Captain Vladimir Dimitrov looked at the coded message a second time with relief. It was what he hoped for, a stand by order. He took a deep breath and tried to keep his hands from shaking.
A complete stand down order would have been the best option, but at least this was the first step in stopping what would be assured destruction of life on earth as everyone knew it.
Dimitrov assumed, he hoped, that this whole incident had been a drill, and the next message would be to stand down. And hopefully that order would come before too long.
Now in his late forties, Dimitrov had been commander of the nuclear sub OПOРA, or Reliance in English, for the last nine years, first serving as a weapons officer then as the vessel’s executive officer, or XO, for the last five years of his tenure.
He had been promoted to captain after the man he served under, Captain Greschenko, retired, allowing him to command his own vessel for the first time, a goal he had set for himself when he was only a teenager. Choosing to be an officer on a nuclear-powered submarine, particularly one equipped with nuclear strike capability, was a total commitment to the vessel, one that required a man to surrender his entire life in service of his ship and crew.
And this commitment did not change when the sub Dimitrov commanded was sold from the Red Navy to the oligarch Ivan “the Barbarian” Barbolin.
The transaction, which had happened less than a year ago, had been swift and unannounced, and it had taken Dimitrov and his crew by complete surprise. The Russian fleet of nuclear submarines was the prize of the Russian Navy and was considered the biggest deterrent to the Coalition-made U.S. arsenal of sea-based nuclear weaponry.
The transaction was considered top secret and kept out of the press to avoid political scrutiny, and the transition from state run to privately run was unnoticeable at the chain of command level.
Once the transaction was complete, the Barbarian had simply turned around and leased the war machine back to the Russian Navy. The reason behind the transaction was a source of speculation.
The relationship between the Barbarian and the Russian President dated back to when both men were officers in the KGB, and it was thought that the president was in debt due to decreased oil production, and the sale offered him a much needed cash infusion. In return for this cash infusion, the Barbarian had himself a nuclear submarine.
The recent call for the OПOРA to change course from international waters in the Pacific and directly toward the west coast of America had made Dimitrov and his crew very anxious. Mostly because the order did not come from the Russian Naval Command—it had come from Ivan Barbolin himself.
The oligarch had never involved himself with the submarine’s mission status before. Neither Dimitrov nor any of the members of the crew had even met the man.
The most disturbing part of the order came with the command to arrive off the coast of California on full tactical strike alert.
The Barbarian, a private citizen, albeit a very rich one, was coming within inches of starting a nuclear war, with the purpose behind it unclear.
Was the notoriously brutal businessman using a nuclear threat to enforce a business deal? Captain Dimitrov shuddered at the thought.
The OПOРA had reached within striking range of the targeted city of Los Angeles less than twenty minutes before Dimitrov received the standby command. The tension that had filled the ship throughout the journey had lessened after this, and the speculation was that there had been tense negotiations going on between the rival U.S. and Russian governments or private institutions, and the OПOРA was there to enforce the deal.
If both Russian and U.S. citizenry knew how often these alerts took place, they would enjoy far more sleepless nights, Dimitrov thought to himself.
He took one last look at his crew before turning over command of the sub to his XO, deciding that he would go back to his quarters and rest. He had not slept in the last thirty-six hours, and the standby order allowed him to feel his fatigue.
He was turning to leave when he caught his fast approaching XO out of the corner of his eye. He could see by the look on his XO’s face that it was something serious.
“What is it?” Dimitrov asked.
The XO stood at attention in front of his commanding officer. Dimitrov noticed that the XO was white as a sheet and covered in sweat.
“Well, spit it out,” Dimitrov said.
The XO took a deep breath and chose his words carefully. “We have a problem with one of the missiles, sir.”
“A problem?”
“Silo four. It won’t disarm. It’s started its countdown to launch, and I can’t stop it.”
“I thought it would be bigger,” the Barbarian said as he sat down across from Glen Turner.
