Patrick McLanahan Collection #1 (78 page)

“Got the bastard, sir,” Hal radioed, before realizing that Griffin's equipment was destroyed and he couldn't hear. He activated his sensors to locate Griffin.

And realized with horror that the second Russian gunship had zeroed in on Trevor Griffin and was about to attack! He raised his rail gun just as the gunner started walking thirty-millimeter rounds onto Griffin's hiding spot.

But at that very moment, two missiles streaked out of the night sky and rammed into the Hind's engine exhausts. The gunship immediately exploded, and the flaming fireball buried itself in the desert a few hundred yards away from the Air Force colonel.

Just as he was wondering who'd shot those missiles, Hal heard,
“Sorry we're so late, Tin Man.” It was Kelvin Carter. “Got here as quick as I could.” Soon the unmistakable roar of their QB-52 Megafortress could be heard, less than five hundred feet overhead.

“You were right on time,” Hal said. “Three more seconds and the colonel would've been turned into Swiss cheese.”

“Roger that,” Carter said. “Glad we could help. We're going to pay a visit on a couple other Russki aircraft heading your way. The closest ground troops are about eight miles southwest. We don't have any air-to-ground weapons on board the Megafortress, but we can create some confusion for you. Watch the skies.”

“Thanks, Bobcat.” Briggs jet-jumped over to Griffin. “You okay, sir?”

“I'm here to tell you, Hal,” Griffin said weakly, “that it
is
possible to see your life flash in front of your eyes
twice
in one night. I sure as hell did.”

“You saved our bacon, Colonel,” Hal said, helping Griffin strip off the useless battle armor. “You've earned the right to join our exclusive club if you so choose.”

“I've got a desk back in San Antonio waiting for me, along with a wife and kids—I think that's where I'll stay for a while,” Griffin responded honestly. “That is, if we can get out of here without Condor.”

At that moment Hal turned. He'd received another warning tone in his helmet. “A vehicle heading toward us—I thought Carter said it was clear?” Hal raised his rail gun, preparing to engage.

Then he saw Jalaluddin Turabi frantically waving from his perch atop the Russian armored personnel carrier. He and Dendara had returned to the place where they'd been captured and absconded with the APC and weapons.

“It's a piece of crap! Don't these Russians believe in cleaning their vehicles?” Turabi asked. “But it should get us to Repetek, where my men will be waiting. Shall we go?”

Later that day

C
onfirmed, sir,” the unit intelligence officer said, handing his commanding officer a report. “The damned Air Force again.”

“I thought so,” the commander said angrily. He read the report, shaking his head, then crumpled up the paper and banged a fist on his desk. “A commando operation
supported by a damned B-52 bomber
—and they don't say one
friggin'
word about it to us or to anyone at Langley. Where was Turabi taken?”

“Chärjew, then by air to the USS
Lincoln
in the Arabian Sea,” the intelligence officer replied. “Bob, we've got to pull all our assets in
right now.
The Russians are going to sweep east, take Mary, then sweep north and bomb the living daylights out of us at any time. We've got to exfil our guys and get out of here.”

“I know, damn it, I know. A year of work down the tubes—not just in Turkmenistan but all the way to Iran and all over Central Asia. The Air Force really screwed us last night.”

The commander looked up from his desk at the hanger where his office was located. He had a U.S. Air Force MH-53M Pave Low IV special-ops helicopter and crew standing by ready to go, along with its crew of six and a team of twelve commandos—and there was no doubt that he could get volunteers to fill up the chopper if he asked. He had a large contingent of operatives and valuable informants on the streets of Ashkhabad, the capital of Turkmenistan, and also down inside Iran, throughout Afghanistan and Pakistan, and as far away as Krasnovodsk, the big Russian port on the Caspian Sea—all turning up information on enemy activity in Central Asia. He had guys deep inside Al Qaeda, the Russian military, Afghani drug cartels, and terrorist groups for thousands of miles around.

All compromised because of some half-assed Air Force operation near Mary.

It was too risky to stay in Uzbekistan now. The Russians were going to be like a large hive of angry bees—stirred up, swarming, and mad as hell, ready to lash out at anything that wasn't 100 percent verified Russian. The whole Central Asia operation was in danger. A lot of Russians had been killed by the Americans as they fought their way out of Turkmenistan—no doubt the Russians wanted payback.

