Fire Ice Page 36

  If the president wondered at what may have been the oddest-looking assortment of human beings ever to visit the Oval Office, he was diplomatic enough not to show it. After a round of handshakes and introductions, he said:

  “The admiral here was telling us about that tsunami business up in Maine. He seems to think the wave was man-made.”

  Jenkins had been nervously playing with the knot of his tie. Under gentle prodding from the president, he spun out the story of the Rocky Point tsunami and his investigation as to its cause.

  The president turned to Reed. “Do you agree with Dr. Jenkins?”

  “Totally. I see no reason to doubt his conclusions. My re- search shows that force applied at specific points on the continental shelf could produce the results he's predicted.”

  Austin jumped in. “I've described the projectile I saw on the Ataman ship to some ordnance people. They suggested that it might be a concussion bomb with a shaped charge capable of great penetration. The thrusters drive it deep into the seabed. It might have multiple warheads similar to a nuclear ballistics missile.”

  “You're not suggesting nuclear warheads?” the president said, with a look of alarm.

  “From what I understand, it could be done with conventional explosives. Some of the new ones are almost as powerful as a nuke. There's another thing. When I talked to the captain and pilot of the NR-1, they said Ataman had been using the sub to look for weak spots, faults and thin cover in the crust along the slopes and canyons of the continental shelf.”

  “Where is this Ataman ship now?”

  “Off the New England coast. I've asked our satellite people to look around. A courier will have the results here shortly.”

  “I'll instruct my receptionist to send your person right in,” the president said. He turned to Sparkman. “You're the mining man, Sid. You know anything about this methane hydrate?”

  Sparkman, who had been quiet throughout the presentation looked as if he were having acid indigestion. “Yes, Mr. President. It's basically frozen natural gas. Some people call it fire ice.”

  “Let's get back to specifics, Dr. Jenkins. What could we expect off the U.S. coast?”

  Jenkins looked preoccupied, as if another thought had occurred to him. “Damage depends on the shallowness of water near shore, the shape of the bay, whether there is a river where the wave concentrates its energy.” He took a deep breath. “It's possible that a wave might reach a height of one hundred feet after it hits the shore.”

  The president looked shocked. “That could cause unimaginable damage.”

  “Unfortunately, there are worse things than tsunamis,” Jenkins said quietly.

  “What could be worse than a giant wave hitting a metropolitan area?” the president said.

  Jenkins took another deep breath. “Mr. President... a massive release of methane could trigger large-scale global warming.”

  “What? How could that happen? I thought it was just man-made causes we had to worry about.”

  “That, too, but - look, let me give you an example. Back in the eleventh century, there was a huge 'burp' of methane that released a giant amount of methane into the atmosphere and started a worldwide warming trend. The tropics advanced as far north as England and the sea may have extended as far as Arizona.”

  The room was silent.

  “Razov must know about the possibility,” Sparkman said, at last. “Why would he do such a thing?”

  Reed offered an explanation. “The Russians have always wanted to warm the northern wastes of their country. It's an incredibly rich, but very harsh land. There was serious talk at one time of warming the waters off the Arctic with atomic energy to accomplish the goal. A temperate climate would allow vast development and settlement. At the same time, some people speculate that global warning would turn America's interior into a dust bowl.”

  “My advisors have filled me in on global warming,” the president said. “It's a very complex process, as I understand it. There's no guarantee it would turn out the way Razov wants it to.”

  “Apparently, Razov is willing to take that chance,” Reed said.

  “Good God!” the president said. “That would be a disaster of unimaginable proportions.”

  “It would be worse than that,” Sandecker observed. “With his huge methane hydrate mining ships and a weakened U.S., Razov would be in a position to control the world's future energy supply. He could be the closest thing to a global dictator we've ever seen.”

  “This man must be stopped,” the president said.

  “A squadron of fighter planes would make short work of Mr. Razov,” the vice president said.

