He bit his lip and was silent for a moment. "And if they can turn out one hundred thousand M-16s plus ammo," he went on, "How hard would it be for them to start manufacturing SAM components? Russian SAM components. I mean, you don't have to be Albert Einstein to figure out how to attach part A to part B. If someone's giving you the directions, that is."
"Russian weapons factories? Here in America?" Jones asked.
"That's crazy," Dozer said.
"So is sneaking in a Mongol horde," Hunter said, his voice going up one notch in excitement. "But that's got to be it. It's the missing piece. We've been trying to figure out how the Russians got all those SAMs into the country. The answer is: They didn't. They didn't have to. They're being made right here!"
"Using Russian blueprints…" Jones filled in.
"Exactly," Hunter said. "They could even have ten, twenty, Christ — a hundred little factories churning these things out. And how would we know? Look at all the abandoned territory just in New England. The microelectronics sites around Boston, Route 128. No one trashed those places when the New Order came down.
No one used them during the good old ZAP day, but only because there was nothing there the Northeast Economic Zone could sell."
"But now there is…" Jones said.
"And the Russians are buying." Dozer said.
"I've got a feeling that it's more like a partnership," Hunter said. "They both have what the other one needs. The Circle has industrial savvy and now they're raising an army."
"And the Russians are providing the high-tech stuff and advisors," Dozer said.
"That's a roger," Hunter agreed. "It was a policy of theirs for years before the war — however crudely it was handled. They haven't changed."
"But what's their purpose?" Jones asked.
Hunter shook his head. "It has to be what the Russians have wanted all along.
They want to control America. And we're the only ones who can stop them.
The three men were quiet for a long time. Finally, Hunter broke the silence.
"But, then again, we've got a few aces up our sleeves, too…"
"As in Top Secret' aces?" Dozer asked.
"God, do we have to reach deep down into our bags of tricks so early?" Jones said. "I thought we could keep those deep-sixed for ten, fifteen years."
"Me, too," Hunter said, feeling his body fill with emotion. "But we're going to be faced with at least ten divisions of infantry, a small air force of Russians and a wall of SAMs that runs from Texas to the Dakotas."
"And not to forget the Mongolian People's Mounted Army," Jones said.
"And the lid is coming off," Hunter said. "Damned quick. Not only did I trade shots with their
'comrade' horse soldiers, they'll be missing that Yak soon. Also their other Yaks were on the move earlier today. Heading south. Loaded for bear."
Jones poured another drink. "I've called an emergency meeting of Security Group tomorrow," he said. "We'll have to get some Texans up here, and some Free Canadians. It's going to be their fight, too. Can we show the film you shot during your trip to the 'Bads? They'll need convincing."
Hunter pulled on his jacket and got up to leave. "If the Marines will help, I can have an edited print, along with ballpark locations by noon tomorrow."
Dozer also got up, grabbing what was left of the whiskey bottle. "I've got a feeling we're going to spend the night watching movies," the Marine captain said.
"That's right," Hunter said. "Remind me to tell you how I grabbed the Yak later…"
Chapter Fourteen
It wasn't until late the next morning that they found out why the Soviet Yaks were scrambled on Hunter's last day in the Badlands.
A small, camouflaged Lear Jet, carrying markings of the Texas Air Force, touched down at the base shortly before noon. Its occupants flew in to attend the emergency Security Group meeting that Jones had called. Hunter had finished developing the last reels of his aerial recon film and as commander of the PAAC-Oregon airbase, he was on hand to meet the Texans.
He watched as the jet taxied into the visitors parking area. A squad of monkeys materialized out of nowhere and proceeded to block off the airplane.
The jet's whining engines started to wind their way off as the door to the airplane opened and two Texans stepped out. Both were tall, of course and dressed in the standard issue uniform of the Texas Air Rangers — blue one-piece flight fatigues, snakeskin boots and no less than a ten-gallon cowboy hat.
Hunter met them and introduced himself. They had flown up not just to attend the Security meeting, but also to brief PAAC on a border incident early the morning before. They quickly told Hunter their story. It had a sickeningly familiar ring to it.
A dozen towns along the border of Texas and Oklahoma were attacked the night before. The populations butchered. The towns were in isolated locations, obviously selected to be hit. The pleas for help from citizens started coming in over the radios about midnight. By the time Texas Border Guards arrived in each town, it was too late.
Except once. Just before dawn, the Texans airlifted a company of Special Forces into the dot of the town of Kilcoyne, Texas figuring it might be next on the raiders' hit list. The Texans arrived just as the town was about to be attacked by cavalry. Three mounted companies. The Texans dropped down right in front of them just on the outskirts of the town. It was three-to-one against the Texans, but the choppers spooked the horses and gave the troopers the advantage they needed to kill about 50 of the raiders before the others retreated.
No sooner had the Texans moved into the town to take up positions when four Yaks appeared overhead. One by one, the jets came in low and dropped napalm.
The Texans had some Stinger missiles and they hit at least one of the attacking jets. But it was of no use; the town was burned to the ground. Only 30 of 100 Texas soldiers made it — about the same number of citizens were killed.
The Air Rangers said that other towns along the border were also napalmed that same night and early that morning. The Texans rushed troops to the border and had been patrolling the area intensely since the attacks. But as yet the raiders had not returned.
Hunter felt a charge of anger well up inside of him as the Rangers told him the story. Attacking and burning indiscriminate little towns was done for no military value — it was done for propaganda reasons. This wasn't war. This was terrorism.
Hunter immediately offered the Rangers all the services PAAC could spare. The Air Rangers graciously accepted. They would return to Texas immediately after the emergency session.
Who were the raiders? The surviving Texas chopper troops had searched the bodies of the horsemen killed in the clash at Kilcoyne. The attackers carried no papers or identification, but they were men of Oriental features and they were armed with a variety of weapons including Soviet AK-47s.
Again, it sounded all too familiar to Hunter. He quickly told the Texans about his recon mission to the Badlands and his discovery of elements of the Mongolian People's Cavalry. The Texans listened intently. It must have been the Mongols who raided the Texas border towns. But there was one odd twist: the chopper troops had found one of the attackers was carrying some unusual items in his saddle bag. The Air Rangers produced the well-worn brown leather sack and handed it over to Hunter. He reached inside and pulled out a handful of beat-up photographs.
They were pictures of Dominique…
The conference room was absolutely still. The only noise was the whirring sound of a film projector flickering images on a large screen at one end of the room. Every person crowded into the darkened room had their eyes riveted to the screen. No one spoke as the hour long film ran from beginning to end.