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
Rogozin and the others were visibly shaken. In many ways, that would be the worst of all possible outcomes. Even a failed cruise missile attack on the target cities and bases Petrov had listed would still kill hundreds of thousands of American civilians. War would be inevitable. “What, then, are our options, Mr. President?” the Air Force general asked finally.
Zhdanov’s eyes were hooded. “Options?” He shook his head in disgust, staring down at the surface of the table. “There are none.”
“Sir?”
Slowly, the Russian president looked up. “We have no choice but to ride this nuclear whirlwind Petrov plans to unleash. Every other path leads inevitably to disaster.”
“If you’re wrong, millions of our countrymen may die,” Rogozin warned.
Zhdanov nodded heavily. “True enough.” Then he shrugged. “But if we sit here and do nothing, those same millions may die—and all for nothing.” He turned to the commander of Russia’s Strategic Rocket Forces, Colonel General Anatoly Gruzdev. “Bring your missiles to their highest state of launch readiness, General. But discreetly. The Americans must not find out what we’re up to.”
Somberly, Gruzdev nodded his understanding.
“The moment our early-warning satellites confirm nuclear detonations on targets inside the United States, you will launch an all-out attack on America’s ICBM fields,” Zhdanov continued. “Destroy every single one of those enemy missiles in their silos, Anatoly. Make the rubble bounce. We’ll only get one chance at this.”
Thirty-Nine
Crow Field
That Same Time
Inside the cockpit of the PAK-DA stealth bomber, Alexei Petrov leaned forward and finished keying in the last elements of his flight plan. Lights along the top of the central multifunction display flashed from amber to green as the aircraft’s computers checked his orders and signaled their acceptance. He watched them closely, aware of more pressure building up in the back of his brain. The headaches triggered by his malignant brain tumor were coming ever more rapidly now, held at bay only by increasing doses of medication.
Fortunately, Petrov thought with cool irony, very soon now, he would no longer need to worry about his disease. Death, after all, was the final solution for all human illness. But in the meantime, the need to numb himself against crippling pain required him to rely on the bomber’s autonomous systems to manage this final mission. Through the haze induced by medicines, his own reflexes were no longer up to the task.
He checked his flight instruments and panels one last time, just to be sure. Without a copilot to help him run through his checklists, precision was even more essential. Satisfied, he tapped a code sequence on the screen’s virtual keyboard to set his VIKHR program in motion.
Immediately, a new window opened on the MFD. An icon blinked. go for engine start, the bomber’s computer reported. Two indicators flashed red and then green. ignition on both engines. Petrov glanced at his throttles. Eerily, both moved on their own accord, going to idle without any command input from him. Through the aircraft’s open belly hatch, he heard the two big turbofans powering up. Their noise deepened from a high-pitched whine to a growling rumble.