Текст книги "Operation Barracuda (2005)"

Автор книги: David Michaels

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

The water here is murky and not very clean. L.A. must have one of the most polluted shorelines in the world, yet people swim in it all the time. This far out I would have expected it to be a little clearer but no such luck.

I switch on my lamp and shine the beam across the ocean floor until it finds the object. Sure enough, it's an MRUUV, just like the one I saw in the submarine pen in China. It's an odd thing to see down here. The device is shiny silver with several indicator lights burning brightly along the side. My earlier thought that it looks similar to a giant cigar tube is even more apropos down here.

I quickly surface, climb aboard the CHARC, and transmit my message. "You're right, Anna. I've got one. And the Geiger is about to jump out of its skin."

"Excellent," Lambert says. "Stay on top of it, Sam. Stand by until we figure out what we want to do about the damned thing."

"Well, hurry up. I'm not very fond of nuclear enemas."

A few minutes go by and Anna says, "Sam, can you hear me when you're underwater?"

"Yes."

"Then go on back down."

Another backflip off the CHARC and I'm below the surface. I break open a chem-light and place it in the holder so I can see what's in front of me.

She continues. "Sam, I want you to swim alongside the MRUUV and look for something. Tap your OPSAT to let me know you're there."

I keep up the pace, swimming four feet above and parallel to the device, then push a button on the OPSAT.

"Okay, good. Now, do you see the rectangular panel on the top? It should be directly behind the antenna in the front." I see it. The lid is roughly two feet by one foot.

AFFIRMATIVE, I type.

"Right. Now get on top of the thing like you're riding a motorcycle. You're going to have to unscrew that panel."

Ride it?Is she kidding? The other one blew up beneath poor Ensign Stanley. How do I know just touching the damned thing isn't going to set it off? I tap out the question on the OPSAT.

"Sam, it won't blow up just by touching it. It's got to be protected against minor bumps and scrapes down there. The thing's probably collided into a rock or two since being launched from the sub. Not to mention fish or other plant life. Go ahead, you'll be okay."

Fine. I swim a little faster so that I'm gliding evenly with the thing, then I reach down and grab the front end. I try not to flinch when I do so and thankfully "the Barracuda" just keeps purring along. I let it pull me through the water for a few seconds and then I lower myself onto its back. I'm now riding it as if it was a dolphin.

AFFIRMATIVE.

"Good. Now get that panel off. It's the only way to get to the booby trap and, if I'm not mistaken, also to the guidance system controls and the bomb."

I take a screwdriver from my utility belt and begin to work. The panel is lined with twelve screws, so it takes a few minutes to get them all off. I put them in a pouch on the belt in case I need them again later. The panel comes off and I hold it in one hand. In order to work with both hands I have to grip the MRUUV with my thighs.

"You can let go of the panel. You're not going to need it again." Okay, so I let it float away. I indicate that it's off and she says, "Good. Now look carefully inside the compartment. I assume you have a chem-light? You should see plastic explosive attached to the inner surface, probably encased in waterproof material. It's probably brick shaped and has wires coming out of it."

I would have found it without her description. Recognizing explosives is part of my job. In fact, I'm pretty sure I can dismantle the thing without her instructions. It's pretty straightforward. "What you need to do is determine which is the positive lead and which is the negative lead. The wires go to a–"

AFFIRMATIVE.

"Oh, okay, you know what you're doing. Sorry."

It's a simple matter of disconnecting the explosive from the igniter. There's probably a sensor located somewhere in the device that tells the igniter to do its business but I don't have to worry about that. With a pair of wire cutters, I snip the appropriate leads and that should do the trick.

AFFIRMATIVE.

"Good. Now you should be able to get to the guidance system controls. Do you see what looks like a closed laptop inside the compartment?"

AFFIRMATIVE.

"See if you can open it."

I do. It's exactly like a laptop computer, complete with keyboard and monitor. A screen saver displaying Chinese characters and a GyroTechnics logo flashes on.

"All right, now you need to get into the main menu. Press any key to do so."

AFFIRMATIVE.

It asks for a password. She tells me the password is "Taiwan000" and I type it in. I'm amazed that she knows that. It appears that Anna Grimsdottir is back in action.

"Sorry to interrupt, folks, but I have some news." It's Colonel Lambert. "The thirty-minute time limit has elapsed and the order's been given."

Damn, the time flew by.

"Our forces are attacking General Tun's army at this moment. The navy, the air force, the marines–you name it. They're unleashing hell on Tun's little army."

Shit!What does that mean? Is Tun going to set off the bomb?

