Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 09 (76 page)

 
          
“Don’t
count on it,
sraka,”
the commando said. He took a plastic handcuff from
a belt pouch behind his back and bound Trevnikov’s hands behind his back
himself, and he was led out of the bridge.

 
          
Twenty
minutes later, the terrorists had rounded up the entire crew and had them
assembled on the bow with their hands on their heads. Two more helicopters soon
arrived, carrying two dozen masked men, armed only with side arms, who took
over the controls of the ship, plus several long crates and other supplies
brought in slung under the helicopters. Soon the tanker
Ustinov
was heading south, toward
Turkey
.

 
          
But
they were not alone for long. Several minutes later, several more helicopters
arrived: one belonging to a state-controlled Turkish Radio and Television
Corporation TV crew from
Ankara
, plus two Mil Mi-14 Haze land-based marine assault helicopters
belonging to the Russian Federation Naval Infantry.

 
          
“Attention,
commandos aboard the
Ustinov
,
this is the Russian Federation Naval Infantry,” the radio call came. “You have
illegally commandeered a
Russian Federation
flag vessel on the high seas. We have
orders to take control of the vessel. We order you to immediately surrender
control of the vessel and all of you come out on deck in plain sight and with
weapons on the deck.” No reply. “Do not be a fool,” the Russian commander went
on. “We have a Russian Navy destroyer less than two hours away. You will not
reach any shore before our destroyer reaches you.” Still no reply. “Very well.
Prepare to die.”

 
          
The
Russian transport helicopters kept coming. They were within a mile of the
Ustinov
when suddenly a bright line of fire arced
across the darkening evening sky from the mid-deck of the tanker. A missile
struck one of the Russian Federation Navy helicopters, its engine exploded into
a thousand pieces, and it plunged into the
Black Sea
. The other helicopter immediately reversed
course and headed back to
Russia
. A Turkish Coast Guard helicopter, on the
scene monitoring the tanker as it headed toward the Turkish coast, was on the
crash scene immediately to help rescue survivors.

 
          
Darkness
had fallen by the time the second wave arrived: a Russian Federation Navy
Sukhoi-24 “Fencer” attack plane from Novorossijsk. The Su-24 carried two Kh-29
“Kedge” imaging-infrared guided air-to-surface missiles. It remained above
fifteen thousand feet and kept its speed up to avoid being a target for
shoulder-fired missiles from the hijackers on the ship. At a range of ten
miles, the pilot was able to lock the stern of the
Ustinov
in his imaging-infrared telescopic sensor.
His orders: shoot out the
Ustinov
’s
rudder and propeller and disable it. At a range of five miles, the Kh-29 was
within range. The pilot unsafed his firing button ,..

 
          
,
. . and at that exact moment, the Su-24’s right engine exploded in a ball of
fire, and the crew ejected seconds before the whole plane exploded.

 
          
It
took another hour for a second Sukhoi-24 attack jet to reach the tanker, but
it. too, disappeared from radar shortly before launching an attack on the
tanker—and it. too, was well out of range of a man-portable antiaircraft
missile. Several minutes later, one of the engines on a Russian Federation Navy
Tupolev-95 maritime patrol and attack plane inbound toward the tanker was hit
and destroyed by another missile, and the plane was forced to turn back.

 
          
By
then, the Russian Federation Navy destroyer
Besstrashny,
originally
based in
Ukraine
but moved to Novorossijsk when the ship was transferred back to
Russia
after the breakup of the
Soviet Union
, was close on the scene. The tactical
action officers aboard the Russian destroyer had warned all air and surface
traffic away from the area, and its Kamov Ka-27 helicopter had already been
datalinking the tanker’s exact position to the ship. There were several Turkish
Coast Guard vessels in the vicinity, all coastal patrol vessels carrying light
weapons—no threat to the
Besstrashny,
one of the largest warships in the
Black Sea
.

 
          
The
skipper met with the weapons officers and tactical action officer in the
Combat
Information
Center
. ‘'When will we be within range of the
Ustinov
?"
Captain Boriskov asked.

 
          
“We
are well within range of the 3M-82
Mo skit,
sir,” the weapons officer
responded. The
Moskit
was a large supersonic, radar-guided antiship
missile.

 
          
“I
don’t want to sink the damn ship, just disable it,” the captain said.

 
          
“Then
all we have is the forward AK-130 until we’re within helicopter range,” the TAO
cut in.

 
          
“What
do we target? The rudder area? The props? Engineering?”

 
          
“I
suggest we hit the superstructure, sir,” the TAO said. “Create some confusion,
maybe kill a bunch of the terrorists, and send the naval infantry aboard to try
to take control of the ship again. If we disable the ship’s steering and
propulsion systems, we could create an even larger disaster if we can’t stop
the ship and it runs aground in
Turkey
.”

 
          
“Ask
me if I care if it runs aground in
Turkey
,” the captain sneered.

 
          
“But
if it did, it would be partially our fault—and that might be the terrorists’
ultimate objective,” one of the intelligence officers said. He lowered his
voice, then added, “Remember who owns that ship and its cargo, sir.”