He took one more look around the Coalition CEO’s office, with its earth tones and mismatched art, before returning his focus to the man who had held him captive only an hour earlier.
“We’re not czars or kings in this country. We’re businessmen. We don’t need to gold plate everything,” Turner responded.
“Perhaps if you did, your people would understand you more.”
“I should throw you out the goddamn window.”
“The standby order is temporary unless you meet my terms. I recommend you negotiate quickly.”
“We’ll find your sub.”
“Not before it reduces this city to ash.”
“We both know you’re not going to do that.”
“You heard the soothsayer. I am prepared to die and take all of the Coalition and most of the American west coast with me.”
“Stop with the posturing. So I got you, then you got me. It’s a game our countries have been playing since the end of the Second World War, and now we’ve just taken the game private. What do you really want, Ivan?”
The Barbarian didn’t answer right away. He pretended to clean his fingernails. It was the passive aggressive tactic of a man who believed he now had the upper hand.
The Barbarian finally spoke without looking up from his hands. “I want more money, of course. I want the freedom to go back to my country. I want the guarantee that I remain untouched, always, and no matter where I travel in the world.”
“Fine.”
The Barbarian looked up. “And I want the pattern reader.”
“So at what point did you know Ivan had a nuclear sub? How did you know it would be that exact vessel and not, say a ship with missiles?” Kirby asked Alex Luthecker.
He had quietly entered Luthecker’s cell only moments before.
“Does anyone know that you’re in here with me?”
“You already know the answer to that question. I disabled all the audio and visual feeds to this room if that’s what you’re asking. And no one saw me. Let’s just say that everyone who’s anyone is a little bit preoccupied right now. The threat of nuclear war will have that effect on people.”
“Well you did claim that mass extinction is imminent.”
“You know I can’t tell if you have a really dry sense of humor, or if your ability to know so much forces you to be literal all the time.” Kirby examined Luthecker carefully as the two men sat across from one another.
The pattern reader looked completely unfazed by his predicament and the events that were quickly unfolding around him.
“Not much rattles you, does it? Is that a function of knowing the source behind all that rattles things in the world?” Kirby asked.
“Is that what you really want to know before they discover you in here with me?”
“You’re right. I don’t have much time.”
“So why are you here?” Luthecker asked.
“You know why. I want to know who I am and where I’m going, down to the last detail.”
“Where do you choose to go?”
“Wherever I have to in order to accomplish my goals, and I want you to help me avoid mistakes in order to expedite things. You played the Russian heavy, and you’re playing Glen Turner just as deftly, even though you’ve never met him. I have to assume you’ve been playing me all along as well, which, believe it or not, I have no problem with. In fact, I expected it.
“So since you already know what my mission is, you can pretty much say you know what I want, and I want you to know it. The words I say to you and my intentions that you can read are in sync. So tell me—how does my future play out?”
“If I told you, it would no longer be your future. You of all people understand that paradox.”
“Fine. Since we’re both in a bit of a bind right now, I’ll make a deal with you. When this is all over, and I’ve helped you resolve your conflict with my employers, you tell me every single thing you can about me.”
“I’ve already made that deal with you. Why are you really here?”
“You know why.”
Kirby motioned to Luthecker to come close.
Even though the audio pickups had been disabled, Kirby barely spoke above a whisper. “Look, I can’t let you out directly, because he’ll know I did it, and he’ll kill us both on sight. But we both know I won’t have to let you out, don’t we?
“What I can do is facilitate whatever it is you’re planning. I know that whatever your course of action may be, it is the right thing to do because my goal is singular and in alignment with yours. So what you want to happen is what I need to happen. So tell me what it is you need me to do, and I’ll do it—no questions asked. And when all this is over, you tell me what I need to know.”
Kirby sat back down across from Luthecker. “I bet you never saw that one coming,” he added. “Or maybe you did. Maybe you really are ten steps ahead. So what do you say?”
Luthecker locked eyes with Kirby for several moments before he spoke. “Here’s what I need you to do…”