her.
He thought again what a huge help she always was, how that pliant, direct mind of hers could really get at a problem. He remembered her words when he had first mentioned the possibilities of the bank robberies.
You'll need maps, floor plans, diagrams of the alarm systems. Do you want me to start work on that?
Now she came through the door into the drawing room. Her hair was brushed, she wore bright scarlet lipstick, and she was as slender and beautiful as she had been that first day he met her.
'Ready?' she asked.
'Lieutenant Commander Shakira,' he said. 'You are really something.'
Ravi pulled out a big umbrella, and they stepped out into the rain. They both knew Mrs. Rashood was about to join the Barracuda crew, and that she would be sailing from Petropavlovsk within the next fourteen days.
Shakira knew as well as anyone how important her husband was, but she had no idea he was this important. The Iran Air flight from Tehran, which had taken eight hours, had no sooner landed than three Chinese officials came aboard to collect their bags, which had unaccountably been stowed in the cupboard of the forward cabin.
Throughout the 3,500-mile journey they had four rows to themselves, no one sitting in front, no one behind and no one opposite. They had been served excellent caviar, a privilege Iran Air passengers normally enjoy only on flights to Japan.
Here in freezing, snowy Beijing they were led off the aircraft before the other passengers, downstairs onto the refueling area, and directly into a Mercedes-Benz, which took them 500 yards to one of the Russian Navy's new long-range reconnaissance Tupolev TU-204Ps.
Its engines were already running, had been since the Iran Air Boeing came into the Beijing air traffic control area. Ravi and Shakira were led up the stairs into the seating area behind the cockpit. Their baggage was brought in and placed behind the rear seats. Doors slammed, and the fast Russian Naval aircraft moved up to the head of the takeoff runway, then hammered its way noisily into the cold, cloudy skies northwest of the Yellow Sea.
It was 1,200 miles up to Petropavlovsk, right across the northern Chinese provinces of Liaoning and Jilin, before entering Russian airspace and heading out across the iron gray wilderness of the Sea of Okhotsk to the Kamchatka Peninsula.
There are times in summer when the gigantic mountain range that runs down the backbone of this cold and rugged land can rival the Alps or the Rockies for pure grandeur. But in winter, which this most certainly was, the entire place looked like a travel commercial for Eastern Siberia, into which it most certainly fitted.
The new supersonic Tupolev was cruising through sunlit skies at 60,000 feet, like a Concorde, and going very nearly as fast at 1.8 Mach. But the weather was ferocious down below on those snow-swept high peaks. Lashing winds off the tundra were gusting ninety knots. With a blizzard raging, human life was impossible. Even polar-bear life was marginal.
It was not that much better on the runway, east of the mountains above the Bay of Avacinskiy, but the blizzard had eased, and in a freezing, still-gusting wind, the Navy pilot put the Tupolev down, hard. It was a difficult landing, and not pretty, but the veteran Captain had faced worse — mainly landing the old SU-25 fighter-bomber Frogfoots on the gale-torn decks of elderly Kiev Class Soviet carriers in the Barents Sea back in the 1980s.
He taxied to the terminal, where a Navy staff car awaited them and drove them immediately to the Petropavlovsk Base. Ben Badr was outside the main offices to greet them, and he expressed no surprise at the sudden appearance of Shakira, but shook hands with her warmly, and then hugged Ravi.
'I did not know you were coming up to see us off,' he told Mrs. Rashood. 'But I am delighted to see you and wish very much you were coming with us.'
'Well,' said Ravi. 'That is a wish I am able to grant very easily. Lieutenant Commander Shakira is coming with us.'
He spoke in a very matter-of-fact voice, not smiling, and very much the Commander of the mission.
Ben Badr, who himself had now been promoted to Captain in the Iranian Navy, never missed a beat. 'Of course, sir. I assume under your command, rather than mine!'
All three of them laughed. As they turned into the warm building, out of the biting Arctic wind, Captain Badr used the moment of levity to reiterate the delicate balance of power that would be observed in the Barracuda submarine.
'Sir,' he said, 'this ship will sail under my command, as if it had a Fleet Admiral on board. That's you. My responsibilities are solely involved with making sure we get safely from one place to another, without endangering the lives of the crew. However, all decisions appertaining to the actual mission, where we go, what we hit, when, and how, are made by you. You can overrule me. I cannot overrule you.'
'As we have always agreed,' replied Ravi.
'Correct. And as my father has agreed,' added Ben. 'We should both be very clear. This is not a mission of the Navy of Iran. It is not a mission of the Navy of China. And it is most certainly not a mission of the Navy of Russia. This is an operation of the Islamic Resistance Movement, Hamas, which is committed to the total liberation of historical Palestine, and the creation of an Islamic State. Ravi, you are the highest-ranking military leader Hamas ever had. This is your mission.'
Ravi smiled. 'Just so long as you do not think I am taking advantage of my exalted rank to bring along my wife, like some Roman Emperor.'
'The thought never crossed my mind,' replied Captain Badr. 'Many people know of Shakira's important contribution to Hamas operations. I am sure you have thought it through very well.'
'I made my decision based on her long weeks of work in the area of precision targeting,' said Ravi. 'She has made a detailed study of our objectives, and put forward a plan which, if I am honest, is more hers than mine. I know I should miss her in a strictly operational sense, if she were not on board.'
'Sounds like we should miss her,' said Ben Badr. And he stepped forward, and in the Muslim manner, lightly kissed her on both cheeks. 'Welcome aboard, Lieutenant Commander,' he said.
'There is, of course, the question of where Shakira will work,' said Ravi. 'And since it involves charts, and maps, and computer screens, I think it will need to be near the navigation officer.'
'Not a problem. We've room there. She will, of course, outrank him. He's only a Lieutenant. Still, we might as well get used to that. As the wife of General Rashood she will outrank almost everybody!'
They retired to a private room for lunch during which they discussed the most awkward part of the entire mission— where to go when the operations were complete. They had the world's ultimate getaway vehicle — a fast, silent nuclear submarine that would never need refueling and, properly handled, would be impossible to detect.
Ravi had always been unhappy about the lack of planning that had gone into this final aspect of the mission. But he now took some assurance in the report of Captain Badr.
'I have talked to the Chinese Political Commissar and he has pointed out that China, above all others, cannot be associated with the activities of the Barracuda. As a nation they have too much to lose. They must not be caught with an involvement in this.'
'They could, of course, eliminate us, and then claim to have helped the Americans by doing so,' said Ravi. 'In my native land, it's known as playing both ends against the middle.'
'Like the Americans, China too, would be quite unable to find us.'
'Yes. That's true,' said Ravi. 'Which leaves us out in the cold rather. Can't return to Bandar Abbas, can't go anywhere near China, can't even think about Russia. That's a lot of coastline to be banished from. Half the world. A lot of people to embarrass.'
Ben Badr was thoughtful. 'Ravi, I must tell you what the Chinese have told me. They have a plan they say is foolproof. They have a place for us to go, to get rid of the submarine, and to make a simple escape, all of us, back to Iran and Syria. They are saying by air. They are also saying the submarine will never be found.'
'That sounds very like them,' said Ravi. 'Devious Orientals. But do we have any guarantees?'
'Not many. They just say they have helped us from the start. That it is equally in their interests, as much as ours, that no one should be caught. They will continue to help until every one of us is safe. They honor us and trust us, as we should honor and trust them.'
'If anyone should find even a trace of the submarine,' said Ravi, 'China is in big trouble. That's true. It will
