State Of The Union

“Neither will you I’m afraid,” said Draegar as he laid a pair of cuffs on the ground and kicked them over to Harvath. “Now, do as I say.”

“Why don’t you just shoot me?”

“Your friend Gary Lawlor left me to die in much the same fashion and now I intend to return the favor.”

“By what? Handcuffing me to one of these nukes? I hate to tell you, but when this thing blows-” said Harvath as he started to turn around to face Draegar.

“No moving!” yelled Draegar. “I told you to stay still. And keep your hands up where I can see them.”

“They’re up and I’m not moving anymore, okay? Let’s just all stay calm here.”

“Mr. Harvath,” said Draegar as he regained his composure, “Naturally, once the bomb detonates, there will be nothing of you left behind to identify. I realize this. If my goal is to cause Mr. Lawlor an excessive amount of grief, he must be fully aware of how you suffered. Thankfully, I have a cell phone with a built in camera, which I borrowed from a young government aide who won’t be needing it anymore.”

“So that’s your plan? You’re going to strap me to one of these devices and leave me to die?”

“Like I said, it’s exactly what Gary Lawlor did to me. I’m sure the symbolism of my returning the favor won’t be lost on him. Of course, you’re free to try and chew through your wrist or arm to get free. Trapped animals in the wild, especially wolves, have been known to choose that option. I assure you it’s not a very pleasant alternative, but you do have that choice. You’ll need to make up your mind very quickly though, as the timers are set to give me just enough of a head start to outrun the blast.”

“So regardless of what the president says in his State of the Union address tonight,” replied Harvath, “you’re still going to detonate these nukes.”

“You took all of our sleepers offline. All of them! What choice have you left me? My superiors might disagree with my actions at first, but in time I think they’ll come around. Especially with what’s to be gained.”

“What could you possible gain from this?” asked Harvath as he lowered his hand toward his leg pouch where he’d placed his flashlight.

“What’s to gain? The gains are boundless,” sneered Draegar. “September 11th might have drawn your country together, but an attack of this magnitude coupled with the loss of your entire national leadership will absolutely decimate you. It’s the blow America has needed for decades. Worldwide opinion of the United States is the lowest it has ever been. Though the attack will be seen as a tragedy, not many tears will be shed for your country. Like it or not, America will be forced to turn inward and focus on its own rebuilding and with America’s understandable withdrawal from world affairs, Russia will step in and claim its rightful role asthe world superpower.”

The man’s unflappable confidence and dedication to his task was chilling. “You forget one thing,” said Harvath. “Every single blast crater will have Russia’s name written all over it. The residue will be irrefutable proof that the nukes came from your country.”

Draegar’s sneer turned into a smile. “Actually, every blast crater will haveyour name written all over it. The fissile material in each of these weapons was taken from one of your Dark Night nuclear devices. The facts will speak for themselves.”

Harvath just shook his head, his hand closing in on his flashlight. He had pulled the same stunt in Berlin without success, but prayed that at much closer range, and in such an enclosed space, this time it would work.

“You don’t think so?” chided Draegar, consumed with the hubris of his plan. “Let me ask you. Which story do you think the international community will be more prepared to accept? That Russia carried out an unprovoked attack against America or that the arrogant, warmongering United States suffered another catastrophic terrorist attack because of its insidious desire to force its will on the rest of the world? People have suspected for years that many of our suitcase nukes have gone missing. They just didn’t know that we were the ones who took them.”

“You’ll never get away with it,” said Harvath.

Draegar laughed and raised his prosthetic hand in salute. “Somehow I knew you were going to say that. But no more games now. I hope you brought your appetite. The sooner you get started, the sooner you may actually get out of here. Chew, chew, chew.”

As Draegar stepped forward to make sure his prisoner properly cuffed himself, Harvath pulled out his flashlight, flipped up the filter and said, “Chew on this, asshole,” as he depressed the thumb switch on the tail-cap.

While the former Spetsnaz soldier and East German Stasi operative had been able to dodge the overwhelming 225-lumen beam in Berlin, this time he wasn’t so lucky. The man was instantly blinded.