TICONDEROGA-CLASS AEGIS MISSILE CRUISER USS SHILOH
Jack was dreaming of Sarah and, strangely enough, the small green alien they had lost during the Overlord operation, Matchstick. It was disturbing in the fact that Collins rarely dreamed at all. His mind was so tired that his brain completely ran on in a direction of its own accord. While Sarah said little in the dream, it was the recurring words of the small green alien that kept echoing in his dream over and over again. Matchstick was sitting on Sarah’s lap as he did quite often in the long days and nights of debriefing the alien after Arizona. It seemed Matchstick opened up when he was in her lap, as if he were comfortable and trusting of the small geologist far more than any other.
“You are not alone, Colonel Jack; you are not alone. Friends, friends, friends, everywhere.” In the dream, Matchstick would look straight at him while repeating the same words over and over. Then he did the strangest thing. As a gift to Matchstick after his debriefing was completed, Jack and the security department had given him a copy of the Beatles’ greatest hits. The small alien had fallen in love with “Octopus’s Garden.” In the dream, he kept singing in his raspy, cotton-filled voice, “I’d like to be, under the sea, in an octopus’s garden, in the shade.”
The knock on the door woke him. He sat up in the bed and looked around, not knowing exactly where he was. The knock sounded once again. Finally, he knew, and the dream he had been having faded, with the exception of that silly Beatles song.
“Come!” he said louder than he wanted.
A marine opened his door, and Henri Farbeaux stepped inside.
The cabin was small but offered the creature comforts as Henri came in and flipped on the desk lamp. Jack sat up and placed his bare feet on the tiled floor. He looked at his wristwatch and saw that he had been sleeping for six hours, much to his shock. He placed both palms on his eyes and rubbed them. He shook his head until his vision cleared and then saw that the Frenchman was offering him a cup of coffee.
“It’s not the seventy-five-year-old coffee from Simbirsk, but American dark roast will have to do.”
Collins nodded and accepted the offering. “Damn. They let me sleep too long. It’s 0220.”
“Captain Everett left orders that you not be disturbed for eight, but I needed to see you before I depart Shiloh.”
“Depart?” he asked when he lowered the coffee cup.
“Yes, we’ve been under way for five hours. Simbirsk is in tow, and Peter the Great is bringing up the rear. I couldn’t board the cruiser earlier because Salkukoff’s commandos were everywhere after dark. I couldn’t risk it.”
“And boarding a moving ship at sea isn’t risky?” Jack asked as he finally stood up. He started dressing.
“Risky, but it will be unexpected.”
“We could wait until daylight and find some excuse to get Peter the Great to at least slow enough for you to board safely.” Collins slipped into his black T-shirt.
“It would be expected. Salkukoff is no fool. My chance of getting to him now is better. I expect the colonel will make his play soon after the sun rises. It’s now or never. I have a team of marines that will get me to the stern of Peter the Great; I gain egress there and do what was ordered. I only hope Captain Kreshenko appreciates the finer point of my orders and doesn’t line me up to be shot.”
“I have a feeling the captain won’t be too broken up about losing Colonel Salkukoff.” Jack put his boots on. “I think it’s still too risky, Colonel.”
“Why, I didn’t think you cared,” Henri said as he rose from the desk chair.
“Of course I do, Colonel. I would never deprive Carl of your company. He wouldn’t handle it too well if we lost you.”
Farbeaux fixed Jack with a look that told him where he could go with his sense of humor. He turned and opened the door to the waiting marine guard who was watching over the sleeping colonel. Farbeaux nodded, and the marine turned and left.
“Henri,” Jack said as he zipped up his Nomex vest. He held out his hand. Farbeaux looked at it and then took the offered good-bye. “You watch your ass over there.”
“That, Colonel, I intend to do, I assure you.”
“Good luck.”
Henri let go of Jack’s hand and left.
Jack took a deep breath and then sat hard onto the bunk. He started humming that silly tune that Matchstick had been singing in his dream. That and repeating the words about friends everywhere. Then he suddenly stopped and shook his head in wonder.
“Losin’ it, Jack.”
