Chapter Nineteen

A minute later they were in the Quonset hut, sitting at Dozer’s desk.

The only other people inside, the Worm and the Trashman, were at a table at the opposite end of the large barracks. As usual, both were working on bowls of whiskey stew.

Hunter opened the briefcase and took out the NKVD document. There were twenty pages of text and four pages of maps and diagrams. Every page was written in both Russian and English and all of it was marked SOVERSHENNO SEKRETNO. TOP SECRET.

“This didn’t come from someone’s garbage,” Dozer observed.

The documents comprised a report detailing the contents of a group of Russian ships, called Convoy 56, that were presently on their way to New York. This in itself was unusual. Since the first night of the invasion, ships had arrived from Russia on a regular basis, but always in ones and two, never more than that. This document stated nine ships were on their way, sailing as a unit and expected to arrive in New York at the same time. There was even a note attached to the first page saying space had to be made in the harbor to accommodate the new arrivals.

While the types of ships were not mentioned, one was referred to throughout as “VLV”—which Hunter took to mean “very large vessel.”

Dozer started reading the document from the beginning and found the first entry alone to be frightening. It stated that a huge amount of weapons of mass destruction were aboard this VLV. It listed fifty-three nuclear warheads, three hundred and two biological warheads, and an astonishing eight hundred and sixty chemical warheads, including canisters full of hal-lou gas, the powdery hallucinogenic mist the Russians had fired at the American Badlands as part of their devastating sneak attack. And it got worse. The VLV was also carrying six dozen mobile guns, six dozen advanced T-72 tanks, some ultralong-range artillery pieces, and many multiple rocket launchers. Also on board were three squadrons of deadly Kamov attack helicopters; each squadron containing eighteen copters.

But even worse, the report cited what were described as antipersonnel bombs on board. Twenty thousand of them. To Dozer, antipersonnel bombs meant IEDs—improvised explosive devices, to be used as car bombs, roadside bombs, or even strapped to suicide bombers.

The report also had an entry that simply read: “Three full reinforced squadrons, operational,” which could have meant just about anything.

The document referenced another ship sailing in the convoy only as “LTV,” which most likely meant a “large troop vessel.” This entry was just as alarming as the first, because this vessel, obviously huge, was carrying not Russian soldiers or engineers or sailors—but Chekskis.

Thirty thousand of them.

And they were bringing with them thousands of axes, swords, and long knives. Medieval weapons that were of little use on a modern battlefield … but perfect for beheadings.

The rest of Convoy 56 consisted of five picket destroyers and two battle cruisers.

Dozer felt his heart drop to his feet. He looked up at Hunter, who was wearing the same pained expression.

“This isn’t any ‘convoy,’” Hunter told him. “This is a battle fleet, full of nothing but weapons and firepower, with something big and nasty called a VLV out in front.”

Dozer used his sleeve to wearily wipe the grime from his forehead.

“And this isn’t about just taking over New York City anymore,” Hunter went on. “This is about Moscow taking over the entire country—and using New York as their jumping-off point. They’ve got their cavemen and their battle axes, plus they’re bringing nukes. They’re going to unleash these fanatics on us; they’re going to gas us again. And if we don’t roll over for them, they might drop nukes.”

Dozer nodded grimly. He indicated a line in the plans about eliminating the “surplus” population of New York City and beyond.

“They’re going to do it through terrorism,” he said bitterly. “That’s how they think they can finally conquer us. Organized, calculated terrorism, from suicide bombers to bioweapon artillery to nukes. And it doesn’t even mention the Russian military. Nothing about the army or MOP; none of the ships in the convoy has any reference to the navy. All of this is addressed to the NKVD. In fact, the Red military might not even be aware of what’s about to happen.”

All the documents were signed at the bottom by Commissar Zmeya, head of the NKVD in America—and Dominique’s gentleman friend.

Dozer only recognized the name, though. “He’s the mystery-man commissar you hear them praising all the time on Red Radio. Do you know who I mean?”

Hunter laughed darkly.

