High Flight

by David Hagberg

  Zagorsky looked at Soroshkin with despair.

  “I think that you should go to the President and tell him everything.” Yemlin suggested. “Perhaps more can be accomplished in person.”

  “He’s right,” Soroshkin agreed. “In any event we have nothing to lose.”

  “I’ll call the White House immediately,” the ambassador said. “Gather whatever materials you may need for your presentation, Viktor Pavlovich, and meet me downstairs in five minutes.”

  “Mr. Ambassador?”

  “You’ll brief the President, naturally. You know more about this than anyone else.”

  Lindsay, Secor, Landry, and Murphy met with the Russian ambassador and Viktor Yemlin in the Oval Office.

  “We are dealing with a difficult situation, so I will give you only a few minutes,” Lindsay said coldly.

  “I appreciate the difficulties you are facing,” Zagorsky said. “But we have some important intelligence that was gathered for us in Tokyo.”

  “We’re listening.”

  “Mr. President, my name is Viktor Yemlin. Until recently I acted as SUR rezident here in Washington. Several weeks ago Kirk McGarvey came to me for help with a situation he felt was becoming dangerous for the United States. Do you know this man?”

  “Go on.”

  “Mr. McGarvey uncovered a plot by a Japanese group to sabotage Guerin airplanes in such a way that public confidence in the company would be seriously eroded. When that happened the Japanese group would attempt an unfriendly takeover. Our … sources in Tokyo found out that such a plot indeed existed and was being directed by a group of powerful corporations called Mintori Assurance, led by Sokichi Kamiya.”

  “Get to the point,” Lindsay warned.

  Yemlin was confused. “Mr. President, the attack on your nation’s air traffic system was conducted by the Japanese, not us. Russia has no desire to damage the good relations we have with the United States.”

  “Your warships are at this moment attacking Japan. President Yeltsin has promised to withdraw his forces, but so far that has not happened. Can you tell me why?”

  “Mr. President, it is my understanding that the Pacific Fleet has been ordered to stop all activities in the region—” Zagorsky said. Lindsay cut him off.

  “We will consider any further acts of aggression against Japan an act of war to which we will have to respond. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Yes, Mr. President, you have,” Zagorsky replied. “Let us all act with care.”

  “They were telling half-truths,” Secor said on the way back down to the situation room. “But the effect is the same as an outright lie. They’re obviously stalling for time.”

  “We have to base our judgments on the facts alone,” Murphy advised.

  “I tend to agree with you,” Lindsay said.

  A message from Naval Operations Pacific was waiting for them. Landry took the call. When he was finished he was ashen.

  “That was about the Thorn in the East China Sea. The Japanese submarine has been destroyed.”

  “Were there casualties on our side?” Lindsay asked.

  “One of our Orions was shot down. No survivors. Our fighters out of Kadena shot the two Japanese jets out of the sky.”

  “I want it stopped now!” Lindsay roared.

  “The Japanese have backed off, and so have we.”

  “Make sure,” the President ordered.

  “Mr. President, we are monitoring a lot of encrypted traffic between the Russian Embassy here in Washington and the Kremlin,” Amundson said.

  “Do you have a decryption?” Lindsay asked.

  “Not yet. They’re using new equipment. But we think the messages are being directed to the Kremlin’s Situation Room.”

  “Any ELF traffic out of Vladivostok yet?”

  “No, sir. And the latest satellite pass still shows Russian warships approaching the Soya Strait.”

  “Keep me informed.”

  “Mr. Director, this is Tommy Doyle. We just got a message from the NTSB.”

  “Where’s Ryan?” Murphy demanded.

  “I don’t know, General. He’s not in the building, so this was bounced over to me.”

  “What do you have?”

  “NTSB says that what brought down the planes was an explosive thermocouple frame on the engines. One of their engineers at Dulles figured it out. The frames are Russian built. Stuff is called P-4, Semtex and magnesium.”

  “Sonofabitch!” Murphy swore. “No mistakes?”

