Viktor looked troubled. “Okay, we’ll worry about that when we need to,” he said rapidly. “In the meantime, are you sure Brokenshcov is their main site?”
Yan nodded, “Oh yes...”
“How?”
“Let’s just say our double agent became very co-operative after a little persuasive interrogation.”
Viktor thought a moment. “Alright. I’ll call a meeting with the Defence Committee and we’ll discuss a strategy.”
Chapter Nine
Brokenshcov Forest, Bulvaga
“Captain Poda, report please.”
“Nearing target now, Sir,” Malik replied into his mask. “There’s dense cloud cover so I have no visual contact. Reducing altitude.”
Malik swung the jet lower as he approached his destination and waited for his view to clear.
Seismic sensors reported a magnitude-eight earthquake had taken place about fifteen minutes ago, in a region never known to have had a quake before. Since then all communication in the area had ceased.
When he realised the mist was so near to the ground he would have to fly dangerously low, the pilot carefully monitored his gauges. Passing over the co-ordinates, he prepared to swing around when an alarm started buzzing in the cockpit. He checked his instruments and saw the jet’s air intake sensors had registered particles in the flow. Suddenly the veil began to thin and, as his view cleared, he looked down.
The decimation on the ground appeared to prove there had been a massive earthquake – the forest lying horizontal, its trees seemingly plucked up by an immense power and flung back down to the valley below – but, despite this, Malik knew there were more sinister forces involved. The trees, giving evidence to the origin of the dense cloud, were scorched and stripped of their branches along one side.
“There seems to have been an explosion at the Brokenshcov Base,” he reported in.
“Elaborate.”
“The Brokenshcov forest shows signs of an earthquake, but there’s also been a large amount of heat involved.”
“There was a fuelling depot for the airfield. The tankers must have exploded. Can you see anything of the base?”
“No, and I suspect there has to be more than just aviation fuel that’s caused this. I had to move five miles out from the target before I got any kind of visual.”
“Five miles, are you sure?”
“Of course,” the captain snapped.
“Could your instruments be wrong?”
“Unlikely.” Malik punched a few keys on his dash to confirm his GPS. “No, they’re fine. Could there have been an accident? Did they house nuclear weapons?”
“I don’t have access to that information, that’s confidential,” came a quick reply. The radio went silent for a moment, before the order came: “Return to headquarters and discuss what you’ve seen with no one.”
Malik swung the jet in a wide circle to avoid the debris field and headed back to the Kilmorec Air Force Base. “Roger that.”
****
Sergeant Somolin burst into the command room and strode across to stand beside the young woman sitting at the control panel. “I need an immediate uplink to the Lomax Military satellite.”
“Yes, Sir.” She returned her attention to the screen and entered instructions through the keyboard. Briefly, information scrolled down the monitor before a prompt indicate a communication link was established.
“I want a video play back of region 1572 for the past hour.”
As she located the file, Sergeant Somolin pulled up a chair and began to study the display.
Prime Minister Juntokev’s Office, Bulvaga
“They’ve done what?” Bvoktac Juntokev screamed at Hugo Gregoria, his Minister of Defence.
“A nuclear device has been detonated over the Brokenshcov Military Headquarters. We’ve confirmed it took off from Ugarvian soil.”
“How did they get a missile passed our defence systems?”
“They concealed it inside a small passenger plane. They must have sent it across the border on autopilot and remotely detonated it over the target. A farmer near the Western mountains reported he had seen someone parachuting from a small plane and presumed it was in difficulty. He tried to find the pilot to see if they were injured, but found no-one.”
Bvoktac stood, too agitated to remain seated, and began to pace the room. “Has Viktor gone mad?” he said, aghast.
“Our intelligence tells us they’re on the brink of starvation. Desperate people take desperate measures.” Hugo twitched his shoulders. “It can drive men to otherwise unthinkable acts.”
“Well that’s not our problem,” Bvoktac raged at his minister. “We have a trigger-happy madman on our doorstep, that’s our problem. We won’t have it. No matter what it takes, I want you to press on with this offensive.”
Both men jumped when a shrill ring sprang from the phone.
Bvoktac picked up the receiver. “Yes, what is it?” His furrowed face deepened. “What’s he want?” He paused.
Hugo could hear a woman’s voice on the other end of the line. He identified the odd word, but not enough to make sense of the conversation.
“Alright,” Bvoktac sighed, “send him in.”
Hugo looked at the Prime Minister questioningly.
“Henri Duval, the French ambassador,” he whispered, just before the door opened.
Instantly, a more controlled, professional, but tense atmosphere descended upon the room.
Bvoktac crossed to shake hands with the new comer. “What can we do for you Henri?” He indicated to a chair. “Please make yourself comfortable.” He waited for the ambassador to sit before returning behind the desk.
As the Minister of Defence pulled a chair alongside, Henri addressed Bvoktac. “Gamma rays were detected soon after our sensors indicated there had been an earthquake in your Brokenshcov region. Do you need any assistance? We suspect there has been a nuclear accident.”
