taking place right here in Karelia. And it involves action against the United States of America—in my view, very serious action. I stumbled upon it by mistake, and the security is beyond fireproof.”
Rani stayed very cool. He crossed his legs, rebalancing his drink. “Aha,” he said. “I know you would not be here if there was nothing.”
“Indeed not,” replied the Russian officer. “It’s more trouble for me to get here from Severodvinsk than it is for you.”
“But less dangerous,” replied Rani.
“Perhaps so, but what I am about to reveal could get me shot.”
“They’d shoot me for breathing if they knew who I was,” said Rani.
Both men smiled. And then Lieutenant Commander Chirkov stated, “Rani, I think the Russian government is planning a controlled strike against the USA. Not Armageddon, but a fast missile attack, small and aimed at some kind of critical building in the US defense system.”
“You mean like the goddamned Pentagon? . . .”
“Hell, no. You couldn’t fire an air rifle at that without being gunned down . . . I mean something far less significant. But extremely important.”
“Okay, Nikolai let’s go through our usual procedures. Walk me through the phases of your gathered intelligence—like always.”
“No problem. And while I speak, remember these truths—the collapse of the old Soviet Union had nothing to do with Russian disarmament. That never happened. They still have thousands of land-based ICBMs, sea launched, air launched, and God knows what else, all armed and targeted at the USA—as if anyone’s ever heard of anything that stupid . . . ”
“Is security still bad?”
“Christ, yes. Hopeless. A determined terrorist could get hold of a nuclear missile from Russia in about ten minutes, if he had the cash. The Moscow politicians turn a blind eye to the most rampant proliferation of missile technology this world has ever seen. From any angle, Russia’s ballistic arsenal is the single biggest strategic threat to the United States of America.”
“Washington knows that.”
“Well, why aren’t they kicking up a fuss about the new Topol-M SS-27? There’s almost fifty of them already onstream, and the sonofabitch has a seven-thousand-mile range with a reported 550-kilo ton-yield nuclear
warhead. They’ve got the sea-based version nearly ready—it’s supposed to be near impossible to detect, capable of evasive maneuvers at hypersonic speed, with carbon shielding to combat US space-based lasers.
“The whole idea is to penetrate the US missile defenses. And they probably could do it. At least that’s what I hear. In the old days, any Russian missile could be crippled by a US nuclear warhead within seven miles of its trajectory. Not anymore. Not with this little bastard. Darn thing’s electromagnetic fireproof.”
“Okay, let’s get right to the point. What are you telling me?”
“Rani, I intercepted an Internet communication confirming the imminent arrival of two missile scientists from North Korea—specialists in medium-range rockets. Russia has given help in developing North Korea’s newest missile, modeled on standard Russian SS-N-6 submarine-launched technology.
“I don’t know when these characters are coming, or where they’re going. But I do know the navy has requested assistance from the state rocket center. That’s the V. P. Makeyev Design Bureau—they’re the main manufacturers of both land-based and sub-launched ballistics . . . ”
“Is that Viktor’s crowd?”
“Absolutely. Viktor Petrovitch Makeyev, father of Russia’s modern guided-missile industry. They named the fucking factory after him . . . ”
“Yeah,” interjected Rani. “Probably for inventing SCUD-B—the one Saddam slammed into Tel Aviv over and over in 1991, murdering my people . . . blasting women and children to hell . . . for no reason. One of my closest friends lost his mother and sister . . . Don’t mention that bastard’s name to me, unless you
Rani stayed very cool. He crossed his legs, rebalancing his drink. “Aha,” he said. “I know you would not be here if there was nothing.”
“Indeed not,” replied the Russian officer. “It’s more trouble for me to get here from Severodvinsk than it is for you.”
“But less dangerous,” replied Rani.
“Perhaps so, but what I am about to reveal could get me shot.”
“They’d shoot me for breathing if they knew who I was,” said Rani.
Both men smiled. And then Lieutenant Commander Chirkov stated, “Rani, I think the Russian government is planning a controlled strike against the USA. Not Armageddon, but a fast missile attack, small and aimed at some kind of critical building in the US defense system.”
“You mean like the goddamned Pentagon? . . .”
“Hell, no. You couldn’t fire an air rifle at that without being gunned down . . . I mean something far less significant. But extremely important.”
“Okay, Nikolai let’s go through our usual procedures. Walk me through the phases of your gathered intelligence—like always.”
“No problem. And while I speak, remember these truths—the collapse of the old Soviet Union had nothing to do with Russian disarmament. That never happened. They still have thousands of land-based ICBMs, sea launched, air launched, and God knows what else, all armed and targeted at the USA—as if anyone’s ever heard of anything that stupid . . . ”
“Is security still bad?”
“Christ, yes. Hopeless. A determined terrorist could get hold of a nuclear missile from Russia in about ten minutes, if he had the cash. The Moscow politicians turn a blind eye to the most rampant proliferation of missile technology this world has ever seen. From any angle, Russia’s ballistic arsenal is the single biggest strategic threat to the United States of America.”
“Washington knows that.”
“Well, why aren’t they kicking up a fuss about the new Topol-M SS-27? There’s almost fifty of them already onstream, and the sonofabitch has a seven-thousand-mile range with a reported 550-kilo ton-yield nuclear
warhead. They’ve got the sea-based version nearly ready—it’s supposed to be near impossible to detect, capable of evasive maneuvers at hypersonic speed, with carbon shielding to combat US space-based lasers.
“The whole idea is to penetrate the US missile defenses. And they probably could do it. At least that’s what I hear. In the old days, any Russian missile could be crippled by a US nuclear warhead within seven miles of its trajectory. Not anymore. Not with this little bastard. Darn thing’s electromagnetic fireproof.”
“Okay, let’s get right to the point. What are you telling me?”
“Rani, I intercepted an Internet communication confirming the imminent arrival of two missile scientists from North Korea—specialists in medium-range rockets. Russia has given help in developing North Korea’s newest missile, modeled on standard Russian SS-N-6 submarine-launched technology.
“I don’t know when these characters are coming, or where they’re going. But I do know the navy has requested assistance from the state rocket center. That’s the V. P. Makeyev Design Bureau—they’re the main manufacturers of both land-based and sub-launched ballistics . . . ”
“Is that Viktor’s crowd?”
“Absolutely. Viktor Petrovitch Makeyev, father of Russia’s modern guided-missile industry. They named the fucking factory after him . . . ”
“Yeah,” interjected Rani. “Probably for inventing SCUD-B—the one Saddam slammed into Tel Aviv over and over in 1991, murdering my people . . . blasting women and children to hell . . . for no reason. One of my closest friends lost his mother and sister . . . Don’t mention that bastard’s name to me, unless you
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