Precipice: V Plague Book 9 (4 page)

The
conversation with Katie went pretty much like they always did.  I
apologized for being an idiot and she forgave me and told me she loved me,
called me an asshole then gave me a kiss.  Crisis averted, I divested
myself of some of my weapons and made another tour of the house. 

A massive
fireplace was the centerpiece of the great-room.  It was made of smooth
river rock that had been set in mortar and went all the way to the soaring
ceiling.  The firebox was large enough that I could have sat inside if so
inclined, but there wasn’t any wood in the two storage areas built in on either
side.

“Have you
checked outside for firewood?”  I asked the girls.  They both shook
their heads.

“We weren’t
sure about lighting a fire and having smoke coming out of the chimney,” Rachel
said.

“I’m going
to check around outside,” I said after a minute.  “I think we’re probably
OK.  The infected, even if they could survive the cold, shouldn’t be able
to recognize the smoke for what it is.  Besides, I want to see what’s
around us.”

I called Dog,
who probably needed a break by now, wincing for him as he limped towards
me.  Slinging my rifle, I went to the back door and looked out before
opening it.  A deep, covered patio led out onto what was probably a lush
green lawn hidden beneath the snow.  Nothing was moving and the snow was
undisturbed, so I opened the door and stepped out with Dog at my heels.

Making a
tour of the perimeter, I kept a close eye out for any marks in the snow. 
Finding nothing other than the tracks Katie and Rachel had left when we arrived
and the same path Dog had used several times, I made sure the garage where the
Jeep was parked was secure then returned to the rear yard to search for wood.

A large shed
sat to the side, a hundred feet from the patio, and I plowed my way to
it.  Dog followed in my wake, taking full advantage of walking on the path
I was blazing.  I paused a couple of times to give him a chance to relieve
himself and was glad to note that all of his plumbing was functioning properly.

The shed
door was locked with a heavy knob and deadbolt that matched what was on the
house.  A burst from my rifle shattered the lock and a second burst
blasted it free of the surrounding wood.  Pulling the door open I stepped
back and aimed my rifle in, flashlight on.  I didn’t really expect there
to be any infected inside, but then why take the chance?

I didn’t see
anything and Dog remained quiet so I stepped through the doorway.  There
was a smooth concrete floor and a workbench that was way too clean to have ever
been used for any real work.  The back wall had a variety of sleds hanging
from hooks and against the remaining wall was a large stack of split
wood.  I grabbed one of the sleds and carried it outside, returning and filling
my arms with firewood.

It only took
a couple of minutes to load the sled down with as much as it could hold.  Pushing
the door shut I leaned one of the pieces against it to hold it in place and to
provide a visual alert if someone or something opened the door and went
inside.  Grasping the loop of rope attached to the front of the sled I
dragged it across the snow back to the patio.

Rachel and
Katie must have been watching through a window as they came out to help carry
the wood when I reached the patio.  Soon, I had a crackling fire going,
made another trip to ensure we had a good supply of wood in the house, then
settled into an oversized leather chair that faced the fire.  Dog
stretched out on the floor close to the hearth, but moved away when the wood began
popping as the fire reached pockets of trapped air and moisture.

“I need to
talk to you two,” Rachel said as she settled onto a long sofa.  Katie was
sitting in another of the big leather chairs, legs curled under her the way
only a woman can sit.

Uh oh. 
Several thoughts ran through my head when she said that.  Were we going to
have to talk about her feelings for me?  The feelings I had for her? 
This wasn’t going to be good.

“I’m worried
about the Terminator virus,” she said.

Oh Thank
God!  Not a talk about feelings!

“Why?” 
Katie asked when I didn’t say anything.

“Because of
you,” Rachel said.  “With what you went through, you shouldn’t be alive,
let alone up and running around and apparently healthy.  I think John
might be right about what’s going on.  It has to be something to do with
either the vaccine or the virus itself strengthening your body.”

“OK, but why
are you worried about the Terminator virus?”  Katie asked.

“Because it
might kill you.”

“What?” 
I said after a long stretch of shocked silence, even though I’d heard exactly
what Rachel had said.

“Alright. 
Remember, I’m not a virologist.  But the idea behind the Terminator virus
is that it will target the specific DNA of the infection and destroy it. 
If Katie is partially infected, or whatever the correct term is, and is exposed
to the Terminator, there’s a chance it could kill her.  If we’re right
that the infection or vaccine is the reason she’s alive and well.” 

I looked at
Katie who was staring at Rachel with her mouth open and a terrified expression
on her face.

“How do we
know?  What do we do?”  I finally stammered, reaching across and
taking my wife’s hand in mine.

