Chapter 38

“I think that’s everything but the keys and the code, both of which we’ll do on the Vlasenkos’ call.” Kostya studied the apparatus he managed to put together. “After the keys are turned and the encoder sequence is verified, we will have about a half-hour while the missile tests and initializes its programs and gets ready to launch. That’s our escape window.”

“And the phone you took apart will press the button when it’s time?” Olek asked.

“It will send a charge that acts as if the button is being pushed,” Kostya explained. “To everyone outside, it will be like we were here doing it.”

“Where are we going to hide?” Alec asked. “I’m worried someone might see us and report we weren’t here, that we’d left our post.”

“We’ll go with my friends for a couple hours while the blast happens, and then we’ll find your families and bring you back to my friend’s house to hide. If the blast doesn’t happen, you will be brought back to use the truck they gave you to go report.” Kostya put his hand on Alec’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”

“Unless you decide to tell someone,” Olek taunted. “I certainly won’t.”

Alec thought for a moment. “I still don’t understand why you wouldn’t sabotage the missile launch. You could promise us that we’ll be fine, that we won’t get in trouble for not following orders, and then screw us when your friends get here.”

“Maybe I could.” Kostya shrugged. “But the alternative is that we all stay down here, and we all die when the missile launches. It’s really your choice. You two have the guns.”

Alec looked at Olek who nodded. “So now we wait?” Alec said.

“Now we wait.”

****

“Let me get this straight.” Will looked incredulously at Ben. “Kostya wants to launch the missile?”

“It’s brilliant when you think about it,” Ben said. “First, there will be no doubt who is responsible for the launch. The Vlasenkos are going to use it as their platform for taking Novorossiya.”

“This is true, but there’s the pesky detail of ten nuclear warheads hurdling toward cities around the world,” Will growled. “We might arrest the two Vlasenkos but kill a million people.”

“No, that’s the beauty of the plan.” Ben practically giggled as he pulled out the maps for the encoder chip. “The chip has three functions. Three! It can enable the butterfly valve on the missile allowing a launch, or it can disable the valve, making a launch impossible.”

Ben studied the map.

“And?” Will prompted impatiently.

“It can cause the fuel valve to malfunction during a launch, resulting in an explosion.” Ben smiled. “Do you see, Will? If we have the code and send the command on the correct UHF channel, which we already have, we can abort the launch.”

“You mean blow the rocket up?” Will asked.

“In a glorious display for the whole country to see.” Ben laughed. “There will be undeniable proof of the Vlasenkos’ plan to kill thousands, they’ll be arrested, and the missile won’t just be stopped, it will be destroyed, making it unavailable to anyone else who might want to pick up the plans.”

“He did it. Hell, Kostya did it. He stopped a coup d’état and thwarted a major nuclear catastrophe.” Will shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

“He hasn’t done it yet,” Ben reminded him. “We still have to go pick him up and bring him here to send the signal as soon as Vlasenko sends the order.”

“What else could go wrong?” Ben asked.

****

Meredith stood on the stage next to Stas, both slightly behind Petro who was at the podium. She saw cameras aimed at them from every angle. How she longed to denounce what was about to happen. She didn’t want her likeness associated with people who were killers. She hoped that Kostya had been successful in stopping the missile, but so far it seemed like the Vlasenkos’ plan was right on track.

She prayed that Kostya was all right. Even if the missile launched, if he could find his way back to her, she could find a way for them to disappear together. Even if they lived on a deserted island for the rest of their days, they would be safe. Home would be wherever they were together.

She brought her hand up to the chain hanging around her neck. He had to be safe. The promise they made locked their love together five years ago, and she refused to go on without him. Her Kostya. Her love. Her home.

Although Petro had been speaking for a while, Meredith tuned into his speech, knowing that the moment was coming. Petro was charismatic and handsome, and she could see why many people would be drawn to him for answers. The mix of cultures in the Ukraine combined with the corruption of past leaders and the poor economy made the creation of Novorossiya a possibility, and Stas and Petro Vlasenko were ready to take advantage of this moment in history.

But their intentions were hardly good, and she imagined it wouldn’t be long before they stripped the region of wealth from their natural resources, monopolized the oil pipelines crossing their land, and taxed the people beyond what they should bear. She wondered if the other missiles would ward off help from NATO or the U.N., or if the Vlasenkos would be defeated in a bloody coup. Whatever was going to happen, she knew she didn’t want a part of it.

The energy in Petro’s speech was heightening and Meredith stood frozen as he spoke words the world would never forget.

“We declare from this moment that the area territories of Kharkov, Luhansk, Donetsk, Kherson, Zaporozhye, Nikolaev, Dnepropetrovsk, and Odessa are, and will forever be, member states of the new Confederation of Novorossiya. From the borders of the Black Sea through the winding waters of the Dnieper, our land is rich in resources, in culture, and in people.”

There were gasps and the scattered loud cheers from the crowd’s Novorossiyan supporters, overwhelming the Ukrainian majority in attendance. Many stood hushed as they realized what Petro was declaring.

