Psychic Warrior

Chapter Twenty-five

Dalton received word of the nuclear explosion outside of Moscow as the SR-75 crossed the north pole. He leaned back, uncomfortable in the hard jump seat, and closed his eyes. Lieutenant Jackson was tapped into the secure intelligence network and the extent of the devastation was still being assessed, but there was no doubt thousands were dead.

‘Jackson?”

“Yes?”

“Where is GRU headquarters in relation to the blast site?”

“Seismic readers have fixed the epicenter,” Jackson said. “GRU headquarters would roughly be right where they have triangulated the center of the blast.”

“Try to get in contact with Colonel Mishenka.”

“I have been trying to. There is no answer.”

Dalton ran a hand across his forehead. “Great.”

Oma listened to the sirens racing to the southwest. The mushroom cloud had loomed high in the sky for minutes after the explosion, then slowly dissipated. She had stared out her armored windows at it, before finally picking up the phone. She tried Barsk’s cell phone but she got no reply. She called on the secure fax line, overriding the fax signal when it came on, until someone on the other end picked it up. She told the man to get her grandson.

“Barsk!” she yelled when he finally answered.

“Yes, Oma? I have been trying to get a hold of you, but my phone has not been working. I think— ”

Oma cut him off. “What the hell have you done?”

“What are you talking about?”

“A nuclear weapon just exploded outside Moscow!”

There was no immediate answer.

“Did you use the generator? Did you fire a nuclear weapon?”

“It was Chyort, Oma. He said he had to take care of something. Test the weapon.”

“You let him activate the generator?”

“Let him! How would I stop him?”

Oma realized the futility of the conversation. “Put Leksi on.”

There was a short pause, then a gruff “Yes?”

“Do you have control of the situation?”

“No. Barsk is letting this monster run crazy.”

Oma rubbed her forehead. “All right. Listen to me. I am sending you a target list by the secure fax. I want you to make sure Vasilev targets all the sites listed in order. Is that clear?”

“Clear.”

“Put Barsk back on.”

“Yes?” Her grandson’s voice was petulant. Oma was tempted to simply hang up, but she knew she could not do that.

“Barsk, listen very carefully. I am sending a target list to Leksi. He will insure that it is carried out. I want you to leave there. Get as far away as possible as quickly as you can and meet me at my lake house.”

“But, Oma!” Barsk protested. “This is my responsibility here. I am in charge. If you do not trust me to accomplish this, then what— ”

“Shut up!” Oma yelled into the phone, silencing her grandson. “Do what I say or I wipe my hands of you.”

“Yes, Oma.”

She turned the phone off. Then she went to her desk and picked up the list Abd al-Bari had sent her. She went back to the fax and punched in the number for the fax in the hangar. When the tone screeched, she fed the target list in.

She watched as it disappeared into the machine, then reappeared in the feed tray. She took it back to her desk and sat down. She fed the list into the shredder.

Then she picked up the phone and punched in the number for the NATO representative.

Colonel Mishenka finally got the satellite radio working ten minutes after they were airborne. It took him another five minutes to punch through the jumbled calls of the Russian military reacting in shock to the nuclear detonation. The fact that since the breakup of the Soviet Union and the attempted coup against the President, the GRU had increased its stranglehold on the control of intelligence and the communications capability of the entire military, meant that destruction of GRU headquarters virtually decapitated the Russian military’s ability to act.

Listening to the confused chatter, Mishenka was aware that there were many officers who were convinced the nuclear attack had been a surgical strike by the Americans— a prelude to an all-out attack. Missile forces were going on alert and the strategic bomber forces were opening their hangars and unlocking the vaults on nuclear weapons that had been mothballed years ago.

The old ways died hard, and the only ones— other than the President’s office— who had known about SD8, Chyort, and the American cooperation in tracking down the twenty nuclear weapons, were all glowing ash in the Moscow countryside.

Mishenka punched in the number he had been given by the American. It was answered immediately.

“Dalton here.”

“This is Colonel Mishenka.”

“I was afraid you’d been caught in the explosion,” Dalton said.

“The stakes have been raised,” Mishenka said. “Not only has GRU headquarters been taken out, but SD8 is totally isolated now.”

“Our enemy is very smart,” Dalton said.

“I know who it is— or who it was— and he is indeed very smart. And ruthless.”

“Taking out a couple of square miles of Moscow goes beyond ruthless.”

“Let us hope that is the limit this goes to.”

“What do you mean?” Dalton asked.

Mishenka quickly filled him in on the reaction of the Russian military.

“Goddamn,” was Dalton’s summation.

“We have to secure the nuclear weapons and this phased-displacement generator,” Mishenka said. “Who knows where the next target will be.”

“As I told you,” Dalton said, “we have to destroy Chyort in order to be able to find and then get to the generator and bombs.”

“What is your plan?”

“Are your men moving?”

“I have a company of Spetsnatz at the closest airfield to SD8. My time to that location is twenty-five minutes.”

“I’m forty-five minutes out,” Dalton said.

“I’ll alert them that you’re coming,” Mishenka said. “And once we are there?”

“We go in and take the station out.”

“Hell of a plan,” Mishenka said. “I have the defense setup for the station and it will not be that easy.”

“I didn’t say it was going to be easy,” Dalton said. “I said we were going to do it.”

Mishenka smiled inside his oxygen mask. “Very good. I will see you shortly.”

“As you now know, what I told you was true,” Oma said.

“I grant that you have proved you have the nuclear warheads,” Abd al-Bari said matter-of-factly, “but you have not proved your capability to put them anywhere. You could have driven that one in a truck to Moscow.”

“I just want to insure that you will pay the balance,” Oma said. “I am putting everything on the line.”

“You do what we agreed, the balance will be there,” Abd al-Bari said.

“Good.” Oma put the phone down. She stood and looked about her office. She knew it was the last time she would be here. There was nothing in it she wanted. She had prepared long for this moment. She went to the door and walked out without a backward glance.

“Where is Barsk?” Feteror hissed at Leksi.

The navy commando shrugged. He could care less where the boy was.

“Let me see that,” Feteror demanded.

Leksi stared at the demon for a few seconds before holding the fax out.

Feteror leaned over, blood-red eyes close to the writing. He laughed as he saw the targets, the sound causing those in the hangar to wince. “Beautiful! The beginning of the end for everyone.”

He pointed a claw at the generator. “Load another warhead. We have some other business to take care of before we proceed with your master’s list.”