by Dirk Patton
“You said a couple things, boss,” Drago rumbled.
“We’ve got six days before the Admiral pulls the trigger on a failsafe. No more. No less. One hundred and forty-four hours from now, if you’re in or near the city...”
I took my time, looking at each person until they nodded, making sure everyone understood what I was telling them. When I was satisfied my message had gotten across, I turned and led the way into the hangar.
47
Fifteen minutes later we were in the air, passing through fifty thousand feet on our way to an altitude where Vance would accelerate us to hypersonic flight. All the fighting men were already asleep. Martinez sat next to me, working a sharpening stone along the edge of a knife big enough that I wasn’t sure it wouldn’t qualify as a machete.
“Couldn’t find a bigger one?” I asked as I watched her work.
She muttered something in Spanish, held the blade up to examine it and was apparently satisfied. It slid silently into a leather sheath strapped to her back and she looked at me with a smile.
“Was going to offer to sharpen yours, but if you’re going to be a smart ass...”
“You know I’m a Colonel, now, right Captain?”
“Is that what that is?” she asked, making a production of looking at my eagle. “Thought maybe you’d spilled something on your uniform.”
I managed to maintain a straight face for about two seconds before a grin broke out.
“That’s more like it,” I chuckled, unsheathing my Ka-Bar and passing it to her.
We sat in companionable silence for a couple of minutes as Martinez worked the edge.
“Daddy, huh?” Martinez asked without looking up from her work. “Gettin’ used to the idea, yet?”
“Scared shitless.”
She paused and looked at me to see if I was being serious.
“Why? You’ll be a great dad. Seen you with Mavis. She adores you and it’s pretty clear you feel the same about her.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Dunno,” I said after a long pause. “Maybe ‘cause she isn’t a baby. She’s mostly grown.”
“No, she isn’t,” Martinez said immediately. “She seems that way because she’s had a hard life. That makes kids, especially girls, seem mature beyond their years. But it’s all bullshit. She just learned the things to say and do to seem more grownup. Makes her less of an easy target. Doesn’t mean she’s not still a child.”
I looked at her until she returned to working on my knife.
“Sounds like you know what you’re talking about.”
“Grew up in Juarez,” she said, but I already knew that. “Street kids all over the place. Got to know a lot of them.”
“How’d you wind up in the Air Force?”
“My father worked for PEMEX, the Mexican oil company. He was a geological engineer. Haliburton hired him away and we moved to the US when I was only a little older than Mavis. Went to high school in Odessa, Texas, aced the SAT and wanted to fly, so I applied for the Air Force Academy.”
“Wait,” I said. “You’re telling me you got a perfect score on the SAT test?”
“Yep. That’s why I didn’t join the Army,” she said with a mischievous grin.
“Christ! So, you’re a fuckin’ genius? Who would’ve guessed?”
“Try not to be intimidated. It’s not a good look for you.”
Grinning, I leaned my head back and stared up at the ceiling. Conversation over, we sat in silence for several minutes as she kept working the edge of the blade.
“Think I should talk to her?” I suddenly asked, tilting my head in Nicole’s direction.
“About what?” Martinez asked.
“Need to know she’s not all messed up over arguing with Gonzales.”
“You really think she’s that fragile?”
“Well... I don’t... I mean...”
I was still trying to come up with an answer to Martinez’s question when Nicole looked directly at me, unstrapped from her seat and walked across to where I was sitting.
“Forgot I can hear like a bat, didn’t you?” she asked, standing in front of me with her hands on her hips.
She was right. I had forgotten, even though I now had the same enhanced senses.
“Sorry,” I said. “Just worried...”
She cut me off with a raised hand.
“I understand, and I’m fine. Yes, we had a spat and we both said some things we shouldn’t have. We’ll work it out when this is all over.”
We held each other’s eyes for a few moments, the only sound other than the plane’s big engines coming from Martinez working on my knife.
“Gotta excuse the Colonel,” Martinez said without looking up. “He worries like a mother hen.”
“Only because certain people keep giving me a reason!”
“Nah, you’re just a control freak. Have been the whole time I’ve known you.”
Martinez was smiling and after a moment Nicole’s face softened.
“I’m good to go,” she said.
I looked at her for a few more moments, then nodded.
“Sorry.”
“Is what it is,” Nicole said, dropping into the empty seat next to me. “And an argument is worth it if we can finally put an end to this and move forward with our lives.”
I relaxed a little at that point, leaning back and closing my eyes as Nicole and Martinez began talking about men and all their faults. There was no doubt that a couple of the comments were intended to get a rise out of me, but I wasn’t about to take the bait. There was no way I could hold my own with either of the women, let alone both at the same time.
“Fifty minutes.”
I opened my eyes when Vance’s voice came over a speaker mounted to the bulkhead above me. We must have reached hypersonic speed. Once again, I was amazed at how seamless and uneventful it was.
Leaning across Martinez, I slapped Drago’s big shoulder. He woke with a snort, giving me a look. I told him to wake everyone and he kicked boot soles until the small team was alert.