“I know all about him—now,” he replied. “But that’s for another day. The priority here is stopping the ships in this convoy from getting here. Or as many as we can. If we don’t, then we might as well just shut off the lights. Because if they land and all that stuff is taken off and spread around—as well as thirty thousand more Chekskis?—we’ll never get rid of them.”

Dozer nodded gravely. “But how do we stop them? This isn’t like dropping barrel bombs on Midtown. There’s at least one very large vessel carrying all these weapons from hell, and while we don’t know what kind of warship it is, you can be sure it’s armed to the hilt. And there’s another with all those freaks on it. And then the battle cruisers and other warships? Jeez, man, this is really climbing the mountain.”

Hunter ran his hand over his tired face.

“I know,” he said wearily.

At this point, Dozer told him about his radio’s suddenly coming alive with messages from all their friends—and how they were all eager to fight.

“Did something happen during the bombing runs?” Dozer asked. “Or did you bust up anything in your travels? Anything that might have been serving as a jamming device?”

“Only one very big red star at the top of 30 Rock,” Hunter replied. “Lots of gizmos stuffed inside. Might have been a very happy accident.”

“Well, at least now we can talk to people and organize some help,” Dozer went on. “But you know the usual players—and even altogether, we’ll be lucky if we can get a couple thousand guys on short notice. Even that won’t be enough with all those religious nuts heading our way, never mind the regular Red troops already here.”

Dozer was dead right. How were a couple thousand American patriots going to overwhelm these two massive troop concentrations?

Hunter thought a few moments more, then said, “Okay—first things first. We’ve got to find these ships and get a look at them. At least then we’ll see what we’re up against.”

The document indicated the ships’ last known position. Hunter did some quick calculations and determined they were less than thirty-six hours away from New York Harbor.

“We can’t look for them in the Sherpas,” Dozer told him. “I’m not sure any of them will ever fly again. From the looks of them, I don’t think we have enough duct tape to fix them. And even if we did get them airborne, they won’t be able to stay up long enough for a sea search. Those Russian ships are probably still too far out in the Atlantic for us to find them and make it back again. And that includes your clown plane. What we need is something that’s really fast. But we don’t have any really fast planes here.”

“There’s only one other option then,” Hunter said. “My XL back in Vermont. It’s the only plane we can get our hands on that can fly far enough and fast enough to ID those ships and still have time to dream up some way to stop them. But how am I going to get up there with all of our planes so banged up?”

A voice from behind them said, “I’ll fly you there.”

Hunter and Dozer turned to find the Worm standing right behind them, the Trashman at his side. They wondered how long they’d been there and how much they’d heard.

“In what?” Dozer snapped, upset that the 7CAV’s two guests had been eavesdropping.

“In my plane,” the numbers runner replied. “I can fix it in a couple hours with the Wingman’s help. Then I’ll fly him up to Vermont … as long as I can keep on going to Canada afterward.”

He indicated the Trashman beside him. “I can take him with me—he wants to get out of here, too, right?”

The little arms dealer nodded enthusiastically. “And we can take that blonde you just rode in with, too,” he added eagerly. “I’m sure she’ll want out, too.”

Dozer dismissed them with a wave of his hand. “You’ve both been eating too much of my stew. You know the alcohol in it doesn’t cook away like in other dishes. That’s the secret to the recipe.”

But Hunter pulled on his chin thoughtfully for a moment, taking off a thin layer of soot with his fingers.

“You know, just because they’re looped doesn’t mean it’s a crazy idea,” he said to Dozer.

The marine was mildly shocked. “You’re actually considering this? I mean ‘crazy’ rarely works.”

“I know,” Hunter said with a shrug. “But it will get me to Vermont, and it takes three problems off your hands. And you talked to Frostie right?”

Colonel Rene Frost was a commander for the Free Canadian Air Force, but he was also a close ally of the patriotic Americans. He’d helped them many times in their quest to put their country back together again.

Dozer nodded. “He was one of the first voices to come through.”

“We can ask him to send down a couple fighters to escort the Worm’s plane to Canada after they drop me off,” Hunter said. “That will make sure there’s no funny business once I’m out. Plus, he can look after the girl.”

Dozer thought about it then looked at the two men, their mouths and chins stained with stew. “Well, at the very least, it will cut down on our food bill.”