Bvoktac shook his head. “This was no accident. We were attacked.”
“Attacked?” Henri looked surprised. “Who attacked you?”
Bvoktac brought the ambassador up to date on the week’s events.
“So what are your intentions?” Henri asked, solemnly.
“Clearly, we cannot sit by and do nothing. I will not have that madman in charge.”
“Of course.” Henri thought a moment before asking, “Is there somewhere I can make a call in private?”
“Yes.”
Bvoktac guided the ambassador to a room at the back of the office. It was more comfortably decorated with soft couches and an open fire and was obviously designed for entertaining dignitaries beyond the cold, hard negotiating table.
“What do you think he’s up to?” Hugo asked quietly as the Prime Minister returned to his desk.
“I’ve no idea, but he’ll have the backing of the International States. Ugarvia is a threat to us all. Nuclear fallout does not recognise borders and will circle the globe. This will work to our advantage.”
The two men sat the remainder of the time in silence. The situation was too tense for small talk and the risk of being heard too great to return to their previous conversation.
A few minutes later the door opened and the French Ambassador returned to the office. The two ministers waited expectantly as he came back to his seat.
“If the Ugarvian government is removed from power by the International States, either willingly or unwillingly, will you agree to stand down your offensive?”
“Yes,” Bvoktac said, without hesitation.
Henri’s face softened, “Good. We can offer international aid and medical care to help survivors.”
“Thank you,” Bvoktac replied.
“We have troops moving into the area now,” Hugo confirmed. “There were reports of at least fifty people missing, so the more help we have the better.”
Henri stood, “I’ll get on it.”
Chapter Ten
Brokenshcov Forest, Bulvaga
“Sir,” Pr
ivate Kevin Hunter panted up to his commanding officer, “I think you should have a look at this.”
Sergeant Ian Bradley followed the young soldier over the debris of undergrowth, branches and fallen trees strewn across the forest floor to the shallow valley nearby.
“It’s not on the map,” Kevin informed, pointing at the one-storey building shielded from view until you neared the edge of the basin.
Despite its location, the building had sustained substantial damage as a result of the blast. Trees and boulders, tossed as though they were children’s toys, had crushed the roof and caved in a wall facing the explosion.
Sergeant Bradley scanned the forest. “Private Dudley!” He waited until he had his attention. “Go with Private Hunter and search that building for survivors. This might explain where those fifty missing people went.”
As the two soldiers made their way down into the valley, Ian looked around for his counterpart. It was a good ten minutes before he spotted him in the distance helping a young officer who was having difficulty with his facemask. As he moved closer, he saw the damaged apparatus just before the youth turned and began towards the road.
“I’ve sent him back to base,” Captain Manlik Jino informed him.
Ian nodded his approval then pointed towards the valley. “There’s a building over there that I can’t find on the map.”
Manlik’s brow furrowed. He checked his documents before shaking his head. “I’ve no record of it.” He reached for his radio, “I’ll contact HQ and see if anyone can give us more information.”
Ian started towards the valley and called over his shoulder, “I’ll see how the men are doing.”
As the sergeant picked his way carefully over the scorched trees and soil, slippery with soot, he spotted one of the soldiers coming out of the building. The young man, noticing the officer, waved then waited until he was in earshot before speaking.
“Sir, you’d better come inside and see what’s happened.”
He stood until the sergeant joined him. “There’s been extensive damage to the building, but that’s not what killed the occupants,” Private Simon Dudley explained as he led the way to the entrance.
“What killed them?”
“They seem to have been shot. Even those trapped beneath fallen mortar.”
The two men rounded a corner and stopped.
It appeared the building was a packaging factory. Empty boxes rolled around in a gentle breeze blowing through the large open, well-lit plant and a conveyor belt stood silent in the background. That was where the ‘normal’ ended. Blood was sprayed up the white walls, which were pitted with bullet holes running deep into the bricks. The spacing and regularity of the punctures indicated a machine-gun-style high velocity weapon had been used to achieve an efficient and swift kill. The crimson trail streaked down the plaster in several locations, continuing to floor level and across the laminate covering to where an obviously failed attempt to burn a pile of haphazardly placed bodies had been made.
Ian Bradley had seen his fair share of killings, but this baffled and sickened him. “Why would anyone do this?”
“Sir!”
The sergeant hurried to the soldier across the room.
“I’ve searched the building: there’s a canteen, toilets, office and another room beyond this door, which won’t open. I don’t think it’s locked, I think it’s jammed. See...” Private Hunter rattled the door with his shoulder to reveal a crack, which would open no further. “Do you want us to force it?”
“Yes. It might offer some insight as to what’s gone on here. There might also be more survivors inside. Come on,” the officer braced his shoulder against the wood, “between us we might be able to shift it.”
The two men leaned against the door, pushing and straining until slowly it started to open, inching a little at a time. A loud squealing noise of metal against metal gave a clue to the blockage, then suddenly the barrier gave and the wood swung to clatter against the wall.
