Echo Six: Black Ops 4 - Chechen Massacre (34 page)

“I thought you’d call. They’re not there, not according to those coordinates you gave us.”

“What! Not possible. I saw them go into the water myself, and I double-checked the GPS. They have to be there.”

A pause. “There could be another explanation.”

Talley thought for a few moments. “You mean someone else took them, but how? No one knew where they were. No one, just us. Only Echo Six, there was no one else. No one.”

“I guess you’re right. I only hope to Christ the NKs didn’t get hold of them. They’re making moves around our ships in the area, but nothing too serious. They’re not trying to drive them off or anything. It’s weird, like they’re playing a game.”

Is it possible the NKs got there first? But how the hell could they have located those warheads? Unless there was some kind of a tracker built into them. Not impossible, although highly unlikely. What counts now is whether the NKs have them. If so, it was all for nothing. In my mind the specter of Colonel Ho keeps returning. The guy has an uncanny knack of coming out on top, making plans within plans within plans, like a nest of fucking Russian dolls.

Brooks cleared his throat, and he knew what was coming next.

“How long do you need?”

Like how much of the month long furlough can I curtail.

“I can be with you one week from today, in Brussels.”

“Do that. Maybe Captain Falco would like to visit the Belgian capital again. We’d appreciate her input.”

“I’ll ask her.”

* * *

Exactly seven days after the recall, they saluted vice Admiral Brooks in his NATO office outside the city of Brussels, Belgium.

“At ease. I have good news. They finally located the warheads. They’d been over that same patch of seabed maybe a hundred times. The hundred and first attempt they found them and brought them up. So we’re good.”

Talley breathed a sigh of relief. A different outcome would have been a nightmare for all of them and a career breaker.

“That’s good to know. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about. Sir, I’d like to go visit my men. They’re still being treated in Ramstein. Especially Vince, I’m pretty worried about that guy.”

“I’ve been getting daily updates, and I gather you’ve been pestering them most days.” He grinned. “Unofficially, they tell me it looks as if he’ll make a full recovery, thanks to the great care they’ve given him. Those surgeons sure know their business.”

“Will he ever return to operations?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. It’s a long, hard road to travel. Maybe, maybe not. Incidentally, I have a possible replacement for Jerry Ostrowski lined up for you, that Indian who helped out at White Mountain. He was impressed with what your men did, and he’s been making noises about the possibilities of a transfer out of the Marine Corps and into Echo Six. We’re looking at the paperwork now. Maybe it’ll happen, maybe not. He seems a good man. I imagine he’d fit in.”

Talley thought of the quiet Apache Indian, tough, fit, hard and implacable, and with superb night skills.

“Yes, he’d be right for the unit.”

“I’ll pass that on. Visiting Sergeant DiMosta will have to wait. I can’t spare you. The recovery team in the Sea of Japan wants to talk to you direct. They have some important questions and a face-to-face meeting is the only way they can be answered. The warheads are property of the US Seventh Fleet right now, and they’re on board a carrier, the USS George Washington. I’m sorry, but they say it’ll only be for a day or two.”

“I don’t get it. What can I tell them?”

Brooks shrugged. “Beats me, but I guess when you’re dealing with those kinds of weapons, they want a complete history, kind of like a chain of custody. That means everything, from making a positive identification to an account of how and when they were in your possession.” He grimaced. “They get pretty picky when it’s to do with weapons that can wipe out whole countries. Anyway, get yourself out there ASAP. Captain Falco can travel with you. I gather you’ve become friendly.”

The Admiral’s gaze was non-committal. Talley answered in kind. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Good, that’s settled. We’ve booked you on a flight to Tokyo, and you can transfer from there to the carrier. It’s just routine, so you can treat it as an extended furlough.”

“Yes, Sir. I can’t wait.”

Brooks smiled. “Whatever. Dismissed.”

* * *

The fugitive strolled along the Washington street. The rain had stopped, but the sidewalks were still damp after the heavy downpour. Cars continually pushed up small tidal waves of water, threatening to soak the unwary pedestrian with oily water. He deftly avoided the latest deluge from a passing cab and slipped into a small diner. It was empty at this hour. The breakfast trade had left, and it was too early for the lunch crowd. The man he’d come to meet was sitting at a booth in the rear, just as agreed. He sat down at the opposite side of the table and ordered coffee from the hovering waitress. When she’d gone, he looked at the other man, another Korean, and a spy.

“Well? What did he say?”

“You ask too much. Right now, the only thing he wants is your head.”

The fugitive waved the comment away. He’d expected nothing less. “What would it take to change his mind?”

“I doubt anything would change his mind. He was angry after that business in Russia, said you’d betrayed him completely. He even asked me to kill you when we met.”

He looked at his coffee in alarm.

Poison? No, I kept a sharp eye out for that. I’m not a complete fool, and I have a small pistol I can draw and fire in less than a second.

“What did you tell him?”

“I said it wouldn’t be so easy. He’d have to find somebody more experienced if he wanted you dead.”

“Perhaps I’d better watch my back.”

“Perhaps, although I haven’t heard of any immediate plans for an assassination. But why did you surface? What did you possibly think you had to gain, other than a death warrant?” The spy paused for a moment to let the other man work it out for himself, and then realization dawned. “What have you got?”

