One look in the Ops Room was enough for Bertinetti. The picture, remoted in from the Contingency Response Group’s field radar outside and unaffected by the cyber-attack, showed a series of red dots winking fifty kilometers to the east of the runway perimeter; given their slow speed and numbers, they were most likely Russian helicopters en masse. Ominously, and closing in on the air base, were several rapidly moving dots. They could only be high-speed aircraft, probably ground-attack jets, whose task would be to destroy the air defenses before the airborne assault.

A figure in US Air Force combat uniform wearing the silver eagle of a colonel appeared at his elbow. It was the commander of the 435th Contingency Response Group and he spoke urgently. “In case you’re wondering where your buddies are, Bertinetti, your F-16s were turned back when we picked up the attack warning.”

Bertinetti turned to him, aghast.

“Orders direct from US Air Force Europe, Ramstein. The President doesn’t want to start World War Three. We were sent here to stop the bastards coming over the border . . . and it’s too late for that now.”

Bertinetti protested. “But, Sir. Latvia’s coming under attack, so we’re all being attacked. I thought that was what NATO was all about. What kind of signal does it send to the world if Americans are seen to be running away, when we should be protecting an ally?”

“Steady, Bertinetti,” responded the colonel as calmly as he could. “Don’t say anything you’ll regret. I’ve had my orders and the others have been turned around. And that’s that. You’re to get airborne as quickly as you can . . . And that’s an order. I ordered your wingman to head back without you. He refused and I respected that decision, as I know you fly in pairs and you would be very much more vulnerable on your own, so I let him stay. But Ramstein want you back in Aviano ASAP . . . In one piece. Understood?”

Bertinetti heard the roar of a fast jet starting up, but said nothing.

“That’s Mike Ryan getting ready to leave,” said the colonel, changing the subject. “There’s a vehicle waiting to take you to the hardened shelter and your aircraft is already prepped. That radar picture gives you all the briefing you need . . . Now go!”

“And what about you, Sir?” Bertinetti asked.

“We’ll take our chances.”

Bertinetti saluted. Next, he stepped forward to where Teteris was standing in front of the digital map issuing orders in Latvian. He quietly thanked him and wished him luck. Teteris gave him a grim smile and a nod of thanks and turned back to the job at hand.