  “I talked to their chief investigator out there, Sam Varelis. He says they’re real sure about it. Thing is the triggering signal came from a Japanese-designed unit. And the repeating transmitters that were placed at the eight airports were of an unknown design. Could have come from anywhere.”

  Lindsay was looking at Murphy.

  “I’ll tell the President,” the DCI said. “In the meantime find out what the hell happened to Howard.”

  “Will do,” Doyle said. “General?”

  “Yes?”

  “Good luck, sir.”

  “I think there can no longer be any doubt,” Lindsay said.

  “Just a minute, Mr. President, anyone could have purchased the material from the Russians,” Murphy cautioned.

  “Isn’t it also possible that the Russians copied the design for the triggering mechanism from the Japanese?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We’ll deal with facts,” Lindsay asserted. “Fact is the incident in the East China Sea happened because of a rogue submarine captain. But the situation in the Soya Strait is definitely by design.”

  Murphy closed his eyes. He was bone weary. They all were. And tired men under stress made mistakes. There was too much that was confusing here. For the first time since this all began, he found that he was actually wishing McGarvey were here. He was a sonofabitch. But he was usually right.

  “Mr. President, the circuit to Tokyo has been reestablished,” a technician said. “Prime Minister Enchi is calling.”

  “Good. Now we’re getting somewhere.” Lindsay put the call on the speakerphone. “Mr. Prime Minister, I have just learned something that has clarified the situation between our countries.”

  “That is why I am calling, Mr. President, to explain the message that my director general of defense sent to Admiral Ryland.”

  “We understand the mixup. We also monitored the telephone call that President Yeltsin made to Admiral Aladko. We know that the Russians mean to follow up their initial attack on your Hokkaido radar station.”

  The circuit was quiet for several long beats. Lindsay figured Enchi was waiting for the translators to catch up.

  “The Russian submarines have not withdrawn from the strait?” Enchi asked cautiously.

  “Not at this time. I have ordered Admiral Ryland to send forces to monitor the situation.”

  “Have you spoken with President Yeltsin?”

  “Yes, I have. He understands that it is our intention to repel any further attacks against you.”

  Again there was an odd pause on the circuit.

  “I will inform my local commanders,” Enchi said. “Now, about the incident north of Okinawa.”

  “An unfortunate misunderstanding, Mr. Prime Minister. Let us deal with first things first.”

  “I have a solution on the target,” Sattler reported. “Range forty-seven thousand yards, bearing zero-niner-seven.”

  “Prepare to launch TASM Tomahawk on my mark,” Hanrahan said. The surface-to-surface missile carried nearly a half-ton of high explosives to its target at more than five hundred miles per hour.

  “Skipper?”

  “On my mark,” Hanrahan repeated.

  Ryder slammed down the phone he was using. “Belay that order!” he shouted.

  Hanrahan turned on him. “You’re relieved of duty right now, XO!”

  “Skipper, we’ve been ordered to disengage immediately. Comes direct from Seventh. What do you want me to tell them?”

  Hanrahan was sha
king. “Goddammit!”

  Ryder came across the bridge. “For Christ’s sake, Mike, it’s just a sailboat. We got confirmation from Foster on Okinawa. Belongs to a jarhead lieutenant.”

  “What the hell is he doing out here?”

  “Trying to survive,” Ryder said. “Just like us.”

  Z100417ZFEB

  TOP SECRET

  TO: CINC 7TH FLEET

  FM: CINCPAC

  1. EVIDENCE CONTINUES TO MOUNT THAT RUSSIAN NAVAL FORCES INTEND TO CONTINUE THEIR ATTACK ON THE NORTH AND EAST COASTS OF HOKKAIDO XXX RPTD WARNINGS TO WITHDRAW HAVE BEEN IGNORED.

  2. PROCEED AT BEST POSSIBLE SPEED TO A POSITION FROM WHICH AIR OPERATIONS CAN BE CONDUCTED IN THE SOYA STRAIT.

  3. USE ALL MEANS AT YOUR DISPOSAL TO WARN RUSSIAN NAVAL FORCES OUT OF THE REGION XXX IF THAT FAILS YOU WILL ENGAGE THE ENEMY WITHOUT RESTRICTION.

