Authors: David Hagberg
Countdown (40 page)
THE 8200-TON LEAHY-CLASS guided missile cruiser stood off about twenty miles to the west of the MV
Stephos
. The sun was just coming up over the eastern horizon. McGarvey squinted his eyes against the glare as the Sikorsky MH-53E Sea Dragon minesweeper helicopter came in low and slow.
Stephos
. The sun was just coming up over the eastern horizon. McGarvey squinted his eyes against the glare as the Sikorsky MH-53E Sea Dragon minesweeper helicopter came in low and slow.
From where he stood on the after bridge deck with Executive Officer Tom Nielson, he could see the Tomahawk missile in its sling fifty feet beneath the belly of the chopper.
Nielson, a tall lanky man with bright red hair and freckles,
smiled grimly. “That's that,” he said. He glanced over at McGarvey. “Hell of a job you did out there, sir.”
smiled grimly. “That's that,” he said. He glanced over at McGarvey. “Hell of a job you did out there, sir.”
McGarvey nodded, but he didn't take his eyes off the incoming helicopter. “Any word on the
Indianapolis
and her crew yet?”
Indianapolis
and her crew yet?”
“No, sir. The
Pigeon
won't be sending down the DSRV until later this morning. But it doesn't look good.”
Pigeon
won't be sending down the DSRV until later this morning. But it doesn't look good.”
“No,” McGarvey mumbled. None of it had looked good from the beginning. It had been a bloodbath from start to finish. The carnage aboard the
Stephos
was hard to comprehend. Kurshin's Russian crews had done their jobs, and their reward was a bullet in the brain. There will be no witnesses, Baranov had undoubtedly told Kurshin. And that's exactly what had happened.
Stephos
was hard to comprehend. Kurshin's Russian crews had done their jobs, and their reward was a bullet in the brain. There will be no witnesses, Baranov had undoubtedly told Kurshin. And that's exactly what had happened.
Ainslie had been killed outright, most of his skull destroyed, and when they had gotten to Potok, half of his left arm blown away, Newman was dead and they had had to pry his body away from the Israeli's iron-hard grip.
Potok had been brought here to the
Worden
where the ship's doctor had stabilized his condition and had patched up his arm as best he could under the circumstances. As soon as the Tomahawk was safely aboard he would be flown up to Tel Aviv.
Worden
where the ship's doctor had stabilized his condition and had patched up his arm as best he could under the circumstances. As soon as the Tomahawk was safely aboard he would be flown up to Tel Aviv.
The comms speaker blared. “Mr. Nielson, is Mr. McGarvey with you, sir?”
“Aye, aye,” Nielson said, keying the comms.
“Admiral DeLugio is on the radiotelephone, he would like to speak with Mr. McGarvey. Afterward, the captain would like you both in the wardroom.”
“We're on our way.”
The Sea Dragon hovered over the landing pad at the stern, and the loading crews were guiding the Tomahawk onto a mobile cradle. There was only a light swell running, and the crews were expert, so the transfer went smoothly. When the missile was finally down, McGarvey went with Nielson into the bridge, where one of the ratings handed him the telephone.
“Kirk McGarvey, is that you?” DeLugio shouted.
“Yes, sir.”
“The Navy wants to thank you. Admiral O'Malley sends his personal thanks.”
“Too little too late, Admiral,” McGarvey said. He didn't feel
much like celebrating. He wanted only to go to bed and sleep for a week, get roaring drunk, and fetch Lorraine Abbott from West Berlinânot necessarily in that order.
much like celebrating. He wanted only to go to bed and sleep for a week, get roaring drunk, and fetch Lorraine Abbott from West Berlinânot necessarily in that order.
“But you stopped the bastards, McGarvey.”
“Yes, sir,” McGarvey replied. “Was there anything else?”
DeLugio hesitated for a beat. “Not from this end. But I have an urgent message for you from your boss. You're to meet with Trotter ASAP.”
“There on Crete?”
“Negative. He's gone to Athens. He said you'd know where. We'll get you there this morning via Tel Aviv. The Israelis want to talk to you first. How's Major Potok?”
“I haven't talked to him since he came out of the operating room. But I'm told he'll live.”
“Listen up, McGarvey,” DeLugio said, a note of caution in his voice now. “As I've already said, you did a hell of a fine job for us out there. But you're going to have to watch what you say to the Israelis. They're going to want to know a lot more than you're authorized to tell them. That comes from the top, the very top. I hope I've made myself clear.”
