Seconds to Midnight

by Philip Donlay

  “All of our submarine movements are classified, and even if we did have one in place, our naval communications are done via satellite.”

  “No, they’re not,” Lauren said. “Before satellites, we, you, all of the superpowers used VLF communication as the primary method of communicating over long distances. The Very Low Frequency transmissions travel great distances by bouncing the signal between the ocean floor and the ionosphere. The solar storm will cause some decay in the transmission, but the majority of the signal is within our atmosphere—below the events taking place in space. We can use your antenna in Murmansk, it’s the closest. In fact, we don’t care who intercepts the message. Send an uncoded, plain-language priority broadcast for any submarine in the North Atlantic within three hundred miles of Iceland to attempt contact with Eco-Watch zero one on the emergency aviation frequency. They can do that, right?”

  “Yes, the submarine only has to be in range of the jet. If so, it’s a simple process for the submarine to float a VHF antenna to the surface and make the broadcast,” Nikolai said as a subordinate handed him a sheet of paper. “You are correct. We’ve just confirmed that there is a classified high-level summit scheduled to begin in Iceland—today.”

  “What’s the meeting about?”

  “To discuss a plan that would accelerate the nuclear disarmament between the United States and Russia.”

  “Oh, God,” Lauren said and rushed to the desk, grabbed a pen and a sheet of paper, and began to write furiously. When she finished, she handed it to Nikolai. “Send this message, exactly as I wrote it, and if we’re lucky, the Eco-Watch Gulfstream can land in Iceland before the Tupolev and send out a warning.”

  Nikolai turned to look at the screen, frowned, and then reached for a calculator.

  “I already did the math,” Lauren said. “If everything remains the same, the Eco-Watch Gulfstream will land eleven minutes before the Tupolev—which is an eternity if you can reach a shelter. Nikolai, you have to send this. If nothing else, it will show the world we tried to stop what’s happening. If you have the means to reach out to the Russian President, I suggest you do it as fast as possible, and maybe prevent an even bigger nuclear exchange.”

  “Stay here,” Nikolai said as he walked to another station and picked up a phone.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  “MICHAEL, I NEED to get up and stretch. Do you want some more coffee?” Donovan asked as he began to unbuckle. The orange glow of the sun coming up over the Atlantic Ocean always had the same effect on him. His body felt as if it were nearing midnight, yet the dawn gave irrefutable proof to the contrary, and the contradiction always threatened to multiply his fatigue.

  “I’m good,” Michael said after he checked his cup.

  Donovan stood and stretched; his old injuries seemed to tighten and resist as he did. He put his hands on the backs of both seats and pushed hard against his hamstrings.

  “Eco-Watch zero one.” A strong male voice poured from the cockpit speakers. “I repeat, Eco-Watch zero one, how do you read? Please respond.”

  Donovan instantly slid back into the captain’s seat. He fastened his harness at the same time Michael picked up the microphone. The radio call had come in on the emergency VHF frequency every aircraft monitored while out over the Atlantic Ocean. It was unusual for someone to use Eco-Watch’s call sign and not identify themselves. Montero had heard the call as well and hurried forward.

  “This is Eco-Watch zero one, we copy,” Michael said into the microphone. “Identify yourself and send your message.”

  “Roger, Eco-Watch zero one. Please switch to your company frequency.”

  Michael quickly spun in the private frequency that Eco-Watch was licensed to use as an operational channel. The possibility of anyone else in the area listening in on the forthcoming conversation had just dropped to nearly zero.

  “What’s going on?” Montero asked. “Who knows our frequency?”

  “Not many,” Donovan replied as Michael dialed it in the radio.

  “Eco-Watch zero one is up,” Michael transmitted.

  “Eco-Watch, this is Commander Mitchell Trask aboard the United States Navy attack submarine Minnesota. How do you read? I have an urgent relay for you from Pegasus.”

  “We read you loud and clear. Send the message.” Michael shot a concerned look toward Donovan and Montero and then picked up a pen, ready to write.