"Keep working, Sam," Grimsdottir says calmly. "Tun will have to get a message to the submarine and give the order to blow the nuke. They're not going to do it without his say-so."

I hope you're right, sister. Okay, let's keep going. She instructs me how to get into the programmer's main menu. Everything is in Chinese so it's a little more difficult for me. Grimsdottir's Chinese is "fair" and mine is "okay" so together that makes a "pretty good," right? Accurately translating these commands is essential.

Once I'm inside she relays a series of coded commands. It's tough typing on the keyboard while riding the MRUUV in cloudy water. The chem-light is sufficient but with the gloves and everything else, it's easy to make errors. I have to use the backspace key several times during the course of typing. Finally I've got it all in and press Enter. The screen changes and there are several options available, all in Chinese.

"You'll need to select the option that says 'Course' or 'Direction,' something like that."

AFFIRMATIVE. I find the one that translates to 'Heading,' and select that. This takes me to a screen displaying the current course in common submariner terminology.

Then something odd happens. A red light illuminates within the compartment and starts to flash slowly and repeatedly. I tell Grimsdottir this and she says, "Oh, no. If it's what I think it means, then they've activated the nuke. Sam, do you see any kind of digital readout inside there? Something that looks like a clock counting down?"

I hate clocks that count DOWN!Yes, I see it. It must have started at 10:00, for now it's at 9:52 and decreasing a second at a time.

"Okay, Sam, you've got a little time but you have to work fast. The MRUUV is equipped with an automatic diagnostics program that checks the entire system to make sure the bomb goes off properly. It takes roughly ten minutes to go through all the tests and as soon as it's done, the bomb will explode. Try to ignore the countdown and go back to the laptop. I want you to type in these new course headings." She gives them to me and I try to enter the data, but I keep punching the wrong keys. Damned gloves. I finally pull them off so my fingers can be a little more accurate. The water is cold but not unbearable. I'm sure, though, that if I'm in the water for too long my hands will stiffen from the low temperature.

I finally get the new course heading entered but it suddenly changes back to the original!

What the hell?

I tell Grimsdottir this and she says, "Damn, it's the control on the submarine. They see what you see on their monitor and realize someone's tampering with the guidance system. I have to figure out a way to cut them out. Stand by."

Stand by?The fucking nuclear bomb is ticking and the clock now reads 8:43! The Barracuda is on a steady course right for Santa Monica Pier and I'm sitting on the goddamned thing.

I type into my OPSAT: IS THERE A WAY TO DEFUSE THE BOMB?

Grimsdottir replies, "Not in this amount of time, Sam. Hush, let me think."

All right, now I'm considering what kind of damage a nuclear bomb will do if it explodes out here in Santa Monica Bay. I'm just guessing, but I would say half of Los Angeles would be gone in an instant. Hollywood, Beverly Hills, Santa Monica, Venice– poof!Millions dead. The nation's economy in chaos, which of course dominoes into the world's economy being in turmoil. World War III with China.

I can't let this happen.

"Sam! I want you to type in exactly what I tell you to," Grimsdottir says. "Make sure it's correct before you press Enter." It's long and it's complicated but I do it. It seems like it takes forever. I indicate that I'm done and she reads it again slowly so I can proof what I've typed. I hit Enter and a bunch of code appears on the monitor at a high rate of speed. After ten seconds of this, the screen goes blank.

No! Is it dead? What happened?

I begin to type on the OPSAT and tell her what's going on but Grimsdottir beats me to it and says, "You should have a blank screen when it's done processing."

Fuck, I wish she'd told me that before.

AFFIRMATIVE.

"Good. Now let's go back to the course settings menu and retype the new coordinates." I follow her instructions and repeat what I did earlier. This time the new settings stay on the screen. We've successfully shut out the Chinese sub's control.

The MRUUV suddenly begins to turn in a wide arc. I ride along with it as the device makes a U-turn and heads away from shore. But it's going too damn slow and I tell Grimsdottir this.

"Then we'll have to increase its speed. Go back to the main menu, can you do that?"

The clock reads 4:35. Now I'm getting nervous. I bungle the first try and end up back at the course settings menu. A second attempt gets me to the main menu and I'm ready. This time I'm way ahead of Grimsdottir. I see the option for "Speed" and begin to raise the scroll bar.

"Find the option for speed. When you do that . . . oh, I see you're already there. Good work, Sam."

The MRUUV accelerates and becomes much more difficult to hold on to. I glance upward and see the dark shapes of my CHARC's pontoons following along on the surface. The homer beacon is working beautifully.

