Mirror Image

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

"Got it!"

Hood was napping on his couch, happy to turn over some of the routine duties to Curt Hardaway and the night crew, when Lowell Coffey entered his open office door with a flourish.

"Signed, sealed, and— ta-ta! — delivered."

Hood sat up and smiled. "CIC said yes?"

"They said yes," he said, "though it had nothing to do with me. It was the Russians themselves that got this for us by sending one hundred thousand soldiers into the Ukraine."

"I'll take it," Hood said. "'Did you tell Mike?"

"I just saw him," Lowell said. "He'll be coming over."

Hood regarded the document with Senator Fox's signature right on top, where the good conservatives would see it. He was glad to see it too, though. Lying here, he had already resolved to back Rodgers on the Striker mission. Checks and balances were good, he had decided, but sometimes decisive action was better.

As Lowell left to inform Martha Mackall, Hood sat back down on the sofa, E-mailed Hardaway, then rubbed his eyes and remembered exactly why it was he wanted to run Op-Center at all.

Hood and everyone he knew— including the President, with whom he often disagreed— did what they were doing, first and foremost, because it wasn't enough to salute their flag with the hand and a pledge. They needed to give it their lives and their full commitment. Rodgers had given him the brass plaque that sat on his desk, something Thomas Jefferson had once written: "The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants." From the time he was in college, he had wanted to be a part of that process.

That sacred process, he corrected himself.

Rodgers and Bob Herbert arrived then, and after shaking hands the men hugged each other.

"Thanks, Paul," Rodgers said. "Charlie's eager to do this."

Hood didn't say it, but he knew they were both thinking it: now that they had what they wanted, they both prayed it turned out right.

Hood fell into the chair behind his desk. "So they're free to go in," he said. "What're we going to do to get them out?"

Rodgers said, "However the CIC went, my friends at the Pentagon have given us the Mosquito."

"Which is?"

"A top-secret aircraft, Stealth variety. The Pentagon hasn't finished field tests, and brought it to Seoul because they thought it might be useful in a pinch during the crisis we had there. But it's the only way we can get into and out of Russia without being seen, heard, or smelled, so we really don't have a choice."

"Charlie's okay with it?" Hood asked.

"He's like a kid with a toy." Rodgers laughed. "Give him a big, new hunk of hardware and he's very happy."

"What's the timing on this?"

"The Mosquito should be on the ground in Japan around ten A.M., local time. The transfer to the 76T should take another forty-five minutes, and they'll wait there until we give them the go-ahead."

Hood asked quietly, "What if the Mosquito goes down?"

Rodgers took a deep breath. "It will have to be destroyed as completely as possible. There's a self-destruct button for that, and it's pretty thorough. If the crew can't blow it up for some reason, Striker will have to. The Mosquito can't fall into Russian hands."

"What's the backup if the Mosquito fails?"

"Striker's got just over six hours of darkness to cross twelve miles to the 76T," Rodgers said. "The terrain's hilly but negotiable. Even in a worst-case scenario, with the temperature going down to five degrees above, they've got warm clothes and night-vision glasses. They'll be able to make it."

"How will the 76T hold up?" Hood asked.

"She's a cold-weather bird," said Herbert. "Nothing will freeze on her unless it gets to about ten below, which it shouldn't."

"And if it does?" Hood asked.

"If the temperature starts to drop," Herbert said, "we'll take off, notify Striker, and they'll have to hunker down until we can extract them. They've had the survival training. They'll be fine. According to Katzen's geographical studies, there's plenty of small game just west of the Sikhote-Alin' Range, and the hills are laced with caves for shelter or hiding."

"So we're okay if we get that far," Hood said. "What are our contingencies if the Russians ID the 76T and realize it isn't one of their own?"

"That's not likely," Rodgers said. "We managed to snatch an IFF beacon from one of the 76T's they lost in Afghanistan. The Russians haven't changed their Identification Friend or Foe technology in years, so we're okay there. It's not like our planes, which broadcast millimeter-wave microwave signals to transponders on other crafts and at monitoring stations."

"What about communications with the 76T?"

"Our only contact with the plane has been in code," Rodgers said. "The Russians are used to us sending false communications to tie up their resources, and they tend to ignore outside communiqués to their own planes. Over the next few hours we'll talk to more of their planes to make sure they think that's what's going on— that we're harassing them on account of their troop buildup. Meanwhile, the 76T will maintain radio silence like most of the other Russian transports. If Russian Air Defense starts to get antsy, we'll talk to them. The cover story we've given the pilot is that he's bringing in ordnance machine shop spare parts from Berlin and rubber fuel bladders from Helsinki. Rubber's in especially short supply in Russia right now. If for some reason the Russians noticed the 76T earlier, this will explain why they were in Germany and Finland."

"I like it," Hood said, "very much. I assume they're taking the long way around Russia to stay out of the air lanes and out of the Russians' hair?"

Rodgers nodded. "Those skies are pretty crowded right now. If the 76T is forced to talk to the Russians, they'll buy that, since what we're allegedly carrying isn't as crucial as troops, rations, and weapons."

"And if their cover is blown for any reason?" Hood asked. "Which STOP do we use?"

"If we have to execute a Sudden Termination of Project over Russian airspace," Herbert said, "our radio goes dead and we get the hell out. Plus, there are a few tricks we can use as we retreat. They won't shoot us down unless they're absolutely sure we aren't one of theirs— and they won't be."

"Sounds good," said Hood. "Tell TAS and the rest of your team they've done an incredible job."

"Thanks, I will," said Rodgers. He picked up the globe paperweight and began turning it over in his hand. "Paul, there's something else that's been going on. It's another reason the Pentagon wanted to put on a little show with the Mosquito."

Hood looked up at Rodgers. "A show?"

Rodgers nodded. "Two of the four Russian motorized rifle divisions on the Turkestan front have been pulled off and sent to Ukraine," he said. "Kosigan took a tank division from the Ninth Army on the Transbaikal front and an airmobile brigade from the Far East front. If fighting breaks out with Poland and more forces are withdrawn from the Chinese border, there's a good chance Beijing will decide to make trouble. The Chinese recently put General Wu De in command of the Eleventh Group Army in Lanzhou. If you read Liz's report, you'll know that this guy is certifiable."

"I have read it," Hood said. "He was an astronaut in their aborted space program."

"Right," Rodgers said. "Now, we've run war simulations along these lines, so none of this is that far afield. In fact, the President has just asked the Pentagon to send them over. If the Chinese put their five Border Guard divisions on alert to threaten Russia with a second front, the Russians will not back down. Never have, never will. Skirmishes will break out, and war will follow unless a cool head in this case, Zhanin— prevails. Our policy in that situation is to back the pacifist, but to do so we will have to align ourselves with Zhanin and perhaps even support him militarily—"

"Breaking our agreement with Grozny," Hood said. "Helluva situation. We help keep Beijing and Moscow apart and get peppered with terrorist strikes for our efforts."

"It's a real possibility," Rodgers said. "Which is why our aerial 'sneak attack' wing of other Stealth aircraft becomes real important. The longer we can be involved in the situation without Grozny finding out, the better off we'll be."

The phone beeped. Hood looked at the digital code on the LED band at the bottom. It was Stephen Viens at NRO.

Hood picked up the receiver. "What's doing, Stephen?"

"Paul? I thought you were on vacation."

"I'm back," Hood said. "What kind of intelligence organization are you running, anyway?"

"Funny," Viens said. "Bob wanted us to watch that Trans-Siberian train, and there's been a change."

"What kind?"

Viens said, "Not a good one. Have a look at your monitor. I'll send the image over."