We’d all gone over the plan and each person’s role and responsibility before leaving Hawaii, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a good idea to do it again. Just to make sure there weren’t any miscues once we were on the ground.
We talked for half an hour, then Chico passed out radios. Once everyone was equipped and we’d verified the units were working properly, weapons were inspected, loaded magazines were checked and gear was tested to make sure it was secure. By the time we were done, Vance announced we were only five minutes to our destination.
Everyone strapped in, then there were several comments of appreciation for our pilot’s skill when we touched down so gently the thump of landing was barely perceptible.
“Lovely ladies and knuckle draggers, welcome to Mountain Home Air Force Base,” Vance said over the speaker as we slowed to taxi speed. “The outside temperature is a balmy twenty-eight degrees Fahrenheit. Thank you for flying Nutcracker Air, and we hope you’ll keep us in mind for your next raid into enemy held territory.”
The transport plane pulled to a stop and the rear loading ramp began descending with a whine of hydraulics. I stood at the back of the cargo bay, the rest of the team spread out on either side of me. Even though I knew Vance had been afforded a bird’s eye view of the Air Force Base and its surroundings with the sophisticated night and thermal vision systems on board, we still had our weapons up and ready.
A frigid wind whirled into the plane, reminding me that North America was in the middle of winter. After an Australian summer and the tropical weather in Hawaii, an involuntary shiver passed through me. I fucking hate cold weather.
48
Strickland lay hidden in the scrub at the top of a slope, north of Santa Barbara. Below, Russian soldiers were busily digging up small, green plants, wrapping them in burlap which was sprayed with water. The heavy, sodden bundles were then loaded into the waiting trucks. A pair of what he assumed were sc
ientists supervised the sergeants who were making sure the men were getting the job done correctly and in a timely manner.
“What the fuck you Ivans up to?” the SEAL muttered to himself.
At the bottom of a dirt access road that ran from the highway all the way up the hill was a sign that had caught his attention.
UCSB Experimental Agricultural Project
There were also numerous signs in English and Spanish that cautioned against trespassing, but that was to be expected. What had surprised him were the ones that warned the crops were not for human consumption.
He didn’t understand what the Russians could possibly want with the plants, but since it seemed they were hell bent on taking everything in the field it had to be pretty goddamn important. But the real problem was, what the fuck was he supposed to do? He knew he’d be hard pressed to even figure out what kind of crop was being cultivated, let alone understand why the enemy wanted it.
A shout from below drew his attention. One of the men wearing civilian clothing was busily berating four soldiers who hadn’t done something to his satisfaction. An NCO hurried over and spoke briefly with the first man. Nodding, he turned and began screaming at the hapless soldiers. Heads down, they unrolled the bundle they’d been about to load into a truck.
“Bet you know what’s what, don’t ya?” Strickland mumbled as he stared at the man.
But how to get to him? It wasn’t like he could sneak across a field full of soldiers, grab the asshole and drag him off for a little question and answer session. There were no options that he could see. Grumbling, he dug out his sat phone and initiated a call to Hawaii.
It was answered by a controller in Pearl Harbor’s Combat Information Center, or CIC. After Strickland explained the situation, he was routed through a series of progressively higher-ranking officers, but none had been notified of the SEAL’s mission. Eventually, someone thought to check with Admiral Packard’s aide, Captain West and the call was routed to Jessica.
“What exactly am I supposed to do?” Strickland asked when she picked up and identified herself.
Ignoring the sarcasm in his voice, she adjusted the view from a satellite and looked for him. He was so well concealed that he only became visible when she performed a thermal scan.
“Okay, got you on sat imagery,” she said.
“You what?” he grumbled, involuntarily looking up at the sky. “You mean you can see what the hell’s goin’ on and I still had to haul my ass up here?”
“Relax, Chief,” she said, peering at the view of the Russian soldiers collecting the plants. “Images from orbit are one thing. Figuring out what has piqued the enemy’s interest is another.”
“And just how am I supposed to do that? Stroll down the hill and chat them up?”
“Don’t ask me!” Jessica snapped. “I’m not the operator, you are. Thought you guys were supposed to figure shit like this out.”
There was silence on the circuit for a few moments, then Jessica glanced at her screen. She couldn’t help but grin to see him holding a middle finger up at the sky.
“Be glad the Admiral’s not standing next to me,” she said, laughing when the SEAL’s hand instantly disappeared.
“Alright,” Strickland said after a beat. “Been a bitch of a few days. Sorry ‘bout that. Now, what the hell do they want me to do? I can take a sample after the Russkies leave, but that’s not gonna do a damn bit of good. I’m not a biologist.”
“I’m probably the wrong person to ask, but it seems to me like you need to get your hands on one of those Russians wearing civvies. The grunts won’t know any more than you do already.”
“Gee, thanks for the tip,” Strickland groused. “While I’ve got you, seen anything of the two Russians I was with? Igor and Irina.”
Jessica hesitated, trying to decide whether to tell the SEAL what had happened.
“You there, Chief?”
“Sorry. I’m here,” she said, taking a deep breath. “They were captured.”