"See if you can get it up to at least sixty knots. That's what it's going to take to get the thing out of range of the city. You can also direct the nose downward at a twenty-degree angle. That way it'll go deeper, which is what we want."

I use the touch-pad cursor and manage to steer the Barracuda into a dive but the damned thing is moving too slowly. Something's hanging up the computer.

The clock reads 3:20.

"You've got it to forty knots, Sam. You're almost there."

The speed is doing a number on me now. My legs are beginning to ache from holding on so tightly and I have to use one hand to secure myself while the other one works the computer.

"Fifty knots, Sam."

The clock is at 2:48.

Damn, I'm going fast. I'm not sure I can hold on much longer. And what the hell am I going to do when it's at sixty knots? Just jump off? Where am I gonna go?

The clock is at 2:29.

"Sixty! Get off, Sam! Surface and get in your CHARC! Go! Go! Go!"

I release the MRUUV and it cuts through the water ahead of me. Floating stationary for a few seconds, I watch it until it disappears into the murky blue-green darkness.

"Go, Sam, go!"

Her words jolt me out of the temporary haze. I immediately turn and start ascending as hard and fast as I can. Shit, how far am I from the goddamned coastline? I want to ask Grimsdottir if she has a fix on me but I can't afford to stop and type the question. If ever I needed to rely on my Navy SEAL training to save my life, this could be the prize event.

I move closer to the surface where the CHARC's pontoons are resting. As soon as my head is above water I look to see if the coastline is even visible. It appears to be a couple of miles away. But I know distances are deceiving when you're in the water. I grab hold of the CHARC's struts, climb aboard, buckle myself in, and close the canopy. It takes five seconds to turn the thing around and open her up to a high speed. Lambert was right, this baby is fast! Before long it's going eighty miles an hour.

The shoreline is closer . . . closer . . . I grip the controls and concentrate solely on putting as much distance between that damned bomb and me as possible. The CHARC reaches its limit, practically flying along the surface at eighty-five. The Santa Monica Pier's Ferris wheel looms larger in front of me. I'm almost there . . .

Then it's as if the world collapses around me. A deafening sonic boom literally pushesthe CHARC forward at what feels like an impossible rate of speed. I'm spinning in total darkness, completely weightless and vulnerable. A painful ringing in my ears won't let up and I'm not sure where I am . . . it's dark . . . and I can't stop spinning . . . and . . .

39

THEso-called Battle for Taiwan lasted just under four hours. The first two hours belonged to General Lan Tun and his small but superbly equipped army and navy. While he had sufficient firepower from his destroyers and frigates, the air support he had counted on from the Chinese base in Quanzhou never came. The effects of his ships' bombardment of Taipei were greatly exaggerated in the world media. At first the reports indicated that tens of thousands of people had been killed and the city had been destroyed. In fact, the loss of life numbered in the low hundreds and only 20 percent of the metropolis was hit. By the time all the general's landing craft had brought his army to Taiwan's shores, the island's own forces had gathered en masse to repel the invasion. Tun, aboard one of the Luda-class destroyers in the strait, watched with horror as his plans to conquer the island and become a national hero in the People's Republic diminished with each passing minute.

Then, despite his warnings to the U.S. government that he had a powerful weapon at his disposal, the American military joined the melee. The navy's ships had been stationed around the island all along, watching and waiting for the moment when those in charge in Washington gave the command to strike. Tun had warned the U.S. that any attempt to stop his invasion would result in the loss of a major American city. For the first two hours of the assault, the Americans did nothing. As soon as it was evident that Tun's army had failed to establish a beachhead, the U.S. destroyers moved in and began to fire at Tun's ships. In actuality, the orders were given to go ahead and strike before the armed MRUUV was found in Santa Monica Bay and just happened to coincide with the first inklings of Tun's defeat.

In a panic, General Tun had issued the orders to the submarine Maoto activate the nuclear bomb. The device was programmed to explode after the ten minutes of diagnostic testing was complete. The Mao, safely hidden in the deep waters of the Pacific Ocean, had no reason to fear retaliation. All they had to do was make sure the bomb went off.

Thus it was a heart-wrenching blow to General Tun when he learned that the bomb did indeed explode–miles away from the California coast and very deep below the surface. He couldn't understand why the MRUUV hadn't been closer to shore. What had gone wrong? The plan was foolproof. Even though sketchy reports were coming in that as a result of the explosion Los Angeles had suffered an earthquake and considerable damage, nothing along the magnitude Tun had envisioned had taken place.