“We got no choice,” he said finally. “Send messages via secure microburst transmissions and radio interference, telling our guys to hightail it out into the back country and start monitoring the pickup points.” The CIA operatives used their own secret microburst transceivers—coded messages sent and received by devices that compressed messages into microsecond-long bursts, thereby reducing the chances of their being
detected or used to backtrace their location. The CIA headquarters also sent messages by broadcasting interference signals overlaid on regular radio and TV broadcasts—sometimes as simple as bursts of static, other times images that could be seen only with special lenses or by slowing down videotapes of certain shows—to relay messages to their informants or agents in deep cover.

Over time all the field operatives and informants who wished to leave would get the message, and they would execute their escape plan. The actual procedure differed widely for individual agents, but the objective was for each agent to report to one of several exfiltration points near where he or she lived or worked and wait for a sign or message that the agent was going to get picked up. It could take days, sometimes weeks—patience and trust were the key words here. Sometimes agents would be on the run, hiding out in the wilderness. If they were lucky, they could maintain their covers while checking the spots daily for a sign that their rescuers were nearby.

“Roger that,” the intel officer said. “Everyone's been in fairly close contact. We should have no trouble rounding them all up.”

“That's because the Air Force stirred up the Russians
before,
too,” the commander said bitterly. “I am going to make sure that Langley chews some butt at the Pentagon this time. Someone's got to lose his stars over this. They just can't—”

The unit commander was nearly knocked off his chair by the first massive explosion, but by the time he leaped to his feet and began running for the exit, the second bomb crashed through the ceiling of the hangar and exploded. He never heard or felt anything after that….

 

T
he CIA air base in Uzbekistan was certainly no secret to anyone—especially not the Russians. Since Russia was a full partner in the defense of Uzbekistan, and Russia was mostly responsible for Uzbekistan's border security and defense, the Russians had plenty of information on anyone moving across the frontier—including the CIA agents and their most trusted informants.

But instead of simply raiding the CIA field headquarters, Russia had other plans for them.

A lone Tupolev-22M Backfire bomber swept in over the desert plains of eastern Uzbekistan. It had been cleared into Kazakhstan by Russian air-traffic controllers based at Alma-Ata and monitored by
other Russian air-traffic controllers in Bishkek, the capital of Kyrgyzstan, who watched the speedy bomber as it descended rapidly from high altitude down to just a few hundred meters from the surface. There were actually three Backfires that had launched from their secret Siberian base, but after their last aerial refueling, the crews chose the best-operating aircraft to complete the mission.

Skirting the Bishkek radars, the Backfire bomber proceeded at low altitude across the vast southern Kazakh plains, staying below the coverage of air-defense radars in Tashkent, Uzbekistan. Minutes later the bomber started a slight wings-level climb. At an altitude of one thousand meters, it began its attack.

The Tu-22M carried three large air-launched missiles called the Kh-31, one in the bomb bay and one on external hardpoints on the non-moving portion of each wing. Each six-hundred-kilogram missile had a ninety-kilogram high-explosive fragmentary warhead designed to blast apart lightweight structures like radar arrays and antennas with ease. After release, the missile shot ahead of the bomber using its small first-stage solid-rocket motor, then climbed rapidly through fifteen thousand meters' altitude using its big second-stage motor. When the second-stage motor burned out, the motor casing became a ramjet combustion chamber, which automatically fired and quickly accelerated the missile through Mach 3. The Kh-31 initially used its inertial navigation system to steer toward its target, but it received position and velocity updates through its GLONASS satellite-navigation system, which greatly improved its accuracy to near-precision quality. It needed less than four minutes to fly the two hundred kilometers to its target. Once within thirty seconds of its target, it switched to a passive radar detector and homed directly in on a specific radar frequency.

One Kh-31 missile lost contact with its carrier aircraft and hit harmlessly somewhere in the central Uzbek deserts—but the other missiles continued their flight with devastating accuracy, destroying the air-defense radar sites at Tashkent and at Samarkand, a large city in southeastern Uzbekistan. With the Uzbek radars shut down, the Tu-22M proceeded south into Uzbekistan and set up an orbit, blanketing the area with electronic jamming signals and also monitoring the activities about to begin.

The second part of the operation had actually taken place nearly a half hour earlier. Orbiting over southern Siberia at fifteen thousand meters, a Tupolev-95MS “Bear” bomber, a long-range turboprop aircraft
first designed in the 1940s, had released two eleven-meter-long missiles from wing pylons about twenty seconds apart. Code-named the Kh-90 “Karonka,” or “Crown,” it was one of the world's most advanced land-attack missiles. The missiles' first stage was a solid rocket motor, which accelerated the missile to almost Mach 2. As in the Kh-31s launched by the Backfire bomber, when the first-stage motor burned out, the rocket chamber became a ramjet engine. Air was compressed and accelerated inside the ramjet, and liquid rocket fuel was injected and burned. As the missile gained speed, air and fuel were squeezed and accelerated even more, until the missile soon was cruising at over
eight times
the speed of sound.