  “Pegasus says: there is an unconfirmed possibility of private sector Russian attack on a diplomatic summit in Iceland. William, Stephanie, and Abigail are on-site. Unable to send direct warning due to total Icelandic power failure. Approaching Tupolev 214 contains delegation from Russia, and is most likely unaware that a possible bomb is aboard. Suggest you divert and initiate early warning, and evacuation if possible. Calculations suggest you’ll arrive eleven minutes before the Tupolev.”

  “Captain Trask, is this for real?” Michael asked as he finished copying the message verbatim. “How did you get this?”

  “That’s not relevant,” Trask replied. “We did confirm that Pegasus is one of ours, and we do know that this message went out as a plain-language transmission from the Russian long-range communication station in Murmansk. We think Pegasus and the Russian government are working together.”

  “Can you shed any light on the power situation in Iceland?” Michael asked.

  “Negative,” Trask said. “Though I can confirm the existence of the summit, but that’s the extent of the information I can pass on until secure satellite communication is reestablished.”

  Donovan picked up his microphone. “Captain Trask, this is Captain Nash. If at all possible, can you send a return message to Pegasus?”

  “Negative,” Trask replied. “Good luck, Captain Nash, Minnesota out.”

  Donovan was about to ask Michael to plug in a direct course for Iceland when Michael, already ahead of him, pressed a button. The course needle swung to the left, and the display told them that the straight-line distance to the airport in Keflavik was eighty miles.

  Michael switched frequencies on the VHF radio. “I can hear the tower talking to traffic.”

  “Don’t contact anyone yet,” Donovan said as he eyed their altitude, speed, and fuel. “We need a plan.”

  “This is crazy. I mean, how are we going to play this? I don’t think we just call them up and tell them, ‘Hey, we’re Eco-Watch, and FYI, there’s a possible bomb on its way. Oh, and it might be nuclear.’”

  “You’re right.” Donovan looked down as the Galileo settled into its new course. At their present speed, they were fifteen minutes from Iceland. “We’re going to declare an emergency and get on the ground as quickly as possible. The priority here is to warn these people without panicking either the population or the people aboard the Tupolev. Lauren’s message was very clear about this being an unconfirmed possibility.”

  “There’s also William’s warning about us not screwing up his deliberations with the Russians,” Michael said. “Montero, what do you think?”

  Donovan turned and discovered that Montero was gone. He turned further, and spotted her in the cabin. Moments later she returned with Sofya. Both women squeezed into the small space where all four of them could talk.

  “When I told Sofya about the message from the submarine, she remembered something. Sofya, tell them what you just told me.”

  “When Andrei and I were trying to infiltrate Petrov’s organization, we were once called for an interview with the entity that handles many of the VIP flights out of Sheremetyevo Airport in Moscow. One of their divisions oversees the diplomatic flights for the government. When we were at the facility, we saw ground crew we recognized from Petrov’s operation. I just read a note on Petrov’s calendar about Sheremetyevo in reference to a Tupolev. It seemed odd about twenty minutes ago, but now it seems obvious. I also came across another hastily written note that didn’t make sense until just now. It was a brief paragraph about air versus land, and the kill radius related to both. It makes sense if you apply
it to a nuclear detonation.”

  “Sofya,” Montero asked. “Do you think Petrov’s people had access to this Tupelov that’s flying into Keflavik?”

  “Absolutely,” Sofya said.

  “Okay,” Donovan said. “I’ve heard enough. In a few minutes, we’re going to declare an emergency, which will give us priority handling. There’s no power on the island, but the airport will have backup generators for essential items. This is going to go down fast, and once we arrive, I have no idea what’s going to happen.”

  “Meaning, we may arrive just in time to get vaporized?” Michael said.

  “I think we’ll have a fair idea of the Tupolev’s position before then,” Donovan said. “And let me be clear, there is no way we allow this airplane to be within the blast zone. I’m serious, Michael, promise me you’ll get this airplane safely airborne long before the Tupolev arrives. The three of you will not die on this particular mountain. You leave—even if I’m not aboard. Do you understand?”

  “What are you talking about?” Montero asked.