“There’s
nothing we can do.  If we were in Seattle I’m sure Joe and the other
virologist could run some tests that would let us know for sure.”  Rachel
spoke in a quiet voice as she delivered this information.

My mind was
racing.  What the hell could I do?  I wasn’t about to give up on my
wife was the one certainty. 

“We have to
get to Seattle,” I said.  “We have to know and they either modify what
they’re working on or stop working on it all together.”

“They can’t
stop,” Katie said.  “Not if there’s a way they can wipe out the infected.”

“I don’t
give a fuck,” I said.  “We can keep killing the infected one at a time if
we have to.  I’m not going to let them create something that will kill
you.”

“We don’t
even know if that will happen,” Katie said, trying to calm me down.

“How likely
is it?”  I looked to Rachel for help.

“I can’t
answer that,” she said, shaking her head.  “Not without knowing what has enhanced
Katie’s ability to heal and recover.  Maybe it’s the vaccine, but I don’t
think so.”

“Why
not?”  Katie asked.

“Because
he’s had the vaccine and he’s not healing any faster than normal,” she said,
pointing a long finger at me.

“Difference
between male and female?”  I asked.

“Maybe,”
Rachel conceded.  “But, everything is a maybe at this point.  I agree
with you.  We need to get her to Seattle so we know what’s really going
on.”

“That’s a
long way.  In bad weather,” Katie said.  “And didn’t we hear
something about the Russians starting to move into the west coast cities?”

“We did,” I
said.  “But we don’t have a choice.  If they succeed in making the
Terminator virus it will get released all across the planet.  There’s not anywhere
to hide.  It will find us.  And I’m not prepared to live with a sword
dangling over your head.  Are you?”

Katie
finally shook her head and squeezed my hand.

“What did
you do with the sat phone?  I need to make a call.”

“It’s on the
charger in the Jeep,” Rachel said.

I stood and
headed for the garage, making Dog stay where he was.  He wasn’t healing
any faster than normal, either.

As soon as I
walked into the garage I could tell Katie had been the one driving.  The
Jeep was at an angle and barely pulled in far enough to allow the door to clear
the back bumper on its way down.  It was parked almost exactly like she used
to park my truck when she drove it.

I plucked
the phone off the front seat and headed to the back yard so I had a clear line
of sight to the satellite.  Pressing the speed dial button I checked the
shed to make sure the piece of wood was still in place, then scanned the snow
for any tracks that weren’t Dog’s or mine.  Everything looked untouched.

“Good to
hear from you, sir.”  Jessica said when she answered the phone and
recognized my voice.

“Good to be
heard from,” I said.  “My wife told me the news.”

“I’m sorry,
sir, but you couldn’t have known.”

“Thank you,
but I didn’t call to talk about that.  Fill me in.  What are the
Russians up to?  Infected in the area?  And I need to get to
Seattle.”

“First off,
no movement at all within twenty miles of your location.  No infected or
Russians or anything.  That’s the good news.  The bad is you’re stuck
where you are for the moment.  There’s only two ways out of Ketchum. 
On up into the mountains, which are impassable, or down to Twin Falls which is
currently full of infected.

“The
Russians are still pouring into the country.  Air and sea lift.  There
are big troop carriers in Seattle and San Francisco unloading troops right
now.  They’ve taken over more Air Force bases and are landing personnel
and materials around the clock.”

“What’s the
status of our research personnel in Seattle?”  I asked.

“So far
they’ve gone undetected.  The SEALs that are on sight have buttoned the
building up and gone as dark as they can.  The Russians shouldn’t find
them unless they start a building to building search, but there’s no reason for
them to do that.” 

“OK. 
So, I need to get to that research lab.  How do I do that?”

“You don’t,
sir.  At least not right now.  You’ve got the weather where you are,
infected in Twin Falls and more weather as you get into Washington State. 
The Cascade Mountains, just east of Seattle, are getting a big storm right
now.  Lots of snow falling.  No way you’re crossing them on the
ground.”  She said.

“Not
acceptable, Petty Officer,” I growled into the phone.  “This isn’t a
pleasure trip.  It’s vital, and I’m going to do it.  Find me a way,
even if I’ve got to dip down into California and come up the coast.”

“Yes,
sir.  I’ll see what I can come up with, but you’re still stuck until the
infected clear out of your area.”  She answered.

“How many
are there?”

“A
herd.  Hundreds of thousands, at a minimum.  Probably over a
million.”  She said.

“Are they
moving, or just staying in the area?”

“The main
body has already moved through.  These are the slower ones.  The
weaker ones and the ones with more serious injuries that are having more
trouble moving.  It’s probably going to be at least a day before they’ve
thinned enough for you to try it.”

