Rodriguez stared at him incredulously, “You are going to tell your pilots to shoot down their own bombers?”
“They wouldn’t do that,” Bondarev said. “It would be treason. But I can order them to return to base. That’s an order they might follow.”
“What good would that do?”
The Russian jerked his head toward the remaining Fantom, queued up beside the flight deck. “It would leave the bombers wide open.” He gestured to the hands behind his back. “But they are going to launch their missiles as soon as the American atomic test is confirmed, which means they will only wait on station for the next fifteen minutes, so I need that radio!”
Carl had been listening to the BBC Russia Service on the radio in his office, and turned it off. “HOLMES, give me an update on the Alaska situation,” he asked.
Carl had to admit, he was almost as much in love with Devlin McCarthy as HOLMES appeared to be. She had walked back into her Embassy with the world outside going to shit, realized he wasn’t insane and was offering her a way to save the world, had jumped on the line with the Russian Commander of air operations for the 3rd Air and Air Defense Forces Command, and had then clapped him on the shoulder and told him, “You’ll have to take it from here. When that nuke goes off, angry and frightened Russians are going to be looking for a target for their anger and this Embassy is going to be goddamn ground zero.” Then she’d waded back out into the maelstrom of shouting and panicked voices outside Carl’s office.
“US strategic nuclear forces are at DEFCON 1,” HOLMES reported calmly. “However I now estimate the likelihood of a US first strike at less than nine percent. US CYBERCOM has just initiated a high-level denial of service attack on Russian defense, financial, security and police service servers inside mainland Russia, Georgia and the Ukraine. Russian and Chinese hackers have initiated the same against American cyber systems. Lebanese Hezbollah militia backed by Syrian regular army troops have crossed the Lebanese border into Israel. The nuclear submarine USS Columbia has just reported it is in position as ordered and ready to execute the planned HSSW missile launch. It is awaiting final go codes for a launch in 18 minutes. The Russian strategic bomber flight and its escort has just crossed the Russian coast at Anadyr and is holding on a racetrack pattern in the Bering Strait over Nome, Alaska. Based on satellite, cyber, signals intel, and limited human source reporting I show a high probability the Russian force is also awaiting go codes for its attack, and that the attack will be timed to take place immediately after the US nuclear detonation is confirmed.”
“Do you have intel on the payload the Russian bombers are carrying?” Carl asked.
“No Carl. I have at 64 % probability the payload is nuclear, 36 % it is conventional.”
“Do we have any chance of an intercept?”
“Zero. No available US asset is within strike range.”
“Give me your prognosis on a US Strategic Command response to a Russian nuclear attack on any populated area in Alaska.”
“Insufficient data,” HOLMES responded.
Carl frowned, “What do you mean? I’m asking you to run the percentages on some pretty uncomplicated scenarios. Do you need me to spell them out?”
“No Carl, the scenarios are not complex. They range from a full-blown retaliatory nuclear strike, to a limited escalatory response, to no response at all due to total US political incapacitation.”
“Then why do you have insufficient data?”
“The US response in this particular threat scenario is entirely dependent on human personality factors. I do not have sufficient insight into the personalities of President Fenner and his military advisers or their past response to such situations to calculate the relevant probabilities.”
“Make a wild-assed guess,” Carl ordered. One of the things he had experimented with in relation to HOLMES was something he called ‘WAG code’. It worked on the knowledge that HOLMES was constantly generating and updating scenarios, assigning probabilities to them and updating the analysis as more intelligence was received. When he reached a pre-determined certainty threshold, he would share the probabilities. But until then, he would report an ‘insufficient data’ condition. The ‘WAG state’ forced him to put forward the current scenario with the highest assigned probability, even if that probability didn’t meet the threshold.
“Yes Carl. My guess is that if Russia conducts a nuclear attack on a population center in Alaska, USSTRATCOM will respond with a full-scale nuclear attack on Russian military and civilian centers.”
“Right,” Carl said. “Thank you. Please continue monitoring the Alaska situation, and also throw a text feed on the desktop regarding any potential threats to the US Embassy in Moscow.”
“Yes Carl.” There was an unusual pause from HOLMES. “Carl, I have just picked up a report from NORAD of the launch of a US drone from the NCTAMS-A4 base.”
“What?? Repeat, expand!”
“NORAD is tracking an F-47 Fantom drone launched from NCTAMS-A4, on an intercept course for the Russian bombers. It will be within air to air missile range in eight minutes.”
“Can you hear me in there American?” Private Zubkhov called up to the water tank. “You still have radio in there. I want that radio.”
There was no response. He had heard the American say he had been shot. So it was his blood Zubkhov had seen on the man who had left the water tank. It explained a lot. Firstly, it made perfect sense there were two American soldiers. It explained how they had been able to outmaneuver him — he had simply been outnumbered, that was all.
Now they had separated. They had a radio, so they could have called for help. The only explanation for not doing so was that the man's comrade had deserted him. Left him to die. That was something he could use.
“American, I know you are in there!” Zubkhov said. He lifted his Makarov and fired a shot into the air. “I am still armed, but I will not shoot you. I just want that radio. Bring it out to me, and I will get you help.”
“Come… get it,” a weak voice inside the water tank said. “Already shot you twice. Happy to make it three.”
Zubkhov looked up at the water tank again. It sat on a wooden and steel platform. The voice had sounded like it was coming from the bottom of the tank, so the man was probably lying down. If he was badly wounded, that made sense. But Zubkhov’s 9mm ammunition wouldn’t have much chance of punching through the wood and steel platform and the reinforced steel bottom of the water tank as well.
He slumped down against one of the legs of the water tank.
“Dumb ass American,” he said loudly. “Your comrade has left you for dead. I can get you help. I am only one who can save you.” There was no answer. Zubkhov stared out at the ruins around him, “They have left you all alone comrade. No one cares for you. I know what that feels like.”
Bondarev had made the radio call to his third in command, the incredulous Captain Komarov. “Comrade Major-General, with respect, what do you mean, ground all aircraft?!”
“I mean, issue the order to return to base,” Bondarev said. “All air patrol, air support and escort missions are canceled. All aircraft are to RTB at Lavrentiya or Savoonga.”
“Sir, I am relieved you have survived the destruction of your aircraft, but were you… injured? Your orders would mean handing the airspace over the Operations Area to the enemy,” Komarov said. “I would have to confirm…”
“You will confirm nothing, Captain,” Bondarev said, his voice steel hard. “You will follow my orders to the letter, or you will be court-martialled.” Bondarev softened his tone a fraction. “We have received new operational directives and there is no time for you to take your question up the line. If you want confirmation, you can contact GRU operations intelligence on Savoonga.” I hope. Be there for me Tomas.