“Well, to be honest, I cheated,” he explained. “I figured someone might try to secretly slip an assault force into Kaktovik ahead of time, so I took a few precautions of my own.”

“Like what?” the Green Beret wondered.

In answer, Flynn raised his voice slightly. “Sergeant Takirak? Would you come in here for a second, please?”

Obeying, the National Guard sergeant entered the rec room. Although he was now back in uniform, the four Special Forces soldiers recognized him immediately. They shook their heads in disbelief.

“Ah, shit,” one muttered. “The goddamned bus driver.”

“Yep.” Flynn nodded, smiling openly now. “I posted Andy at the airport to keep us in the loop on any new arrivals.” He looked his paintball-stained guests over with a considering eye. “Particularly any fit, military-aged men. Fake Fish and Wildlife badges or not.”

“Crap. No wonder you blew us away,” the senior Green Beret noncom said, sounding even more disgusted. Flynn nodded again.

Ruefully, the Special Forces sergeant shook his head. “Well, sir, I’ve got to admit that you and your boys sure kicked our asses.” Then he looked around the rec room, taking in its worn furnishings, old movie posters peeling off the insulated walls, and the faint smell of too many men crammed together in living quarters that weren’t quite big enough. Outside, the wind rose to a howling pitch, shrieking through the guy wires supporting the radar platform and rattling loose pieces of metal siding. “On the other hand, I got a feeling tonight’s show might just be the high point of excitement around here for the next couple of months.”

Thinking about the fast-approaching and seemingly endless Arctic winter nights, Flynn had to concede that was probably true.

Twelve

National Defense Management Center, Moscow

Several Days Later

Russia’s primary military command center occupied a massive white concrete compound of Stalinist-era buildings on the north bank of the Moskva River, roughly three kilometers from the Kremlin. Two six-story-high arches joined two wings to a central structure topped by the hammer-and-sickle coat of arms of the old Soviet Union and bas-reliefs of soldiers and flags. The imposing arches were closed off with triumphalist stained-glass windows. One bore the image of a sword-armed knight. The other depicted a modern female soldier carrying both a Kalashnikov assault rifle and a young child.

A new addition to the complex had been built in one of the older courtyards. It contained three large auditoriums equipped with wall-sized, wraparound screens and tiers of computer control stations with hardwired connections to an ultrafast supercomputer. Those were mostly for use as propaganda showcases and backdrops for political figures who wanted to impress their own people and those of other nations with images conveying high-tech Russian military prowess.

Smaller command centers and other facilities buried underground handled the real work of coordinating military action across Russia and around the globe. Now, inside a highly secure subterranean conference room, Colonel Alexei Petrov strode confidently to the podium set directly in front of a semicircular table. He looked out across his audience, comprised of the nation’s most senior military leaders and government officials, including its president, Piotr Zhdanov. They were all men. Like the old Soviet Union, the Russian Federation paid a great deal of lip service to equality of the sexes, but its higher-echelon positions were always reserved for men with the right connections.