Fulcrum: V Plague Book 12

by Dirk Patton

  “The season is changing, and the water temp will be down. Not cold, but cool enough. It will just delay hypothermia. And, I was at Coronado near San Diego. That water ain’t warm. Trust me. Maybe a little warmer in the Gulf of California, but survival time would be in hours, not days. Besides, if the water doesn’t get you, the sharks will.”

  “So, we’ve probably got a pilot on a raft, drifting around the middle of the Sea of Cortez. And we’ve got a starting point.”

  He nodded but appeared less than enthusiastic.

  “What?”

  “No disrespect, sir, but you’re Army. You ever tried to find something the size of a man on a tiny inflatable somewhere in the ocean?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well, without air support, or at least satellite observation, it’s damn near impossible. There're waves, and even little ones will hide the target from a surface vessel. You can be thirty yards away and never even know what you’re searching for is just right there.”

  “You sound awful negative, Lieutenant,” I said, peering at him.

  “Sorry, sir. You misunderstand me. I’m ready to go. I just want to be sure you understand our odds of finding and rescuing this pilot are pretty fucking anorexic.”

  “I think I got that, Lieutenant,” I grumbled. “Dad was in the Navy, so I’ve heard the stories.”

  “How’d you wind up a ground pounder?” He asked in surprise.

  “Black sheep of the family,” I grinned. “Sometimes, I wish I would’ve listened to Mom. I’d be a plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills, up to my neck in tits and ass.”

  He looked at me for a beat before laughing and heading for the golf cart. As we started driving, he contacted Gonzales on the radio and ordered him to gather everyone into the cafeteria.

  7

  “Major? Major!” Packard leaned forward over the speakerphone, then when he got no response, turned to his aide. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Don’t know yet, sir,” the man answered, an internal phone already pressed to his ear.

  “Never mind,” Packard said, getting to his feet. “I’m heading to the CIC.”

  The senior officers surrounding the conference table had shot to their feet when the Admiral stood. By order of rank, they followed him out of the meeting room for the short walk. When Packard pushed through the doors, the duty officer turned and faced him.

  “Sir, we’ve lost all comms with our satellites. Best guess is Russian jamming.”

  “Everything?” Packard asked, glaring around the room.

  “Yes, sir. Everything. We’re deaf and blind. All digital comms are down. We can’t uplink to the satellites, and the Battlespace network is offline.”

  “Bullshit, Captain,” Admiral Black stepped forward. “We’re jam proof, just for this reason.”

  “That may be, sir,” the Captain answered cautiously. “But we’re still down across the board. We’re trying to restore the links, and I’ve got a team working on dusting off some analog radio gear so we can talk to our ships, but so far the secure digital system isn’t coming back up.”

  “Why?” Packard mused, cutting Black off before he could continue grousing.

  “Sir?” The Captain asked, not understanding Packard’s question.

  “Why jam our comms now? We’ve ceased hostilities. Their elite have evacuated to Australia. It makes no sense. Unless…”

  Packard rushed past the surprised duty officer, making a direct path to Jessica’s station.

  “Seaman. Any luck restoring the uplink with the satellite?” He asked as he approached.

  “No, sir,” Jessica answered without turning around.

  “Where was the Russian fleet when we lost surveillance?”

  “Which one, sir?” She asked, turning to look up at him.

  “The one in the Pacific.”

  Jessica turned to her keyboard, her fingers flying. After a few moments, she pointed at a large monitor in the front of the room. A broad, aerial shot of the ocean was displayed, the timestamp showing it was footage from fifteen minutes ago.

  “They haven’t really moved, sir,” she said. “They’re standing off at 1,000 miles, and have us pretty well surrounded.”

  Packard’s eyes moved across the view, noting and cataloging every enemy vessel within sight. All warships and all positioned to prevent the US Navy from entering or leaving Hawaii.

  “What’s going on at Midway?” The Admiral pointed at a small cluster of large planes on a tiny atoll. “Can you zoom?”