The missiles streaked across Siberia and Kazakhstan, climbing to twenty-five thousand meters' altitude, then started a steep dive toward their target. Steered by signals from the Russian GLONASS, their accuracy was superb. At an altitude of ten thousand meters, each missile ejected two independently targeted 150-kilogram high-explosive warheads.

The CIA operations base next to the abandoned airfield outside Bukhara, Uzbekistan, consisted of only four buildings inside a ten-acre fenced compound—two aircraft hangars, each of which doubled as a storage facility, ammo dump, and training center; a natural-gas-fired power generator and well pumphouse; and a headquarters building, which doubled as a barracks. The warheads hit each structure dead on. The explosions were so powerful that the fuel and munitions inside the hangars did not even have a chance to explode.

They simply disappeared in a cloud of superheated gas.

Days later

W
hat in hell do you mean,
you don't know where it came from?
” Lieutenant General Terrill Samson, commander of Eighth Air Force, thundered. Terrill Samson was a truly imposing man, even when seated, and a few of the staff members arrayed around him in the headquarters battle-staff area jumped when he shouted, even though they were accustomed to his loud, frequent outbursts. “A Russian bomber completely wipes out a CIA field-operations base in Uzbekistan, and you're telling me we
still
don't know where it came from or what weapon it used, General McLanahan? It didn't just pop up out of nowhere!”

“Sir, we're working on it,” Patrick McLanahan said. He was speaking via secure videoconference from the Command and Operations Center of the Air Intelligence Agency at its headquarters in San Antonio, Texas. “The Nine-sixty-sixth should have that information shortly. We have almost constant surveillance on every Russian bomber base west of the Urals. So far every one of those bases' normal inventory has been accounted for—”

“What about Engels's bombers, General?” Major General Gary Houser asked.

“Sir, we still have no firm estimates on how many planes survived, how many damaged planes were reconstituted, or where any survivors were relocated,” Patrick responded. Engels Air Base in southwestern Russia was the largest bomber base in Russia and the headquarters of Aviatsiya Voyska Strategischeskovo Naznacheniya (A-VSN), or Strategic
Aviation Force, Russia's intercontinental-bomber command, composed of subsonic Tupolev-95 Bear bombers, supersonic Tupolev-160 “Blackjack” bombers, Ilyushin-78 “Midas” aerial-refueling tankers, and Tupolev-16 “Badger” tankers and electronic-warfare aircraft. “Our poststrike intelligence after the raid reported twelve possible Backfire survivors, plus another ten with only minor damage. The base itself is still not operational, but it may be usable, so it's likely that any surviving bombers could have made it out.”

“Engels's bombers, eh?” Samson muttered, shaking his head. “I should have known.” It was well known throughout the command—and most of the world—that Patrick McLanahan's former unit, the Air Battle Force, had conducted a surprise bombing raid on Engels Air Base. During the conflict with Turkmenistan, Russia was about to initiate a massive bomber raid from Engels against government and Taliban troops threatening Russian bases and interests in that oil-rich country. Using his fleet of unmanned long-range bombers launched from Diego Garcia in the Indian Ocean, Patrick had destroyed several Russian bombers on the ground at Engels, damaged several more, and severely damaged the base itself.

Although Patrick's raid had halted the conflict in Turkmenistan and allowed United Nations peacekeepers to enter that country safely and establish a cease-fire, most of the U.S. government, the Pentagon, and the world had blamed Patrick McLanahan for the rising tensions between Russia and the United States. No one expected him still to be wearing an American military uniform, let alone a general's star.

Least of all Lieutenant General Terrill Samson, Patrick's new boss.

“We've tried to account for the survivors, through surveillance as well as through diplomatic channels, but have not been successful,” Patrick went on. “We should have an answer shortly as to where they came from. The Russians are bound by the Conventional Forces in Europe Treaty and the Strategic Arms Limitation Treaty to state exactly how many long-range bombers they have and their precise location; under the Open Skies Treaty, we have a right to verify that information ourselves. Russia can't legally withhold that information. We will—”

“General McLanahan, thanks to your unsanctioned, wasteful, and wholly unnecessary attack on Engels, we will be lucky to get any cooperation from Russia on any aspect of the CFE or SALT agreements,” Samson interrupted. “You will make it your top priority to find out exactly where those bombers came from and what Russia's current long-and
medium-range strike capability is. I want that info on my desk in twenty-four—no, I want it in
eight
hours, in time for the next scheduled battle-staff meeting. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly, sir.” Patrick knew that was all his staff had been working on ever since U.S. Strategic Command alerted them of the attack—they would have the info ready by then.

