by Bobby Akart
Gunner studied his GPS device, regained his bearings, and darted into the woods, with Bear bringing up the rear.
The steady thumping of a Kamov Ka-50 helicopter was getting closer to their position. The unique coaxial rotor system emitted a deeper, more rhythmic sound than its American counterpart. The tandem-operated chopper allowed for one of the pilots to scan the ground below while the other navigated just above the treetops.
“Jackal, what’s their range?” asked Cam.
“Two klicks. They are very disciplined, doing broad circular sweeps of the Cosmodrome compound, circling wider and wider with each pass.”
“Can you calculate how long we have before they sweep over the top of us?” asked Cam. The trio was a mile away from their own transportation, about a twenty-minute jog in this terrain.
“Half an hour at most,” came the reply. “And, Major, the Ka-50s are all equipped with their Samshit day-and-night thermal-imaging system. You’ll have no cover.”
“SSDD,” mumbled Bear into the comms.
“Please repeat, Sergeant,” instructed the Jackal.
He laughed, albeit breathlessly. The hike was taxing on his heavyset frame. “You know, same shit, different day.”
Cam passed her partner and said, “I hate you.”
“Yeah, sure you do. Secretly, you have a thing for me, right?”
“That’s enough,” interrupted Gunner, who became suddenly serious as the sound of the Ka-50’s rotors grew a little bit louder and darkness began to settle in.
Chapter 42
Monday, April 9
Amur Oblast
Far Eastern Russia
Bear led the way into the AV-280, hustling into the pilot’s seat and slinging his gear on the floor of the aircraft in the process. He immediately strapped himself in and hastily went through the preflight processes to lift the aircraft off the ground.
As Gunner pulled the door shut and closed up the tilt-rotor aircraft, the Jackal contacted them with a sense of urgency. “Next pass and they’ll be on top of you.”
Cam responded, “Roger. We heard them the last pass through. We’ve been damn lucky to avoid detection.”
“That’s about to change,” said Bear as he fired up the two General Electric T64 engines. The twin turboshaft design had been a mainstay of aircraft design since 1959, and had undergone multiple technological upgrades, including increased performance and quieter operation.
The thirty-five-foot propellers quickly hoisted them off the ground as Bear wasted no time in gaining altitude.
“You’ve got company,” said the Jackal. “Two thousand yards and closing at a higher rate of speed than its recon trips.”
“Come on!” Bear urged the AV-280 upward until its vertical-lift design reached its apex. He expertly changed the configuration of the rotors to an airplane. “Hold on!”
Bear forced the aircraft to jump forward just as the Ka-50’s single Shipunov dual-feed machine gun opened fire, sending armor-piercing rounds sailing past the AV-280 as it picked up speed.
“Sergeant, there are two additional Ka-50s approaching from the north in an intercept pattern. Suggest you head south to avoid.”
“Roger,” replied Bear, who banked slightly, following both his GPS navigation screen and the visual cues shown on his digital terrain-following system.
The AV-280 shuddered slightly as it hit some turbulence caused by slightly warmer air rising from the Amur River below them. The aircraft was designed to fly without a weapons systems officer, but Gunner slid into the seat next to Bear as he was achieving vertical lift.
The AV-280 was equipped with armaments similar to its V-22 Osprey predecessor. Gunner surveyed his options, ranging from the 2.75-inch Hydra rockets and the guided version of the Osprey’s Advanced Precision Kill Weapon System.
“Major.” It was Ghost on the comms. “I suggest using white phosphorous initially until the AV-280 is up to speed.”
“He’s right,” added Bear. “In a minute, they’ll never be able to catch us.”
“Roger that,” said Gunner. White phosphorous munitions provided both an incendiary weapon and a highly effective defensive purpose that could confuse a pursuing aircraft.
Each crewmember on the AV-280 had large multifunction computer displays with an array of information from engine and systems readouts, to navigation and weapons options. The monitors provided them a virtual depiction of their surroundings that was so detailed and vivid that it was like watching a movie in 4-D high definition.
