She took it. “Thanks for…” She broke off.
“Well, yeah, I know, it’s not much of a rescue. And we’ll need to get moving pretty soon. I know you’ve been out there a while. We can set up a litter, turn it into a little sled, and drag you if we need to.”
“I’ll be all right. Moving is good. Thanks for the combat suit. But what’re you going to do once we’re out there? Sun’s up, but it’s damned cold with that wind.”
“Guess I’ll have to cuddle with the Russian.”
“Don’t make me smile. It hurts.”
“Sorry, Major. Can I ask you something personal?”
“Uh, okay?”
“Are you a relative or friends with Becerra?”
She drew her head back in surprise. “I’ve never met him.”
“Funny, because this TRAP mission came down from him. The President of the United States ordered my team to rescue you. Any idea why?”
She frowned. “You think I’m carrying secret intel that could end the war tomorrow?”
“Who knows?”
“Sergeant, I’m just a pilot who was training at the wrong time, in the wrong place. The president contacted me directly while I was up there. He wanted a SITREP. I don’t know. Maybe he thought I was worth saving.”
“Damn…”
“What, not a good enough reason?”
The sergeant shrugged. “I was just hoping for something… I don’t know.”
“Something more important than my life?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“It’s okay, Sergeant. I am just a pilot.”
“You must be one hell of a pilot.”
Her brows lifted. “That I am.”
He nodded then regarded his men. “All right, people. We’ll assume those mechanized troops are still coming for us, on foot or otherwise. Let’s get ready to move!”
“Sergeant?” called Halverson. He glanced back to her. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. And if you need anything—”
“Just get me home.”
He winked. “Count on it.”
It was midnight when General Sergei Izotov was wrenched from sleep by a video call from President Vsevolod Vsevolodovich Kapalkin.
The president appeared disheveled and incensed. He rubbed sleep grit from his eyes and said, “General, I have Snegurochka on the line.”
“Does she know what time it is here?”
“Obviously, she does.”
“What does she want?”
“She wouldn’t say. She wanted to speak to both of us together. I hope, for your sake, General, that everything is going as planned.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“All right, I’m putting her through.”
The screen divided into two images: Kapalkin on the left and Colonel Viktoria Antsyforov, that dark-haired beauty, on the right.
Antsyforov was wearing an expensive fur coat and hat, and stood near a tree in a wooded area draped in snow. Her breath steamed in the cold air. “Hello, gentlemen.”
“Hello, Snegurochka,” said Izotov. “I hope you’ve called with good news.”
“Yes. There is no way we will lose this war.”
“Very well, then. Stand by, and we will contact you with the confirmation code—”
“Uh, no, General. When I said
“Hello, purveyors of death,” said Green Vox.
Izotov threw up his hands. “Colonel, what now?”
“There is a suitcase in Edmonton, another one in Calgary. Ten kilotons in each. As planned. But now we control both of them. And again, when I say
Izotov spoke through gritted teeth. “Colonel, this terrorist scum is merely a subcontractor, nothing more. I’m unsure what you’re trying to say.”
“I’m saying, dear General, dear President, that our plan has changed.”
Izotov leaned farther forward on his bed and widened his eyes on her.
Colonel Viktoria Antsyforov was, in his opinion, one of the most brilliant and trusted GRU officers in the history of the organization. When the security leak involving Doletskaya had been exposed and the Euros had alerted the Americans, it’d been she who had gone underground by staging her own death with their help. She had erased herself from the organization — all in the name of restoring the Motherland to greatness.
And now she was saying it was all a lie?
She had even given her body to Izotov, pleasured him in ways that no woman ever had.
Now even that meant nothing to her?
They were going to use the threat of tactical nuclear weapons to bluff the Americans and Euros into giving them Alberta, should the conventional ground war fail.
“What are you talking about, Colonel?” asked Kapalkin.
“I’m saying that this oil has become the root of all evil. I’m saying that Mother Gaia can no longer survive if this struggle continues. I’m saying we are going to detonate both of the nuclear devices. And there’s nothing you can do to stop us.”
Izotov noticed how Green Vox reached over and clutched Antsyforov’s hand.
The president sighed deeply. “All right, Colonel. You’ve sacrificed a lot. You want money. I understand. Let us go back to sleep, and we’ll begin negotiations tomorrow.”
“There will be no negotiations.”
“Excuse me?” asked Izotov.
“Within forty-eight hours, the reserves in Alberta will be contaminated, the cities of Edmonton and Calgary uninhabitable. We will ensure that the Russian Federation is held responsible for this by fully revealing your plan. And forget using this call as evidence. I’ve taken care of that as well as the deactivation of my chip. You can’t kill me.”
“Colonel, have you gone insane?” asked Izotov.
“No, General. I have never seen things more clearly.”
“Enough games,” said Kapalkin. “We will call you in the morning, and you will name your price.”
“No price. Only a clock for you to watch… and time for you to think about what you are doing to our world.”
Izotov dug fingernails into his palms. “What are you waiting for then?” He threw up his hands. “Detonate the nukes!”
She took a deep breath and sighed. “We will wait until as many civilians as possible can escape. Then, with all of those military units in the area, we will achieve maximum effect against the Federation.”
“Name your price!” cried Kapalkin.
She took a step toward the camera, opened her slightly chapped lips. She suddenly grinned, glanced away, then looked up. She said very slowly, “No… price…”
“So you’re going to do it,” said Izotov. “You’re terrorist scum now.”
“No. You have no idea who I am, and why I do what I do. No idea. Good-bye.”
Izotov sat there a moment, stunned. Kapalkin was equally speechless. “I could not have anticipated this,” Izotov finally said.