  4. YOU MAY ACT INDEPENDENTLY OF LOCAL JAPANESE FORCES. XXX

  EOM

  GOOD LUCK, AL.

  Admiral Ryland and Captain Benson stepped off the George Washington’s bridge into the admiral’s ready room.

  “We can’t stall any longer,” Benson said.

  “Was that what we were doing, Tony?” Ryland asked. The Japanese were withdrawing their blockade from the mouth of Tokyo Bay, and after a brief but deadly skirmish in the East China Sea, the ASDF had also withdrawn to Tanegashima. He’d truly believed that the Russians would step back from the brink as well.

  “You wanted the situation to stabilize. Well, it’s gone about as far as it’s going to go.”

  “What can they be thinking? There has to be a mistake.”

  Benson didn’t ask who the admiral was referring to, the Russians or Washington. “We have our orders, Al.”

  Ryland reread the message. It was tantamount to a declaration of war on Russia. “I want a confirmation, ASAP. We’ll hold until then.”

  “Very well.”

  Since they’d crossed the state line into New York, Mueller suspected that they were being followed. When they’d stopped for gas outside Corning, Reid had come back from paying certain that the clerk had recognized him. A highway patrol car had followed them for about ten miles north of the rest stop, and then had dropped back, only to be replaced by another for a dozen miles. Either the Maryland Highway Patrol trooper he’d shot had survived to radio their description or eyewitnesses had provided a description of the Probe. Whatever the case, the authorities were showing what he thought to be remarkable restraint. They were wary. But they were too wary, which meant someone had told them who they were dealing with. McGarvey?

  The roads had become slippery from the snow, which had increased in intensity throughout the evening.

  “If you lose control and slide off the road, I will kill you,” he’d told Dominique, and she’d taken care with her driving.

  Mueller studied a map which showed I-390 curved to the north toward Rochester in the next few miles. South of the city, I-90 branched off to the west to Buffalo and the Canadian border.

  He looked up. Although it was dark and heavily snowing he could see that the countryside they were passing through was hilly and thickly wooded. A couple of miles to the west was a state park that would be closed at this time of the year, although he suspected there might be a park ranger on duty. In Europe park rangers lived through the winter seasons with their families in cabins. He couldn’t think why it would be any different here.

  He was faced with a difficult decision. The authorities might stand off for now, but they would never allow him to cross the Canadian border. Even if they did, he wouldn’t get far with Reid and the woman. Either he would have to cut Reid loose and continue with Dominique as a hostage, or he would have to kill them both and make his own escape. In either event he needed to get off the main highways so that he could buy some time.

  He was still faced with the problem of McGarvey, who would never stop coming after him.

  He sat forward. “Take the next exit to the west. It will be marked Mount Morris. About five miles.”

  Dominique glanced in the rearview mirror at him. She was terrified.

  “What’s wrong?” Reid asked.

  “We are being followed, so we need to get another car,” Mueller replied.

  Dominique glanced in the mirror again.

  “If you do exactly as you are told, Ms. Kilbourne, no harm will come to you,” Mueller said reasonably.

  “Yeah, right.”

  The navy pilot expertly set the ponderous Sikorsky SH-3D /L Sea King helicopter down in the median strip within twenty-five yards of the roadblock. The ceiling was low, and in the darkness and blowing snow they would have missed the landing spot except for the flashing lights from the dozen highway patrol cars.

  “I’m damned if I know why we’re going along with you, except I don’t see any other choice,” Whitman said. He handed McGarvey his Walther, the two extra magazines of ammunition, and the thick silencer tube.

  “I’ll owe you a drink when this is over,” McGarvey replied, pocketing the ammo and silencer and holstering his pistol at the small of his back. He’d worried about Dominique all the way up. It was déjà vu. He’d been here before.

  “If you’re right, it’ll be us owing you.”

