Contents ( 55)
- In Memoriam
- Epigraph
- Cast of Characters
- Americans
- Russians
- Canadian
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- Weapons and Acronyms
- Weapons
- Acronyms
- About the Author
- Also by Dale Brown
- Copyright
- About the Publisher
Twenty-Three
Sharapovo Nuclear Command Bunker, outside Moscow
The Next Day
Piotr Zhdanov watched in frustration as search area after search area shown on a large digital map of Russia turned green—indicating that concentrated sweeps by Tu-214R, Tu-142, and IL-38 reconnaissance planes had come up empty. “You’re quite sure about these results?” he demanded. “After all, Petrov and his coconspirators have almost certainly camouflaged the PAK-DA prototype by now, and swept away any traces left by his landing on a snow or ice field. Couldn’t your pilots and aircrews simply have missed them?”
“That is highly unlikely, Mr. President,” Lieutenant General Rogozin said patiently. “We’ve subjected the most probable landing fields to repeated overflights. We’ve even done the same with many of those places that our planners consider far less suitable. In addition, we’ve deployed Spetsnaz units and other Army formations to multiple possible sites to confirm those negative results. So far, we haven’t found a single trace of the stealth bomber inside our own national territory.”
Zhdanov sighed. “So, then, where is he? And where is our missing stealth bomber?”
“Hidden somewhere on the North American continent,” Rogozin said bluntly. “It’s the safest place for Petrov, because it’s the most difficult for us to search . . . or to attack.”
“And how much progress have you made in carrying out reconnaissance flights over this region?” Zhdanov asked coldly.
“Not much,” Rogozin admitted.
“Show me.”
Wordlessly, the general brought up a new map on the command center’s wall screen. It depicted the northern third of the North American continent—from Alaska in the west to the vast ice shelf of Greenland in the east. Comparatively tiny half circles colored green showed the areas probed by Russia’s long-range reconnaissance aircraft so far. Fewer than half a dozen of them dotted North America’s long coastline fronting the Arctic Ocean. In no case had a Tu-142 or an IL-38 succeeded in penetrating more than a few miles inside American or Canadian airspace before being intercepted and turned back by F-22 Raptors and CF-18 Hornets.
“Mater’ Bozh’ya!” Zhdanov scoffed. “Mother of God! All you’ve done is nibble around the edges!” He glared at Rogozin. “Were your pilots and crews waiting for engraved invitations from Washington and Ottawa before doing their fucking jobs?”
“No, sir,” Rogozin said quietly, not rising to the bait. “But it’s taking time to move the air tankers and other assets needed by our fighter escorts into position—especially with the bad weather affecting the region. So up to now, all of our flights have been unescorted and vulnerable.”
Zhdanov frowned. “How much longer will it take to assemble the necessary fighters and other planes?”
“One more day.”
“Which will put us well beyond Petrov’s first seventy-two hour deadline,” Zhdanov pointed out bitterly.
“Yes, sir,” Rogozin said. “And his price to return the PAK-DA and its weapons payload to us will go up.”
“Screw his price,” Zhdanov growled. “The only thing that traitor’s going to get from me is a missile down his throat or a bullet in the back of his skull. What worries me more is the possibility that he’ll decide to sell out to the Americans first.” His frown deepened. “We’re not going to get too many more bites at the apple before that happens. So it’s imperative that you concentrate these first fighter-escorted air searches on the most likely hiding places.”