“Major, your current flight path will lead you directly to the Russia-Chinese border. Chinese air defenses will have an impenetrable barrier of overlapping radars and surface-to-air batteries on the other side.”
“Roger,” said Gunner. “We’ve got enough trouble.”
“Let me add, based upon the activity along the Sino-Russia border, the Chinese are aware of your presence.”
“Wonderful,” muttered Bear. “Drop ’em, Gunner.”
Gunner made a series of entries on the onboard keyboard, and the white phosphorous rockets were off and away.
“Detonation!” shouted Cam, who was monitoring the external cameras on her own displays.
Bear banked hard left, only thirty miles from China, taking the aircraft to a higher altitude to avoid the terrain and gain speed.
The Jackal continued to alert the team as to the Russian military’s maneuvers. “Sergeant, the Russians have scrambled intercepts along the coastline. Their 7th Air-Defense Brigade at Sakhalin is teeming with activity.”
Cam sighed. She was most familiar with Far Eastern Russia and their defense placements. “They’re cutting off our route to the Sea of Japan. Our only option back to the Reagan is to cut through China and North Korea.”
“Suicide,” said Gunner.
“Well, at least very bad odds,” added Bear. “I can try to pull it off, but it’s risky as hell.”
The communications were silent as Bear initiated the aircraft’s defensive countermeasures, although they had their limits. He might be able to avoid pursuing aircraft, but the ground-based radar systems were far more advanced.
“Bear, I have an idea. What about the Aleutians?”
“What about them?”
“They’re expecting us to return to one of our carriers. What if we turn north, deeper into the Siberian forest? Then shoot across their coastline until we can make it into our airspace.”
“I don’t know, Cam. That’s a long haul. We didn’t plan on all of these gyrations when we calculated our fuel range.”
Ghost came into the conversation. “Stand by, Sergeant. We’ll lend an assist.”
Bear backed off his airspeed in an attempt to conserve fuel. Plus, he was in no hurry to get shot at by the Russian air defenses in Sakhalin. They’d never survive it.
The Jackal returned to the communications. “Sergeant, I’m sending you a detailed flight path. If you can follow it to the letter, we can drop you down at the Casco Cove CGS at Attu Station.”
Bear shrugged. “I’ve heard of it. It’s like the westernmost part of the country.”
The Jackal responded, “No, Sergeant, actually it’s the easternmost part, technically speaking.”
Bear pointed to the monitor for Gunner to see the flight-path instructions. He made some adjustments on his onboard computer so the flight navigation system could take control of the aircraft.
“Listen, Miss Jackal, I know east from west. Alaska is west. Always has been.”
The Jackal showed a glimpse into her wry sense of humor. “You wanna bet?”
Cam could be heard laughing at them.
“Yeah, I’ll bet you,” replied Bear. “If I’m right, you pick up the tab for beer and wings.”
“Fine, if I’m right,” she began, “you stop questioning me.”
“Hey, I can’t guarantee that.”
“Do we have a bet or not?”
Bear thought for a moment and turned in his seat, searching for Cam, who had suddenly disappeared
from his view, yet he could hear her laughing. He shrugged and responded, “Bet.”
“Okay, Sergeant King. Attu Station is actually the easternmost point in the U.S. because its located on the opposite side of the one-hundred-eightieth meridian from the rest of the country.”
Bear threw his arms in the air. “Give me a break. I’ve never heard of such garbage.”
“It’s true, Sergeant. Look it up.”
Cam was roaring in laughter. “I knew that. Well played, Jackal. Ha ha, Bear. You got got!”
“That’s bullshit, man. She led me right into it.”
Cam was still laughing. “You are such a sucker, especially for women. When are you gonna learn?”
S-400 Triumf threat detected at three o’clock. Range is one thousand two hundred feet.
Bear quickly reacted to the voice command system’s warning of an incoming anti-aircraft missile.
“What the hell?” Gunner asked as he swung his head sharply, straining to look out the right-side windows of the AV-280. There was nothing there except the black of the Russian night, speckled with bright stars.