  Jessica worked on her keyboard, the image tightening on a small point in the north Pacific, nearly 1,400 miles from Pearl Harbor. When the screen refreshed and sharpened, everyone in the room cursed.

  “Captain,” Packard growled at the duty officer. “Can you explain exactly how we missed the Russians massing troops and equipment on Midway?”

  “No, sir,” the man swallowed audibly. “I don’t have an explanation.”

  Admiral Black stepped closer to the screen, intently watching the activity for a few moments.

  “What do you think, Chet?” Packard asked.

  “I think it’s a goddamn invasion force. We thought they were pulling back to restore order within their borders, but this must have been their play.”

  Packard took a deep breath, staring at the screen. After only a brief moment, he began barking orders.

  “Captain, get a reconnaissance flight in the air. We need to know when the Russians start moving. Chet, take command of coastal defense. Coordinate with the civil authorities.”

  “The civilians aren’t going to be able to help,” Admiral Black said, a sour expression on his face.

  “We’ve got plenty of rifles. If someone wants to fight, give them one. We’re going to need every body we can muster.”

  “Aye, sir,” Black said, turning and striding out of the CIC.

  “Commander!” Packard shouted for one of his aides who was on the far side of the room. “What’s the status of the fallback positions in case the enemy is able to make landfall?”

  “Sir, those bunkers were built in World War II. And they were thrown together in a hurry and sat abandoned for seventy years. The concrete is crumbling, the power doesn’t work, and there’s no water. No comms, either. Half of them were home to all variety of wildlife.”

  “And?”

  “They’ll be ready, sir. I’ve had teams cleaning them out and getting them ready for several weeks. The Marines have been digging in in the hills around them. Dense jungle, and we’ll own the high ground. But, if we have to go there, it’s going to be primitive.”

  “Understood, Commander. Just make sure they’re ready when we need them.”

  “They’ll be ready, sir.”

  Packard nodded and turned his attention to Jessica.

  “Seaman, is there any chance you can find a way to defeat the Russian’s jamming?”

  Jessica looked away in thought before answering.

  “Maybe, sir. I’ve studied their tech, but it’s been a while since I reviewed any of the data. Theoretically, it’s possible. But…”

  “No buts, Seaman,” Packard said, staring at her.

  “I can’t do it from here.”

  She gestured at the console where she was seated and gave the Admiral a timid smile.

  “Captain West!” He bellowed without taking his eyes off Jessica.

  Packard’s senior aide was standing right behind him and answered immediately.

  “Captain, I want you to ensure personally that Seaman Simmons is allowed immediate access to any and all systems she may need to utilize, and she is provided with any support she requests.”

  “I’ll make it happen, sir!”

  He stepped around the Admiral and bent to speak with Jessica. Packard stepped away as Jessica leapt to her feet and departed the CIC with his aide in tow.

  When the Admiral was young, he’d read the history of the battles in the Pacific following the bombing of Pearl Harbor. He’d watched some of the epic movies t
hat chronicled the amazing resilience and determination of the US Navy in defeating the Japanese and protecting the Hawaiian islands and the west coast of the United States.

  He’d marveled that all of this had been accomplished in the vast, empty stretches of the Pacific without the benefit of satellite imagery, jet engines, radar or sonar. It had been nothing more than a butt in an airplane seat flying reconnaissance missions, and a bunch of tougher than nails Admirals making decisions that could have won or lost the war for America.

  Now, closing in on a century later, he was just as deaf and blind as those same Admirals who had risked everything to stop an enemy fleet. But he had one thing they didn’t have. A young woman who had so far managed to work miracles with her keyboard. He just hoped she had one more rabbit left in her hat.

  8

  Fifteen minutes later we were all gathered in the cafeteria. Gonzales and Nicole sat close together, as did Igor and Irina. Long and Johnson were both stuffing their faces with something they’d found in the kitchen, holding Dog’s undivided attention. Rachel, Sam and I found some coffee before sitting down near the middle of the assembled group.