He had proclaimed a civil war that would split their country in two.

“My brother Stas and I will immediately take our place at the head of this great nation. To convince all leaders, all countries of our place, we will offer this demonstration of our power. In a few minutes, looking to the southeast of this city, you will see a very visible rocket launch.” He nodded to one of his guards who made the call to start the launch sequence. “This will be a nuclear missile with ten warheads launching to hit targets throughout the West. One half hour after it is launched, the targets will be destroyed, proving the strength of New Russia.”

Upon hearing about the missile, it was as if the energy of the crowd was sucked into a vacuum. Everyone turned the direction of the launch and discussion buzzed throughout the crowd. Meredith scanned the audience, seeing face after face of disbelief and awe. This crowd, scarred by death and destruction already, wasn’t celebrating the actions of the Vlasenko brothers; they were solemn and wary of them. It seemed many people wanted Novorossiya, but not at this heavy price.

Petro, unfazed, continued his speech outlining his plan. “If there is still doubt of our power, we are ready with other missiles to continue destruction until we are recognized and respected as the Confederation of Novorossiya.”

He stood back from the podium, but in place of the cheers and accolades he expected to hear, there was low talking or quiet. He stood smiling, and raised his hands in the air. The crowd, whether shocked or sickened, did not cheer.

Have they changed their support? The defenders of Novorossiya should be cheering.

Meredith felt the change in energy before she saw it. It started as a rumble and spread like shockwaves across the gathering. From the back of the crowd a man raised the red and blue flag of Novorossiya and yelled, “Novorossiya! Dawn by Fire!” He held his fist toward the stage.

Taking up the charge, others started the chant, “Novorossiya! Dawn by Fire!” and started collecting in groups, challenging the Ukrainians in attendance. The chant soon mingled with the cries and curses coming from the struggle between East and West, cities and country, and Europe and Russia. Meredith watched the peaceful assembly evolve into a mob of impassioned rebels and confused bystanders. She stepped back from the podium as far as she could.

“Meredith,” a friendly voice said behind her. “Now would be a good time to leave the square.”

Olena, no longer dressed as a middle-aged empty-nester, had on tactical gear and a jacket with “U.N.” printed on the back. As she escorted Meredith off the stage, several other police and U.N. officers stormed the stage. Petro and Stas, surrounded by their guards, distracted the officers enough to escape on the opposite side of the stage where Meredith knew a car was waiting. Several of their men were arrested, but the Vlasenko brothers seemed to be unstoppable. With or without Stas and Petro on stage, the countdown to the missile launch continued.

Olena handed Meredith a jacket similar to hers to put over her bright red suit, and handed her a few bills of money. “Lay low for a few hours. We’ll meet back here in the hotel lobby.”

In a few hours, millions of people may be dead.

Meredith was too overwhelmed to do anything but nod. When Olena left, she wandered to a café near the square and sat at the counter. Hoping to hide her appearance, she pulled her hair into a ponytail and snapped the jacket closed around her. Ordering a coffee, she sat and watched the television. The reports centered on the events at the square, and although she was in the pictures, it was surreal to watch herself in them.

Then it happened.

Everyone in the café went to the windows. In the distance, a line of fire was drawn into the sky, evidence of a large missile being thrust into space. The delayed sound waves rumbled through the city, echoing the intense forces needed to lift the fuselage into space. Meredith watched the trail of the rocket as it arced into the outer atmospheres of the Earth.

Kostya had fixed the encoder and launched the missile. For me.

A part of her wanted to cheer because she knew he would only allow the launch to happen if he thought it would save her. But she was sickened at the thought of where the missile’s warheads were going. Would they land in Washington D.C.? New Orleans? Paris? London?

She watched the missile’s smoke trail lead into the sky. Shaking, she sat back at her place by the counter and let tears stream down her face.

****

After a few blocks, the brothers abandoned their hired car and continued on foot into downtown Kiev. Zig-zagging through countless blocks, Petro finally unlocked the door to a rat-infested flat in the basement of a dilapitaed apartment building.

No matter. They weren’t there to stay.

Opening the wall safe, Stas pulled out the disposable phone kept there, while Petro organized the forged papers and money in their emergency stash. Stas turned on the phone and dialed.

“Arthur Lennox.”

“Are you watching the news, my friend?” Stas said. “We need your help.”

“I don’t think so.” Lennox’s voice sounded forced. “There’s nothing in this for me anymore. Find another target for your games.”

“You are mistaken. There’s still many things to play for,” Stas sneered. “Open your file cabinet and pull the file for ‘Jenny’.”

“What have you done?” The strain on Lennox’s voice was obvious. “If you hurt her…”

“Relax, comrade. Did you find the pictures? Do you see how close we can get to your daughter, even at her expensive private school?”

Lennox’s breathing became labored until he finally sobbed. “What do I need to do?”

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Stas smirked as he gave the instructions. “We need an escape from Kiev…”