Range nine hundred feet. Evade! Evade! The robotic female voice was persistent.
“No kidding,” said Bear as he took control of the aircraft and sent it into a dive toward the desolate Siberian forest.
“Where did that come from?” asked Gunner.
The Jackal responded, “They must have a surface-to-air missile battery that’s unknown to our intelligence community.”
Range seven hundred feet. Evade! Evade!
“I am!” shouted Bear. The missile was holding a static position in relation to the AV-280 despite Bear’s wild maneuvering and flying low to the ground.
“It’s heat seeking,” said Gunner. “Let’s give it some heat to seek that’s hotter than we are.”
Gunner deployed an AGM-176 Griffin B missile, a small, thirteen-pound warhead that had airburst detonation capability. It provided the AV-280 a potent deterrent capability.
“Released,” he declared as the missile fell below the aircraft and its afterburner lit up the night.
The Griffin B missile raced ahead of their aircraft, soaring through the night, providing an irresistible heat-seeking trail for the incoming Russian S-400 that had been tracking them.
Range one thousand feet.
“It’s turning!” shouted Bear just as a violent explosion occurred a half mile ahead of them. Bear lifted the SV-280 upward to avoid the debris resulting from the massive collision of the two missiles.
“Well done, Sergeant,” said Ghost. Their commander had remained alongside the Jackal during the entire mission. “We’re sending you a new flight path. I won’t mince words. You’ll be over open water for twenty minutes and then there’s one more Russian defense system to avoid at Petropavlovsk.”
“We can handle that,” said Bear.
Gunner interrupted. “Jackal, have you recalculated our fuel and distance?”
“Yes, sir. It’s tight.”
Chapter 43
Monday, April 9
Over the Bering Sea
East of the Russian coast
Bear was forced to make a series of evasive course corrections in order to avoid an air barricade of Russian Coast Guard Mi-17 assault helicopters. The twists and turns employed by the seasoned pilot successfully avoided being hit by the Mi-17s’ gunpods and rockets; however, they now faced a predicament just as deadly as being shot out of the sky—a lack of fuel.
“Eighty miles,” he announced. “ETA less than fifteen minutes.”
“How far until we’re over U.S. territorial waters?” asked Gunner.
“I know what you’re thinking, and it won’t matter,” replied the Jackal. “The line’s too close and whatever happened could easily be disputed.”
“Can we get any kind of ground or air support?” asked Bear.
“Sergeant, you should know the answer to that,” replied Ghost.
“Hell, Colonel, at least a fishing boat. Something to pull us out of the water.”
“Sergeant, by our calculations, you’ll be fine to Attu Station,” interrupted the Jackal. “Might I suggest a quicker descent. The Su-35Ses that are in pursuit will never catch up to you.”
Ghost reentered the conversation. “Major, NORAD has scrambled F-22 intercepts in response to the incoming hostile aircraft. Once the Su-35Ses enter the Alaskan Air Defense Identification Zone, roughly seventy miles to your west, we’ll engage, with force if necessary, if they enter U.S. or Canadian sovereign airspace.”
The Russians were notorious for sending Tu-95 bombers on scheduled sorties over the neutral waters of the Chukotka, Bering, and Okhotsk Seas. Their forays near the northern coast of the Aleutian Islands had been increasing in recent years as they continued to test the mettle of NORAD’s defensive capability.
The bomber patrols were intended by the Russians to send a highly visible message to underscore their military strength. The Su-35Ses in pursuit of Gunner’s team had different plans.
Bear began to descend toward the small, one-hundred-forty-square-mile island. “I’ve got a visual.”
Tension filled the air as the team watched the former Coast Guard station, now CIA outpost, grow larger in front of them.
Gunner looked over to Bear and nodded, offering him encouragement. Gunner suspected the water temperature was in the upper thirties in the southern part of the sea. At those temperatures, they could die of hypothermia in a very short period of time.
