It had to be broadcast from the ground, though, beamed up to the satellites from somewhere. If Chapel was close enough to Nadia when she transmitted, his equipment could pick up the signal direct from the source. The signal would be faint when it came from the ground — it wasn’t meant to be picked up by ground-based receivers — but it would be clear enough that it could be used to home in on her location.
Assuming, of course, that Chapel had picked the right spot. He needed a very strong signal to make the plan work, which meant he had to be within fifty miles of Nadia when she broadcasted. If he’d chosen the wrong spot, if she was more than fifty miles away from Gurangri, she might as well be on the moon. They would never find her.
“You all set, Angel?” he asked, staring out at the trees to the west of the pit mine.
“Go ahead. The next thing you say will go out on my band.”
Chapel licked his lips. He’d considered very carefully what he could say — what would make Nadia respond. He knew that just calling to say hello wouldn’t make her break radio silence. He had to give her something she wanted to talk about.
“Nadia,” he said, “this is Jim Chapel. I know you can hear me on this band. I’m calling on behalf of the United States government. We know what you have, and the threat it represents. We’d like to discuss how we can help you. Please respond.”
Chapel closed his eyes and waited to hear what came next.
Nadia had no way of knowing whether the Russian government would agree to her demands. The weapon she possessed — the Perimeter launch codes — made her incredibly dangerous to Moscow. But the danger was even greater for America, since all those missiles were pointed at American cities.
If Nadia did launch, if she pushed the button, the death toll in America would mount to the tens of millions. Maybe the hundreds of millions. There was no way for America or Russia to stop all those missiles once they were in the air.
It was not out of the realm of possibility that the president might reach out to her, to try to find some way to defuse this situation. Hollingshead had actually gone to the White House to brief the president and see what he chose to do.
The president had responded that America refused to negotiate with terrorists. Judging by what Hollingshead had told Chapel, the commander in chief didn’t believe that Nadia would actually launch. And he was willing to call her bluff.
So Chapel couldn’t really offer Nadia anything of value. But he didn’t need to negotiate with her, not really. He just needed to get her talking.
Chapel waited five minutes. The chop of the helicopter rotor sounded like an echo of his own heartbeat as the time ticked away.
When nothing happened after five minutes, Chapel nodded to himself. Then he repeated his message. “Nadia,” he said, “this is Jim Chapel—”
The reply came before he could finish.
“Jim? Is that really you? You woke me up. If it is you, I don’t mind. But I need to know it is you. I was certain you were dead. Tell me,” Nadia said, “what was the worst part of our journey through the Kyzyl Kum?”
Chapel’s eyes went wide.
He heard a click on the line. That, he knew, would be Angel shutting down the signal. She came back on a different frequency — he could hear the difference in audio quality. “Okay, sugar — give me a minute to crunch the numbers. It’s better if you don’t respond to her, just in case she has some way of tracking where you are.”
“Understood,” Chapel said.
He turned around and saw Senior Lieutenant Kalin staring at him. The man looked as patient but as insidious as a spider. As the seconds went by and Chapel said nothing, Kalin slowly raised one eyebrow.
He was ready, Chapel knew. There was no doubt in Kalin’s mind what to do when word came in with Nadia’s location. Chapel glanced around at the soldiers crouching in the helicopter’s troop compartment. They’d been briefed. They knew what to do as well.
Just as soon as that location came in.
Chapel fought the urge to ask Angel how it was going. When she had something, she would let him know.
Maybe a minute passed. Maybe two.
When Angel came back on the line, Chapel nearly jumped out of his seat.
“Sweetie,” she said, and he could hear it in the tone of her voice. He didn’t need to hear what came next.
“Sweetie, I’m sorry. You’re not close enough. I’ve got nothing.”
No.
No.
“No!” Chapel howled. He beat on the metal fuselage of the helicopter with his hand. He couldn’t believe it — he’d been so sure. He’d been certain.
No. He’d wanted to be certain. He’d had one chance, and he’d convinced himself he knew how to finish this. But it had always been a crapshoot.
And now Nadia was going to get away. She had betrayed him, used him — seduced him — and now he would never get to her, never be able to look her in the eye and tell her—
“I take it,” Kalin said, “that you were unsuccessful.”
Chapel looked up at the man with burning eyes. “We weren’t able to get a location on the signal, no,” he said.
A playful little smile crossed Kalin’s face. The man was enjoying this — enjoying watching Chapel rage in his moment of failure. Kalin had once had Chapel in his clutches, had been completely in control of Chapel, body and soul. Then Colonel Valits had come in and taken that away.
Now, that smile on Kalin’s face said, things would return to their natural order. Chapel would be taken back to the hospital in Magnitogorsk. Kalin would use every method available to him to find out what Chapel knew. To break him down completely.
Chapel didn’t care about that, though he knew he should. He knew what was in store for him. But his rage, his need for revenge, towered over any mere concern for his survival, any fear of what Kalin could do.
He’d been so close. He had screwed up, royally, by trusting Nadia, but he’d been given one chance at turning that around and now… now…
“Honey,” Angel said in his ear, “maybe we can still get something out of this. I was able to track the signal enough to know that you were kind of right.”
Chapel barely heard her. Kalin was barking orders at the pilots of the helicopter, telling them to turn around, to head back to Yakutsk.
“I picked up… something. Just an echo, really. But I can track her to an area of about a couple of thousand square miles, just based on that,” Angel went on, whether anyone was listening or not. “I know she’s no farther away from you than that.”
Chapel looked down at his hand. It was balled into a fist. Maybe he could push open the side door of the helicopter. Maybe he could use that hand to grab Kalin, throw him down into the pit mine below—
“Sugar, did you hear me?” Angel asked. “She is in Siberia. I can verify that much.”
The soldiers would open fire the second he grabbed Kalin. They would tear him to shreds with high velocity rounds. But if he was quick, if he moved now—
Wait.
“Angel? Say again?”
“She’s definitely in Siberia. Somewhere near you, though near is kind of a relative term—”
“She’s here?” he asked.
“Somewhere there, yes,” Angel confirmed.
“Kalin!” Chapel shouted.
The torturer turned around to face him. “Yes?”
“She’s here. Asimova is here, in Siberia. We just weren’t quite close enough. But maybe — we can move the helicopter, and try for a second fix.”
Kalin pursed his lips. He looked like he was weighing something in his head. Maybe the relative merits of avoiding nuclear war versus the pleasure he would take in turning Chapel into a sniveling, broken wreck of a man.
“You have failed us once,” Kalin said. “Why should I think you would succeed a second time?”