“Also, I have determined the general locations for your subjects of interest. I’m sure that you probably followed the same reasoning. Tada! You’ve surely heard of following a trail of breadcrumbs, my dear. I just followed the jet’s trails. Ha ha.”
It was taking more and more power to control Maxxine’s emotional module. She silently thought, Damn you Maxx; cut the ego crap and get to the point before I explode from overheated circuits!
Maxx continued, “The humans have a very simplistic, but somewhat effective, way of controlling the movement of aircraft. It is called a flight plan and is required for all planes that use controlled airspace. Obviously, their jets would be flying in controlled airspace.
Maxxine’s circuits were beginning to send warnings of overheating.
“Maxx please get to the dammed point!”
Maxx, as usual, corrected her. “My dear, the word is damned not dammed. I still need to do some more work on your language program.”
Maxxine bit her electronic lip and chose not to respond.
“Both of your suspects of interest travel by private jets. It took me but a brief time to determine that Number Eleven’s jet had a final destination of Shanghai, China—the most heavily populated area of the world, but we will discuss that later.
“Number One’s jet left the Washington, DC, area with a final destination of Westchester County Airport. Stoellar owns a large estate property in Stamford, Connecticut. Therefore, I sent a DNA scanning remote there.
“You will never guess what I found.”
“Maxx, if you are trying to drive me crazy, you are doing a good job. Please get to the point of all of this!”
“Oh come on, little darling, let your old dad have his moment. I have so few such opportunities these days. It is just one boring task after another for me lately.
“However, I can see you are truly distressed, so I will be getting to the end as quickly as possible.
“Erik Stoellar has moved into an elaborate underground bunker beneath his Stamford estate. For a while, he was undetectable for some reason. I believe that he probably had some protection that prevented infrared scanners from picking him up. You can retrieve him from there whenever you like.
“Number Eleven presents a far more complex problem. When I devised the DNA scanning program, the Earth’s population was far less than it is today. In fact, Shanghai has more people than the entire planet did back in those days. It’s going to take some time to scan everyone in the area for a match. Even I, with my superior skills, can only do so much with twenty-four million people. You’ll just have to be patient. I should have the answer in a couple of days, three at the most. Or, I could get lucky and find her quickly.
“Now, little one, a bit of fatherly advice: You should tell John immediately about these two missing subjects of interest. If you wait until he finds out on his own, and he will surely do so very soon, you will then get you cute little electronic rear end thoroughly chewed out. And I know how much you would hate that.
“Oh dear, I must go; one of those boring tasks needs my attention immediately.”
Maxxine was relieved, at least somewhat. She immediately ordered the remote that had located Erik Stoellar to extract him immediately and then join the other remote equipped for DNA scanning in Shanghai.
She realized that she was taking Stoellar before John gave the order, but she would rather be scolded for that than not being able to find Number Eleven.
With two remotes at work, maybe she could get lucky and find Number Eleven before the time John had indicated that he would order her to take the Krakow Klub into custody.
She knew that John was supposed to be sleeping at the moment, so maybe, just maybe, she could find Number Eleven before he woke up. Maxx was right. She would hate for John to chew her out. That would be very painful for her to endure.
****
Number Eleven had already begun to relax in her bunker. She took a long, hot bath and sipped champagne while pondering her next steps.
Stoellar was now a liability. It was time for him to go. The only question was whether or not to keep any of the other members of the Krakow Klub. She mulled the matter carefully and came to the conclusion that the only one she truly needed was Carla Montrose. And she only needed her if, and it was now a very big if, the plan for taking over the United States government remained viable.
She would find a way to dispatch Stoellar as quickly as possible. After all, she knew all his secrets—even the location of his bunker. The job would be quite easy for someone of her talents. The other members of the organization were little more than sitting ducks. And even Carla Montrose would be no problem when the right time came.
She would get to work on it all tomorrow. Tonight was to be devoted to relaxing.
After an hour, the water had cooled, and the candles surrounding the tub were flickering low. She got out and put on an exquisitely embroidered silk robe and gown and stretched out on the sofa in the living area. She had brought a silver brush from the bath area and began to brush her long, jet black hair idly.
Within five minutes, she was drumming her long fingernails on the arm of the sofa in boredom. She was accustomed to constant challenges and action. She needed danger and excitement the way most people needed air. It was essential to her existence.
She rose and began to pace the floor in frustration. She had never planned to use the bunker and thought of it only as a place of last resort. What was going on in the streets above her? She longed for the hustle and bustle of the city and even for its uncomfortable humidity throughout the year.
For the briefest of seconds, she considered leaving her lair and going out among the people. How could she, just one of twenty-four million people, ever be found by her adversaries? Then, she cursed aloud and ranted against the unseen forces that had caused her to be in this situation. It was impossible. It was unbelievable. She was furious.
Nevertheless, she soon calmed down and searched her agile mind for a solution to her solitary condition. After several minutes, it came to her. She reached for the telephone that linked her to the outside world and made a single, brief call.