“What
do
you know about the attack?” Samson asked heatedly.

“Reports from Uzbek air-traffic-control authorities in Tashkent have confirmed that the aircraft that crossed over from Russia was a Tupolev-22M bomber, call sign Mirny-203,” Patrick said. “Air-traffic controllers from Alma-Ata, Kazakhstan, reported the bomber to Tashkent but did not provide any flight-plan information. The aircraft was spotted about one hundred and seventy-five miles north of the Uzbek border by radar operators at Tashkent before the radars were knocked off the air and communications were disrupted.

“The Russians have one missile with that kind of range: the AS-17, code name ‘Krypton,' ” Patrick went on. “The AS-17 is an antiradar weapon designed to exceed the range and performance numbers of the Patriot antiaircraft missile. However, the AS-17 was not originally designed to be fired from the Tupolev-22M. One AS-17 apparently malfunctioned and crashed in the desert in Kazakhstan.”

“CIA will undoubtedly send out teams to recover data on that lost missile,” Houser said. “I'll have the info as soon as they get it.”

“Sir, we've heard from CIA, and because of the strike against their base, they're not prepared to mount a covert mission into Kazakhstan to retrieve the missile,” Patrick said. “Colonel Griffin has put together a mission plan for your approval. He can deploy with a team, or we can brief a team based in—”

“So Griffin wants to lead another covert-ops team into Central Asia, eh?” Houser asked derisively. “He obviously thinks he's the newest action hero now.”

“Sir, no other agencies have offered to get that data for us,” Patrick said, daring to show his exasperation at Houser's remark, “and if I may remind you, we have very few military or intelligence assets in place in that region since the United Nations Security Council ordered us to leave so they could install peacekeeping forces. If we want a chance to get that data, Colonel Griffin needs an execution order immediately. We can have him and his team deploy immediately to—”

“I think Colonel Griffin has stirred up enough shit in Central Asia
for the time being,” Houser interjected. “Although we certainly applaud him for successfully retrieving General Turabi of Turkmenistan, who has proved to be an extremely valuable source of information on the Russians' advance into Mary, it is clear now that the Russians felt threatened and retaliated against what they thought was a CIA operation. In addition, I personally feel that I was led astray by General Luger at Battle Mountain. Colonel Griffin took an awful risk by going on this mission, an especially unnecessary risk considering all the forces Battle Mountain had available.”

“Sir, Colonel Griffin's plan utilizes forces based in—”

“General Houser said he'd discuss this with you later, General McLanahan,” Samson cut in irritably. “Can we get on with the briefing, please?”

“Yes, sir,” Patrick said. “The antiradar missiles flew for approximately one hundred and thirty miles. Speed of each missile was in excess of Mach three. They were on a ballistic flight path at first, but during descent the radar operators said the missiles made minute course changes that placed them precisely on target, indicating that perhaps the missiles were operator-or GPS-guided, not just inertially guided. This matches the AS-17's flight profile. They scored direct hits on the Uzbek radar sites.

“As far as the attack on Bukhara itself—it's still a mystery, sir,” Patrick admitted. “Observers near the impact points there, including a couple surviving CIA operatives, reported the explosions were tremendous, perhaps five-hundred-pound high-explosive warheads.”

“You have
nothing?
” Samson asked. “No leads at all?”

“We're investigating a few uncorrelated bits of data, sir,” Patrick replied. “Greatly increased air traffic in eastern Siberia and a few rocket launches from test-launch sites in Siberia detected by DSP satellites apparently shot into the Kazakh missile-test ranges. So far nothing that could give us any clues on the attack all the way west in Uzbekistan.”

“Then maybe you shouldn't be wasting your time on these other ‘uncorrelated bits of data,' as you call them,” Samson said. “Any conclusions at all to report to us?”

“Sir, it appears that the missiles shot from the Backfire were intended to screen the real attack on the CIA headquarters in Uzbekistan,” Patrick went on. “The AS-17 is designed to be launched from tactical fighter-bombers, so the existence of these weapons on large bombers is a new development for the Russians: using tactical
precision-guided weapons on strategic bombers instead of just long-range subsonic cruise missiles. It appears that the Russians had excellent intel and acted on it remarkably quickly. They knew exactly when and where to hit. They probably loaded those bombers within hours of the mission to exfiltrate Turabi and launched the attack immediately.

