Free Countdown by David Hagberg

injured and three killed on the autobahn just outside Ramstein. The transporter ran over one car and touched off a chain reaction. Four of them are in critical condition in the base burn unit.”

    â€œThey mean business,” McGarvey said.
    â€œYes, sir, that they do.”
    â€œAny communications with the transporter?”
    Kraus nodded. “Colonel Bob Collingwood, the man in charge of Ramstein security, has been talking with them … or at least with the one who has been identified as Brad Allworth.”
    â€œHe’s not,” McGarvey said.
    â€œSir?”
    â€œHe’s not Brad Allworth. His name is Arkady Kurshin.”
    â€œRussians?” Kraus asked, his eyes widening. “Sonofabitch. What the hell are they up to?”
    â€œWhatever it is, it’s not going to be pleasant, I can tell you that much. And I can also tell you that Kurshin is a pro. He’ll have this entire operation figured out to the last detail, including his escape.”
    â€œPardon me, sir, but I don’t think that’s possible.”
    â€œPerhaps not, but Kurshin evidently thinks so,” McGarvey said. “What’s the present situation?”
    â€œAs of 1630 the missile and transporter were parked, as I said, in the middle of the square in front of K-Town’s main railroad station. Two men, one of them apparently this Arkady Kurshin, and another man, have been outside the transporter doing something to the missile’s control units.”
    McGarvey nodded. “Reprogramming its guidance system, no doubt, and probably disarming the fire control officer’s abort function.”
    â€œThat’s our best guess.”
    â€œHave they made any demands, given us any sort of a time limit?”
    â€œNo demands so far, other than to leave them alone. They’ve promised that they would make their intentions clear at 2000 hours.”
    McGarvey glanced at his watch. They had a full hour.
    â€œBut,” Kraus said. “And this is the part that has everyone worried. They say they intend raising the missile into launch position.”
    McGarvey sat back in his seat and lit a cigarette. “Kurshin wouldn’t have taken the risk of stealing a missile unless he intended launching it.”

    â€œWe’re hoping not, sir,” Kraus said. “Collingwood seems to think that they’ll make some demand and when it’s met have us provide them transportation into the east zone.”
    â€œNo,” McGarvey said, Baranov’s picture rising up in his mind. “He’ll launch the missile and then make his escape.”
    â€œLaunch it where, for God’s sake?”
    â€œThe sixty-four-dollar question,” McGarvey said, shaking his head. “What’s the Pershing’s range, a thousand miles or so?”
    â€œThis is a Pershing IIA. She has a range of more than two thousand miles.”
    â€œThe warhead is armed?”
    Kraus nodded glumly. “You can say that again. Five hundred kilotons.”
    â€œBut it’s a cruise missile.”
    â€œNot quite, sir. It’s RADAG controlled … Radar Area Guidance. It’s set for a latitude and longitude, and once it gets near its target the radar unit compares the returns it’s getting from the ground with what’s programmed into it.”
    â€œWhat’s its target?”
    â€œThat’s highly classified …”
    McGarvey just looked at him.
    â€œKiev.”
    â€œThey’ll change it.”
    â€œThey’d have to have a systems expert with them. None of ours is missing. It’s the first thing we had Langley check. There aren’t many men around who have that knowledge.”
    â€œWhoever is working with Kurshin does,” McGarvey said. “You can bet your life on it.”
    ABOARD THE MISSILE TRANSPORTER
    Kurshin looked up as another helicopter came in for a landing a couple of blocks away in what he was assuming was the market square