EVENT GROUP COMPLEX
NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE, NEVADA
Will Mendenhall was sitting at his desk inside the security offices. The four empty cups of coffee sat before him as he stared at the far wall and its bank of dead monitors. He had shut everything down, with the exception of the duty officer’s station being manned from the outer offices. He had left orders that he was not to be disturbed.
The information that Virginia and Europa had recovered had been playing on his mind ever since he had heard the theory of a separate Russian government.
The door opened, and it startled Will from his thoughts. The director nodded and then went straight to a chair in front of Mendenhall’s desk.
“To ease your mind, Captain Mendenhall, I informed the president on our … well … our guesswork. It wasn’t something he really wanted to hear. So, for now, the ball is in the court of others.” Niles Compton slowly stood on aching legs and moved to the door. “All we can do now is our jobs.” Niles nodded and started to open the door but stopped. “Captain?”
“Sir?” Will said as he watched the director and his weariness at 12:30 A.M.
“Feel like getting out of here for a few days?”
Will stood and looked at the director, with hope in his eyes.
“I could use some time off, yes, sir.”
“If you promise not to inform Sarah, Anya, and Virginia of your leaving, it is my understanding that NATO command has ordered a full-scale search-and-rescue operation in the North Atlantic over some missing ships. I believe we have an F-15 getting ready for departure at Nellis.”
“Yes, sir!” Will said as he started making orders for his replacement. He suddenly looked up. “What do I say to Sarah and the others?”
Niles paused at the door once again and faced Mendenhall.
“What is that stupid excuse Jack and Carl use whenever they vanish unexpectedly and without orders?” Niles lowered his head in mock thought. “Oh yes—they’ve gone fishing.”
Mendenhall smiled as he knew the old excuse was used no fewer than twenty times when the colonel and captain disappeared without notice.
“Bring back the full legal limit of fish, Captain. Make it six to be exact. I expect nothing less.” Niles turned and left.
For Will Mendenhall, he was starting to know the director and liked what he was learning about the smartest man in government service. He especially liked it when Niles knew when not to be that smart.
KIROV-CLASS BATTLE CRUISER PETER THE GREAT
The marine sergeant placed the “pop gun” on his knee as he carefully aimed the short-barreled shotgun-like device toward the stern railing sixty feet above the choppy wake being spun by the four giant bronze propellers of Peter the Great. Behind him, Henri Farbeaux aimed the night scope up and saw that the stern was as clear as it would ever be. As jumpy as all sailors were, he didn’t want to get shot at in this last critical moment. Farbeaux nodded that the fantail was clear of Russian personnel.
The navy motorman manning the Zodiac goosed the throttles on the two 150-horsepower motors, and the Zodiac sprang forward into the shadowy lee of the stern. The marine top sergeant popped off the charge, and the small hook shot up and out of the Zodiac. The rubberized hook caught on the top railing that lined the extreme aft end of the giant cruiser. The rope played out behind as the sergeant pulled on its rubberized coating as hard as he could. He was assisted by another marine, and the rope came taut.
The five-man marine and navy crew assisted Henri to the forward-most position in the large rubber boat. The Zodiac bounced hard as the froth being churned up by Peter the Great’s massive propellers almost flipped it, but a quick swerve out of the churning vortex helped in its recovery.
“Good luck, Colonel,” the top sergeant said to Henri over the eardrum-breaking charge of the Russian cruiser and the noise of their own motors. Henri just nodded.
He would never have let Colonel Collins know just how out of sorts he was in when it came to remembering his special forces training back in France in what seemed like a hundred years ago. He lowered the goggles and then took a deep breath. The top sergeant held up a remote. He flipped the safety switch off.
“Now remember, this thing will pull your arms out of their sockets if you don’t let go at the right time. Just as you reach the topmost railing, let the hell go, or we’ll be unspooling your arms from the motor and the pulley at the top for the next month.”
Again, Farbeaux only nodded as he adjusted the pack he wore at the small of his back. It had been so long since his training, he felt foolish when the large marine had adjusted the pack from the front—where it would have caught on the railing and flung him back into the sea—to the back, where it wouldn’t be in the way. Henri swallowed and then looked at the marine.
“Okay, go!” the sergeant called out as he pushed the illuminated red button on the remote.