  They jumped down from the chopper and made their way up to the roadblock, where they were directed to the New York Highway Patrol officer in charge, Lieutenant Earl Lawton.

  Whitman clipped his FBI badge to the zipper flap of his coat. “What’s the situation?”

  Lawton, a tall, slender man with drooping moustache, eyed McGarvey uncomfortably. “They should be coming up the road in about five minutes. Green Ford Probe. Bad guy is in the back seat. Woman driving. A second man in the passenger seat.”

  “How do you know they’ll be here in five minutes?” McGarvey asked.

  “We’ve been following them so they can’t double back.”

  “Show me on a map.”

  Lawton pulled a map out of his car. “We’re here, at the Lakeville exit. They’ve already passed Sonyea, about fifteen miles south.”

  “What’s this?” McGarvey demanded.

  “Mount Morris. Letchworth State Park.”

  “Closed?”

  Lawton nodded.

  “Anybody living in or near the park?”

  “There’s Mount Morris, and I think there’s probably a ranger on duty,” Lawton said. “What are you driving at? If they’re trying to make I-90, and then the border at Buffalo, there’d be no reason for them to turn off.”

  McGarvey looked down the highway. “Don’t count on it.”

  “Al, your orders are confirmed,” CINCPAC Admiral Billy Floricher said.

  “I’m going strong on the warnings before I start shooting,” Ryland replied. “They’re stupid, not crazy.”

  “The President has cleared it with Prime Minister Enchi. The Russians are telling us one thing while they’re doing another.”

  “There’s a lot of that going around.”

  “Good luck, Al.”

  Captain Lestov met with his officers in the Strelka’s wardroom. They’d hovered in silence just below the thermocline at four hundred meters into the morning hours. Although they knew that other Russian submarines were somewhere in the vicinity, their passive sonar had picked up nothing in the past six hours. Nor had they received any ELF traffic from Vladivostok. For all intents and purposes they were utterly alone at the bottom of the sea.

  “I think it is safe to say that although the Japanese suspect we’re down here, they cannot know our exact position,” Lestov said. Within an hour after they’d gone deep, he’d stood them down from battle stations missile. His officers were tense, as well they should be, but they were rested.

  “When we launch a missile they’ll know how to find us,” his XO, Lieutenant Commander Savin, said.

  “This close to shore would put us in a difficult position, with little room to maneuver.”

  “We have our orders.”

  “Da, Viktor Abramo
vich. We have carried them out, have we not?”

  “We did not completely destroy Wakkanai.”

  “You suggest we press the attack?”

  “Unless we receive orders to the contrary.” Savin was becoming uncomfortable, as were the other officers. It was a captain’s duty to lead by decision, not by committee.

  “I agree. But we also have a responsibility to our fine boat and crew. We’ve not been ordered to recklessly endanger our lives.”

  Savin nervously fingered his cigarette. “Captain, I am confused. What are you telling us?”

  “I am simply trying to gauge the mood and determination of my officers.”

  “Captain, we are with you!”

  “Even if my orders are to slink away like a coward in the night? Before a fight two men are boasting; afterward only one. Do you remember that proverb?”

  Savin looked around the table at the other officers. He nodded. “Da. If that is your order.”

  “If I turn the boat to the south and order full speed ahead so that we would be driven onto the beach?”

  “That too, Captain.”

  Lestov closed his eyes for a moment. God help him, but he did understand Moscow’s orders, as he did their silence now. The Japanese had to be contained, even if it took a sacrifice of good men and ships.

  “We will obey our orders,” he said. “First let’s determine if Wakkanai is still transmitting. If it is, we shall finish our attack. Afterward we will go home … defending our retreat with every resource at our command.”

  Savin nodded grimly.

  President Lindsay recalled the Russian ambassador to the White House. This time Zagorsky came alone.

  “I’ll come directly to the point, Mr. Ambassador. I have ordered the Seventh Fleet to the Soya Strait to assist Japanese forces in defending the island of Hokkaido and their territorial waters.”