“Thanks,
Jessica.  Work on a plan for me and let me know if anything changes.”

I broke the
connection and said a few choice words.  Why wasn’t it ever easy?

Russian
Colonel General Anatoly Kozlov stood on the Seattle waterfront and watched the
unloading of a massive troop carrier.  Ranks of soldiers marched out of
the bowels of the ship, carrying weapons and large duffels stuffed with their
personal gear.  It was a dark, grey morning and rain fell steadily. 
It beaded on Kozlov’s hat and the greatcoat thrown over his shoulders, but he
ignored what to him was mild, spring weather.

Looking out
into Elliot Bay he saw two more of the giant ships, waiting their turn to dock
and disgorge their load of fighting men.  He didn’t expect to need them as
the city had been mostly cleared of infected already by the Science Directorate
of the SVR who controlled the satellite signal that attracted them.  There
were still some wandering around the metropolis, but nothing his men couldn’t
easily handle.

“Sir?”

Kozlov
turned to see one of his aides standing slightly behind him, a satellite phone
held in his extended hands.

“Who is it,
Vladimir?”  He growled, unhappy to have a few quiet moments disturbed.

“It is
President Barinov, sir.  Personally.”  The aide looked frightened and
was keeping the palm of his hand firmly over the microphone end of the device.

Kozlov
snatched the phone from him and snapped it to his ear.

“Comrade
President, Colonel General Kozlov speaking.  It is a pleasure, sir.”

“Where are
you Kozlov?”  The President snapped in his peasant accented Russian, his
voice grating on the General’s ear.

“I am in
Seattle watching our troops come ashore, Comrade President.”

“Listen very
carefully, General.  I have just recalled Colonel General Mostov to
Moscow.” 

It took all
of Kozlov’s self control to not begin trembling.  Recalled meant that
General Mostov would be arrested the moment his plane touched down in Russia.  He
would be thrown into a prison cell while the SVR rounded up his entire family,
including distant relatives and in-laws.  Once they were all in custody
the General would be put on public trial, convicted by lunch and, along with
all of his family, executed in time for dinner.  Failing President Barinov
was not an option.

“We have
received intelligence from assets amongst the Americans about one of their
soldiers who is responsible for the murder of Lieutenant General Aslinov. 
I ordered General Mostov to arrest this man so he could be brought to Moscow to
stand trial for his crimes, but Mostov failed.  His men were weak and let
the American slip through their fingers.

“General, I
want you to find this man and bring him to me.  You are to make every
effort to deliver him alive.  I want to personally look into his eyes and
pull the trigger.  As of now, you have my full authority to enlist any and
all resources you need to accomplish this.  Kalyagin at the SVR is
awaiting your call and will share all current intelligence with you.  Do
not fail me, General.”

There was a
click and the President was gone.  Only years of climbing his way up the
ranks in the Russian military gave Kozlov the discipline to not tremble as he
lowered the phone and handed it back to his aide.

“Vladimir. 
Find Colonel Grushkin and have him join me immediately, then call Lieutenant
General Kalyagin at SVR in Moscow.”

“Right away,
Comrade General!”  The aide turned and sprinted off through the rain in
search of Colonel Grushkin.

Fifteen minutes
later the two Russian officers were seated in a luxury condominium that had a
sweeping view of Elliot Bay and the unloading of the invading troops. 
Kozlov lit an American cigarette and offered the pack to the Colonel, who
declined.

Colonel Yuri
Grushkin was a large, powerful man.  His shoulders and arms strained the
perfectly pressed uniform he wore like a second skin.  He sat ramrod
straight in the sumptuously upholstered dining chair, his hands resting in his
lap as he listened to Colonel General Kozlov.  It was the middle of the
night in Moscow and they were waiting for the SVR officer to come to the phone.

Grushkin was
the commanding officer of the 45th Guards Spetsnaz Regiment, the bulk of which
were on the first ship that unloaded that morning.  He had a well-deserved
reputation for being both highly intelligent, motivated and absolutely
ruthless.  His men both feared and loved him, few of them able to match
his combat resume that began in Afghanistan in the early 80s.  He may have
gotten older, but he was just as hard and determined as the day he first walked
onto a parade ground.

He nodded
when Kozlov finished speaking, remaining silent and stoic.  Though the
General would never admit it, Grushkin intimidated him.  Not just the
man’s physical presence, which was enough to frighten most, but also the sheer
intensity of his stare.  Rumors abounded of hardened combat veterans
breaking into a cold sweat just at the thought of having to face Grushkin.