Suddenly, the world was split by the sound not unlike an unspooling fishing line as Henri was yanked far harder than the sergeant said he would be. His booted foot was the last to clear the gunwales of the Zodiac as the Frenchman’s black-clad body shot from the boat. As soon as he was clear, the Zodiac peeled off and then took up station just to the port side of Peter the Great, just in case the Frenchman came crashing back into the sea. The marines knew it was a useless gesture, because if Henri didn’t make the slingshot action successful, he would surely die from not only the fall but from the churning and explosive wake of the cruiser that would chew him up.
When the Zodiac slid into the calmer water just outside the wake, they saw that Farbeaux had grabbed the uppermost railing and was dangling. They cringed when it looked as though he slipped and then relaxed when Henri’s strength showed through and he vanished over the top rail and onto the deck of Peter the Great as she sped along her way. The Zodiac made a sharp and dramatic turn and with throttles full open to their stops and sped away back toward Shiloh.
The sergeant handed the pop gun to a corporal and then shook his head.
“That was about the ballsiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Just who in the hell are these people, Top?”
“You know what? I don’t want to know.”
* * *
After gaining the coarse steel deck, Henri stayed down as he studied the situation. He quickly stood and then took ahold of the rubber-and-plastic grappling hook and threw it into the sea. He also removed the black knitted cap, and that soon followed. The goggles were next. As he again stooped to his knees, he soon saw that Peter the Great was only a quarter awake. Kreshenko must have given his tired crew a break and only went to a lower state of alert so they could get some rest for their journey home tomorrow.
Henri stood and walked as normally as he could past the stern missile launcher and the .50-caliber machine guns lining her deck. If he was seen, he knew that Salkukoff would have the final laugh. Even Kreshenko would not have approved of an assassination on board his ship.
He heard voices, and he stopped and took station behind a tarp-covered lifeboat next to the port railing. He listened as two Russian sailors slowly made their trek toward the stern, where they both lit cigarettes and laughed about something.
“That was close,” Henri mumbled to himself. Another minute and that grappling hook would have hit one of those poor fellows right in the head. He smiled and then moved off. He found the steel stairs that led upward into the main superstructure of the cruiser.
Men were seen here and there, but they were too busy concentrating on their tasks at hand to notice the shadowy figure climbing the stairs. Henri quickly found the hatchway he was looking for and then ducked inside. The passage was darkened nearest the door for light discipline reasons. Henri used this darkness to move like an ancient ninja, only at his age, he felt more like a turtle caught in the middle of a road race. Twice he heard voices and moved into another passage to avoid the men. He finally made it to officers’ country after narrowly avoiding getting caught no less than seven times on his journey.
He finally saw the captain’s quarters and, next to that, the more comfortable guest quarters afforded naval and politburo dignitaries when they came aboard. This was the cabin Salkukoff had been issued. Close to the captain of Peter the Great at all times, Second Captain Dishlakov had informed him.
He frowned when he saw that the usual marine guard who was accorded the commanding officer of any warship was missing. The two cabins were unguarded, and that, he knew, was not good.
Farbeaux had that old familiar feeling of danger that had saved his life on numerous occasions in his dealings with shadowy men. He listened but could hear nothing other than the constant drone of Peter the Great’s engines as they pushed her through the sea. He stepped quickly toward the wooden door. He placed his head closer to the cabin and listened. He heard nothing. He angrily turned and removed his lightweight bulletproof vest and covered the cage-enclosed light, and then he quickly smashed the cage and bulb with the butt of his nine-millimeter silenced handgun, the vest catching their remains before they shattered onto the deck. He lowered all to the tiled deck, and then without thinking about it too much, he quickly reached out and turned the handle and opened the door to Salkukoff’s cabin.
The room was empty. The intel he had received by questioning Second Captain Dishlakov regarding the sleeping arrangements made Henri realize he was in trouble, and he quickly lowered the gun as just then he realized he had been had.
“Step back easily, Colonel,” Salkukoff said as his own Makarov silenced pistol jabbed Henri in the back. “And since you have failed in your mission, you won’t be needing this.” He deftly reached around Farbeaux and pried the pistol from his gloved hand. Henri felt the pressure of the gun barrel ease, and he turned.
“Easy, Colonel. I am no fool.”
