Black Ghosts

CHAPTER 29

“Yuri!” Edward called to his big host.

“Da,” came the reply as the man appeared in the doorway that suddenly seemed very small with him standing there.

“Could you ask him—” Realizing that Yuri’s English left much to be desired, Edward turned to Sokolov for a translation.

“I speak English, no need translate.” Yuri sounded offended.

“Very well.” Edward turned to face him. “What do you have in the way of defense around this place?”

“Not need defense. No one know this place.”

“Still, you had the men that stopped me.”

“We have men in hangar, and some in forest.” He raised his hand, making a horizontal circle in the air. “Have people around and on roads. This place we use all time. Sergei make much money in this place.”

“Do you have communication with your people?” Edward made a gesture as if bringing a phone to his ear.

Yuri drew a small walkie-talkie from his pocket. “Da, can talk to people.” As if to prove the point, he brought the device to his ear, pressed the button and said something in Russian. He then let go of the button and after a short squelching sound the answer came. It was brief. The big man smiled. “No one on road,” he said.

“Thanks.” Edward felt better. There were so many things he had to do and take care of, he was starting to worry that he might forget some tiny detail or other. This was different from when he was in the service. Then, it was all laid out, the plans were in place, and all he had to do was stick to them. There were sometimes minor deviations, but they were the exception. This operation into which he’d been tossed with little warning was all deviations: The basic plan and proper procedure was the exception. From up close, the enemy looked much stronger and more ominous than it did from a distance. It was everywhere, and in control of everything.

“So in fact,” he said to Sokolov after a moment of quick thought, “the Black Ghosts have already won the war. It’s only a matter of advertising it.”

“That is quite correct.” Sokolov nodded.

“A hell of a time to be leaving the ship.”

Sokolov smiled sadly. “You are right.” After a short pause he said, “You wanted to know about the bunker.”

He gave Edward a precise description of the bunker’s position and location. It lay, he said, in a hillside area in a shallow, partially wooded valley consisting mostly of farmland. Across the valley, half a mile off, was a small village accessible from a different route, which afforded some opportunities for observing activity in and around the bunker. The tree cover shielded the bunker from closer observation but also provided a possible means to approach it unobserved.

Sokolov advised against attacking the bunker by night. Until General Rogov left with his men and equipment, the bunker would be a stronghold of military might. Sokolov estimated that Rogov would be leaving the bunker about nine the following morning.

He would proceed to the Kremlin. By then, the Elite Guard of Russian troops that was scheduled to secure the Kremlin for the duration of the American president’s visit would have arrived at Sheremetyevo, from where it would travel by truck to the center of Moscow. They were indeed the best and most loyal of Russian troops, but their loyalty was to Rogov’s version of Russia, not President Konyigin’s. “I hate the thought,” Sokolov said, “that I’m helping that pig Konyigin in any way. He is the lowest form of life on this planet.”

“He’s a politician. That’s what politicians are. That’s what democracy is all about.”

“Exactly the reason I think it’s the worst idea I ever came across. What’s the point if you end up having people like Konyigin run things? This will be the end of Russia.”

Edward smiled. He had watched his new friend walk straight into it and not even see it. “In a democracy, my friend, if you don’t like the leader, you, the people, can vote for someone else and change him. Then you can change the next one, and so on, until you find one you like. Then you keep him for a while. Better than one jerk, like your General Rogov, in power and be stuck with him for the rest of his life. You were so close to helping him take over, and now here you are fighting against him. Doesn’t that tell you something? There is no substitute for democracy, not yet anyway.”

Sokolov sat quietly for a long minute. Then, in a low, thoughtful voice, he said, “You have a point. I’m sure there’s a flaw in your argument somewhere, but we’ll have to pick it up again when this is all over.”

“You’re on,” Edward said, and lit a cigarette.

By the time Rogov arrived at the Kremlin, his troops would already have taken control. As soon as the American president’s plane had landed, the communication array would be activated, so all normal communication by radio, television, and satellite would cease, to be replaced by Peter’s proclamation of his own ascendancy.

“Do you think you’ll have any trouble with the Kremlin security?”

“Kremlin security has only one man who is a member of the Black Ghosts, Colonel Denisov, the chief of the entire unit. That is why Rogov was able to ensure that his troops would be the ones called in to guard the Kremlin. All the rest of the staff are loyal. Remove Denisov and we remove the problem.”

“And how do you intend to do that?”

“Simple. He believes I’m the one who has to take control, remember. I shall arrest him.”

“Can you make it stick?”

“I’m sorry?” Sokolov was puzzled by this unfamiliar expression.

“Can you convince everyone around him that you are right to arrest him?”

“I am a colonel. I need to convince no one.”

Their deliberations were interrupted by Edward’s watch sounding its alarm. “It’s time,” he said, getting up. “They should be arriving here in…”—he looked at his watch again—“about ten minutes, give or take five. Yuri?” He called to the big man, who was almost asleep at the table, bored with the fast English that Edward and Sokolov were talking, which to him must have sounded like a loose nut in a fan.

