Shadow Command

retrorocket fire, powered-descent profile. ‘Leopards’ coming online.”

“What?” Macomber asked. “You’re firing the ‘leopards’ again? What—?”

He didn’t get to finish his question. Moulain activated the Laser Pulse Detonation Rocket System engines and immediately pushed them up to powered-descent profile power, then to maximum power, far exceeding the normal G-limits for passengers and crewmembers. Their speed dropped dramatically — they were still flying at over Mach 5, but that was over half of the speed they would normally be flying. Everyone in the passenger module was hit with G-forces so severe and so unexpected that they immediately blacked out. Jim Terranova blacked out too…

…and so did Lisa Moulain, but not before she opened the cargo bay doors on the upper fuselage of the XR-A9 Black Stallion, unlocked the securing bolts holding the module to the cargo bay, lifted a red-guarded switch, and activated it…

…and at the very instant the doors were fully open, the securing bolts were free, and the module’s jettison rockets fired, the Black Stallion exhausted every pound of propellant left in its tanks…and it was ripped apart by the Russian laser and exploded.

* * *

“Target destroyed, General,” Wolfgang Zypries reported from Soltanabad. “Showing massive speed loss, multiple large targets probably debris, and quickly losing radar and visual contact. Definite kill.”

“I understand,” General Andrei Darzov responded. Many of the technicians and officers in the room triumphantly raised fists and gave low cheers, but he silenced them with a warning glare. “Now I suggest you get out of there as fast as you can — the Americans have certainly sent a strike force out to destroy that base. They could be there in less than an hour if they launch from Iraq.”

“We will be out of here in thirty minutes, General,” Zypries said. “Out.”

Darzov broke the connection, then activated another and spoke: “Mission accomplished, sir.”

“Very well, General,” Russian president Leonid Zevitin responded. “What do you expect will be their reaction?”

“They are undoubtedly launching unmanned B-1 bombers from Batman Air Base in Turkey, fitted with the hypersonic attack missiles to attack and destroy the base in Iran,” Darzov said. “They could be in position to fire in less than an hour — even as quickly as thirty minutes if they had a plane ready to launch. The target will be struck less than a minute later.”

“My God, that’s incredible — we need to get our hands on that technology,” Zevitin muttered. “I assume your people are haulin’ ass and getting away from that base.”

“They should be well away before the Americans attack — I assure you, they feel those hypersonic missiles on the backs of their necks even now.”

“I’ll bet they do. Where was the spaceplane when it went down, General?”

“Approximately one thousand kilometers northwest of Soltanabad.”

“So by chance does that place it…over Russia?”

There was a short pause as Darzov checked his computerized maps; then: “Yes, sir, it does. One hundred kilometers northwest of Machackala, the capital of Dagestan province, and three hundred kilometers southeast of the Tupolev-95 bomber base at Mozdok.”

“And the debris?”

“Impossible to say, sir. It will probably be scattered for thousands of kilometers between the Caspian Sea and the Iran-Afghanistan border.”

“Too bad. Track that debris carefully and advise me if any reaches land. Order a search team from the Caspian Sea Flotilla to begin a search immediately. Have our radar stations alerted our air defense systems?”

“No, sir. The normal air defense and air traffic radar systems would not be able to track a target so high and traveling so fast. Only a dedicated space tracking system would be able to do so.”

“So without such radar, we wouldn’t know anything has happened yet, would we?”

“Unfortunately not, sir.”

“When would you expect the debris to be detected by a regular radar system?”

“We are not tracking the debris anymore since we are breaking down the Fanar radar system at Soltanabad,” Darzov explained, “but I would guess that within a few minutes we might be able to start picking up the larger pieces as they re-enter the atmosphere. I will have our air defense sites in Dagestan report immediately when debris is detected.”

“Very good, General,” Zevitin said. “I wouldn’t want to complain about the latest American attack against Russia too soon, would I?”

ABOARD AIR FORCE ONE

THAT SAME TIME

“My, my, Mr. President,” the female staff sergeant said as she rose from her knees and began rebuttoning her uniform blouse, “you certainly get my vote.”

“Thank you, Staff Sergeant,” President Gardner said, watching her rearrange herself as he zipped his fly. “I think there’s a position available on my…staff for someone as skilled as you.” She smiled at the very much intended double entendre. “Interested?”

“Actually, sir, I’ve been waiting for an opening in Officer Training School,” she replied, looking the commander-in-chief up and down hungrily. “I was told a slot might not open up for another eighteen months. I finished my bachelor’s degree and put in my application just last semester. I’m very determined to get my commission.”

“What was your degree in, sugar?”

“Political science,” she replied. “I’m going for a law degree, and then I’d like to get into politics.”

“We could sure use someone of your…enthusiasm in Washington, Staff Sergeant,” the President said. He noticed the CALL light blinking on the phone — an urgent call, but not urgent enough to override the DO NOT DISTURB order. “But OTS is in Alabama?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s too bad, honey,” the President said, acting disappointed — the last thing he wanted was for this one to show up in Washington. Maxwell Air Force Base in Alabama would be perfect — far enough away from Washington to avoid rumors, but close enough to Florida for her to sneak down when he was at his estate in Florida. “I’d sure like to work with you more often, but I admire your dedication to the service. I’m sure I heard of an OTS slot opening up in the next class, and I think you’d fit in perfectly. We’ll be in touch.”

“Thank you very much, Mr. President,” the steward said, smoothing out the rest of her hair and uniform, then departing without even a backward glance.

That’s the way he liked them, Gardner thought as he took a sip of juice and started to get his heart rate and thoughts back in order: the ones bold and aggressive enough to do anything necessary to get an advantage over all the others, but wise enough to go back to work and avoid getting emotionally involved— those were the real powerhouses in Washington. Some did it with talent, brains, or political connections — there was nothing wrong, or different, about the ones who did it on their knees. Plus, she understood the same as he that both their careers would be finished if word ever got out about their little rendezvous, so it benefited both of them to do what the other wanted and, more important, keep their mouths shut about it. That one was going to go very far.

Seconds later, his mind quickly refocused on the upcoming events and itinerary, he punched off the DO NOT DISTURB button. Moments later his chief of staff and National Security Adviser knocked, checked the peephole to be sure the President was alone, waited a moment, then entered the suite. Both had cell phones up to their ears. Air Force One could act as its own cellular base station, and unlike passengers on commercial airliners there were no restrictions on the use of cell phones inflight on Air Force One — users could light up as many terrestrial cell towers as they liked. “What’s going on?” the President asked.

“Either nothing…or the shit has just hit the fan, Mr. President,” Chief of Staff Walter Kordus said. “Air forces in Europe headquarters got a call from the Sixth Combined Air Operations Center in Turkey requesting confirmation for an EB-1C Vampire bomber flight of two scramble launch out of Batman Air Base in southern Turkey…the same ones we grounded after the missile attack in Iran. USAFE called the Pentagon for confirmation since there was no air tasking order for any bomber missions out of Batman.”

“You mean, McLanahan’s bombers?” Kordus’s panicked face had the answer. “McLanahan ordered two of his bombers to launch…after I ordered them grounded? What