continue with whatever her plan is. Second, we won’t be able to help bring her down from the extremes as we did when she was screwing Pendleton. We need her back in the lab, alive and subdued. We need to help her remain as normal as possible for the sake of the research.”
“All right, are you coming to work?”
“Not yet, I’m calling Ursa Minor.”
#
The city of Tabriz smoldered around him as Latovsky trotted down the steps of the helicopter that had transported him there. He played nice with the media, hoping to appease the people of Volgograd by his quick action.
“The Russian people fully support our efforts, ” he said. “The conflicts within the region from India to the Mediterranean Sea have too long unsettled our world. We’re putting an end to the struggle of those who want freedom in this area.”
He waved reporters away and strolled amidst the rub ble along a major highway in Tabriz. A Russian soldier, head wrapped with a bloody bandage and his arm in a sling, hopped up onto the back of a medic unit truck as Latovsky approach and waved to him. “How were you injured?” Latovsky asked.
The soldier cocked his head. “I’m ashamed to say. Three women armed with kitchen knives attacked my team during a house search. I shot people armed with broken bottles, hammers—one man killed our communication officer with a sledgehammer. Everyone is my enemy.”
Latovsky hugged the man. “I am not.”
T he man saluted.
“We have enough pictures, Serge,” his Chief of Staff said and led him back to his helicopter. As they boarded for the flight back to Russian territory, he added. “ According to Intelligence, Tehran is burning, and al-Sistani has fled.”
“He may be in hiding with his people in southeastern Iran,” Latovsky answered as the chopper lifted off the ground. “How are our forces doing after the missile attacks along the Caspian Sea?”
“When new equipment and men arrived by way of the Caspian, we cleared the earthquake area and moved on.” He opened a map. “Our main force is heading toward Ahvaz and the Persian Gulf, The other is joining with our forces south of Tabriz and heading to Baghdad. We expect the same heavy resistance and severe numbers of casualties.”
Casualties—Latovsky remembered Afghanistan as a young man. Russian casualties ran high. Yet today he’d received good news. War weary and impoverished, Pakistan and India declared neutrality under pressure from Pendleton. Latovsky would not have to look east for trouble.
Keep pressing ahead, he thought. Israel and Jerusalem were only a week away.
#
Arthur Pendleton’s London headquarters sparkled. He had the furnishings replaced and the office cleaned for picture taking. Handpicked staffers photographed his Zurich and London locations for viewing when he delivered his speech to the world introducing the Global Realm.
Pendleton waited for Sir Jarvis Franks to take his seat.
“Sorry, old boy, the control team and Professor Cline were arguing about coordinate settings.”
Pendleton bit down on his lower lip. “Another problem, Sir Jarvis?”
“Nothing major . Directing the missiles to new targets requires precision, and Cline speaks above the heads of most of our people.”
Pendleton nodded. He didn’t need another problem. Loomis had reported his wife suspiciously absent. Calls to Reed went unanswered. Neither of the two situations endangered the mission, except in his ability to focus on the now. “Let’s review the timetable.”
He pointed at Milton Rogers, who stood and addressed this group. Present were Rogers, Franks, British Prime Minister Lodge, and Victor Romanoff representing both Latovsky and Pendleton’s group of twelve administrators. “Everything proceeds tomorrow night, eleven p.m. Eastern Standard Time.” Rogers checked his watch. “Thirty-two hours from now.”
“The timing must be precise,” Pendleton said. “The watches you have are programmed to run in sync. Press Adjust
“All right, are you coming to work?”
“Not yet, I’m calling Ursa Minor.”
#
The city of Tabriz smoldered around him as Latovsky trotted down the steps of the helicopter that had transported him there. He played nice with the media, hoping to appease the people of Volgograd by his quick action.
“The Russian people fully support our efforts, ” he said. “The conflicts within the region from India to the Mediterranean Sea have too long unsettled our world. We’re putting an end to the struggle of those who want freedom in this area.”
He waved reporters away and strolled amidst the rub ble along a major highway in Tabriz. A Russian soldier, head wrapped with a bloody bandage and his arm in a sling, hopped up onto the back of a medic unit truck as Latovsky approach and waved to him. “How were you injured?” Latovsky asked.
The soldier cocked his head. “I’m ashamed to say. Three women armed with kitchen knives attacked my team during a house search. I shot people armed with broken bottles, hammers—one man killed our communication officer with a sledgehammer. Everyone is my enemy.”
Latovsky hugged the man. “I am not.”
T he man saluted.
“We have enough pictures, Serge,” his Chief of Staff said and led him back to his helicopter. As they boarded for the flight back to Russian territory, he added. “ According to Intelligence, Tehran is burning, and al-Sistani has fled.”
“He may be in hiding with his people in southeastern Iran,” Latovsky answered as the chopper lifted off the ground. “How are our forces doing after the missile attacks along the Caspian Sea?”
“When new equipment and men arrived by way of the Caspian, we cleared the earthquake area and moved on.” He opened a map. “Our main force is heading toward Ahvaz and the Persian Gulf, The other is joining with our forces south of Tabriz and heading to Baghdad. We expect the same heavy resistance and severe numbers of casualties.”
Casualties—Latovsky remembered Afghanistan as a young man. Russian casualties ran high. Yet today he’d received good news. War weary and impoverished, Pakistan and India declared neutrality under pressure from Pendleton. Latovsky would not have to look east for trouble.
Keep pressing ahead, he thought. Israel and Jerusalem were only a week away.
#
Arthur Pendleton’s London headquarters sparkled. He had the furnishings replaced and the office cleaned for picture taking. Handpicked staffers photographed his Zurich and London locations for viewing when he delivered his speech to the world introducing the Global Realm.
Pendleton waited for Sir Jarvis Franks to take his seat.
“Sorry, old boy, the control team and Professor Cline were arguing about coordinate settings.”
Pendleton bit down on his lower lip. “Another problem, Sir Jarvis?”
“Nothing major . Directing the missiles to new targets requires precision, and Cline speaks above the heads of most of our people.”
Pendleton nodded. He didn’t need another problem. Loomis had reported his wife suspiciously absent. Calls to Reed went unanswered. Neither of the two situations endangered the mission, except in his ability to focus on the now. “Let’s review the timetable.”
He pointed at Milton Rogers, who stood and addressed this group. Present were Rogers, Franks, British Prime Minister Lodge, and Victor Romanoff representing both Latovsky and Pendleton’s group of twelve administrators. “Everything proceeds tomorrow night, eleven p.m. Eastern Standard Time.” Rogers checked his watch. “Thirty-two hours from now.”
“The timing must be precise,” Pendleton said. “The watches you have are programmed to run in sync. Press Adjust
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