Farbeaux looked the Russian in the face close up for the first time. He saw a life of privilege in his soft features. A man who had had everything handed to him. One of the chosen of his mysterious organization. Farbeaux knew the type well, as he himself had been one of the chosen as deemed by the French government in his extensive training. But Henri could see this man was a true believer in his cause. Whatever end game that was, he didn’t know. And if the situation didn’t change very soon, he never would.
“If I thought you were a fool, Colonel Salkukoff, I would have killed you in the Ukraine.” Henri stepped from the darkened cabin and into the shadowy passageway. Salkukoff watched the Frenchman’s hands closely. He gestured with the gun for him to go to Kreshenko’s door and enter. He did so.
Kreshenko’s body was laid out on his bunk. One leg was on and one off the bed. His uniform blouse was off, and he only wore a white undershirt. Evidently, Salkukoff had murdered the man in his sleep. The bullet hole was clearly visible in his forehead. The Russian clicked on the overhead light and stepped into the captain’s cabin and closed the door.
“A tad cowardly,” Henri said as he turned away from the still body of Kreshenko to face the Russian killer.
“And you had a different plan of attack for myself?”
“Yes, I was going to wake you before I killed you, Colonel. I wanted you to see who it was that was ending your life.”
“You have changed since our last meeting in the Ukraine, Colonel Farbeaux. You seem to have lost your edge. I think the Americans are starting to get to you. Fifteen years ago, could I have caught you in the act?”
Henri said nothing. Salkukoff was right. He had indeed lost his killing edge, and he knew it was Colonel Collins and Sarah who had effected this change the most. Still, he could never admit that and never would.
“Before you kill me, answer one question for me.”
“As a professional courtesy, Colonel, why not?” Salkukoff said as he eased his frame onto the captain’s bunk only after slinging the captain’s stiffening leg away from him. He smiled as he tossed Henri’s pistol on the bed next to Kreshenko. “Go ahead,” he said as he kept the silenced Makarov pointed at Farbeaux’s belly.
“Your organization—is it real, or is it nothing more than I suspected all along when the Americans and the British first brought it up, that you and your mysterious benefactors are nothing more than organized crime thugs pulling strings from behind the wizard’s curtain?”
Salkukoff smiled even wider. “Organized, highly. Crime?” He shrugged while the pistol never wavered. “We don’t have race wars, Colonel. We don’t have internal strife, at least behind the curtain, as you so cavalierly put it. We control certain aspects of government but encourage a more direct approach to the problems of this world. The West has become a serious problem. We are no longer going to play the game, Colonel Farbeaux. And soon, we will make our intentions known to the world. With the market cornered on industrial blue diamonds, we will make military strides the West can only dream of. The phase shift operation was only the beginning. There are plans in the works that no one in NATO could ever see coming. Never see because the West is blinded by their arrogance in their stance that they are the righteous. I am here to change all of that. The Northstar Committee is changing it.”
“Sorry I asked,” Henri said as he slowly lowered his hands but raised them again when Salkukoff made a rising gesture with the silenced business end of the Makarov.
“Now, shall we conclude our business, Colonel?” The gun came up toward Farbeaux’s head.
* * *
On the darkened bridge, the officer of the deck walked the ten steps to his communications console and removed the phone from its cradle after receiving the call.
“Bridge,” he said into the handset.
“Lieutenant Kaninen, we have just received a signal from Shiloh. She is slowing to make tight her towline to Simbirsk. Shiloh actual is asking for us to take up station aft of Simbirsk for rescue operations if needed.”
“Signal Shiloh. We will make the course correction immediately.”
“Aye,” came the reply.
“Slow to one-third. Helm, bring her hard over. Give Shiloh and Simbirsk a wide berth. We don’t need a collision. Thirty degrees starboard.”
“Aye, slow to one-third speed, helm at thirty, aye.”
Peter the Great outwardly looked as if she hadn’t slowed at all when she started her wide turn. The mighty ship heeled to the port side at nearly twenty-six knots, going heavily onto her side.
Inside the bridge, her crew grabbed handholds as the force of the turn nearly knocked them from their feet.
It was that way throughout the ship.
* * *
Henri knew he didn’t have the time or the correct distance to make the outcome of the next ten seconds any different from if he didn’t move at all. He waited as Salkukoff aimed for the spot right between his eyes.