In a last-ditch appeal, Tun contacted Beijing and asked for support from the rest of the PLA. The Politburo refused to acquiesce. In short, General Tun was on his own. China wasn't going to lift a hand to help or protect him. Several powerful officials in the military protested the Politburo's decision but there was nothing that could be done unless other independent branches of the army joined the battle on Tun's side. To have done so would have meant political disaster for the generals involved. It became a case of China at first believing her arrogant son was making a risky but necessary challenge to Taiwan, but in the end the child had become an embarrassment and needed to be disowned.

Tun also didn't know that China's president gave the U.S. permission to stop the general. The Politburo had to do so to save face with the rest of the world. Nuclear bombs exploding off the coasts of countries were not acceptable forms of diplomacy. China conveniently blamed General Tun for the "unfortunate incident" and thus sacrificed him to world justice. During the fourth hour of the conflict, the U.S. Navy sank General Tun's Ludo destroyer with torpedoes. The general and his entire command support team went down with the ship. Shortly afterward, his men on the beach were forced into surrendering. American forces joined the Taiwanese in rounding up the surviving army and eventually turned them over to Chinese authorities. Most of them would undergo trials for treason.

While all this was going on, Andrei Zdrok lay in a hospital bed in Fuzhou. He had slipped into a coma shortly after his skull was fractured by Sam Fisher and had remained in critical condition ever since. The medical facilities in Fuzhou were far from adequate even though the doctors did everything in their power to save Zdrok's life. The Chinese government had expressed a fervent desire that the man would answer for his crimes against the country. But it was not to be.

Ironically, Andrei Zdrok died peacefully in bed at the exact moment when the nuclear bomb he had supplied to General Tun exploded off the coast of California. His last great arms deal was, to that extent, a success.

The Shop, however, would no longer be a threat to world peace.

40

ONCEagain I wake up in a hospital bed. I have no clue as to how I got here or how much time has elapsed since I was swept away in the aftermath of the explosion. Frankly, now that I think about what happened, it's difficult to believe I'm alive. I note that my arm is in a cast and my hands are covered in gauze. There's an IV stand and the usual clap-trap of machines around the bed. But oddly enough, I feel no pain or discomfort. In fact I feel more rested than I have in weeks. The only minor problem is I feel hungry and my mouth is as dry as cotton.

A young nurse's pretty face comes into view and she smiles. "Hello!" she says. "You're awake! How do you feel?"

My voice comes out sounding like nails on sandpaper. "Okay."

"Let me get the doctor. I'll be right back."

A few minutes go by and a U.S. Air Force doctor enters the room. "Good morning, Mr. Fisher," he says. "I'm Dr. Jenkins. How are you feeling?"

"Okay," I say again. "Thirsty."

"I'll bet you are. Nurse, give Mr. Fisher some water."

She puts a straw to my mouth and I suck the cool, lovely liquid into my throat. It's like heaven. When I'm done, I ask, "Where am I?"

"Edwards Air Force Base," the doctor answers.

"How . . . long have I been here?"

"Three days."

"I've been out for three days?"

"Mostly out. Occasionally you'd wake up for a few minutes at a time in a feverish state. Perfectly natural for someone who went through the kind of trauma you did."

"What happened? I remember the explosion–"

"The protective shell of the CHARC and your scuba equipment saved your life. You rode a tsunami wave as if you were a piece of driftwood and ended up on the beach near Santa Monica Pier. It's a miracle you weren't killed but the CHARC is one tough piece of machinery. All you have to show for it are a broken arm and a lot of bruises and cuts."

"What about . . . what about radiation?"

"Well, that's what we're not sure about but we think it's going to be all right," the doctor says. "The bomb went off deep underwater. Most of the radiation was contained below the surface. A lot of fish have died. Our beaches are littered with thousands of dead sea life–whales, fish, sharks, dolphins–it's tragic. We think the wave you rode in on was well ahead of the spread of radioactivity. The air, ironically enough, is no worse now than it was prior to the explosion."

I shake my head. "Amazing."

"The military picked you up and whisked you away before any news teams got to the beach. No one saw you. Now get some rest, Mr. Fisher. You're going to be fine. I'll have the nurse fix a small meal for you and we'll see how you take it. We've been feeding you intravenously since you were brought in. I'll let Colonel Lambert know you're back in the real world." He pats my shoulder and says, "It's good to have you back. It's no secret around here that you're a hero."

AFTERa yummy meal of Jell-O and ginger ale, with promises of a more protein-based lunch of eggs a little later, Colonel Lambert walks into the room. He's all smiles and I'm really glad to see him.