Sergeant Bradley reached for his torch when absolute blackness greeted them. He indicated for the private to shelter behind the frame before shielding himself with the other door. “Hello. Is there anybody there?” he called.
He waited for a response, but when none came, he cautiously shone his torch into the room.
A ferocious fire had obviously raged. The walls and ceiling were blackened with soot and the alluminium staircase was melted into a twisted pile on the floor, at least twenty metres below ground level.
Ian moved into a position to see better and panned the torch beam around the room. Three heavy-duty metal doors with coded locks were buried into the far wall and, below the last, lay two shrivelled, shrunken carbonised corpses.
“What the hell has gone on here?” Private Dudley whispered from behind.
“I need all of your attention!”
The three soldiers looked around at the four men in full air suits who had just entered the factory.
“We need to clear out of this area as fast as we can and you’ll need to go into quarantine.”
“Quarantine. What for? Radiation?”
The man who had spoken indicated for them to move away from the door, “That’s classified.” He passed behind the soldiers and started herding them out of the building to where a sealed van was waiting to transport them out of the area.
Sergeant Bradley paused, “I demand to know what’s going on.” He held his ground, refusing to step into the vehicle.
“When you reach your destination you’ll be given more information.”
“I demand to know now,” he said, firmly.
“That’s not gonna happen,” came the curt response. “Now we don’t have time to delay, so just get into the van.”
Ian sighed and turned to comply, “I will be filing a complaint about this.”
“You do that,” the man said sharply. He sealed the door and turned to his colleague, “Come on, we’ve got half an hour to get out of here before this entire area is incinerated.”
Chapter Eleven
US Embassy, Bulvaga
“Gentlemen, thank you for coming at such short notice.” The US Ambassador, Cliff Davis indicated to a board table nearby. “Come, please sit and we’ll get started.”
Already waiting for the meeting were the delegates from two other nations: the Ambassador for France, Henri Duval, and the UK Ambassador, John Davenport.
Prime Minister Juntokev pulled out a chair and sat beside his Deputy Prime Minister, Molak Kilmorec.
“We need to know what that factory was doing out in the Brokenshcov Forest,” Cliff said, once he was seated.
“It was a food processing factory,” Molak informed.
Cliff looked at him sternly. “Why wasn’t it on any maps and what was happening in the basement?” He shifted his focus immediately to the Prime Minister when Molak looked confused, then paused, waiting for a response.
When the PM remained silent the United Kingdom ambassador questioned him further. “Why were our men quarantined and why was this facility firebombed soon after?”
Bvoktac’s hard faced, stance, softened slightly. “It was producing antibiotics.”
Cliff leaned forward and glared at the Prime Minister. “You’re lying; we need to know the truth.”
Bvoktac shook his head. “No, it was...”
“We have over fifty men and women,” Henri interrupted, “some of whom have just been flown home, come down with a mysterious illness. Now what is going on?”
Bvoktac looked at his Deputy Prime Minister alarmed.
Molak raised his shoulders. “I’d heard of the facility, but thought it was just producing food. I knew nothing about antibiotics.”
The Prime Minister’s mouth tightened. “You have people who are sick?”
Henri nodded.
“What are the symptoms?”
“Bleeding, sickness, severe diarrhoea.”
Bvoktac stood and started to pace. “It’s out. We tried to stop it, but it’s out.”
>
“What have you done?” Cliff snarled. “We want the truth?”
Bvoktac turned and faced the men, suddenly looking very frail.
“The factory above was real and the people who worked in it unaware of what went on beneath their feet.” He moved back to his seat. “But, in the basement there were three growth chambers for a virus which was to be used in a biological weapon.”
“What sort of virus are we talking about?” Cliff asked.
“Haemorrhagic fever.”
“Which one?”
Bvoktac dropped his head. “Ebola.”
“To be used against whom, for God’s sake?” Henri asked.
Bvoktac looked up defiant. “We have very agressive neighbours; this nuclear attack is proof of that. Ebola was the perfect weapon. It causes crippling illnesses, requiring a great deal of resources and medical care if a person is to recover. It would have brought their armies to a halt within days.”
John sighed. “At least we know what we’re dealing with.”
“No. We went too far.” Bvoktac’s eyes reddened and his face flushed. “It’s airborne. We never intended it to get that hardy, but it mutated in the chambers. We were trying to decide what to do with it when we were bombed.”
“I take it you do not have a cure?” Cliff stated, stunned.
Bvoktac dropped his eyes and shook his head.
Molak stared, horror-struck. “You’ve killed us all.”
Chapter Twelve
The Domes, Two Miles off the North East Coast of Scotland.
Max smiled broadly when the connection was made. It had been three months since he had spoken to Sean and, although they had emailed regularly, it was not the same as speaking face to face. He knew things had not worked out between his brother and Gina, Sean’s now ex-girlfriend, and it made him very sad to think his twin was on his own. Although Sean was sociable, he was still very particular about whom he called friend and, even though there were a few men he spent time with, they were all married and social events were sporadic due to family commitments.
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