“Da?”

“Can you turn on the runway lights?”

“When?”

“We should be able to hear them coming in. We don’t want the lights on for too long.”

“The switch is in big hangar. My man is waiting there, but I go myself. Maybe he had too much to warm himself.” He made a drinking gesture with his hand.

“And get the hangar doors open; we want the plane in there as quickly as we can.”

“What kind of plane?” Yuri asked.

“Jumbo, Boeing seven forty-seven.”

“No problem, this place built for it. Here.” He handed Edward the walkie-talkie. “This set for you to talk. You tell when light go on.”

“Great.” Edward was satisfied. “Did you test the lights?”

“No, no need for that.”

There was that detail he had forgotten, Edward thought. He had forgotten to take care of it beforehand, when he’d had the time, and he was not used to working with people who had to be told everything. He needed an alternative plan, and fast. “How many cars do you have?”

“Twelve,” said the Russian, puzzled.

“Get your men in the cars and out to the field now.” Edward’s voice made it clear that things were urgent. “Have them line up the cars on both sides of the runway and turn on the car lights. Have them spread out along the entire length. This is a big plane we have coming in. He needs lights, and if your lights don’t work we need a backup.”

Yuri got the message. Responding to the urgency in Edward’s voice, he got up and began shouting orders. His men responded quickly, to Edward’s surprise.

“What’s the problem?” Sokolov asked, walking by Edward’s side on their way out of the farmhouse.

“The plane has come most of the way taking the place of a chartered flight we managed to get delayed.” He turned to face the tall Russian officer. “I hope, that is. I’ve had no communication with them for some time now. After crossing Estonia, they should have descended to a very low altitude. They have to maintain that low-level flight until they arrive here. They should be almost out of fuel. And this is the only place they can land.”

By the time they got outside, the various vehicles, including the one Edward had arrived in, were lining up along the runway on both sides. They then turned to face each other, their headlights throwing pools of illumination on the airstrip. Edward was satisfied. In the darkness, he could see the large door of the hangar slowly open, its grooved runners giving a terrible screech.

Then from far away came a sound that at first could be mistaken for a distant drum roll. It gradually developed into the roar of an approaching jet plane.

Yuri pulled the switch in the hangar. The lights on the runway flickered for a moment and then went out, taking with them the lights in the house, the ones at the end of the hangar, and probably everything else within a ten-mile radius.

“Here they come,” Edward said aloud, but there was only the sound getting louder and louder. Nothing was visible in the sky. It was eerie, the thundering sound and the empty sky. Then suddenly the giant plane came into view, hugging the top of the hill to the west, almost perfectly lined up with the airstrip. It was flying with landing gear open, not more than fifty feet above the treetops. Before they had time to blink, it was already touching the end of the runway with a screech of rubber on asphalt.

Then came the roar of engines thrown into reverse, bringing the plane to a full stop. It stood there for several seconds, then started to move again, heading for the open hangar. Edward and Sokolov ran to the car closest to them, Sokolov ordering the driver to head for the large open door.

The plane slowly entered the hangar. What had at first seemed to be a giant structure now appeared almost small in comparison with the vast jet that barely fit inside it. The huge engines fell silent.

But almost immediately another sound was heard. At first it sounded like a motorcycle engine, a ta-ta-ta-ta sound. In a flash Edward recognized it: an approaching helicopter. There was the whistle of the turbo engine. It was somewhere beyond the hill the jumbo had just flown over.

“Can you hear me?” Edward shouted into the walkie-talkie.

“What you want?” came the answer.

“Tell your men to turn off their lights!”

There was a call on the radio and the lights went off one by one.

“There’s a helicopter coming in!” Edward shouted into the radio. “Can you shoot it down?”

Oleg’s helicopter followed the plane’s path over the hill. The airfield came into view, and Oleg saw the tail of the huge plane slowly disappearing behind the closing doors of the giant hangar. The entire place was blacked out, but with his night-vision goggles he could see it all in the green light. There were trucks lined up on both sides of the long runway. Men were getting out of them and looking into the sky.

Up in the helicopter, a flash coming from the house at the end of the runway caught Oleg’s eye. He pulled hard on his stick, trying a maneuver he had learned in Afghanistan to get out of the way of a Stinger antiaircraft rocket. In Afghanistan, he had always been ready for one of those and had managed to avoid a few. Today, however, he was not ready, and the maneuver he took didn’t stand a chance. He wanted to say something to his navigator, who at that moment was looking in the other direction. Lucky for him, thought Oleg, he will never know.

The ball of fire lit up the entire area for miles around. Then it was dark again, even darker than before.

“If he reported back, we could have the whole Russian army here in no time,” Sokolov said.

“Let’s get the team out of the plane. We’ll have to stay here for now,” Edward replied. “We have to play it as if nothing has changed. We have no choice.”