The price of Russian oil and gas skyrockets.”
“Exactly. So it’s odd they come to us with this story. You’d think they’d let the reserves be destroyed.”
“But that’s short-term. Long-term, they’d have much more to gain if they controlled them.”
“Definitely.”
Becerra thought a moment. “I’m just shooting from the hip here, but here’s what I think. The Russians are still in bed with the Brigade. They used them to plant the nukes and intended to bluff us. They figure if their ground war fails, they can threaten nuclear destruction.”
“But their deal with the terrorists went south.”
“And that’s the real shock to them. They must have had some people on the inside working with the Brigade, GRU officers they fully trusted, maybe this agent with the codename ‘Snow Maiden.’ ”
“Now they need us to bail them out,” Kennedy concluded. “And if the nukes
“So in the long term, if the nukes go off and the world believes the Russian Federation is at fault, then this becomes a major economic blow to their government.”
“Exactly. Alienating future allies and taking the blame for nuclear destruction could finish them. We could turn those neutral nations, and they know that — which is why they’ve come to us.”
“My God, General, I hope we’re right.” Becerra switched back to conference channel. “Gentlemen, it seems you have everything to lose, and we risk only a couple of search teams. Those teams will be marked with locator beacons, and you’ll need to communicate with your forces so that our teams are not engaged.”
“We will do that,” said Kapalkin.
“But it will be difficult,” added Izotov. “Both of our forces are using electronic countermeasures and jamming. We will try, but we can make no promises.”
“Well, General, I hope for your sake your people don’t kill them. Now, it’s my understanding that we’ll need to continue ground operations so the terrorists don’t prematurely detonate the nukes. But you will
“We will agree to that,” said Kapalkin.
“Finally, if by some small miracle we’re able to pull this off, I would expect that you would withdraw all troops from Canada. Completely. And then, once the Canadians have assessed their damages, we will discuss reparations.”
“Becerra, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” said Kapalkin.
“Oh, we won’t. We’ll also discuss reparations for every nation involved in the construction and operation of the International Space Station.”
“Perhaps we should have kept to ourselves,” said Izotov. “You Americans are all the same — always with your hand out. The world does not owe you anything.”
“In this particular case, General, you owe us something: the truth. And if you’re lying now, then the hand coming at you will not be empty — if you understand my meaning.”
Izotov snickered. “I understand.”
“President Becerra, protecting those Canadian reserves is in the best interests of both of our governments,” said Kapalkin. “Let us focus on that and not use this situation as a bargaining tool to address other conflicts or desires.”
“We’re going to put everything on the table here. But you’re right. We can’t do anything until we’re sure those nukes have been deactivated. General Kennedy? I’d like you to coordinate with General Izotov.”
Kennedy nodded, though the awkwardness in her expression was clear.
“Gentlemen, we will be in touch with further details.” Becerra broke the link with them and returned to the private channel with General Kennedy. “Let’s get those NEST teams called up and in the air.”
“Yes, sir. But, sir, have we just climbed into bed with the Russians?”
“They say to keep your enemies close. Can’t say I like sleeping with them, though. Let’s get to work.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Sergeant Raymond McAllen and his Marines, along with Khaki, the Russian helicopter pilot Pravota, and their rescued pilot Major Stephanie Halverson, had been hiking away from the chopper for about four hours, following the woods south, taking short breaks roughly every forty-five minutes.
The snow was knee-deep in a few spots, and it was slow going to be sure. Halverson had warmed up and refused to be pulled in the litter, though McAllen could tell she wouldn’t last much longer. The Russian wasn’t faring much better.
McAllen called the next halt, and they gathered below a stand of white spruce, hidden by the dense evergreen branches, while Gutierrez and Palladino took off ahead to reconnoiter the path and report back. Szymanski was keeping an eye to the rear, which thus far had been clear of pursuing ground forces.
Halverson’s survival kit had been left behind, but the Russians began dogging them from the air, with the occasional Ka-29 passing over the forest, driving all of them into the snow for cover. McAllen had been forced to break radio silence to get an update on their pickup, and they learned they had at least two more hours to wait until their bird arrived. They could shave off some of that time by continuing to head south.
McAllen was qualified to guide in the chopper, but so was Khaki, so when their taxi arrived, the Canadian had volunteered for those honors.
As they sat there, huffing beneath the trees, McAllen offered up the last few pieces of his chocolate-coated energy bar to anyone willing.
Halverson took a piece and said, “You look like you’re freezing. You want the suit?”
He shook his head. “I’ve been accused of being cold-blooded, so it all works out.”
“I will take your suit,” said Pravota, wincing over his zipper cuffs.
“She’s not offering,” snapped McAllen.
“That’s right,” Halverson growled.
McAllen turned back to her. “So, is this rescue everything you dreamed it would be?”
She glanced away. “They killed everyone at my base. Killed my wingman. Killed this poor family who was trying to help me. Damn, Sergeant. If you didn’t pick me up, I would be dead by now. Don’t sell yourself too short.”
“Thanks. I just, uh, I’m not thrilled by the prospect of two more hours of hiking.”
“Me neither. And can I ask? Why are we dragging along this guy?” She flicked a dark glance in Pravota’s direction. “Why didn’t we leave him back at the chopper? Or just shoot him and be done with it.”
“A POW’s a bonus in my book. And he’s an officer. Not sure my boys will ever get a crack at capturing an officer again.”
She grinned crookedly. “I’m sorry I interfered in your little professional development project.”
Her sarcasm stung. “Hey, relax. We’ll get you out of here.” McAllen leaned forward to brush snow from his boot.
A shot rang out, punched into the tree trunk at his shoulder.
He threw himself forward and cried, “Get down!”
They were finally rolling into downtown Calgary, Ninth Avenue Southwest, and Staff Sergeant Marc Rakken signaled his rifle squad seated inside the Stryker to make their final gear checks.
Navy SEALs already in the city had asked that at least one Stryker platoon enter Calgary Tower, a tall column of concrete supporting a huge, conical-shaped observation deck. The tower was the city’s most identifiable landmark, and it had been seized by several squads of Spetsnaz troops who were using it as an observation post.
After all, the tower was famous for offering the best views of Calgary, and those Russians knew it’d only be a matter of time before someone entered to flush them out.
