The Citadel (29 page)

* * *

Tai collapsed to her knees, dropping the bloody entrenching tool as the Korean fell into the hole in the ice. She started to stand when the man suddenly surged out of the water and grabbed her left forearm with his right hand.
The Korean pulled her down to the edge of the hole. He looked up at her, his dark eyes boring in. Tai felt herself drawn in by them as she bent over, her face lowering toward the almost frozen water.
The entrenching tool whirred by the side of her face and smashed into the Korean's head. His grip loosened on her arm and he slipped beneath the surface. Tai collapsed to the ice then, and Burke slid down beside her, dropping the e-tool.
Tai struggled to her feet. There was no sign of the Korean. The bomb sat alone on the ice near them. Tai walked over to it. The cover on the control panel was off.
"Oh crap," she muttered. "Vaughn!"

* * *

Vaughn managed to crawl almost ten feet, leaving a trail of red on the ice before he could go no farther. A coldly logical part of his mind knew he was going into shock from the combination of loss of blood and the cold, but that didn't bother him much. It would only be moments before the Korean finished entering the code and the bomb went off, so oblivion wasn't far off either way.
As he retreated into the numbness, a persistent voice intruded. With great difficulty, he cracked his eyes and peered up. A stinging blow across his cheek barely elicited feeling from his frozen skin.
"Wake up, goddamnit!"
Vaughn found a scrap of energy and focused. "What?" he muttered.
"The Korean was messing with the bomb. We stopped him, but I need to know if he finished arming it." As Tai grabbed his arms, the pain brought Vaughn fully alert. He tried to help her and Burke drag him across the ice with little pushing movements of his feet.

* * *

"I can't land on the ice," the pilot said for the third time. "This aircraft needs fifty-six inches of solid ice to support it, and you can't tell that by looking out the window." The Osprey's engines were in the helicopter position, and they were cruising at forty knots above the ice.
Bellamy accepted the inevitable. "All right. Then give me a hover and we'll fast-rope out."
"Okay."
Bellamy turned to Captain Manchester and signaled. Manchester and an NCO began rigging the fast rope to bolts in the ceiling of the Osprey, while Bellamy looked out over the pilot's shoulder. He could see both the submarine and the ship that was slowly making its way out of the ice pack.
"Where's the bomb?" he asked.
The pilot did a gentle bank right. "There," he called out.
The sled was a long black spot on the ice. Bellamy noted the three figures, two dragging one, less than twenty feet away. He ran back to the rear of the plane as his team lined up on the rope.
"There're three people on the ice near the bomb. They make a move for it, take them out."
The first man nodded and slipped the selector switch on his MP-5 sub off safe. The plane came to a halt, and Manchester threw the door open, heaving the fast rope out.

* * *

Tai and Burke propped Vaughn up so he could look at the LED screen. He scanned it for ten long seconds and then shook his head. "He entered five of the six numbers on the PAL code. You stopped him before he could enter the last one."
They looked up as the Osprey came to a hover overhead and a thick rope uncoiled out the door. Vaughn watched the first man emerge with the MP-5 over his shoulder, quickly followed by a line of men, slithering down to the ice less than thirty feet away.
"Get me away from the bomb," he said to Tai.
"Now!"
She grabbed his jacket and pulled him back onto the ice, the bomb between them and the men, just as bullets cracked by overhead.
"Cease fire!" someone was yelling. "We don't want to hit the bomb. Alpha team, fan right. Bravo, cover."
"I think we'd better surrender," Vaughn suggested. "Just keep your hands far away from your sides and start yelling in English."
"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" Tai and Burke called out as four men rushed up, weapons at the ready.
"Freeze! You on the ground—hands away from your sides."
"He's wounded," Tai informed them.
"Step away." she was ordered. One of the man carefully rolled Vaughn over as another kept a weapon on him. "Shit," the man muttered as Vaughn's blood-encrusted jacket came into view.
"Berkman, get over here. We've got some work for you."
As the medic went to work on the wounded man, Major Bellamy checked the bomb. His heart gave a jump when he noted that five of the six numbers for the PAL code were entered. They'd made it just in time. He didn't understand what had happened and who these three people were. His job was to secure everything. It would be up to the powers-that-be to determine what to do about the prisoners.
He ordered Manchester to find a spot with sufficient ice depth to land the Osprey. As soon as the aircraft settled down, he loaded the bomb, the prisoners, and his men on board. They lifted, heading back for the
Kitty Hawk.
As soon as they took off, the Russian submarine slowly sank under the surface and disappeared. There was nothing left except Vaughn's blood and the rapidly retreating freighter.

