State Of The Union

Carlson reached into his demo sack and removed a lightweight transmitter, about the size of a portable MP3 player, which was part of an improved Remote Activation Munition System, or RAMS. Developed by the Army Research Lab in Adelphi, Maryland, RAMS allowed Special Operations teams to remotely detonate munitions from ranges of over two kilometers away. In this case, it wasn’t the distance that mattered, but rather the amount of metal the signal had to penetrate to successfully activate the blasting caps on Carlson’s charges.

He depressed the buttons in quick succession. A series of resoundingthuds began at the bow and came racing toward them. The entire vessel shuddered as the muted blasts signaled one gaping hole after another being torn in the enormous ship’s hull. Even if the crew raced to seal off the bulkheads of the compartments now filling with icy water, they wouldn’t be able to prevent theGagarin from meeting its fate.

Charging out onto the deck, the team found that during their time inside, the storm had grown much worse. Thick snow was being driven in heavy sheets by a sharp arctic wind. Visibility had been severely impaired, but not to such an extent that they couldn’t see General Stavropol as he reached the door to the helicopter. Harvath raised his weapon, but before he could fire, the team was under attack from above.

More Spetsnaz troops, this time armed with AK-105s, were shooting at them from the upper deck. While Morrell and the rest of the team maneuvered to return fire, Harvath, along with Alexandra, held their positions.

The ferocious wind was incessant and combined with the thick snow, made it all but impossible to find an opportunity to take a shot as they heard the helicopter lift off. As it did, the blowing snow receded and through the glass Alexandra not only saw General Stavropol safe and sound onboard, but also the lopsided smile stretched across his pockmarked face.

Ignoring the fact that the hull of theGagarin had steadily been filling with freezing water, Alexandra took aim, but just as she applied the final pressure to the trigger, there was a deafening groan and the ship listed steeply to starboard. The Pit Bull discharged, but the round completely missed its target as Alexandra came crashing down hard onto the perilously inclined deck and dropped one of the notebooks. As she did, the chopper’s rotor wash swept the other completely overboard.

Alexandra lunged for the remaining notebook and felt herself sliding down the deck toward theGagarin ’s iron railing. She threw her arms out and fought to find any kind of handhold she could, but it was no use. There was nothing between her and the fast approaching railing to stop or even slow her ever-increasing speed.

She felt herself slip beneath the railing and as if she were a cloud, become perfectly weightless. Her stomach leapt, the same way it did when she took an abrupt hill too fast in her car, and then suddenly she felt a great pain in her arm.But that was impossible. She knew she had slipped beneath the railing. Then she heard the voice and realized how wrong she was.

“Alexandra, help me! I can’t hold onto you.”

It was Harvath.

Alexandra opened her eyes and looked up. Harvath was leaning over the edge of the ship. He was holding onto her wrist with his left hand.

The pain of suspending her in subzero temperatures several stories above the White Sea was emblazoned like bright red neon across his features. “Alexandra!” he yelled again. “Reach up with your other hand!”

Alexandra tried, but she couldn’t. She opened her mouth to speak, but try as she might, no sound would come out. She could feel Harvath’s grip slipping and was paralyzed with fear.

“I’m losing my grip,” groaned Harvath, his arms feeling as if they were going to tear away from his body at any moment. Summoning every last ounce of strength he had, Harvath roared and gave one final tug, which succeeded in hauling Alexandra the rest of the way back onto the icy deck, where he lay in a heap next to her, totally spent.

Harvath never noticed the two Spetsnaz soldiers until they were standing right over him and by then, it was too late. Harvath went to grab for his gun, but one of the men put his boot down on his hand.

“Easy,” said Morrell. “It’s us.”

Morrell helped Harvath up while Avigliano assisted Alexandra.

Rejoining DeWolfe and Carlson, Morrell gave Harvath and Alexandra the pick of Spetsnaz bodies and told them to get out of their clothes and into the Spetsnaz uniforms as quickly as possible, before more of the troops showed up. As it turned out, more soldiers were not what they had to worry about, as the Mi-17-1V helicopter, which had been hovering off the aft deck, turned and came back in with its 23-mm gun pods blazing.

“Incoming!” yelled Morrell as the team dove for cover.

The helicopter peppered not only the aft deck, but also half of its housing, showering them with broken glass, splintered wood, and twisted metal.