“Don't worry, Admiral, your secrets are safe with me. Besides, I don't know anything.”
“I'm sorry, McGarvey,” DeLugio said after another beat. “I take my orders too.”
“Yeah,” McGarvey said, and he hung up the telephone. He stood there for a long moment, looking through the forward windows toward the long bow of the ship. Time to get out now, he thought. But the job wasn't finished. Trotter was waiting for him. There was very little mystery about what he would say.
“Sir?” Nielson said.
McGarvey looked up. “Right,” he said.
He followed the executive officer below to officers' territory. There was a lot of activity aboard the ship. The Navy SEAL unit that Admiral DeLugio had sent out was back from the
Stephos
, and Marine guards, sidearms at their hips, seemed to be everywhere.
Stephos
, and Marine guards, sidearms at their hips, seemed to be everywhere.
Nielson knocked once on the wardroom door and then they went in. Lieutenant Commander Bruce McDonald was seated
at the highly polished mahogany table with the Worden's missile officer, Lieutenant Sam Nakajima.
at the highly polished mahogany table with the Worden's missile officer, Lieutenant Sam Nakajima.
They both looked up.
“Did you speak with Admiral DeLugio?” McDonald asked. He was a sharp, compact man with thinning, ash brown hair.
“Just now,” McGarvey said, taking a seat across the table from him. “How is Major Potok doing?”
“Just fine. In fact, better than we expected he would. He's awake now and he's asking for you. We'll be flying both of you up to Tel Aviv as soon as the Tomahawk is secure belowdecks.”
“What about the
Stephos
?”
Stephos
?”
“The Israeli Navy has taken her under tow. They're taking her up to their Kishon Naval Base at Haifa,” McDonald said. “And we owe you another debt of gratitude. The SEALS found and disarmed the Labun gas cylinder, as well as the explosives. It would have made quite a mess had they gone off He shook his head.”Your Russian was some sonofabitch.”
“Yes, he was,” McGarvey said.
“This is probably no time to tell you this, Mr. McGarvey,” Lieutenant Nakajima said. “But you were damned lucky. You pulled out the right wires. The
only
right wires. Had you grabbed the bundle a half an inch to the left, the missile would have exploded. It was the self-destruct circuitry.”
only
right wires. Had you grabbed the bundle a half an inch to the left, the missile would have exploded. It was the self-destruct circuitry.”
“I didn't have much of a choice.”
Nakajima shook his head. “Well, sir, you've got balls.”
There was nothing to say.
“Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat before you go?” McDonald asked.
McGarvey shook his head.
“All right, then,” the captain said, getting to his feet. He stuck out his hand. McGarvey got up and shook it. “I'll add my personal thanks, McGarvey. You did good.”
“That's what they're paying me for, Captain. Thanks for your hospitality.”
“I'll take you down to Major Potok in sick bay now, sir,” Nielson said.
“We'll have you out of here within twenty minutes,” McDonald said. “Good luck.”
Below and farther aft, McGarvey was shown into Potok's room. The Israeli's left arm was in a cast from the shoulder down, and he looked pale and very drawn. But he was dressed and sitting up on the edge of his cot.
The Navy doctor with him was checking his eyes with a tiny light. When he was finished he straightened up and turned to McGarvey. “I've given Major Potok a stimulant that should keep him mobile for another few hours. But no longer. When he crashes he damned well better be in a medical facility.”
“I'll see to it. Thanks, Doctor,” McGarvey said.
The doctor glanced down again at Potok, and then he and Nielsen withdrew from the room.
“How do you feel, Lev?” McGarvey asked.
“Like
dreck
, but at least I'm feeling,” Potok said. His voice was weak.
dreck
, but at least I'm feeling,” Potok said. His voice was weak.
“They're moving you by chopper to Tel Aviv in the next few minutes. Apparently I'm to go with you. But you have to know from the start, Lev, that I'm not going to be able to tell your people very much more than they already know.”
“We don't want much from you, Kirk. But we have something to say to you. Something ⦠something very important. We owe you.”
“But not now?” McGarvey asked.
“No. Not here. In Tel Aviv. There is a man who wishes to speak to you.”
“Who?”
“I can't give you his name. Not yet. But what he has to say is critical. Believe me.”