The sudden roll to starboard at twenty-six knots slammed Henri into the bulkhead as the chair Salkukoff was sitting in nearly tipped over. The speed of the maneuver increased as Henri saw his opening. He quickly rebounded from the steel wall and used that momentum to sling himself into the Russian. The pistol silently discharged as the bullet missed the Frenchman’s head by an inch. The next round nearly shot his fingers off as he finally managed to grab the barrel of the hot weapon. Peter the Great straightened as she came perpendicular to Shiloh and Simbirsk, and then the cruiser went to full speed. The momentum of the acceleration threw both men from the chair to the deck as they fought for control of the gun.
Finally, the pistol came free after Henri used one of his elbows and jabbed the Russian in his face. The weapon flew across the cabin and clattered to the deck. Farbeaux started smashing his fists into the exposed face of Salkukoff. With every blow, the Frenchman felt the years of hate sliding away as justice was finally being meted out to the killer of Ukrainian children.
Peter the Great again made her turn to finally take up station to the aft side of the towed Simbirsk. As the final turn was completed, Henri felt his advantage slip away as, again, the momentum of the turn threw off the colonel’s balance and gave Salkukoff leverage. Salkukoff pushed Henri off for all he was worth. Farbeaux slid into a corner on the tiled deck. His head struck the bulkhead, and he momentarily saw stars. He heard the cabin door open and heard Salkukoff run. Henri quickly regained his senses and reached for the Makarov but couldn’t find it. He stood on shaky legs and then saw his own weapon on the bunk next to the dead body of Kreshenko. He grabbed for it and turned angrily toward the door and then gained the passageway.
The ship was vibrating heavily as Peter the Great’s engines went to full power. Farbeaux stumbled down the passageway until he came to an open door. He reached for the dogged latches, and then he heard the man behind him.
“The colonel said you were far more formidable a man than what I believed. I see his concerns were justified.”
The Frenchman turned and saw the large Russian commando as he stood in his black Nomex BDUs. His unsilenced pistol was aimed straight at Henri. He knew this time no hard maneuvering would avail his limited time here in this backward world. His eyes went to the Russian’s face, and he waited as the large captain withdrew his radio—the only Russian portables that had been unaffected by the EMP assault on everyone’s electronics.
“The situation has been corrected, Colonel,” the man said into the radio. “You may proceed to the boats, and I will join you shortly.”
Henri waited as the Russian placed his radio back onto his belt.
“Good-bye, Colonel Farbeaux,” he said as his finger started to pull the Makarov’s trigger.
The blast of weapon’s fire made the Frenchman flinch. He actually thought he could feel the red-hot bullet penetrate his Nomex. Henri felt no pain. As he looked up, he saw the Makarov slowly slide from the commando’s fingers and fall to the deck. The man himself turned to face the person that had just shot him in the back. Again, the loud report of a handgun sounded, and the body of the Russian jerked once more as he slowly slid down to the deck. The large body twitched once and then went still.
Henri looked up and saw Second Captain Dishlakov and two of his marines. The XO was still holding the smoking pistol he had just used to save Henri’s life. What was a little disconcerting to Farbeaux was the fact that the smoking Makarov was now pointing at him.
Dishlakov gestured one of the Russian marines forward, and he easily removed the gun from Henri’s grasp. The Frenchman watched as the XO angrily looked him over as he handed back the weapon to the second marine.
“Why have you come to my ship, Colonel Farbeaux?”
“To kill the man who’s now getting away,” he said as he watched the marine to his right. Henri knew that he would never make the move to get his gun back before the Russian made kindling out of his attempt.
“Where can Colonel Salkukoff run to? His only escape from our situation is aboard one of three vessels. And I don’t think he will find open arms waiting for him on either the Simbirsk or Shiloh. He has nowhere to go.” Dishlakov reached out and removed Farbeaux’s gun from the marine who had taken it from him. He smelled the barrel and then tossed it back to the Frenchman. Henri caught it but could not hide the surprise on his face.
“Captain Kreshenko is—”
“Dead, yes, I know. He is being attended to as we speak.”
Again, the Frenchman was taken off guard. He holstered his nine millimeter.