  “You heard the message. William, Stephanie, and Abigail are down there. I’m not leaving without my family, and you are not to stay long enough to get blown up. Michael, make the call to Keflavik,” Donovan said as he put his hands on the throttles. “Let’s don’t get them all worked up. Tell them we have something nonlethal. What was it you used in Minneapolis?”

  “A pressurization leak, that’ll work,” Michael said as he pressed the button and began transmitting. “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. Keflavik tower, Eco-Watch zero one, declaring an emergency.”

  “Eco-Watch zero one, this is Keflavik, say your position and the nature of your emergency.”

  “We’re seventy-five miles southwest, descending out of thirty-nine thousand feet. We’re losing pressure in the aircraft cabin.”

  “Keflavik tower, I copy. You are cleared direct to the airport, plan runway one one, descend and maintain three thousand feet. The clouds are scattered at five thousand, the wind is zero eight zero at ten knots. Our radar is down, report five miles out, and when you can, please advise number of souls and fuel on board, and if you will require assistance upon arrival.”

  “Four souls, and our fuel will be thirteen thousand pounds on landing. No assistance will be required,” Michael replied.

  Donovan continued the descent, making sure the air-speed needle was pegged against the red line. With only eleven minutes to work with, every second mattered. The sense of speed grew as they plummeted toward the top of the cloud deck. The Gulfstream shuddered as they entered the opaque gray world inside the precipitation. The wings flexed as the Galileo rode out the turbulence and continued hurtling downward toward the ocean.

  “Montero!” Donovan called out without taking his eyes from the instruments.

  “I’m here,” she said from behind him.

  “The visibility is good, so we’re going to break out of the clouds shortly and have a good view of the airport before we land. Go to science station two, power it up, and use the Galileo’s primary optics to scan the airport. Try to find out what’s going on there before we land.”

  “I know how to manually use the imager, but that’s about it,” Montero said. “If you need anything more, I’m not that person.”

  “Manual is fine,” Donovan said. “I want to know what airplanes are on the ramp, and where. Usually when a dignitary arrives, there are people waiting, politicians, VIPs; we need to get to them as fast as possible.”

  “Got it,” Montero said, and she hurried aft.

  “Eco-Watch zero one, this is Keflavik tower. Be advised there will be a Gulfstream landing ahead of you, and will not be a factor. Say your distance from the airport.”

  “Eco-Watch zero one is eighteen miles out,” Michael replied.

  “Ask him if there is any other traffic,” Donovan said, and as Michael made the transmission, they burst from the base of the cloud deck. Below them were the choppy waters of the North Atlantic. Ahead, just visible in the marine haze, was Iceland, and after several seconds of searching, Donovan picked up the runway.

  “The only other traffic is an inbound Tupolev 214, approximately sixty miles east, no factor.”

  “That’s him,” Donovan said.

  “Keflavik tower this is Gulfstream Charlie Golf Echo Lima turning final for runway one one.”

  “Roger Echo Lima, this is Keflavik tower, you are cleared to land runway one one. Be advised we have another Gulfstream landing behind you with an emergency in progress.”

  Donovan spotted the other Gulfstream far ahead, no more than a white speck. It landed and cleared the runway to the right.

  “Eco-Watch zero one, this is Keflavik tower, you are number one for the airport. I have you in sight, cleared to land on runway one one. Wind is zero eight zero at twelve knots.”

  “Michael, give me twenty degrees of flaps, standby on the gear.” Donovan felt the Galileo slow dramatically and he adjusted the power and made a smooth turn that lined them up for the runway. “Gear down, full flaps, final checklist.”

  Michael went through the electronic list and confirmed all of the systems were set for landing.

  “Donovan!” Montero cried out from the back of the Galileo. “I just saw them! Stephanie, Abigail, and a man I didn’t recognize just got off the Gulfstream and climbed into a maroon SUV. They drove away, and I don’t know how to lock the camera on them. They’re leaving!”

  “Michael, flaps to twenty, we’re going around,” Donovan said as he pushed the throttles to the stop. “Gear up.”

