EndWar

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.

“Nor I. But what do we do now? We can’t let her destroy those reserves.”

“No, we can’t.”

“We’ll send in two teams to find the weapons, pull out all of our forces.”

Izotov shook his head. “If we pull out, and the weapons are detonated, there will be no denying we are responsible.” Izotov thought a moment. “We could lie and say we were tipped off, but that would still mean we are in bed with the enemy. Also, our nuclear search teams would never make it in time — especially if they have to penetrate American defenses. I’m at a loss. There is no one in the GRU I trusted more than her. No one. This is… unbelievable.”

Kapalkin bolted up, walked away from the camera, then cursed and said, “Do you know what I’m going to do now, General? I’m going to do something that will shock you.”

“At this moment that will be difficult.”

“Oh, this will bring you to your feet.”

THIRTY-THREE

The Russians had cleared a path through the roadblock of demolition derby cars that Vatz and the local boys had constructed across Highway 35. Enemy rockets had reduced more than half of the vehicles to heaps of blackened and burning wreckage, though the hulks themselves could still be pushed back into place. It would take at least an hour or two for Vatz’s team to repair and reinforce the obstacle. Thankfully, the team’s little surprise for the Spetsnaz mechanized infantry had remained intact. Sadly, the eight Mounties who had been defending the area had been killed; Vatz put two of his men in charge of picking up the bodies, which would be taken back to the airport. The atmosphere was at once tense and grim.

Band-Aid had been stabilized and moved into the terminal, where one of the medics from Zodiac team had established a makeshift infirmary. Consequently, assistant medic Beethoven was cut loose and able to come along with Vatz.

He and the medic drove a civilian car nearly three kilometers north along the highway. They pulled over into a ditch and hopped out to survey the plains in the distance. Twice Vatz had tried to use the Cross Comm to pull up imagery from drones flying over the area, but the Russians were back to jamming their frequencies.