“He was murdered just as this piece of dung tried to murder me in my sleep. I wasn’t in my cabin but in the wardroom, writing to my wife and children. When I was finished, I saw this scum”—he kicked at the dead commando—“coming from my cabin. I followed him with company. Then we found you, Colonel.”
“I am sorry for the fact I didn’t get here on time.”
“What were your orders? I assume they came from Colonel Collins?”
“No, the colonel would not have been as stealthy as I. He would have just come across to Peter the Great shooting. That’s his way. Low threshold for injustice, you see.”
“You may find this humorous, Colonel Farbeaux. I assure you, I do not.”
“Attention, attention. Unauthorized use of motor launch at station number three. Station number three.”
“Damn!” Henri said as he turned and ran from the companionway to the star-filled sky outside. He was soon passed by Dishlakov and his marines. They all ran to the port-side station where the announcement had said the theft was occurring. The dangling lines told Henri all he needed to know. As he peered over the side, he saw two of the large motor launches as they sped away. Both were filled with the remaining Russian commandos and a waving Salkukoff.
A Russian marine stepped to the railing and took aim with an AK-47, but Henri reached out and lowered the weapon’s barrel. He shook his head and turned to Second Captain Dishlakov.
“Too late.”
They watched as the two boats vanished into the night.
* * *
At dawn, the small armada of ships slowed and then came to a stop. Captain Johnson and his officers not on watch joined Jack, Carl, Henri, Ryan, Charlie, and Jenks on board Peter the Great. The off-duty personnel gathered at the stern of the cruiser, and the crewmen of Shiloh and the riggers on Simbirsk watched from a distance. The covered body of Captain Viktor Kreshenko was prayed over, and then the makeshift platform, a table from the ship’s galley, tilted forward, and the sheet-wrapped body of their captain slid into the violet-colored sea. They watched until the weighted body vanished below the surface.
The mood of the Russian crew was somber at first, but after the word had spread that their commander had been murdered by one of their own, the morale had changed from one of sorrow to that of vengeance.
Jack saw the mood of the crew as he and the others lowered their offered hand salute. Jenks snorted, and then he and Charlie moved away. Carl, Jack, Ryan, and Henri stayed behind as they studied the sea.
“I think that settles the question of whether Colonel Salkukoff has an emergency out in getting away from this crazy world,” Everett said as he leaned on the railing and stared out at the calm ocean.
“I agree,” Jack said, but he was otherwise unnaturally silent, as he also was lost in the view.
“After the confession as to this Northstar Committee, he cannot allow us to return to our world alive.”
All eyes turned to Henri, who was battered and bruised from his excitement with Salkukoff.
They heard a small disturbance coming from the fantail as several of the crewmen of Peter the Great simply tossed the body of the dead commando into the sea as if he were nothing more than garbage.
“The Russians have a hard time expressing their true feelings, don’t they?” Ryan said as he turned away from the scene.
“Jack, the master chief and Doc Ellenshaw have a request for you and Captain Johnson,” Everett said as he turned and saw the two captains conversing quietly not far away.
“What’s that?”
“They want the use of the drone.”
Jack finally relented his hold on the calm, violet sea and faced Carl.
“For?”
Carl looked uncomfortable.
“Come on, Swabby, it’s a little early in the morning to be hesitant about anything.”
“They want to overfly the island’s interior to find the remaining villagers who escaped the slaughter. They seem adamant about it.”
Everett was sure the colonel would deny the request, as they had operational concerns as far as the drone went.
“If Captain Johnson concurs, I don’t see why not. We don’t have much time before we make the attempt to return, so get it done.”
“The least we can do for those poor bastards is try to get them living again,” Henri said as he continued to look out to sea.
Carl was about to say something snappy to Farbeaux, but Jack shook his head. Everett could see that Henri was taking his failure of the mission personally and became silent.
“I see even the master chief is being affected by the loss of the innocence of this world,” Jack said.
“Well, then, the least we can do is ease his and Professor Ellenshaw’s minds,” Farbeaux said, surprising all who heard. “We need some good to come out of this.” He walked away with his head bowed and joined Jenks and Charlie as they spoke.
“Henri’s beginning to scare the hell out of me, Jack,” Everett said as they watched the three men converse.
“Why is that?”
“He’s actually morphing into a human being. And gaining respect for that man is the most frightening thing of all.”