“Then you have made a very large mistake. That missile is targeted on a Soviet city”
“That is no longer so” Kurshin said. “We have reprogrammed its target to a city in Libya. Tripoli. Downtown”
“You’re insane” Collingwood said softly.
“He’s lying” McGarvey said. He’d been huddled with an extremely nervous Klaus Kistner, the chief sanitation engineer for the city of Kaiserslauterm. The man had been located, hauled away from his dinner, and brought unceremoniously to the square. When Kurshin came on the air, McGarvey had broken away. “It makes sense to me”
Collingwood said. “There is no reason to disbelieve him” Trotter shook his head. “This time I’m going to have to go along with Kirk”
“There’s not a whole hell of a lot we can do about it, no matter what”
Collingwood shouted in exasperation. “The bastard is calling the shots.
So we go along with him for now”
“He’s given you an hour. Long before that time is up, that missile will be fired” McGarvey said. I I At Tripoli … an American nuclear missile. Christ, we’d be done in the Middle East for the next hundred years”
“Maybe Tripoli” McGarvey said, looking across at the missile. “Maybe not…”
“Where then” Collingwood demanded. “I don’t know, but they’ve reprogrammed the missile’s guidance system, in that I think he’s telling the truth”
“But if he launches before the hour is up we’d have no reason to comply with his demands” Collingwood argued. “He doesn’t care about the gold”
Trotter said.
McGarvey nodded his agreement. “No, a man like him wouldn’t. Nor would he take the risk of something going wrong in the air between here and the east zone. We own these skies” Collingwood was looking from McGarvey to Trotter. “Would someone mind tellin me what the hell is going on then”
“If he means to actually fire the rocket, Kirk, what’s his target”
Trotter asked. “What’s Baranov up to”
“And if he doesn’t need the chopper to escape, how the hell is he going to get out of there? We’ve got the entire square surrounded. I’ve got my people everywhere”
“You have the surface of the square covered” McGarvey said. Collingwood glanced at the city engineer who was cowering a few feet away from them, his eyes as wide as saucers. He understood enough English to know at least the gist of what was about to happen here. “The storm sewers”
McGarvey said. “The transporter is parked directly over a sewer grate. I saw it before the light failed. “Jesus H. Christ” Collingwood swore.
“They’ll have a car waiting for them a few blocks from here, and while we’re waiting..”
“Is there a hatch in the floor of the transporter”
“Just unplug the umbilical cords”
“Too dangerous. They might have someone watching. If we make a move to tamper with the missile from the outside they might go ahead and blow it anyway. Is there a hatch in the bottom of the transporter”
“Yes there is, siran Army captain who’d been standing in the background spoke up. He came forward. “Who are you” McGarvey asked.
“Jim Hunte. I know that missile, sir. I’m one of the alert crew chiefs.
In fact I was on duty when that sonofabitch walked off with it”
“He can disarm the missile when it’s secured” Collingwood said. “In the meantime we’ll cover all the sewer exits.
“No” McGarvey said. “They’ve still got the trigger for the plastique.
And unless I miss my guess they’ll be programming the missile for a delayed firing”
“Then what the hell do you want”
Collingwood shouted. Captain Hunte wore a military .45 strapped to his hip. “Do you know how to use that thing, Captain” McGarvey asked. “Yes, sir. “Have you got the tools to disarm the missile”
“In my car”
“Get them” Hunte’s eyes were shining. “We’re going to kick some ass”
“We’re going to try to save some. Now, move yours”
“Yes, sir” Hunte snapped, and he hurried off. McGarvey took his Walther out of its holster at the small of his back and cycled a round into the firing chamber. “I’ll start by moving my people out of here now”
Collingwood said. “No” McGarvey responded. “The moment he sees that, he’ll set the missile to fire. “Well, at least I’m going to send a few of my people with you”
McGarvey shook his head. “Just hold the fort here, Colonelhe said, and he turned and hurried off into the darkness. Collingwood was fuming.
He turned to Trotter. “Just who the fuck does he think he is”
Trotter managed a very tight little smile. He took off his thick glasses and cleaned the lenses with his handkerchief. “You don’t want to know, Colonel. Believe me”
Captain Gerry Stewart was still on duty in Missile Control’s situation room. He was not a smoker, but in the hours since he had discovered Major Mccann’s body in the empty missile bunker he had gone through nearly a pack of Marlboros.
The base had been placed on alert. The situation room hummed with activity. A red light suddenly began to wink on the Six-P-Two Launch Board. “We have an A Key indicator on the Flybabythe technician called out. The Pershing missile, like most NATO nuclear weapons, was operated on a dual key system. It took two separate keys to activate the weapon for launch. Stewart jumped up and hurried to the console just as the B Key light came on. He stared at the board in disbelief. Both keys had been activated. Christ. The missile was live now, and starting through its firing cycle. “Impossible” he breathed. The rest of the board began to light up. “We have a firing sequence countdown the technician started to say, but then he stopped in midsentence. “It’s stopped, sir” he said, looking up. The firing sequence had stopped halfway through. Something was holding it. Stewart turned around and rushed for his console where he snatched up his comms phone. “I want Colonel Coilingwood. Now” he shouted.
The launch control board had come alive.
For the first few moments Kurshin had thought something was wrong. The fire sequence lights had begun coming on, one at a time toward a ten-second countdown. Suddenly they stopped. “Thereschey said, looking up. “The counter is running. In ten minutes the missile will launch”
“You’re sure” Yegorov asked, even his voice hushed now. “Of course”
Schey replied. “Nothing can stop it” Kurshin asked. Schey shook his head. “Nein”
“Thank you” Kurshin said. He raised the pistol he’d been hiding behind his leg and shot the East German in the face, the man’s head slamming backward against the bulkhead. He slipped off the bucket seat and crumpled in a heap on the floor. Yegorov hurriedly pulled up the floor panel, and then, getting down on his stomach, reached through the opening and removed the storm sewer grate, shoving it aside. The street beneath the transporter was in deep shadow. He looked up and Kurshin nodded. Yegorov levered himself down into the cool stonn sewer, his feet searching for and finding the metal rings set into the concrete. When he looked up again, Kurshin handed down the trigger for the plastique.
“Just in case” Kurshin said, and he too started down into the storm sewer.
One block off the square the side streets were in darkness. McGarvey and Captain Hunte had removed the grating from the storm sewer the city engineer assured them connected with the tunnel beneath the missile transporter, and McGarvey was lowering himself into the black hole when they heard someone running down the street. Hunte spun on his heel, yanked his .45 out of its holster, and levered the slide back. McGarvey was halfway through the opening. He braced himself and pulled out his pistol. “Mr. McGarvey” someone shouted from the darkness. Seconds later the figure of Todd Kraus emerged” It’s all right” McGarvey said to Hunte. “Here” he called to Kraus.