“What he wants.”

“That’s impossible. We know what happened to them.”

“Do you? Do you really?”

The other man gasped. “Tell me.”

“I think not. Just put it to him, and see what he says.”

“I will. How can I contact you?”

The operative smiled coldly. “Never fear, I will contact you.”

“I will get an answer for you, but you’d better not make any more mistakes. Believe me, it would be your death warrant.”

“Yes, I presumed nothing less.”

“Very well. Thank you, Colonel Ho. I shall leave first, for security.

“You’re welcome.”

He sat enjoying his coffee after the spy left. He’d miss the good coffee and the plentiful food, if he ever got home.

Will The Leader go for it? Of course he will.

The question was could he make it happen? He’d made a good plan, envisaged all the things that could go wrong, even the enemy attacks, the double crosses, the ineptitude of his men. In the end, it had been bad luck that had robbed him of the final prize, but he still hoped there might be a chance to turn things around. Now how could he go about doing that? How could he take possession of those warheads? There had to be a way. It just needed enough preparation and planning, and the determination to wreak a bloody slaughter on anyone who stood in his way, whether friend or foe.

Yes, he always had that edge over these people. He’d stop at nothing to get what he wanted and crawl over any number of bodies to achieve it. Once he’d retrieved the warheads, his warheads, he’d be safe, but he knew that wasn’t true.

Not until I’ve hunted down the American, Talley, and killed him. Until then, my business is unfinished.

* * *

They landed in the teeth of a powerful storm. The Grumman C-2 Greyhound dropped sharply, hit the deck, and the pilot chopped the throttles on the pair of Allison T56 turboprops. He slammed on the brakes, and the lumbering transport came to a halt, only meters from the end of the flight deck. The rear ramp began to drop down, and the aircrew hustled to unstrap the cargo, ready for unloading to the deck of the heaving carrier.

“Commander Talley?”

He looked around at the rating standing by the ramp.

“That’s me.”

“Welcome aboard, Sir. If you’d come with me, the Admiral is waiting for you.”

He nodded to Alessandra, and they stepped out for the short walk to the carrier’s island, the superstructure that housed the bridge, as well as the senior officers’ quarters. By the time they reached the entrance, they were both soaked through.

“You should have worn a waterproof,” the sailor admonished them. “It gets pretty wet out here in a storm.”

“You don’t say.”

“Yeah, I’d bear it in mind for next time. There won’t be time to change. I’m sorry, he’s waiting for you.”

I’ll make certain there never is a next time.

They hurried through the maze of narrow passages, everything painted dull gray, pipes and conduits were fixed to every possible surface, so it seemed they were inside a huge and complex machine. Which in fact, they were. They passed legions of sailors, who all seemed to have important business to attend to, judging by the looks on their serious faces as they rushed past. They finally reached their destination and saluted Admiral Carson, USN. His flag officer’s quarters were impressive, plenty of space, wood paneling, quality furniture and fittings.

Rank sure has its privileges,
Talley thought to himself.

“Good to see you, Talley. Ma’am.”

“How can we help, Sir?”

“The technical boys need an eyes-on Ident on those warheads we fished out of the sea. They’ll also need an account of the time when they were in your possession, times, dates, locations, and so on. The crates are on the main hangar deck in a paint locker we had cleared for them. It’s guarded twenty-four seven by armed marines, so they’re safe. When you’re done looking them over, I’d like you to report back to me.”

“Roger that, Admiral.”

“Good, I suggest you get moving. Sailor, take these people down to the Special Projects room.”

“Aye, Sir.”

* * *

He stood inside the gray-painted steel compartment, staring at the familiar wooden crates. The contents, the warheads, had been removed and naval ordnance technicians were examining them, four ominous warheads, each with enough power to take out a city. An older man, bespectacled, nodded a greeting, then ordered the sailor to leave and close the door.

“And don’t let anyone in, not for anything. Clear?”

“Yes, Sir!”

He turned back to Talley. “These are the warheads you took from the Koreans?”

“We never opened the crates, so I’ve no way of knowing.”

“Right. You know what these are?”

“Nuclear warheads, Sir.”

“Wrong. They’re training dummies, designed to mount on a delivery vehicle, a missile or whatever for test shoots. Inside, they’re inert. When they hit the target, they just make a big dent in the ground.”

“That’s crazy! The Koreans fought like hell to stop us getting possession of them.”

The man shrugged. “I don’t know why. Maybe it was some elaborate hoax, or whatever. You’re sure you never set eyes on them?”

“Never, just the wooden crates. We tossed them into the sea, and they’ve picked up some weed growth and barnacles, but they look the same. The writing on them seems identical, although I can’t read Russian.”

“I can,” Alessandra interrupted. “I’m almost certain it’s the same.”

The man nodded. “That’s good enough for me. I doubt we’ll ever know the reason why, but at least the NKs never got their hands on real weapons. That’s what matters. Before you fly off, I’d appreciate a written report of what went down while you had them in your possession, so we can double-check everything. Thank you, Commander. Ma’am.”

They left him, and a sailor showed them to a pair of vacant cabins assigned to them. She stayed with him while he wrote his report. Two hours after they’d handed it over, they were walking out through the driving rain to the Grumman Greyhound, their uniforms still wet from their arrival.