Black Sea Affair (43 page)

Zack produced all three. The woman studied them for a moment. She took Zack's passport and visa, stamped them, and handed them back. "A car waits for you in front of the airport. Follow me."

They walked past the foreigners waiting in the customs line, and then stepped into the corridor of the airport. Two armed Russian soldiers joined them, trailing them all the way to the passenger pickup section at the front of the airport.

"Get into this car, please, " the woman said. One of the Russian soldiers opened the back door of the black Mercedes. "U.S. embassy personnel are in the car."

Zack stepped into the car, sitting alone in the backseat. The car sped forward, sandwiched between two Russian military jeeps.

An officer turned to greet him from the front passenger seat. "Welcome to Russia, Commander."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"I'm Captain Ann Glover, the U.S. Naval Attache to Russia."

"A pleasure, ma'am."

Zack looked out the window as the armed motorcade sped out past the blue and yellow buildings into the thick fog.

"You have to assume everything is bugged here, Zack. Even this car."

Zack thought about that. How would he communicate with his client if everything was bugged?

"You may wonder how you will represent your client under these circumstances."

"You're a mind reader, ma'am."

"I understand you've been briefed on the intelligence situation surrounding the capture of the crew?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You'll have to prepare your defense primarily based on that."

Talk about being handcuffed.

"You have a problem with that, Zack?"

"If those are my orders, those are my orders."

They sped down a freeway, leaving the airport behind in the distance.

"So what do you know about St. Petersburg, Zack?"

"Let's see. The city was known as Leningrad during the Communist reign. When the USSR fell, they changed it back to St. Petersburg. Homeplace of Catherine the Great and President Evtimov. Supposedly Russia's most beautiful city."

"You know more than most Americans, " Captain Glover said. "The city is on the eastern end of the Gulf of Finland. It is known as the Venice of the North because it literally sits on forty-four islands in the Delta of the Neva River."

The fog thickened, but the driver raced through it like he was Dale Earnhardt Jr. or something. This made Zack nervous. He did not want to be driving in such thick fog, let alone speeding through it at a hundred miles per hour.

"Why'd they change the trial from Moscow to St. Petersburg?" Zack tried distracting his mind from the specter of the Mercedes slamming into a concrete overpass.

"Symbolism, I think." Captain Gover shrugged her shoulders. "St. Petersburg is a Navy town. We've heard they want to move the trial to St. Nicholas Naval Cathedral. Maybe they got good vibes from the 2006 G-8 Summit."

Zack did not respond. He prayed silently for the task ahead and that the driver would slow down.

FSB federal detention facility
St. Petersburg, Russia

Two hours later

At least in Moscow, the cot was not so lumpy, nor was the cell so dark. Pete lay on his back, alone in the cell, wondering where they had taken him.

He had heard the phrase "
Saint Peeterborguyah
" bantered about, and assumed that they had transported him out of Moscow for whatever reason, perhaps to St. Petersburg.

But why?

To separate him from his crew?

For all Pete knew, the crew could be anywhere.

Perhaps the Russians moved him to foil a rescue attempt.

No.

That couldn't be it.

It would be one thing for Navy SEALs to rescue someone from a terrorist camp in the Gobi. But in the heart of Moscow? Or any industrialized city in Russia? That would be a tall order even for the renowned Navy SEALs.

Maybe they weren't interested in a rescue.

Maybe the FSB agent was right.

Perhaps America had turned against him. After all, he
had
surrendered his submarine. Wouldn't it make sense that he would have to be an international scapegoat if that was necessary to avert nuclear war?

What if the FSB agent was right? Were his own children disowning him? He'd not seen them in a year.

It was probably true. The agent had too much information to have made it all up.

What would he do now? How would he defend himself?

He would say nothing, let them torture him, and if necessary, let them kill him. After all, Jesus had not responded to the false charges against him. Why should he? All he could offer was silence.

Pete Miranda, the Chilean-American whiz kid of the U.S. naval submarine community, lay flat on his back, looking up at the dark ceiling. Tears ran down the corners of his eyes onto his cheeks.

The
Al Alamein

The English Channel

From the bridge of his freighter, Captain Hosni Sadir looked out across the water at the magnificent White Cliffs of Dover rising high above the sea.

Why had Allah placed such magnificent natural displays in nations full of infidels?

The firing mechanism had now been armed. Perhaps he would teach Britain a lesson for its unholy alliance with the Americans against Muslim brothers in places like Afghanistan and Iraq.

He looked over at the switch, which Salman had labeled
Detonator
, and smiled.

What a waste to vaporize such beautiful cliffs that Allah had created for his glory.

Besides, London was not that far away. Just a hundred fifty miles or so.

Sadir could not suppress the grin crawling across his face.

CHAPTER 28

The White House

All right, what's the situation with this freighter?" President Williams demanded.

"She's entered the English Channel, sir, " Admiral Ayers said. "Our concern is a threat to London."

"Let's see what you've got, " the president said.

"Yes, sir." Ayers had an aide unravel a map showing the freighter's current position.