"How are you, Sam?"

"Good, Colonel. I'm almost ready to get out of here."

"Well, you probably need to stay put another day or two. We have to check you out through and through. You were awfully close to a nuclear explosion, you know."

"Yeah. I don't remember much of it, though."

"I bet you have a lot of questions."

"Colonel, I bet you already know what they are, so why don't you fill me in on what's been happening while I've been in never-never land."

Lambert pulls up a chair and sits beside the bed. "To put it bluntly, Sam, you saved Los Angeles. And you've saved Third Echelon."

"What do you mean?"

"We were in danger of losing funding. The Committee in Washington had intimated as such but now they're all conciliatory. Senator Coldwater and the other alphabet agency directors have sent congratulations to us for saving the day. I think the FBI and the CIA are kicking themselves that they didn't get the chance to go after those MRUUVs, which technically is probably the way it should have played out. It just so happened we were there first and we had the intelligence. So, bottom line is you put a feather in our cap, Sam. Thanks."

"Does this mean we can skip my performance evaluation for this year?"

He smiles and continues. "The nuke did some damage, though. Los Angeles experienced an earthquake that was five point three on the Richter. Most of the damage was on the beachfront communities and around LAX. The federal government will be putting together a relief package for those that qualify."

"It could have been worse."

"Definitely. Farther north, a tsunami hit Topanga, Santa Monica, Venice, and Marina Del Rey and that caused a lot of damage as well. We believe that's how you ended up onshore–you must have been in it or on one of the smaller waves that preceded it."

"Where'd they find me? Whofound me?"

"The coast guard found your CHARC very near Santa Monica Pier right there on the beach. It was pretty banged up but you were snug as a bug inside. Surprisingly, the tsunami receded and didn't leave much flooding except farther north in Topanga State Park. Most of the residential areas between the park and Santa Monica are now wading pools. All in all, the estimated death toll is around five hundred and fifty. There are roughly a hundred missing small craft that were at sea when the bomb went off. I imagine we'll have to write those poor people off, too. They're still taking radiation level readings but it doesn't look as bad as you might think. I imagine the beaches will be closed for a year or so. The economy will be hit and it won't be pretty. But, like you say, it could have been worse. It wasn't as bad as the tsunamis that hit the Indian Ocean a year or so ago. If you hadn't changed the course on that MRUUV, it would have been a completely different story."

It's sobering news and very difficult for me to comprehend that such a fate was in my hands. "How do things stand internationally?"

Lambert tells me how the military conflict in Taiwan turned out and that things are basically back to the status quo between the island and China. As for relations between China and the U.S., it's too early to say.

"China assumes no responsibility for the bomb. They're blaming that entirely on General Tun and the Shop. Of course, Tun is dead and the Shop is no more. So they're convenient scapegoats. I imagine our government will issue some kind of declaration condemning Tun's attack on Taiwan and subtly insinuate that China could have done more to stop him. Anyway, that's not our problem right now. We'll let the elected officials handle that stuff."

"So the Shop is really gone. Hard to believe."

"Yes, but don't go thinking your job is finished, Sam. There are plenty of other enemies in the world."

"Well, I hope you don't mind, but I'd like to take at least six months off."

"Sam, I'm giving you a yearoff. You've earned it."

"You're kidding."

"No, I'm not. However, there's a catch."

"If there's an emergency . . ."

"Right."

"Figures. There's always an emergency."

Lambert laughs a little and I manage a smile. "How did you like working with Frances? And Anna again?" he asks.

I have to admit the truth. "They're great, Colonel. Give 'em raises."

"I already have. You'll be receiving a nice bonus as well. Oh, that reminds me. I have a surprise for you."

"I hate surprises," I say.

"You'll like this one." He stands and walks toward the door. "Don't go away, I'll be right back."

"Where the hell am I gonna go, Colonel?"

He leaves and I have a moment to look out the window. The sun is bright in a very clear sky. Spring is around the corner and I'd swear there are birds chirping outside. You'd never know that an atomic bomb exploded in the region just three days ago.

Lambert sticks his head in the room and says, "I'll leave you alone with your visitor for now. We'll talk again later. Take care, Sam."

"Okay, Colonel. Wait, what visitor?"

He opens the door wider and my heart sings when I see who it is.

"Hey, Dad!" she says.

Sarah runs to the side of the bed and plants a big kiss on the side of my face. I wrap my free arm around her and hold her close as Lambert winks at me and closes the door.