  “What shall I tell the tower?” Michael said.

  “Nothing. In fact, turn the volume down. They’re not going to like what I’m about to do.” Donovan leveled the Galileo and flew down the runway at a hundred feet going two hundred knots. As the airport spread out below him, he spotted two Icelandic airliners parked at the main terminal. Off to the right was the transient ramp and he banked to pass low overhead.

  “That parked Boeing 757 belongs to the Air Force’s Special Air Mission wing,” Michael said as they flashed past. “It’s probably William’s ride.”

  “What else?” Donovan said as he focused his eyes out ahead of the Galileo, trying to spot and follow the access road leading away from the airport.

  “There was a space next to the 757 that’s empty, and I think you’re right, there was a group of vehicles and people. It looks exactly like a diplomatic greeting party waiting for the Tupolev.”

  “I trust everyone on the ground saw us?”

  “Oh they saw us all right, and then right afterwards, they heard us.”

  “Montero, do you have Abigail and Stephanie?”

  “I will in a second,” she said.

  Montero pressed powerful binoculars to her eyes as they flashed over snow-covered roofs of what looked like apartment buildings.

  “Three storage tanks straight ahead—do you see them?” Montero said. “There’s an SUV just beyond—that’s the vehicle which pulled away from the chartered Gulfstream. They just made a right turn onto the highway headed northeast, accelerating.”

  Donovan had very little time to maneuver. He banked the Gulfstream directly over the top of the SUV Montero swore held his daughter, and then seconds later the Galileo roared out over the harbor. He spotted the breakwater and using it for reference, made a steep turn, picked up the speeding SUV, and pointed the Galileo to cross right in front of the vehicle. He held fifty feet and two hundred knots. As the Gulfstream roared across the highway, less than ten car lengths from the front of the SUV, he pulled up and swung back around in a tight left turn. The maroon SUV swerved to the inside lane and slowed. From there, the driver made an abrupt turn onto the median and stopped. As the Galileo flashed over once again, he saw Abigail waving from an open window. Donovan rocked the wings and pulled up as the SUV bolted forward, finished the U-turn, accelerated, and headed back toward the airport.

  “Now what?” Montero asked.

  “Now we land,” Donovan said. />
  “Which runway are you using?” Michael asked.

  “Gear down,” Donovan said as he continued his turn toward the airport. “I’m thinking a short approach to runway one one. We’ll make that turnoff at the end, and from there it’ll be a short taxi to where we saw those people waiting.”

  “Checklist complete down to the final flaps,” Michael said as the landing gear swung down and locked into place.

  “Full flaps,” Donovan said as he added power and banked hard to make the steep ninety-degree turn to final. The Gulfstream slowed to approach speed as Donovan leveled the wings. He brought the throttles to idle and the tires lightly kissed the runway. In a flurry of practiced motion, he pulled out the spoilers and deployed the thrust reversers as he eased forward on the controls until he felt the soft rumble of the nose tires. He took the final turnoff, and as Michael reconfigured the airplane for their immediate departure, Donovan added power and quick-taxied toward the assemblage of people.

  As he swung around to park the Galileo, he discovered that already, half a dozen official vehicles were speeding down the ramp to intercept them. Breaking free from the small gathering was a familiar face. William VanGelder, impeccably dressed, was running toward the Gulfstream. Even from this distance Donovan could see the concern on William’s face. Donovan felt the deep fear that his failure meant everyone only had minutes to live.

  “Keep both engines running,” Donovan said to Michael as he jumped out of the seat and hurried toward the door, only to find Montero already lowering the airstair. Donovan turned back toward Michael. “How much time have I got?”

  “The Tupolev will be here in eight minutes.”

  Donovan stood at the top of the stairs and scanned the ramp. There were nearly twenty people, including William. The chartered Gulfstream was parked on one side, and William’s 757 on the other. A quick glance told him the 757 was buttoned up for the night, and of no use in an evacuation. Three cars lurched to a stop, blocking the Gulfstream, and men wielding automatic weapons aimed their guns at Donovan as he hurried down the steps to meet William.