"We've got a problem if she turns left once she clears Dover. She's about seventy-five miles from the mouth of the Thames River, and from there, less than forty miles to London. If there's been a plutonium transfer to this freighter . . . well, that could wipe out London, sir."

"Where's our submarine?"

"USS
Charlotte
is still on her tail, right in her wake. As far as we can tell, no one knows that we're there."

"All right, this freighter cannot threaten London. Notify the British of our concerns. Suggest that they have patrol boats prepared to intercept."

"Aye, Mr. President. But there may not be enough time for that."

"Notify them anyway. Have
Charlotte
ready to sink her if she turns back to the west once she clears Dover."

Admiral Ayers hesitated.

"Something wrong, Admiral?"

"I would remind you, Mr. President, that if we sink this freighter, and if it does contain that stolen plutonium, we lose the evidence we need to prove to the Russians that the
Honolulu
did not just sink an unarmed civilian freighter. We've already got Bear bombers buzzing our west coast. If word gets out that we've sunk another civilian freighter, we'll look like the Nazis did when their U-boats terrorized civilian shipping at the outbreak of World War II. Not to mention how we'd look in the Middle East by sinking an Egyptian ship. We can't afford to sink it, sir. We need that evidence to avert World War III."

Mack Williams thought about that. He was risking so much on the uncorroborated testimony of a Ukrainian woman who was almost killed by a U.S. sub.
Lord, stop me if I'm wrong.

"And if they've got a bomb on that ship, " Mack said, "and if that bomb incinerates London, we've got Armageddon anyway." Mack's eyes locked with the admiral's. "You've got your orders, Admiral. If that freighter turns slightly to the left, and if the British aren't there to stop her, then take her out."

"Yes, sir, Mr. President."

FSB federal detention facility
St. Petersburg, Russia

Pete awakened to the rattling of keys against iron.

"You have a visitor, Commander."

Bright fluorescent lights blurred Pete's vision. He sat up on the cot, squinting and rubbing his eyes to regain his vision.

The fuzziness faded into the image of a sharp-looking U.S. Naval officer, wearing a ser vice dress blue uniform.

"Sir, I'm Lieutenant Commander Zack Brewer, United States Navy Judge Advocate General's Corps."

For a moment, Pete thought he was dreaming. Was he being supernaturally released from jail like the apostle Peter?

Pete felt joy, relief, and disappointment all wrapped together. He knew Zack Brewer's reputation. He knew the Navy had sent their best. Maybe they still cared. Or maybe they sent Brewer to find out if he was a traitor or not.

"Zack Brewer. Boy, am I glad to see you!" Pete extended his hand, and the Navy's most famous officer gripped firmly. "What's going on out there, Commander? What are they saying back home?"

Brewer looked over at the FSB agent.

"We don't have much time, Skipper. We're in court in thirty minutes. I've brought a set of ser vice dress blues for you. Please change into them. I'll speak with you in the car on the way to the courthouse."

The White House

There's good news and there's bad news, Mr. President, " Admiral John F. Ayers Jr. was saying.

"Let's hear the bad part first."

"Not only are we seeing Russian bombers off the coast of Alaska, but now they're moving Bear and Backfire bombers into Cuba."

The secretary of defense, who along with the secretary of state was in on this meeting, spoke up. "Sir, I see this as an intimidation tactic. If the Russians wanted to nuke us, they could easily launch a missile from a submarine sitting off the coast of North Carolina, and we'd never know they were there."

"I understand that, Mr. Secretary. But the American people won't understand it. They'll think we've got the second coming of the Cuban Missile Crisis fifty years later."

"Which is why we must give diplomacy a chance now, Mr. President, " the secretary of state added.

"We've tried that, Mr. Secretary, " the president responded. "Have the Russians responded to my cease-fire proposal that they pull back all divisions but one from Chechnya and we will pull out everybody except the 82nd Airborne from Turkey?"

Secretary Robert Mauney hesitated for a moment. "No, sir. Not yet. But we're still working on it."

"You put a reasonable proposal on the table, and they respond with moving Bear bombers full of atomic bombs into Cuba, " Secretary of Defense Lopez said. "Not only that, but they're getting ready to put our submarine crew on trial for the world to see, claiming that we kill women and children. This is a public relations bonanza for them, sir. We must be firm. We cannot back down. And we cannot give ourselves away to that Egyptian freighter in the middle of the English Channel. "

"But, sir, " Secretary Mauney jumped in. "We're playing Russian roulette with nuclear weapons. I know they haven't responded, sir. But please, forget the American pride thing. Call them again. Anything but this."

Images of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane rushed into Mack's mind. For a flash, he felt some of the heavy weight that the Savior had felt that night. Mack Williams was facing a possible nuclear confrontation, a confrontation that could desroy the world, and he did not know how to get out of it.

"Have we heard from Brewer?"

"Yes, sir, " Admiral Ayers said. "He's in St. Petersburg. He'll do his best, I'm sure, but their system's rigged against him."

"What's the good news?" the president asked. Admiral Ayers and Secretary Lopez glanced at each other. Lopez nodded at Ayers.