“Anatoly,
are you there?”  The voice came out of the satellite phone set to speaker
mode, resting on the polished surface of the table.

“Good
morning, Viktor,” Kozlov leaned forward and replied.  “My apologies for
waking you, but the President wants this matter dealt with urgently.”

“You didn’t
wake me, my friend.  I was in the President’s office when he called
you.  The man doesn’t seem to need to sleep.  The delay has been
gathering my staff to brief you.  I have transmitted a file to your aide,
but I would like my aide to summarize for you so any questions you have can be
answered.  You have the SVR’s full support, Anatoly.  We cannot fail
the President as General Mostov did.”

“Thank you,
Victor.  With me is Colonel Grushkin, commander of the 45
^th
Spetsnaz.  He will be running the operation on my end.”  Kozlov
leaned back and met Grushkin’s eyes, waiting for the aide in Moscow to begin
speaking.

“Colonel
General and Colonel, good morning.  I am Senior Captain Yulayachin and
have prepared the briefing.  Please stop me with any questions.  May
I proceed?”  A new voice came over the speaker.

“Proceed,”
Kozlov rumbled.

“During the
first election of a unified Germany after the fall of the Soviet Union, a KGB
team led by Lieutenant General Fyodor Aslinov went into Berlin with the intent
to influence the election to an outcome that would be favorable to Russian
interests.  The Americans countered with a CIA team that was subsequently
eliminated.

“In
retaliation, the Americans deployed a unit of their Army’s operational detachment
Delta which assassinated the entire KGB team, Lieutenant General Aslinov
included.  The General had close, personal ties to President Barinov who
was also in the KGB at the time.  A bounty was placed on the heads of the
team, specifically the American soldier who murdered Aslinov.  Our assets
within the CIA were unable to tell us who was on the team and we were never
able to develop an asset within the US Army who could tell us who this man was.

“A few days
ago, our Rezidentura in Australia was contacted by a CIA employee working at a
listening post in Western Australia.  He provided details about the team,
specifically the individual who assassinated General Aslinov.  That man is
still in America and is still alive.  He is an officer in their Army and
his name is Major John Chase.”

“Why did this
man betray his countryman?”  Grushkin interrupted.

“The oldest
reason in the world, Comrade Colonel.  Love of a woman.  He was
engaged to the Major’s wife at one point and wanted her back.  We made a
deal that we would capture the Major and his wife, delivering her to the
American traitor in Australia.  General Mostov was alerted and dispatched
a team of Spetsnaz to intercept Major Chase and his wife, but they lost contact
with them in the area of Dodge City in Kansas.”

“This man is
still alive?”  Kozlov asked in surprise.  “The latest briefing I
received indicated that there were no surviving Americans still within the
continental United States.  They are still strong in Hawaii with pockets
in Alaska, but the last group of survivors evacuated to the Bahamas several
days ago.”

“That is
mostly correct, Comrade General,” the aide replied.  “However, the Major
and his wife stayed behind.  We have an asset in Hawaii that has confirmed
this.  They traveled to Idaho to rescue the pilot and passenger of an
American fighter jet that was shot down by one of our patrols.  When the
team that General Mostov sent failed to locate the target, they returned to
base rather than completing their mission.  All members of the team have
been recalled along with the General.”

“How is it
that this Major and his wife are not infected by now?”  Grushkin asked.

“They were
recipients of the vaccine delivered to the Americans by the GRU traitor,
Captain Irina Vostov.” 

“Do we know
where they are now?”  Grushkin growled.

“Not
precisely, Comrade Colonel.  Our asset is not directly involved with them,
and could only tell us they are in the mountains in Idaho.  Before he was
recalled, General Mostov ordered a search of the Sawtooth Mountains and that is
still underway.  We have lost one helicopter.  Initially it was
assumed to be a mechanical failure, but the aircraft was relatively new and the
flight crew was very experienced.  We currently have experts en route to
verify the cause of the crash.”

“Where
precisely is the crash site?”  Grushkin asked, powering on a small tablet
computer. 

As the aide
read off the coordinates, the Colonel punched them in and stared at the map for
a few moments.  Handing the tablet to Kozlov’s aide he ordered the man to
load the data file the SVR had sent onto the device.

“Do we have
any further obligation as regards the Major’s wife?”  He asked.

“No, Comrade
Colonel.  The asset in Australia has been arrested by their SASR.”

“Very well,”
Grushkin said, standing and taking the tablet back.  “General, with your
permission, I shall be departing for Idaho immediately.”

“You cannot
fail, Colonel,” Kozlov said.  “Bring me Major John Chase.  If he is
not alive when you find him, bring me his head.”