“We got this! We got this!” Bear shouted as he slowed to hover above the helicopter landing pad at the decommissioned Coast Guard station. He adjusted the tilt-rotor to gently drop the AV-280 down with a slight thud.
“Jeez, Louise,” muttered Cam into the microphone. “Let’s not do that again, okay?”
Gunner managed a laugh. “In our business, that’s a promise none of us can keep.”
Bear removed the harnesses and looked around the frigid landscape. He glanced around all sides of the aircraft. With a puzzled look on his face, he asked, “Hey, where’s our welcoming committee?”
Ghost responded, “There won’t be one, Sergeant. We’re sure that your every move has been tracked by Russian reconnaissance satellites. This facility is ostensibly abandoned, although it is manned with a small team of eight who come and go under the guise of being local fishermen.”
“Roger that,” said Gunner.
“Major, a team will pick you up in the morning,” Ghost continued. “Retrieve your gear, get some rest, and I’ll meet you at Lackland for a full debriefing.”
Gunner looked at his team, and then finally, after nearly being killed in Russia, he asked, “Did you get what you were looking for?”
Ghost paused. “Affirmative. Good job, all of you.”
The team loaded their weapons, camera equipment, and other gear, leaving the out-of-fuel AV-280 on the helicopter pad. Bear, who honestly planned on negotiating with the colonel to keep the multimillion-dollar aircraft, bemoaned the fact that they’d have to leave it behind.
They made their way inside the former Coast Guard station and walked downward through the structure until they reached a steel security door. Gunner, who was used to working with the agency, expected them to confirm the trio’s identity. Bear, who was both impatient and hungry, couldn’t resist whipping out the middle finger, taunting the CIA operations team, until a loud click signaled the door was open.
Inside, they were amazed at what they found. A massive array of computers, large-screen televisions, and listening stations were spread in a semicircle facing a wall of maps. An older man of Alaskan descent approached Gunner.
“Major Fox, I’m Mr. Waters. Welcome back stateside.”
“Thank you, um, Mr. Waters.” Not your real name, I bet, Gunner thought.
Mr. Waters turned his attention to everyone in the group. “I’ve been instructed to make you folks comfortable until you’re picked up, likely in the next several hours. I’ll show you to our galley, where you
can fix yourself something to eat, and if you wish, there are toilet facilities that include a couple of showers.”
The group followed him down a hallway until they were left alone in a small room containing picnic tables and a sparsely equipped kitchenette.
“Do you think they live here?” asked Cam.
Gunner nodded. “Most likely on a temporary, rotational basis. There are hidden outposts like this all over the world.”
“And out of this world, too,” added Bear. “I’ve seen pictures of the one built on the Moon. It’s way bigger and nicer than this dump.”
Cam rummaged through the refrigerator. “I hope you guys like salmon and crab. They’ve got a ton of it.”
“Whadya think about the moon deal, Gunner?”
Gunner made his way to the refrigerator and retrieved a bottle of water. “I think it’s like everything else that NASA and their private partners do. They have the technology, they create a concept, and then they rush into it headfirst without considering the consequences. Sometimes, I don’t understand what the hellfire emergency is with those people. I mean, did they make sure it was totally safe before they expanded the outpost and populated it with families?”
Cam joined Gunner at a table with a large platter of already cooked king crab legs. She filled a bowl with cocktail sauce and offered him some.
“Speaking of hellfire emergencies, have you guys thought about what the purpose of that mission was? I mean, I get that we’re in some kind of space race again with the Russians, but was it really necessary to send us in to get our asses shot off over a rocket?”
Gunner furrowed his brow and reached for a crab leg. He struggled to open it, which was why he preferred oysters. He’d become adept at popping them open when he ate them at home.
“What did you see down below? You know, under the launchpad.”
Cam chuckled. “Funny you asked. I never saw anything. I was hauling my cookies across the compound to get away from their security. But I was recording as well as transmitting, just for a backup.” She reached down into her gear bag and retrieved the camera. While Gunner and Bear finished off the crab legs, she replayed the footage of her escape from the Cosmodrome.