Private Moscow

Chapter 107

Fuller’s statement about upsetting a lot of senior commanders made more sense when I saw the FORCE Command Center, which was a huge, hardened bunker to the east of the air traffic control building. About the size of four football fields, the bunker was constructed in matt black, and the flat roof was covered in sensor arrays, communication equipment and a massive cooling system.

As we approached the building in Fuller’s open-topped Humvee, I saw a convoy of more than forty vehicles parked outside the main entrance, and, in addition to Marine guards, there were a number of men and women in suits, wearing the distinctive lapel pins of the US Secret Service.

“What kind of brass are we talking?” I asked as Fuller pulled up outside the building.

“Secretary of Defense, most of the chiefs of staff, Pentagon types,” Fuller replied. “This is the Defense Department’s show-piece tech for the twenty-first century. It’s supposed to redefine warfare.”

We jumped out of the Humvee and I swallowed hard as we ran up the steps toward the smoked-glass doors.

Two Secret Service agents moved to intercept us; a tall, muscular woman who looked as though she knew her way around a chokehold, and a short, sinewy man who moved with the graceful elegance of a predator.

“Can we help you?” the woman asked.

“We need to see Secretary Carver,” Fuller replied, referring to the Secretary of Defense.

“He’d kind of busy right now, sir,” the man replied with a self-indulgent smile.

I caught Fuller gesturing behind his back, and glanced over my shoulder to see four Marine guards at the bottom of the steps, drawn by the arrival of the air station’s second-in-command. They were watching his hand movements, signals instructing them to make ready. They drifted up the stairs nonchalantly.

“We need to see the secretary right now,” Fuller said. “It’s a matter of national security.”

If the Secret Service agents sensed danger, they gave no hint of it.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the woman replied. “Everyone who’s meant to be in this building is already inside. No one else gets in.”

“Sergeant,” Fuller commanded, “take these people into custody.”

The four Marines who’d been coming up the steps sprang into action and raised their weapons at the Secret Service agents.

“This is Naval Air Station Fallon, and I am the executive officer,” Fuller said. “You are hereby under military arrest.”

“Stop!” a voice yelled, and I turned to see two Secret Service agents who’d been standing by the convoy draw their weapons.

“Corporal!” Fuller shouted at the leader of another squad of Marines by the cars. “Hold those men!”

The second squad swarmed the other agents.

“Guns down! Guns down!” the Marines bellowed.

Fuller turned to the sergeant who led the team holding the man and woman at gunpoint. “With us, sergeant. You men hold fast.”

I followed Fuller and the sergeant into the building, where we encountered a pair of puzzled Marine privates, who’d seen what was happening outside.

“You men with us,” Fuller said, and they fell in behind me.

We ran through a large lobby, and Fuller used his base security pass to get us into the main block. We sprinted down a long corridor, went round a corner and saw two Secret Service agents either side of a blast door.

“Down!” the sergeant yelled, raising his rifle at the startled men.

“Hold them,” Fuller commanded the two Marine privates we’d picked up in the lobby. “With me, sergeant.”

Fuller used the biometric palm reader and iris scanner to open the blast doors, and we stepped into one of the most secure places on Earth.