  “Do we have enough evidence to blast this ship out of water, especially with the situation in Russia?” the president asked.

  Sandecker said, “That's an excellent point, Mr. President. As we all know, Russia is in turmoil with Razov's rightwing forces battling the moderates. Razov would use any at. tacks against Russian ships to show that the U.S. is the enemy. The moderates would be done for. Russia's nuclear arsenal would come under the control of the Cossack lunatic fringe.”

  “But we can't let that ship carry out its mission,” the president said.

  The receptionist knocked softly at the door, then opened it. A young woman rushed in with a folder in her hand. “Sorry for the delay,” she said breathlessly. “We ran into complications.”

  “That's quite all right,” Sandecker said, “but how complicated could it be to find one ship?”

  “That was easy,” she said, handing over the folders. “We picked up the target so quickly we decided to look at the rest of the East Coast down to Florida.”

  “You found another ship, then?”

  “Actually, sir, we found three of them in position off the East Coast. Another three appear to be on their way, and there seems to be some activity off the Pacific coast as well.”

  “Thank you,” Sandecker said, dismissing the courier. When she was gone, the president exploded. “Three ships? And more on the way? Damn! How will we know which city is the target?” The shadow of a cloud passed over the president's face. “What if there is more than one target?”

  Sandecker turned to Yaeger. “Hiram?”

  “Kurt and Paul did all the hard work,” Yaeger said. “They gave me access to the encrypted files aboard the Ataman ship, but Razov was using a steganographic system. The communications were hidden within digital photographs - it's become a standard tool of terrorists because the images can be tough to decipher. In this case, it was a photograph of a Russian restaurant menu. It was part of what Razov called Operation Troika.”

  “Razov told me that Troika was nothing more than a nickname for his plan to open trade centers in three U.S. cities,” Austin said. “There was nothing secret about it.”

  “The menu hid his plans for the real operation,” Yaeger continued. “The key to deciphering the code was on Razov's yacht. Thanks to Kurt again, Max and I were able to get into the yacht's central control system. We tracked down the bi- nary code in a dark comer of the system. The actual operation is not Troika, but Wolfhound.”

  Austin raised an eyebrow. “Gorky and Sasha,” he said. Seeing the quizzical expressions around him, Austin explained: “Those are the names of Razov's pet wolfhounds. He's pretty infatuated with the two mutts.”

  The president said, “I like dogs, too, but I'm more interested in the nuts and bolts of this operation.”

  Yaeger said, “The Wolfhound file indicated that the three , ships would be off the cities of Boston, Charleston and. Miami.”

  “But... those are the cities where Ataman plans to open his trade centers,” the vice president said. He seemed stunned.

  “What better cover for an operation?” Sandecker asked.

  Yaeger said, “The admiral's right on the mark. I came across orders to evacuate Ataman personnel and interests in all three cities. Unfortunately, there was no information in the yacht's computer system about whether one city or all the cities are targets.�
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  “My guess is Boston,” Austin said. “There's a major international financial conference going on right now at the Boston Harbor Hotel. It's being attended by representatives from all the countries that have been trying to undermine Razov.”

  “Then the other ships are decoys?”

  “I won't rule out the possibility that Razov means harm to all three cities, but Boston may be his prime target.” Austin opened a manila folder he'd been holding on his lap. He pulled out two transparent sheets and put them on the presidential desk. “This is a map of Rocky Point. The other sheet is a mylar transparency of Boston Harbor and surroundings.”

  The president laid the transparency over the map and swore under his breath. “They're almost identical.”

  Austin nodded. “I think that when Razov chose Rocky Point to try out his wave-making machine, he picked a place as close to his intended target as possible.”

  The president banged his hand down on the desk and reached for his phone. “That does it,” he said. “I'm calling an emergency meeting of the cabinet and Joint Chiefs of Staff to discuss air-and-sea strikes, no matter what the risks. We may have to evacuate those cities. How long do we have?”

