate you. It’s the blow America has needed for decades. Worldwide opinion of the United States is the lowest it has ever been. Though the attack will be seen as a tragedy, not many tears will be shed for your country. Like it or not, America will be forced to turn inward and focus on its own rebuilding and with America’s understandable withdrawal from world affairs, Russia will step in and claim its rightful role asthe world superpower.”

The man’s unflappable confidence and dedication to his task was chilling. “You forget one thing,” said Harvath. “Every single blast crater will have Russia’s name written all over it. The residue will be irrefutable proof that the nukes came from your country.”

Draegar’s sneer turned into a smile. “Actually, every blast crater will haveyour name written all over it. The fissile material in each of these weapons was taken from one of your Dark Night nuclear devices. The facts will speak for themselves.”

Harvath just shook his head, his hand closing in on his flashlight. He had pulled the same stunt in Berlin without success, but prayed that at much closer range, and in such an enclosed space, this time it would work.

“You don’t think so?” chided Draegar, consumed with the hubris of his plan. “Let me ask you. Which story do you think the international community will be more prepared to accept? That Russia carried out an unprovoked attack against America or that the arrogant, warmongering United States suffered another catastrophic terrorist attack because of its insidious desire to force its will on the rest of the world? People have suspected for years that many of our suitcase nukes have gone missing. They just didn’t know that we were the ones who took them.”