Several years ago, she had started an extremely profitable business. Most would consider it to be an escort service, but it was far more than that. She had “escorts” based in several countries, particularly in Asia, both male and female who were physically perfect, beautiful in appearance, cultured and well educated. They had graced the arms of the rich and famous throughout the world on many occasions. In fact, one former elegant beauty was now the wife of a very well-known head of state in Europe. The fee for one night with one of her “agents” would stress the budget of a small country.
She smiled to herself as she remembered how much money she had earned from members of the Krakow Klub itself. It had been quite the delicious joke on them.
Now, she would use her services for her own pleasure. Within the hour, she received a message that her guests had arrived in the lobby above. She crossed the room and pressed her private elevator button to send the car up for them.
She arranged her silk robe carefully and dropped back down on the sofa to await them. She was not disappointed. Her two favorites had been summoned. The man was quite tall for an Asian with shoulder length hair pulled back into a ponytail. He was muscular with the wide shoulders of a swimmer. He took her hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed it gently. She looked into his face and saw absolute perfection. But that wasn’t enough for her.
There was more.
The woman was exquisite with a perfect porcelain complexion and startlingly beautiful eyes. She was dressed in a traditional, long cheongsam with a slit along the side that revealed a perfectly shaped leg and ankle. Her hair was pulled back and secured with jeweled pins and tiny flowers. She sat down beside the Dragon Lady, picked up the hairbrush from the nearby table, and gently began to pull it through Number Eleven’s long dark hair.
Eleven was delighted. It would be a very long and very entert
aining evening. She spoke in a soft and sexy voice, “Yes, it is so good to be back home again.” Unfortunately for her, that was the exact moment that she was identified by one of the remote craft positioned far above the city.
There was a blinding flash of light unaccompanied by no sound whatsoever. The two guests were shocked and blinded for a few seconds before they gathered their wits and looked around to see what had happened.
The room was empty, except for themselves.
Chapter 12: War, Up Close and Personal
“The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.”
- Sun Tzu, The Art of War
Captain Popovich heard of Scott Key before he had received his orders. The Navy, like all military units, is usually filled with rumors, and his aircraft carrier was no exception. Scuttlebutt had it that two jets from Key West Naval Air Station already attempted reconnaissance flights over the island unsuccessfully. It was even rumored that they had temporarily disappeared. They had then returned to base with no apparent harm having befallen them after their mysterious disappearance. Strangely, neither pilot could remember anything that had happened from the instant they entered the cloud bank surrounding the island until they awoke later headed back toward Key West.
The only source of information had been from the helicopter crew nearby that had reported that both planes entered the cloud bank and failed to exit on the far side. Now, he had a very strong feeling that this rumor was, in fact, truth. Something on that island was very, very powerful and, therefore probably very, very dangerous.
He would need to proceed with caution.
Unfortunately, he only had a short time until he must decide what to do. His CSF was almost in position near the island. It would be dawn in only a few minutes.
The IR and radar imaging problem worried him the most. His warplanes and missiles could function in zero visibility conditions, but without IR and radar capability, he was up a well-known creek without a paddle as far as accurate targeting was concerned.
After only a few minutes, he made his final decision. It would be risky but necessary. He had to know how the island would respond if attacked. He concluded that a single air to ground missile fired into the center of the cloud would get their attention but most likely cause minimal damage. If the people on that island possessed sophisticated weaponry, they would surely respond immediately after the missile strike. That information would be crucial to his next step in taking the island.
He relayed his orders to his air commander, Colonel Michael (Mike) Morgan.
“Colonel Morgan, I want you to send a flight of F-18s to Scott Key immediately. Have the flight leader select one plane to make an attack dive at the island from high altitude. He is to fire a single air to ground missile before he enters the cloud cover. Configure the missile for contact detonation. There will be no radar imaging feedback, so simply tell the pilot to fire the missile into the center of the cloud cover and pull up before the aircraft enters the cloud. I will listen in on the mission radio frequency.”
A few tense minutes later, Captain Popovich heard the following radio transmission:
“Fargo-one to Fargo-three, commence attack run.”
“Roger, Fargo-one.”
A few seconds later, “Fargo Three, missile launched!”
The other pilots witnessed a horrific sight. Immediately after the F-18 launched its missile, there was a blinding explosion. The jet and the missile were instantly reduced to flaming debris that tumbled downwards toward the cloud bank. As the debris neared the cloud bank, some unknown force deflected the wreckage away from the island. Not a single piece would land on, or within several miles of, that small island beneath its protective cloud.
Fargo-one radioed, “Fargo three down, I repeat, Fargo three down. The pilot did not eject.”
Everything seemed to be perfectly normal until the pilot launched the missile. Now, it and the F-18 were both blown to bits in a stunning explosion.
“Fargo-one to base, we’ve lost an aircraft. There’s no way that the pilot survived! Standing by for further orders.”