  Hiram said, “The operation is to be launched in less than twenty-four hours.”

  Sandecker said, “The panic of a mass evacuation may cause as many casualties as an attack. May I suggest a middle course, Mr. President?”

  The president's hand froze in midair. “I'm listening, but I can't forget my duties as commander in chief.”

  “We're not asking you to. From what we've heard, the immediate threat is to Boston and possibly two other cities. According to Hiram's information, the command center is on the yacht. I propose that we disable the central control. As insurance, we send boarding teams aboard all three ships and deactivate the explosives. In the meantime, we can delay the arrival of the other ships, maybe under some pretense.”

  The president scratched his chin in thought. “I like it. Of course I. can't give official approval of an operation in international waters. I need deniability in case things get dicey.”

  “This wouldn't be the first time that NUMA has operated out of sight and sound of official channels,” Sandecker said.

  “No, it wouldn't,” the president said dryly. “What do you think, Sid?”

  “Razov's treachery can't be tolerated. My first instinct is to blow him out of the water. I'd keep the attack subs and fighter planes ready to destroy him, his yacht and ships if the plan doesn't work out.”

  “Fair enough,” the president said. “Well, Admiral, looks f like you have my 'blessing.' But no one outside this room can ever hear about it. Sid, I want you to get this thing moving immediately with special ops and the armed services.” He checked his watch and got up from his desk. “Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a Boy Scout troop coming in from my home state for a Rose Garden ceremony.”

  AS THE OVAL Office emptied, Sandecker touched Sparkman's sleeve. “I wonder if I might have a word with you in private.” Sparkman gave him a troubled look. “Sure, why don't we go outside and get some air? We can talk about how to keep the White House liaison with NUMA close to our vest.”

  They walked out of the executive mansion to the south portico. Sandecker gazed around the manicured grounds. “Beautiful setting, isn't it?”

  “The prettiest sight in all of Washington.”

  “A pity you will never get to live here.”

  Sparkman laughed, but there was an edge to it. “I have no intention of moving from the naval observatory. Couldn't t afford the heating bills for this place.”

  “Don't be modest, Sid. Everyone in Washington knows that you are the heir apparent after this president's term has expired.”

  “There's no guarantee I'd be elected or even nominated.” There was something in his tone.

  “You're being disingenuous. It's not a sin to have political ambitions.”

  “We're all politically motivated in this town, even you.”

  “No argument there.” Sandecker swung around to face him. “But my ambitions aren't funded by a Russian madman, Sid. Tell me, what did Razov promise you? And don't tell me I don't know what I'm talking about. You've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.”

  Sandecker's bluff was convincing. Sparkman looked for a moment like he was going to bluster - and then he caved in completely, his face a mask of misery.

  “I was going to get a big cut of the methane hydrates production off the United States. It would have been worth billions,” he said, his voice shaky.

  “Now that you've heard the real reason behind those explorations, have you changed your mind?”

  “Of course I have! You heard me in the Oval Office. I'm the one who took the hard line. I wanted to go after Razov tooth and nail.”

  “I'm sure it had nothing to do with the fact that if Razov were blown out of the water, your secret would be safe.”

  A wan smile crossed Sparkman's lips. “You're not a man known to dillydally, are you, Admiral? All right. What do you want?”

  “First of all, I want you to know that if one word of what transpired in the Oval Office this morning gets back to Razov, I'll see that you are pursued by the hounds of hell.”

  “I may be greedy, but I'm not a traitor, Admiral. There is no way I would aid and abet Razov after what I've learned of his plans.”

  “Good. Second, as soon as this is over, I want you to submit your resignation.”

  “I can't - ”

  “You can and you will. Or else your role in this scheme will be played out on CNN twenty-four hours a day. Agreed?”

  Sparkman's face had a haunted look. “Agreed,” he whispered.