CHAPTER 17
Area 51, Nevada

RESUME
Without their leader, the eleven remaining members of Majestic-12 were jockeying as much for position as for solving the problem of his disappearance. They sat around the long table at which they—and their forebears—had decided the course of the United States for over half a century, politically and economically.
They were so engrossed in their in-fighting none of them noticed the odorless gas that wafted in through the ventilation system. The first indication of trouble came when the oldest man in the room—the current director of the CIA, grabbed his chest in distress.
When the second man did the same, the others scrambled for the door, only to find it locked. Within two minutes every man in the room was dead.

8th Army Headquarters, South Korea

"Sir, we have a reversal of several key indicators. Elements of the KPA I Corps are reported to be standing down. Three merchant ships that we have been tracking that were suspected to have KPA Special Forces troops on board have turned back."
Patterson nodded. He knew that the message he had just received from the Pentagon had quite a bit to do with that. Apparently the Confederation of Independent States had talked to their former friends in North Korea and informed them that it would not be in their best interest to conduct offensive operations against the South. There had also been a veiled reference from General Morris that the
Kitty Hawk
Battle Group had been involved in a joint U.S.-CIS operation that affected events here. Reading between the lines, the message between had been clear to Patterson: don't complain about the deployment of 7th Fleet elements anymore.
For the time being, things on the peninsula would stay the same—a wary watching across barbwire and antitank trenches. "Inform all units to reduce to a level four alert status."

South Pacific Sea

"You failed," Araki said.
The sun was shining, and Fatima stood on the wing of the bridge, feeling the rays warm her skin. It was the first nice day they'd had since leaving Antarctica. She looked forward to getting back to the Philippines.
"We did not fail."
"The Koreans—" Araki began.
"The Koreans failed," Fatima said, "which actually was what I was hoping would happen. Otherwise I would have had to use my men aboard this ship to kill them all."
Araki stared at her. "You never planned on letting the Koreans do whatever they planned with the bomb."
"That's right," Fatima said. "It would be the worst thing that could happen if a nuclear weapon went off, killing innocent people. In this my uncle was wrong: terrorism at a high level only succeeds in stiffening the resolve of those you fight against. The battle must be much more subtle and psychological."
"So what did you achieve?" Araki asked.
"I showed you something," Fatima said with a slight smile. "Things are not as clear as they were for you."
"You did not do this just to show me that there is some Organization out there pulling strings."
"No. I did this to hurt that Organization. The base is gone. With the Russian submarine here and the American forces, I think this spilled out of what is easily contained and compartmentalized by the Organization. We caused it problems. We won't really know the results of what we did for a while."
"And in the meanwhile?" Araki asked.
Fatima closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sunlight. "We continue the fight."