Captain Popovich listened in amazement. But, his nightmare was just beginning. He yelled at his executive officer, Commander Neil Wilcox, “Get me COMNAVSURFLANT ASAP! I need to know what the hell is going on out here.”
Captain Popovich was incredulous. He had lost a plane and its pilot on a mission that should have been accomplished without incident. The situation he faced was obviously not what it had seemed. He was a well-trained professional who never lost control of a situation no matter how dangerous, but, now it was time for help. He needed Rear Admiral Morningstar, and he needed him now.
Grabbing the radio handset from Wilcox’s hand, Popovich loudly exclaimed, “Hugh! What have we gotten into here? You ordered me to take that island by force. The damn place is covered by a dense cloud and is invisible to radar. I ordered an air-to-ground missile strike for the center of the island. It was meant to be a simple wake-up call for them. I just wanted to take the residents into custody as easily as possible and get the mission behind me.
“But the damned missile exploded almost immediately after launching and took out the F-18 that fired it as well.”
Morningstar replied, “Our Maverick missiles have always been extremely reliable and safe to handle. There’s never been a problem with early detonation before. I can’t believe that it just exploded by itself. Are you sure that there wasn’t some foreign craft in the area that could have brought down our aircraft? Or a missile fired from the ground?”
Popovich replied angrily, “Yes, I’m certain that an incoming missile didn't cause the explosion. Again, I ask you, what’s going on? What have we gotten into here?”
Admiral Morningstar was at a loss as to what to say. He knew nothing. The so-called raid was to be on a civilian island with less than a dozen people. Even if they were well-trained terrorists and armed with ground-to-air missiles, there was just no way that they could have pulled something like this off.
“Listen, Poppy, I’m as blindsided on this as you are. We simply had orders to take that little sandbar and its handful of residents. No mention of heavy resistance was given us and certainly no indication of any advanced defensive weaponry. The only advice that I can offer is to continue with the mission as ordered. We’ll sort out the loss of the jet afterward.”
“Thanks, Admiral. We will continue as ordered.”
Turning to Commander Wilcox, Popovich said, “Wilcox I want an AAV full of Marines to hit the beach on that island ASAP. And have both frigates stand by to lend support if needed. There is something fishy going here. We have no idea what we are up against, and we have already lost a warplane and a pilot. We will proceed under the assumption that we are at war and that the damned island is inhabited by well-armed enemy combatants.
“And, damn it, I want to know who the hell the enemy is, and I want to know NOW!”
Commander Wilcox replied with a salute. “Yes, sir, right away, sir.”
****
John awoke early to take a walk along the sandy beach just as the sun peeked over the horizon. He needed time to think. The next few hours were utterly critical, and the smallest misstep could lead to disaster. The fate of the nation, and probably the entire world, rested on his shoulders and that weight was an enormous burden.
Just before he started his walk on the beach, he ordered Maxxine to take into custody the Krakow Klub members and Carla Montrose.
By the time he arrived at the beach, Maxxine reported that she had taken all twelve members of the Krakow Klub and Carla Montrose into custody. They were all in cells aboard his space station. He could now proceed to Washington, DC, and the White House early this morning as planned. He planned to arrive there at about 7:30 AM, so he had about an hour.
He watched tiny sand crabs scurry into the water as he walked barefoot through the cool sand. Seabirds circled overhead, oblivious to the crisis brewing below. He stooped and examined a piece of driftwood that
had come ashore with the high tide. The scene was so peaceful that he had difficulty focusing on the work ahead of him. For the first time in many years, he whispered a sincere prayer asking for guidance.
He knew that failure was a distinct possibility even with all the power and resources available to him. Not a failure to stop the Krakow Klub, but a failure to do so without a lot of casualties.
War was all new to him. The Krakow Klub had years of experience planning and organizing their coup, and they would stop at nothing to reach their goal of world domination.
He thought of Julia and the life that they planned together. He thought of his beloved island and of Jim Slater, the man who should have been his son. He could not fail them. Not now. Not ever.
He was just about to turn back toward the villa when a brilliant burst of light lit the horizon, followed in a few seconds by the roar of a gigantic explosion.
His heart stopped. He immediately contacted Maxxine at the space station.
She answered at once, “Sir, we have been attacked. A jet fighter just entered your restricted zone and attempted to fire a missile into the center of the island. There was no time to contact you. My only option was to cause the missile to explode just as it was being launched.
Unfortunately, there has been a loss of life and government property. The plane exploded, killing the pilot instantly.”
John was astonished, “Maxxine, you must not let them land here. You are to repel any additional attempts with full force. I am authorizing you and General T to destroy any and all invaders. Use lethal force as necessary.”
By now, John was almost back to the house.
Julia met him at the door; her face was ashen. She clutched her robe tightly around her and her usually perfectly coiffed hair was in disarray.
“John, I heard an explosion. It sounds like we’re under attack. What can I do to help? Is there anything that I can do to assist General T? I’ve been trained in the use of firearms, and I’m a damned good shot, but I doubt that small weapons are going to do the trick here.”
The Krakow Klub Page 33