Takirak nodded. “Something along those lines.”

“Then, no, I haven’t gone nuts. I see this as a casualty reduction measure,” Flynn told him very quietly. “If the shit really does hit the fan, this place is going to get blown to hell—and there won’t be a damned thing we can do to stop that from happening. But at least any of our guys posted outside will have a decent shot at coming through alive and unhurt.”

“Makes sense,” the older man said. He shrugged. “Well, anyway, this’ll be a good training opportunity for us.”

Flynn looked at him curiously. “You don’t think this alert could turn hot?”

“I suppose it could,” Takirak said slowly. Then he shook his head. “But I don’t see what the Russians would have to gain. Those men in Moscow aren’t fools. Why would they start a war now? Over what? And doing it by massing a bunch of their bombers and fighters in plain view like this? So we have plenty of warning? That’s nuts.”

Flynn raised an eyebrow. “What would your plan be, Andy?”

“Hell, Captain, I’d just smuggle a nuke into D.C. and set it off. Take out our top political and military leaders like that, without warning, and any war’s already halfway to being won.”

Flynn laughed. “I guess I should be glad you’re not on the Russian General Staff.”

“Who, me?” Takirak shook his head. “No, thanks. I have my hands full just keeping goofballs like Mitchell and Hynes squared away.”

“Amen to that, Sergeant,” Flynn agreed devoutly.

Twenty

Sharapovo Nuclear Command Bunker, outside Moscow

The Next Morning

Buried deep beneath the ground, the massive Sharapovo command bunker was roughly thirty-three kilometers southwest of the Kremlin, at the terminus of one of Russia’s secret subway tunnels. It was also sited within a few kilometers of Vnukovo International, the oldest of the four airports around Moscow. Depending on events, that proximity allowed the possibility of evacuating some of the five thousand high-ranking officials, military officers, assistants, and dependents inside the bunker to even more distant, and presumably, safer regions.

At the moment, however, further flight was the last thing on the mind of Russia’s president, Piotr Zhdanov. He was meeting with his closest military and political advisers inside a secure command center at the bunker’s lowest level. Thick armored doors and squads of armed guards sealed this chamber off from the rest of the complex. Even in ordinary times, only those with the very highest security clearance were ever admitted inside. That was true now more than ever.

As hours passed without any sign of the missing PAK-DA stealth bomber, guesses about its possible fate had grown increasingly wild. By now, analysts concluded, its fuel reserves must be exhausted. And yet, no cruise missiles had been launched at any cities or military installations in the United States, China, or Russia itself. Nor had there been any triumphant news flashes from Washington or Beijing announcing the defection of pilots flying Russia’s most advanced experimental aircraft. Now there was speculation by some that the bomber must have crashed somewhere, either accidentally or as an act of suicidal remorse by its traitorous crew. Others suggested that perhaps Major General Mavrichev, taken prisoner originally, had been able to break loose and bring the plane down in a final act of patriotic self-sacrifice.