USS
Kitty Hawk,
Off the Coast of Antarctica

"I told them about Logan, but they insisted they had to take us directly back here." Tai fumed. "They said they would send some planes out to recover his body."
Vaughn shrugged. He wasn't as worried about the dead as the living. He was propped up on the bed, his chest swathed in bandages and an IV hooked into each arm. He'd been unconscious ever since they'd brought him in from surgery, waking only minutes ago. The doctor had said his prognosis for recovery was good.
There was a Marine guard outside the wardroom door, and Tai had been pacing back and forth for the past fifteen minutes, ever since Vaughn had woken up. He was too weary to say anything right now. According to her, no one had said anything to them since they'd been picked up. Vaughn had a feeling they were waiting for someone to arrive who would have the "word," whatever it was.
"Burke?" he asked.
"He's sleeping in a room they assigned him," Tai said. "More like a prison. They have a Marine on his door just like they have one on yours."
"We'll find out—" Vaughn began, but stopped as the door opened. A man wearing a simple black suit and white shirt stepped in. He was nondescript: a bland face, thinning blond hair, pale blue eyes. He carried a metal briefcase, which he placed on the table on the opposite side of the bed from Tai.
"Good morning," he said. "Major Vaughn. Captain Tai." The man stood there looking at the two of them for a little while, then spoke again. "We've recovered Mr. Logan's body. Tentative cause of death is ruled as extreme hypothermia."
The man pulled one of the plastic chairs over to himself and sat down. "It is interesting to see both of you so healthy, or relatively healthy, considering you were both reported as killed in action."
"Royce—" Vaughn began, but the man interrupted.
"Royce apparently did what he needed to. There are other issues of more importance. We have a problem here that also happens to be your problem. To put it bluntly, the word 'Citadel' must never be mentioned publicly."
"Why not?" Vaughn asked.
The man didn't even blink. "Let me explain the facts to you. First, the Citadel doesn't exist any longer. We've landed men there to sterilize what little is left, to include the reactor.
"Second, you have no record of the base existing. The pictures from the Records Center have been taken care of. As a matter of fact, you might say the circumstances surrounding the deaths of your party are very unclear. We have only your word on that issue. There are some who might say the two of you had a hand in their deaths, especially Mr. Logan's. At the very least you might be found negligent in his death."
Vaughn just continued to stare. Now was not the time or place to fight. The fact that the man was laying this out meant they would be able to walk away from it. "What's the deal?"
The man seemed to relax for the first time. "As I said—no word of the Citadel." He opened the briefcase and removed a piece of paper. "A Xerox of tomorrow's headline in the Washington Post."
He handed it to Vaughn. Tai leaned over his shoulder to read: DIRECTOR CIA, SECDEF, 9 OTHERS KILLED IN PLANE CRASH
Vaughn looked at the man. "And?"
"Let's say you did a service to your country. Exposed something dangerous. And it was dealt with."
"A service to my country?" Vaughn repeated.
The man stood. "So to speak." He walked to the door and stopped. "I will assume I have your agreement." He stepped out.
Vaughn looked over at Tai, giving her a weak smile. "Are we having fun yet?"
Tai rubbed a hand through the tangle of her dark hair. "You think they'll just let us go?"
"Yes." Vaughn closed his eyes briefly. "Because they think we're working for Royce. And Royce is still working for them. In some form or another."
"So what exactly did we accomplish?" Tai asked.
Vaughn felt the pain in his chest. He was very tired. Exhausted down to his core "I don't know exactly. Remember on the ice? The cracks and then the killer whale coming through?"
"Yes."
"I think we've started some cracks in the ice that protects the Organization."

About the Author

ROBERT DOHERTY
is the covert name of the
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author of more than thirty books. He is a West Point graduate, commanded a Special Forces A-Team, and taught at the JFK Special Warfare Center & School at Fort Bragg. For more information, check
www.bobmayer.org.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

Also by Robert Doherty
SECTION 8
AREA 51: LEGEND
AREA 51: NOSFERATU
AREA 51: THE TRUTH
AREA 51: EXCALIBUR
AREA 51: THE GRAIL
AREA 51: THE SPHINX
AREA 51: THE MISSION
AREA 51: THE REPLY
AREA 51
PSYCHIC WARRIOR: PROJECT AURA
PSYCHIC WARRIOR
THE ROCK
BODYGUARD OF LIES
LOST GIRLS

Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE CITADEL. Copyright © 2007 by Robert Mayer. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Palm Reader August 2007 ISBN 978-0-06-149855-8
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