  I spoke for a few minutes, relaying the information to them. Though Igor’s English was steadily improving, Irina translated for him. She spoke softly, making sure he understood all of the details I was relaying.

  As I wrapped up my monolog, Johnson tossed the last bite of his food to Dog and leaned back to rest his boots on the table where he was seated. Dog swallowed without chewing, then waited a moment to see if there were any more tidbits coming his way. With nothing forthcoming, he made the rounds of the room, bumming ear scratches, then flopped down on the tile floor at my feet.

  “So, what are we waiting for?” Long asked. “Let’s go get Squidward.”

  Sam and Gonzales both turned to glare at him over the term he used to refer to a sailor.

  “What?” He asked innocently when he saw them looking.

  “We are,” I said, having had time to think this through. “Or at least I am. But I think some of us should stay here and see what else is behind door number 3.”

  “You think it is a good idea to split up?” Irina asked. “Every time we have, something bad has happened.”

  I nodded, acknowledging her comment.

  “No disrespect to the Master Chief, but he’s still healing.”

  “Sir, I’m good to…”

  He stopped when I held a hand up.

  “Not open for discussion,” I said firmly. “Odds are we’ll end up in the water at some point. That’s the last thing your wounds need. And, I really don’t want to be swimming next to you if one of them opens up, and the sharks get a whiff of blood. Besides, someone that knows how to fight needs to stay behind to protect the rest.”

  He stared back at me for a beat, his eyes finally sliding to Lieutenant Sam. The SEAL officer nodded his agreement with my decision, even though it wasn’t necessary.

  “Johnson,” I said, turning to face his table. “I want you opening every door and vault you can. Get an inventory of what else is here that we could use. And pay attention to electronics and comm gear. We need to find a way to burn through the Russian jamming. I’ve got a bad feeling.”

  “Copy that, sir,” Johnson said.

  “Irina and Nicole, I’d like it if you would assist him. Catalog what you find if you can make heads or tails of it.”

  The two women exchanged glances before nodding their agreement.

  “Good. Sam, Rachel, Igor, Long, Dog and I will go after the pilot. I’m hoping he’s not injured and can fly that thing we found.”

  Heads nodded all around the room.

  “Any questions?”

  “What if I open a vault, and there're aliens inside? Do I ask them for help?”

  Johnson was grinning as he spoke. Nicole sighed and shook her head.

  “Ask them who really killed JFK,” Long quipped.

  “Might want to make sure they don’t have any anal probes,” I said, smiling at the look on Johnson’s face.

  Everyone looked at him and chuckled. He looked like he had a witty reply ready to go, but it was time to get serious.

  “OK. Johnson and Gonzales, I saw a bunch of up-armored Humvees in one of the hangars. Get three of them fueled and make sure there’s plenty of ammo, food and water on board.”

  “And a medical kit,” Rachel said.

  I nodded.

  “Everyone who’s going, get some chow and put your gear together. I want to be on the road in half an hour. We’ve got 400 miles to cover, and I want to be out of this valley before dark.”

  There was silence for a moment, then chairs scraped on the floor as people began moving. Johnson and Gonzales hustled out of the door. Irina grabbed Nicole’s arm and spoke to her briefly, getting a nod.

  “All of you go get ready,” Irina said loud enough for everyone to hear. “We will prepare some food.”

  I thanked her and headed out into the hall. Everyone that was going to be making the trip fell in behind and followed me to the armory. We spent a few minutes gathering additional weapons and ammo. Igor looked doubtfully at the M4 rifle I handed him, then expertly broke it down for a quick inspection.

  “Not good as Russian,” he grumbled.

  I ignored his complaining and headed for the small room where I’d slept. Dog tagged along, and I quickly gathered my pack and vest. Everything loaded, I returned to the cafeteria.

  Irina and Nicole were carrying steaming plates of microwaved food out of the kitchen as I walked in and Dog nearly tripped both of them in his urgency to sniff.