“What? Where are they? I’ll go get them!”
“That’s already being handled,” she said.
There was a long stretch of silence as Strickland processed what she’d said.
“Understood,” he finally said. “I’ll let you know if I figure anything out with these crops.”
He broke the call immediately, not waiting for Jessica to respond. Gut churning with worry over his friends, he glared down the hill where the trucks were still being loaded. Came up with several scenarios for getting his hands on one of the Russians, dismissing each in turn when the only possible outcome was his death.
Frustration was building when the two men in plain clothing began walking up the dirt access road in his direction. Instantly on high alert, he checked on all the enemy troops, but they were focused on their work. Glancing over his shoulder, he tried to understand why the men were climbing the hill, but there was nothing he could see.
“Maybe they gotta take a dump,” he muttered, then thought better. “Together?”
Unable to come up with a reason, he focused on tracking the pair as well as keeping a close eye on the soldiers below. They continued to climb, conversing in Russian. Coming parallel with his position, they kept going without pause, disappearing over a crest. After another check on the troops below, Strickland slithered through the brush, crawling up the slope while staying well clear of the road.
Reaching the top, the ground leveled out, creating a broad shelf. Two small buildings and a massive hot house were nestled at the base of a much steeper slope that continued up into the rugged Santa Ynez mountains. Shielded from the men below by terrain, he rose to a crouch and ran to the closest building where a door swung in a gentle breeze.
Pausing with his back against the wall, Strickland took a moment to listen. From inside, metal drawers were opened and slammed shut, paper rustled and one of the men occasionally said something in Russian. Wishing for a rifle or pistol, the SEAL drew the knife that was his only weapon.
Rolling around the jamb, he instantly spotted the two men. Both were bent over a desk, reading from a thick file and didn’t notice him until he was only a few feet away. Their eyes flew wide in surprise and one of them raised his hands, but the SEAL was too close.
Strickland hit him with a haymaker, sending the much lighter man tumbling across the room to slam against the wall before collapsing unconscious to the floor. In one fluid motion, he slammed into the second one, wrapped him up tight and pressed the tip of the blade against his throat.
“Don’t make a fuckin’ sound,” he growled in the Russian’s ear.
The man froze in place and Strickland could feel tremors of fear where their bodies was pressed tightly against each other. Keeping the knife firmly in place, he glanced down at the file they’d been reading. Across the top were the words Agricultural Test, but that was all that made sense to him.
“Why do you want those plants?” he asked in a quiet voice.
The man remained silent for a long moment before saying something in Russian. Strickland silenced him with a flick of the blade that opened a one inch cut on the man’s neck.
“Don’t pull that shit with me, motherfucker. You were reading a goddamn file written in English. If you can do that, you can speak the fuckin’ language. Now, last chance before I open your throat and wake your buddy up. What are you doing here?”
“The – the – the wheat,” the man stammered in perfect English.
“What about it?” Strickland asked, not wanting to let on that he hadn’t even known what the crop was.
“It is special.”
“Special, how? Talk asshole. I’m out of patience.”
He moved the bloody blade from the man’s throat and laid it flat against his face. The Russian swallowed audibly but remained as still as a stone.
“Genetically modified. It was intended for harsh climates. Very harsh. But it is also resistant to the virus.”
“What?” Strickland asked in surprise. “What are you
talking about, the virus?”
“You do not know?”
“Know what? Start explaining. Now!”
A clock was ticking in Strickland’s head. He’d already been inside the building for well over a minute. How long did he have before one of the NCOs in the field below sent a squad of soldiers to check on the two men?
“The virus is killing everything,” the man said, his words coming in a rush. “All the plants. All the animals. We need the wheat for food!”
Strickland hadn’t been in the loop on the planetary blight, which had been a closely guarded secret. He hadn’t been in Hawaii when Barinov had made his broadcast. For a moment, he was stunned at the news, but shook his head and forced himself to focus on the task at hand.
“And this shit won’t die?”
“Nyet. No.”
“That’s what’s in the file?”
The man didn’t answer.
“The file. It’s about this super wheat? How to make it?”
He reinforced his question with a flick of the blade that opened a small cut on the man’s cheek.
“Yes! Yes!”
Strickland paused for a few seconds but couldn’t think of anything else to ask. Removing the knife from the Russian’s face, he stabbed up through the man’s ribs into his heart. The only sound was an initial gasp of shock, then he gently lowered the corpse to the floor. Moving to the unconscious man, he flipped him over and buried the blade in the back of his head.
Snatching the file off the desk, he ran to the door and peeked through. No Russian troops were visible and he dashed outside, turning and running higher into the hills.
49
Stepping onto the tarmac at Mountain Home Air Force Base brought back a flood of memories. In the distance, I could see the burned-out husks of several helicopters that had been destroyed when I escaped from the Russians. There were also dozens of corpses still lying on the cold pavement where I’d battled my way through infected. None appeared to have been touched by scavengers or showed any degree of decomposition. Reaching up to my ear, I tapped the button to activate my radio before speaking.