“The old ways?”
“They want to be a world power again,” the beaten man said. “Bring back the arms race, the Cold War, all of it. Then, we were feared. Now, we are a joke to the rest of the world.”
The interrogators laughed. “That’s true,” one of them finally said. “So, your story is that someone over there has developed an Oscar-class nuclear submarine capable of supercavitation…and they’re testing it in the Bering Sea.”
“It is not a story,” the Russian said, his eyes blazing once again. “You make it sound like a children’s fable.”
“We think it is,” one of the men said. “We think you didn’t like serving in the Russian navy and now you want to defect. Isn’t that closer to the truth, Yusiv?”
The Russian spit blood on the floor and shook his head. “I have nothing else to say.”
The video cut out at that point, and Denny saw that the communication icon was flashing. He tapped it with an outstretched virtual hand and a small window opened in front of him, revealing the face of Kate Cochran—his boss and the woman who ran Room 59.
Despite her platinum-blond hair and her ability to be lighthearted from time to time, when it came to work, she was all business. “What do you think?” she asked. In Denny’s experience, Kate tended to be direct, to the point and have high expectations. When she wanted answers, she wanted them immediately.
Denny leaned back in his chair. He assumed she knew more than she was saying and was looking to him for additional input before reaching any conclusions. “What do you think?” he countered. She was used to his asking questions in response to hers. It was how they worked.
“You know those new biometrics tools our research folks put together?” she asked, then continued without waiting for his reply. “I had the video and audio tracks scanned using those. They’re more reliable than any polygraph machine. At the very least, the Russian believes he’s telling the truth.”
“Then,” Denny replied, “we’ve got a serious problem. A nuclear sub capable of supercavitation is no joke.”
Kate sighed heavily. “When don’t we?” she quipped. “So, you’re the ex-navy man. What does that mean in layman’s terms?”
“This is an oversimplification in a lot of ways, but put simply, imagine a nuclear-armed submarine that can travel at twice the speed of anything we’ve got in the water right now. That means twice the distance. It also means that we’d have virtually no warning at all if they decided to park one off the West Coast and launch. They could be there, launch and be on their way home before we’d have a chance to do anything about it except tell the president to get in his bunker and push the button.”
Kate was silent for a moment, then said, “Shit.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Denny said. “We need an operative up there and fast. If it’s true, it means that the U.S. is going to have to move back toward Cold War footing. Everything changes if the Russians are rebuilding their arsenals.”
“They’ve started doing long-range patrol flights again,” Kate said. “Where the hell are they getting the money for all this?”
Denny shook his head. “I don’t know. A lot of money has been pouring into Russia since the collapse of the Soviet Union. It’s hard to trace it all. Right now, all we really need to know is if they’ve actually got a sub with this kind of capability. And if they do, we need to have it, too.”
The very idea of resuming the arms race made him grit his teeth. There was no win for anyone in that scenario. “Or we need to make sure that it’s destroyed,” he added.
“I agree,” Kate said. “I’ll take it before the IIA representatives today, and they’ll green-light the mission, even if I have to break arms to get the votes.”
“Understood,” he said. “Do you want to assign the agent or do you want me to do it?”
“Do you have someone specific in mind?” she asked.
Denny tapped a glowing icon in front of him and a folder appeared. He tapped it again and it opened. “One of our newest recruits,” he said. “Jason Siku.”
Kate scanned the folder’s contents. “Why him?” she asked. “This would be his first official op. Pretty intense work for a newbie.”
“Normally, I’d agree with you,” he said. “But this guy isn’t our usual recruit. He’s had a ton of espionage experience, speaks fluent Russian, and with his ancestry, he’ll be able to fit right in up there. This isn’t a kill assignment—though his final training mission was. This is recon only. If we need to step up to a search-and-destroy, we can reassess the situation then.”
Kate nodded. “Do you expect any other complications? We can’t afford any mistakes here.”
“None,” Denny said. “Siku is a straight arrow. He worked for the CIA before he came to us. He has no family and no real ties to anyone. His mission success rate with the Feds was perfect, and he doesn’t wander off track. He’ll get the job done.”
Denny paused, thinking for a moment. “Besides that, we’ve got an off-radar employee already in the field up there,” he said.
“Who’s that?” Kate asked.
“A local who translates intercepted Russian communications, that sort of thing. There’s some minor weapons smuggling going on up there, and the agent keeps us apprised of that situation, too. It’s not a full-on field agent, but we’ll know the score and be able to keep an eye on Siku.”
“All right,” Kate said. “I’ll get the ball rolling and get back to you later today. You can expect a mission assignment within four hours.”
“I’ll be standing by,” Denny said.
Kate laughed quietly. “No, you won’t. You’ll be back out riding your horses and playing cowboy. I’ll call you direct and give you the thumbs-up. Go back to your rest and relaxation. Though what you call relaxing, I call being bounced around and risking a broken neck.”
“Ah,” he said, smiling. “You just haven’t ridden the right kind of horse.”
“And I’ll be keeping it that way, thank you very much,” Kate said. “Gotta go.”
She signed off and Denny studied the video again. He didn’t need to see the biometrics results. The Russian was telling the truth, but the submarine was only part of what made the story disturbing. The very idea of the Cold War starting up again—a war that he’d already survived once—chilled him to his core.
The first Cold War had been a quiet one of buildup, cat-and-mouse games and political posturing. The players in the game now would be far different than those faced before. Sooner or later, the players would include extremists who wouldn’t hesitate to use any of the weapons in their arsenals to start a truly global conflict.
And in that kind of war, Denny knew, there were no winners at all.
There was only a world filled with death and ash.
1
Jason Siku slipped the modified shooting glasses over his eyes. From his perspective, the yellow-tinted lenses were more than just a coloration that brought out contrasts in the landscape. The lenses used a tiny microprocessor built into the frames to work in tandem with the high-tech rounds he was testing tonight.
The indoor firing range was almost empty, and Jason was enjoying the relative peace of practicing without the interruption of other people talking and shooting at the same time that he practiced. He dropped an empty clip from his porcelain-framed Glock 17 and slid in a new one. Setting the