 
          
The
skipper’s face blanched. Pavel Kazakov.

 
          
In
the last several months, Pavel Kazakov had become one of the wealthiest, most
well-known, and most talked-about men in the entire world. He’d already had an
evil reputation that had made him simply dangerous. Now he had real, legitimate
power behind him. His oil empire stretched from the Caspian to the
Adriatic Sea
. He was shipping more oil than half the
members of OPEC, and he was doing it more cheaply and more efficiently than
anyone could believe. Nations and corporations were becoming rich from him,
which meant more and more nations were protecting and underwriting his
ventures.

 
          
His
chief underwriter seemed to be the Russian Army itself. From
Georgia
in the east to
Albania
in the west, the Russian army maintained a
continuous, ominous presence. Although Russian troops were not in Georgia
itself, the Republic of Georgia knew that thousands of Russian troops were
massed on its northern border, ready to invade if the government was unwilling
or unable to control rival factional fighting in the Nagorno-Karabakh region
that might affect Metyorgaz oil- transport operations The Russian army was
already cracking dow n on the cross-border movement of Muslim rebels between
the province of Chechnya and Georgia, and they were not shy about crossing the
border on occasion to pursue Muslim guerrillas. The Russian navy had also
increased patrols on the
Black Sea
to protect increased tanker traffic.

 
          
Most
significantly, the Russian army was back in the Balkans with a force and
presence unseen since World War II. Fifty thousand troops were stationed in
eleven key bases in Bulgaria, Macedonia, Serbia, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Croatia,
Montenegro, the Serbian provinces of Vojvodina and Kosovo, and Albania,
ostensibly as “peacekeepers’’ enforcing United Nations resolutions. Their
presence was centered around the new Metyorgaz pipeline route, so there was
very little doubt about their real mission, but they also enforced United
Nations resolutions and even abided by most NATO rules of engagement and
operations orders, operating almost at will throughout the Balkans, from
Slovenia
to the
Black Sea
, from
Hungary
to the Greek border.

 
          
But
rather than feel threatened, the countries saw this as an advantage. Fighting
between the government and gunrunners or drug dealers had all but vanished—the
Russian army was ruthless in pursuing anyone even suspected of illegally
crossing the borders, selling drugs, or trying to re-arm rebel forces anywhere
in the Balkans. Incidents of clashes between Serbs and other ethnic groups in
the Balkans, and between the various religious factions, had all but ceased as
well. The Balkans were actually enjoying the first real semblance of peace
since the bad old days of Marshal Tito.

           
True, there were always large
numbers of Russian or German transport planes on almost every large airport in
several major cities in the Balkans, or a Russian or German attack helicopter
flying overhead all the time. This made many folks nervous, especially the
older generations, who could still remember World War II. Whereas a few months
earlier Pavel Kazakov had been reviled and pursued throughout Europe—he was
still under indictment for narcotics trafficking and other violent crimes in
twenty-three countries around the world— today he was being lauded as some sort
of savior, a dashing entrepreneur rescuing the poorest nations in Europe from
abject poverty. He was sponsoring drug-eradication programs in several dozen
nations around the world—this from the man who had perfected the art of drug
smuggling in
Europe
to a fine art, whom some had once accused
of pumping heroin through his pipelines instead of oil.

 
          
But
no one could doubt that their presence was benefiting everyone. The bottom
line: everyone seemed to be getting rich from the oil. What was there not to
like?

 
          
“A
sort of eco-terrorist thing?” the skipper asked, immediately aware that it was
his responsibility—not to mention in his, and his family’s, best interest—not
to screw this up, He shook his head when the intel officer nodded. “Ni
kruti
mn'e yaytsa,
” he said with disgust.

 
          
“The
tanker has an alternate control center on the second floor of the
superstructure,” the chief engineer’s mate said, producing a faxed sketch of
the tanker. “If we shell the bridge, even destroy it, we can still control the
ship from there. The terrorists are very likely up on the bridge—we’re bound to
nail a few of them there.”

 
          
“All
right,” the captain decided. “We close the distance until we can get within
pinpoint firing range of the tanker, then shell the superstructure only,
staying away from the alternate control center, the rudder, and the propulsion
system. Weapons, what range would that be?”

 
          
“We
should use the optronic sights and laser rangefinder,” he suggested. “In this
weather, in these conditions, we should close to at least fifteen kilometers.”

 
          
“Very
well,” Boriskov said. “Just before we start shelling the superstructure, we'll
launch the air and surface assault craft. Coordinate your shelling with the
assault.” The officers nodded their heads in agreement.
“Loshka gavna v
bochki m'oda.
There's still a spoonful of shit in the honey barrel. What
about the Sukhoi-24 and Tupolev-95 attacks? What hit them? Any ideas?”

 
          
“No
idea, sir.” the TAO replied. “We're just now within radar range of the area
where they were hit. We've been monitoring
Turkey
's air traffic control network, and there's
no sign of any attack aircraft launching from there.”