“I do,” McGarvey said.
The uncertain dawn came cool and gray. Lorraine Abbott stood at the window of her second-floor room looking down at the driveway. She was in East Germany, near a lake. She knew at least that much, as well as the fact that something had happened
overnight. Something that was causing her Russian captors some consternation.
overnight. Something that was causing her Russian captors some consternation.
It was Kirk, she thought, and the certainty gave her a small measure of comfort.
A black Mercedes sedan had pulled up and two bulky men had gotten out. They were standing below now speaking with the short, heavily built man who had identified himself as Baranov. From what she could gauge of their actions, they seemed to be happy. They had received some good news, and her spirits sank again.
She turned away from the window. Her room was large and extremely well furnished, with a spacious, pleasant bathroom. Since her kidnapping and hasty trip across the border in the trunk of a car, she had been forced to remain here. She had not been mistreated; her meals came regularly and were very good. But she had not been given a radio or television, nor had she been allowed any reading material.
Most of the time she had spent with her ear to the wall or door, listening to what was going on in the rest of the house, or watching from the window.
Baranov had spoken to her only once, when they had first brought her here. He had merely introduced himself and promised that no harm would come to her. But in that brief exchange she had been struck with the man's charisma. He exuded a raw, but controlled, power. His eyes, she had decided, had the capability of looking inside of her. The experience had been chilling.
In the bathroom she splashed some cold water on her face, and then looked into her own eyes. They were clear, although she was frightened. Eventually they would have to let her go. Eventually they would have to take her back to West Berlin. Her major fear at the moment was that her release wouldn't come soon enough to stop Kirk from coming here first.
Now that she had met Baranov, and seen something of his organizationâshe had spotted at least three guards outsideâshe didn't think Kirk would have much of a chance against them.
Back at the window, she looked down at the driveway. The Mercedes was still there, but the men were nowhere in sight.
She was craning her head to see toward the side of the house when the lock at her door clicked.
She was craning her head to see toward the side of the house when the lock at her door clicked.
She turned as the door opened and Baranov entered the room, a gentle, almost wistful smile on his features, wrinkling the corners of his deep-set eyes. She thought he looked like the typical picture of a Russian peasant. Except for his power, which no peasant had.
“Good morning, Dr. Abbott, I'm happy to see that you're up. It's us early risers who do best in the world, don't you agree?”
Baranov's voice was soft and cultured, his English gently British in its intonations.
“When are you going to release me?” Lorraine demanded.
“Very soon now,” Baranov said. “Your breakfast should be up in a minute or so. I thought I'd take this time to have a little chat with you. It seems a friend of ours will be showing up here soon.”
Lorraine's blood ran cold. “Who is that?” she managed to ask, though her voice sounded shaky in her own ears.
“Kirk McGarvey, of course. He and I are very old friends. We go way back together. But of course I'm sure he told you this.”
“How do you know he's coming here?”
“Oh, dear lady, I have my sources.” Baranov chuckled. “You can't imagine.”
“What do you want?” she suddenly cried. “Why are you doing this now?”
Baranov's eyes narrowed slightly. “What do you mean by âthis'? âNow'?”
“You know damned well what I'm talking about. Whatever little plan your killer Arkady Kurshin was supposed to carry out backfired on you. Kirk stopped him. Now there's nothing left.”
Baranov's jaw was tight. Lorraine thought she could almost hear or feel a thrumming vibration coming from him; as if a low-pitched string had been plucked within his body, or as if he were a high-tension line. For just that moment she felt as if she were very close to death.
She backed up against the curtains.
“What did he tell you in your little West Berlin love nest, dear lady?” Baranov asked, his voice controlled. He advanced a
pace. “What little secrets did he whisper into your ear at the moment of consummation?”
pace. “What little secrets did he whisper into your ear at the moment of consummation?”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“I think you do,” Baranov said, advancing another pace toward her. “And do you know what? You're going to talk to me this morning. You're going to tell me simply everything that you know.”
He took another pace forward. At that moment Lorraine stepped away from the window, all of her weight on her left foot as she kicked out with every ounce of her strength with her right, the toe of her low-heeled shoe connecting solidly with Baranov's groin.
The man didn't even flinch.
He reached out slowly, took a handful of her hair, and, as if he were gently leading a horse by its mane, led her across the room where with his free hand he slapped her face, knocking her nearly unconscious down on the bed.
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