  “There's one other thing. Tell Razov that the U.S. is still trying to figure out why the NR-1 was hijacked. A little disinformation couldn't hurt.”

  Sparkman nodded.

  “Thank you, Mr. Vice President. I won't waste any more of your time. I know you've got a lot to do carrying out the president's orders.”

  Sparkman squared his shoulders. “I'll have someone from my office stay in close contact so we can coordinate our planning.”

  The two men parted without shaking hands, with Sparkman heading back to the White House. Sandecker strode to the parking lot, where the others awaited him. He was angry at having to destroy a man's career, angry that Sparkman had been such a fool. His blue eyes blazed with a cold fire as he slid behind the wheel of the Jeep and said, “Gentlemen, I think it's time we put Mr. Razov's wolfhounds in the dog pound.”

  NUMA 3 - Fire Ice

  -34 OFF THE COAST OF BOSTON

  IN THE EVENT I ever write my memoirs,“ Zavala said, ”What exactly is going on?"

  “This is a scientific mission being undertaken by Siberian Pest Control on a U.S. Navy submarine, supervised by NUMA,” Austin said. “Officially, it doesn't exist.”

  “Maybe I won't write my memoirs,” Zavala said, with a shake of his head.

  “Cheer up,” Austin said, glancing around the spacious wardroom. “No one would believe you anyhow.”

  Austin had to raise his voice to be heard above the raucous voices of a dozen tough-faced men dressed in black commando uniforms. They were at the far end of the room smearing black and green camouflage paint on their faces. The exercise produced laughter and jokes that rose in decibel level, stoked by slugs from the vodka bottle being passed around. Petrov, who was dressed for combat like the others, dabbed paint on his cheek, hiding his scar, and made a remark in Russian that provoked great hilarity among his men. One man started to howl and pounded him on the back with sufficient force to break the rib cage of an average person.

  Petro grabbed the bottle and came over to Austin and Zavala.

  Austin said, “Sounds like amateur night at the Kremlin Comedy Club. What was the big joke?”

  Petrov laughed and offered the vodka.

  Austin declined and Zavala said, “Thanks, I'm a tequila man.”

  Petrov seemed more in his
element than Austin had ever seen him. “I reminded my men of an old Russian proverb: 'Live with wolves, howl like a wolf.' ” Noting Austin's blank look, he said, “It's like your saying about birds of a feather.” Seeing that his explanation still fell short, Petrov said, “I'll explain later.” He daubed Austin's forehead and cheeks with paint, Indian fashion. “Now you're properly prepared for action.”

  “Thanks, Ivan,” Austin said, completing the job. “Sure you're up to a field operation?”

  “Are you implying that I'm too old? As I recall, I'm a month younger than - ”

  “I know,” Austin said. “My dossier: Don't be so touchy. I was thinking about your injuries from our fun night in Boston Harbor.”

  “A wonderful battle. I will never forget the way you swung over the deck like Tarzan of the apes. I have a few scratches. Nothing that would slow me down.”

  Austin jerked his head toward Petrov's men. “Hope the same goes for your men. Maybe we should give them Breathalyzer tests.”

  Petrov dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand. “I would trust any of those men with my life, drunk or sober. You worry too much. A few shots of vodka before battle is a tradition in the Russian military. It was the secret weapon we used to defeat Napoleon and Hitler. When the time comes, my bandits will carry out the mission with precision and courage.”

  Austin glanced toward a young sailor who had stepped through the door. “Looks like that time is now, Ivan.”

  The seeds of the joint operation had been hatched after Austin had returned to his office following the White House meeting. Petrov had been waiting for him. When Austin described the plan, Petrov immediately volunteered his men to board the yacht. Austin checked with Sandecker, who liked the idea and got an okay from the vice-president. Russians boarding a Russian yacht would add another layer of insulation between the mission and the president.

  The sailor surveyed the painted faces, trying to pick out someone in command. Austin waved him over.