“What in the hell are you doing?” the president said.
“Informing Blackjack that they’ve been abandoned, so they can properly adjust their tactics,” Manning said. “I suggest we all cheer on the Russian helicopter gunners at this point,” Manning said.
“And why is that?” the National Security Advisor asked.
“Because if I was in that Tiger, I’d sell this pit of vipers out to the highest bidder if I managed to survive,” Manning said. He paused to listen to his headset for a moment and responded, “Negative. It appears they never had any intention of extracting the team. They’re on their own.”
“That’s a bald-faced lie!” Remy yelled.
“Good luck convincing anyone of that. I’ve sat here for the past hour watching you do everything short of breaking out the beer and chips to cheer on the Russians at every roadblock. You looked like you’d just seen a ghost when we restored the satellite feed,” Manning said.
“Director Copley, I don’t want to see this man again,” the president said. “Get him out of here.”
Manning handed his headset to Director Copley and raised his hands above his head, easing his forced departure from the conference room. The Secret Service agents grabbed his shoulders, forcibly guiding him from the room. Director Copley wore a grimace that indicated he was powerless to step in. Manning understood why. The CIA couldn’t afford a presidential coup within Langley, and the simultaneous removal of the CIA Director and National Clandestine Service Director would create a power vacuum that the White House would be eager to fill. Copley wouldn’t make it that easy for Remy. Not after this fiasco.
“Good luck explaining the Russian mafiya connection!” Manning said over his shoulder at the doorway.
“What is he talking about?” the president said, directing his question at Director Copley.
“I have no idea, but it sounds like something you might want to ask him yourself,” the director said.
“Hold on. Bring him back!” the president said. “What are you talking about?”
“Who do you think helped Sanderson’s team set up the entire operation within Russia?” Manning said.
“I thought it was an activist group. Some kind of eco-terrorist network,” the president said.
“Unfortunately that fell through. We had to pay the Solntsevskaya Bratva several million dollars to arrange the logistics, surveillance and assassinations necessary to complete the mission,” Manning said.
“You set us up!” Remy said.
“I think it’s time to crack out the chips and salsa, Jacob, you’ve got a lot of cheering to do for that Russian helicopter,” Manning said. “I’d hate to imagine what the survivor would do with that information, not to mention Sanderson.”
“Don’t think you can scare me with this last-minute revelation,” the president said. “I don’t care if you contracted with Osama Bin Laden to take down Vektor. After the biological attack against U.S. citizens less than a month ago, I could nuke Novosibirsk and not raise an eyebrow at home. A Russian mafiya connection? Grow up, Mr. Manning. Sanderson’s operatives understood the risks involved. Sending helicopters into Russia was not part of the deal. Get him out of here.”
Manning was struggling against the Secret Service agents’ efforts to push him through the door when Director Copley’s voice broke through the commotion. Manning planted a foot in the doorframe, temporarily arresting his rapid departure so he could hear what his boss had to say. Copley was a man of few words, but his brief discourses typically held far more sway than his quiet nature might suggest.
“I suggest we keep the helicopters in place so that we have the capability to honor the deal if they cross into Kazakhstan,” Director Copley said.
“What if the Russian helicopter doesn’t back off at the border?” the president asked.
“Let’s cross that bridge when we reach it.”
The president considered his comments for a moment and turned to General Gordon. “Rescind my previous order. Black Magic will remain on station until the pickup time has expired.”
“What about the enhanced rules of engagement?” the general asked.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we reach it,” he said, staring at Director Copley.
Manning released all of the tension in his body and allowed the agents to whisk him away down the hallway, satisfied that he had done everything possible to give Farrington’s team what little chance they might have to escape Russia.
Chapter 68
Major Borelli eased Black Magic Zero One into a hover forty feet above the ground and glanced through one of his left cockpit windows. Through his panoramic night vision goggles, he saw Zero Two’s dark green form pull even with his helicopter, roughly one hundred meters away. Zero Three remained two kilometers behind them, watching the area to the west and standing by to replace either one of them at a moment’s notice. They were back in position to extract the special operations team. He had no idea what was going on at SOCOM, but he was glad to be back. It didn’t feel right to abandon the team so close to the end.
“Blackjack reacquired,” he heard through his helmet’s communication suite.
The Forward Looking Infrared (FLIR) pod mounted in the nose of his MH-60K Stealth Hawk had quickly found the friendly Tiger. The 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment (SOAR), aptly named the “Night Stalkers,” had taken possession of the three prototype stealth helicopters ten months ago, putting the highly modified Black Hawk frames through hell and back for U.S. Special Operations Command. Major Borelli had been quietly assigned to lead the assessment, which still remained a secret within a secret at the 160th SOAR, frequently vanishing with his handpicked flight crews to Area 51, where the prototype helicopters were hidden from prying eyes.
The birds looked ungainly sitting on the ground, built wider and longer than the standard Black Hawk to accommodate the angled hull designed to defeat aerial search radar waves. In the air, the Stealth Hawk performed reliably, though the controls behaved sluggishly compared to the MH-60K. Built on the Black Hawk frame, designers still struggled to distribute the additional weight of the extended hull in correct proportion to the original design. Every time they returned to fly the prototypes, the helicopters looked different. Still slightly unstable, the helicopters had come a long way since his initial flight.
“Distance to Blackjack?” Borelli asked.
“Twenty-six hundred meters,” the sensor operator replied.
The Stealth Hawk was configured with an electronics warfare console mounted directly behind the copilot and manned by a specially trained member of the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment. The console operator controlled the FLIR pod, monitored hostile electronics emissions, and managed their outgoing radar profile, freeing the pilot and copilot for the near impossible task of flying nap-of-earth through enemy territory at night. If necessary, the console operator would join the crew chief and man one of Zero One’s M134 miniguns to defend the aircraft or provide suppressing fire during a “hot” extraction.
His helicopter was the only prototype fitted with an organic weapons platform. Zero Two and Zero Three were unarmed, except for the personal weapons carried by the crew. SOCOM planners had wanted to send all three helicopters into Kazakhstan unarmed, but Borelli had pressed the issue, insisting that the task force have some defensive capability other than stealth. SOCOM compromised by arming Zero One with two M134 systems. A stream of tracers appeared above the horizon and bounced off the landscape in a cascade of green sparks several meters to the north of Blackjack.