  “He’s not afraid of me!”

  Nicole had stopped in the middle of the room, holding two large plates at shoulder level, out of Dog’s reach. He sat in front of her, no more than a foot away, eyes glued to the food and nose twitching.

  “He’s a food whore,” I chuckled and told Dog to go lay down.

  He completely ignored me and Nicole finally stepped around him and put the plates down on my table. Rachel was the next to arrive, joining me. The rest of the team trickled in, and we all devoured the mostly tasteless, freeze-dried mystery that passed itself off as a meal. At least it was hot.

  Fifteen minutes later, the entire group stood in a large hangar next to three Hummers that Gonzales and Johnson had pulled out. The engines were idling, loud in the cavernous space.

  “Orders? In case you don’t make it back, sir?” Johnson asked in a low voice as I tossed my pack in the back of the lead vehicle.

  “Survive.”

  I was at a loss for anything more insightful than that. He nodded and stepped away to say goodbye to Long.

  Rachel, Dog and I climbed into the first Humvee in line after I had made sure the fuel cans strapped to the rear were full. Long and Igor climbed into the second, Lieutenant Sam riding solo in the third. I performed a quick radio check to make sure we could communicate between the vehicles, then shifted into gear and nodded at Johnson. He hit a button on the wall, and the pair of massive doors began trundling open, late afternoon sunshine streaming through the slowly widening gap.

  Rachel waved to Irina, and I drove through as soon as it was wide enough to accommodate the Hummer, glancing in the mirror to make sure Long and Sam were staying tight. Turning north on the almost impossibly long runway, I swerved to run down a pair of males, then accelerated on the smooth pavement.

  “Think we can really save this guy?”

  Rachel squirmed to get comfortable in her seat. Dog was stretched across the back seat, panting softly and staring out the side window.

  “Maybe,” I said. “But we’ve gotta try. Without a pilot, we’re pretty much stuck here.”

  We were quiet for a moment, the tires humming loudly on the tarmac.

  “That sounded wrong,” I said. “That’s not why I’m doing this. I’d go after him even if he couldn’t fly a plane.”

  “I know that.”

  Rachel smiled and reached over, placing her hand on my shoulder. Dog
shuffled around and a moment later thrust his head between the front seats, knocking Rachel’s hand with his muzzle. She absently scratched his ears as I drove. Well, some things hadn’t changed.

  9

  We followed a well-maintained dirt road that cut through the desert north of the installation. Every few miles we would pass a sign facing southbound traffic that warned drivers they were trespassing on US Government property and were subject to arrest. The road followed a track at the base of a small mountain range and frequently there were electronic surveillance devices visible on the slope overlooking us.

  “What was Johnson talking about? Aliens?” Rachel asked after half an hour.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. What?”

  “Area 51? You’ve never heard of it?”

  I looked at her in surprise. It was hard to imagine that there was a person that hadn’t heard at least something about the place. It had been a staple in fiction novels and movies for decades.

  “Nope,” she shook her head. “Never had much time for, or interest in, TV or books. Kind of hard to waste hours in front of the boob tube when you’re in medical school.”

  “Still…”

  “I was a nerd,” Rachel smiled. “All I did was study, go to class and go to work.”

  “OK,” I said, my voice trailing off.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Bite me.”

  Rachel smiled, began laughing and smacked me on the arm.

  “Of course, I’ve heard of Area 51,” she said. “What’d you think? I lived under a rock?”

  I just shook my head, not willing to get sucked any further in.

  We pushed on at a steady fifty miles an hour. I’d given up checking the rear-view for Long and Sam. The Humvee’s tires were throwing up so much dust that they’d backed way off, and I couldn’t see them. Glancing at a cheap, digital clock stuck to the dash, I noted it had been ten minutes since the last check-in. I called each of them on the radio, satisfying myself they were still back there.

  “Sir, did you know that both the car and the airplane were actually invented in Russia?” Long asked when I called him.