“I feel that this indicates a substantial increase in the capabilities and effectiveness of the Russian heavy-bomber forces. Wherever these bombers came from, they were highly modified and their crews trained to levels of proficiency and tactical coordination that rival our own. They obviously used sophisticated covert bases, perhaps underground or well-camouflaged facilities, and a supply system that is many times faster and more efficient than—”

“General McLanahan, I know you're new to the Air Intelligence Agency and the Nine-sixty-sixth Wing, so I'll give you a pass on this one,” Gary Houser said. “But in the future when you brief the command or battle staffs, we expect facts, not interpretation. And the facts are that you still don't know where those bombers came from or where they went. That's what we need to know. Is that clear, General?”

“Yes, sir,” Patrick responded. Houser looked at the darkened glassed-in booth where the communications officers sat and drew a finger across his throat. Moments later the link between Barksdale and Lackland was terminated.

“Let's go on with the status of forces,” Samson said, giving the screen on which McLanahan had appeared one last disgusted glance that was very apparent, even across the secure videoconference network. “General?”

Conducting his briefing from his seat, in Samson's preferred style, the Eighth Air Force deputy commander for operations and the acting vice commander, Brigadier General Charles C. Zoltrane, pressed a button on his console to call up his first PowerPoint slide. “Yes, sir. Currently all wings are reporting one hundred percent conventional-combat-ready.”

“Conventional only? What's the nuclear side looking like?”

“Due to our conventional mission commitments, the lack of airframes and crews, and lower funding levels, we can meet approximately sixty percent taskings for Single Integrated Operations Plan missions, sir,” Zoltrane said. “The crews and the planes are simply not available for certification. The B-2 stealth bombers are in the best shape at seventy
percent, but the B-52s are at only fifty percent—and I think that's being generous.”

Samson thought about the news for a moment, then shrugged. “Well, if STRATCOM wants more planes ready for SIOP missions, they're going to have to send me more money and more airframes,” he said. STRATCOM, or U.S. Strategic Command, was the unified military command in charge of planning and fighting a nuclear conflict. STRATCOM did not “own” any aircraft—like every unified command, STRATCOM “gained” aircraft from other major commands, such as nuclear bombers, intelligence-gathering aircraft, and strategic command-and-control planes, from Eighth Air Force.

“We can bring some planes out of flyable storage to have available for SIOP planning if necessary,” Zoltrane said. The fly-stores, or “flyable storage,” were the planes held in a sort of maintenance limbo—it was a way to save costs while maintaining a large fleet capable of fighting with minimal preparation. Two-thirds of the long-range bombers allocated to both Eighth and Twelfth Air Forces were in flyable storage at any one time.

“How many planes were we budgeting to come out of fly-store this year?”

“Through the normal rotation? Thirty-six B-52s and—”

“No, I meant planes coming out of fly-store to
augment
the fleet. How many?”

“Well…none, sir,” Zoltrane responded. “But we're technically non-mission-ready if STRATCOM wants to put any bombers on alert. We'd have to—”

“That's STRATCOM's problem, not mine,” Samson said. “They know hour by hour how many planes we have available. If they notice our shortage, they're not saying anything, which means they don't want to deal with the budget crunch either.”

“Sir, we
have
to do something—at least notify the Pentagon that we're low,” Zoltrane said. “It'll take weeks, maybe months, for some of those bombers to be mission-ready out of flyable storage. If we start now, maybe we can stop the process before we break the bank, or maybe we'll get interim funding later on. But we can't just—”

“Okay, okay, Charlie, I get the picture,” General Samson said irritably. “Have the wings start pulling fly-stores out right away—see if they can put it under an exercise budget, or if they're close enough to their
cycle periods anyway, have them pull their allotments early.” Planes in flyable storage had to be rotated out every six months, brought back up to full combat readiness, and flown for a specified number of hours before being put back in fly-store. Because of arms-control limitations and other political considerations, there was usually no rush to do this, and in fact many planes in flyable storage went over their six-month time limit or were never brought back up to full combat-ready status. In effect they became “hangar queens,” a source of cannibalized parts. It was an unfortunate fact of life for the Air Force's bomber fleet. “I want it done
quietly.
I don't want it to appear like we're mobilizing any long-range strategic forces.”