They held these as their primary weapons, and blended in with the rest of the company rushing up the road.
The headquarters platoon, with the Air Force missile technicians and computer hacker specialists, came next to last for better protection — they were the least expendable men. The last platoon was rear guard. Nyurba double-checked that he could hear no engine sounds from the direction of the support base, and the Hind-Fs weren’t coming.
“Antitank mines across the road, right here, from shoulder to shoulder! Same thing in the cutting for the power lines!”
One squad of ten men broke off from the rear platoon, then split in half. A group darted into the forest, the short distance to the lane cut by the Russians for their high-tension towers. The group on the road emptied their packs of mines — flat, round, menacing things. They lay them in a zigzag across the road, armed them, and carefully armed the antitamper booby traps. Camouflaged a concrete color, and put down just past a bend in the road, they’d be hard to see and easy to hit.
The other group would do this in the weeds by the power lines — that lane through the pines was the only alternate route, for tracked vehicles, up to the silos. It was easier to block off, since the pylons themselves made good obstacles.
Nyurba, satisfied, ran ahead. The miners would reunite as quickly as possible on the road. Their backpacks lightened, they ought to catch up during the three miles to the missile complex. In the meantime, they’d seem to any witnesses like the stragglers inevitable on a military training run.
With the mines emplaced, no more BTRs or troop trucks or tanks would get through for a little while.
Chapter 22
The fake Spetsnaz company dashed within sight of the missile complex’s guard towers, with Kurzin in the lead and Nyurba running with the headquarters platoon; Nyurba and the SERT Seabees were among the nonexpendable specialists now. The security troops in the nearest guard towers trained their machine guns. Kurzin waved, then pointed at his shoulder patch and held up his AN-94—a distinctive-looking weapon used almost exclusively by Spetsnaz. Then he ran even faster toward the gate. Nyurba could see the high-voltage wires strung on ceramic insulators along the sides of each chain-link fence; their tops were festooned with razor wire. The mines between them — probably a mix of antipersonnel and antitank — were buried in the earth. The BTR-70 within the complex drove nearer and began to pace Kurzin’s people as they ran along the road. Its turret machine gun, and the rifles sticking through ports in the passenger compartment, aimed their way; the other BTR was on the far side of the complex, continuing to patrol the defoliated strip where Kurzin’s snipers desperately hoped to stay hidden.
One of the Hind-Fs flew overhead and noisily buzzed the commandos. The roving chin-mounted cannon’s muzzle never once left Kurzin’s column. Nyurba waited to see that threatening cannon begin to spit flame, but the helicopter kept circling as if to herd and corner the strangers, from warily inside the minimum arming range of antiaircraft missiles. The other Hind-F examined the site’s outer border, the big square treeline.
The guards inside the gate looked very sharp now. The machine gun in the sandbags trained back and forth along the ragged formation of breathless, sweating commandos.
A sergeant among the guards confronted Kurzin through the three fence gates that sealed the complex from the road. He saw Kurzin’s rank and insignia. Nyurba thought the man was suspicious, surprised, and impressed all at once.
“We’re on alert, sir. We can’t let you in.” Relations between the Russian Army and Strategic Rocket Forces varied from jealous to apathetic, but any lieutenant colonel was hard to ignore.
“We know about the alert!” Kurzin barked. “We’re on a field training exercise. We were ordered to come as reinforcements.” The two services’ radios were incompatible, so this claim was safe to make.
“The support base never heard of you.” The man must have already phoned.
Kurzin sputtered in disbelief at such defiance of his authority. “They wouldn’t have, would they? Use your head!”
“I suppose not, Colonel.” The sergeant shrugged.
“Is your alert for real or a drill?”
“They never say it’s a drill before it’s over, sir.”
A lieutenant came out of the guard shack. The sergeant was visibly glad to pass the buck.
“What do you want, sir?” the lieutenant asked.
“I already told your sergeant. We were ordered here as reinforcements.”
“Where’s the rest of your unit?” Eighty men was small for an Army Spetsnaz company. One hundred thirty- five was the official size.
“We’re understrength,” Kurzin said. “Like everybody else.” He pointed around at the site defenses. “Seems to me you’re understrength too.”
The lieutenant looked insulted.
“What’s the scenario for this alert?” Kurzin demanded.
The lieutenant didn’t want to give out free information. “What were
Nyurba knew that Kurzin needed to take a shot in the dark, and take real risk. What he said next had to sound genuine, but it could instead make the guards more cautious and distrusting.
“Raiders or rogues reported in the area. Intentions unknown, but this base is one obvious target.”
“Of course it would be.”
“We double-timed it to get here. If there’s a coup going on, don’t you think they’d start by seizing control of ICBMs?”
“What coup?”
“Look. Your defenses are flimsy. Where’s your antitank and antiaircraft weaponry?”
The lieutenant gestured at the two BTRs and the Hinds. The helicopters carried antiaircraft missiles among their mix of armaments. The men inside the BTRs might have antitank guided missiles — the BTRs’ roofs had launch rails for them, but Nyurba hadn’t seen any missiles on the rails. The Hinds did have their antitank rockets and cannon.
“Like I said, Lieutenant, flimsy. Your armored cars and guard towers need much more infantry support than you’ve got. Two helicopters are trying to do too much at once already. I’ve brought eighty men with all their weapons and tactical expertise. With all due respect, you’re garrison troops. We understand maneuver warfare. So will anyone attacking the base. And I don’t like standing here bunched up in the open.”
The lieutenant knew Kurzin made serious points. “We have our own reinforcements. At the support base.”
“How long before they show up? Our own trucks broke down. How many of theirs will even start?”
“Well…”
“We’re here
“Correct. So how do I know you aren’t part of this coup? With respect, sir, you Spetsnaz people are capable of anything.”
Everyone jumped at the sound of a sharp detonation. It came from the direction of the support base. Dark smoke began to rise above the trees. A vehicle had hit one of the mines — something coming up from the support base, as Kurzin and Nyurba had expected and intended. Guard troops and fake Spetsnaz stared. Flames shot high, above the treetops. There was another big eruption. The ground shook. A tank turret soared into the air, tumbling end over end, its long gun pointing wildly as the turret — itself belching flame and leaving an arc of smoke along its trajectory — crashed down in the woods.
“An ambush!” Kurzin shouted. “
The lieutenant nodded to the sergeant, who told a private to open the gates. Electric motors hummed, gears
