Tom Clancy's Splinter Cell: Blacklist Aftermath

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Authors: Peter Telep
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daughter, Nadia, was on board, flew back home from school in Zurich a few days ago.”
    “Maybe that’s not his escape route but hers?” asked Fisher.
    “Why wouldn’t he cover her exit as well as he covered his own?” asked Grim.
    “I don’t know.”
    “We’ll have to follow that plane.”
    Fisher nodded, then crossed over to Briggs. “You dig up anything else?”
    “His girlfriend was born and raised in Orlando. She attended the University of Central
     Florida. She’s got parents and a brother still living near there in a place called
     Winter Springs. We’ve got eyes on the house, and the NSA’s got the comms covered.”
    “Any other possibilities?”
    “In one of his gazillion magazine interviews, he spoke very highly of one of his old
     teachers from encryption school, a Professor Halitov. He retired in a little town
     called Peski, southeast of Moscow.”
    “So if he went there, he’s hiding right under their noses.”
    “Yeah, but you know if we found it this easily, so did they. We’ll keep an eye on
     it, though.”
    “Hey, Sam?”
    Fisher ventured back to the SMI table and stood opposite Grim. “What do you got?”
    “A crazy thought. What if this whole thing’s a hoax? What if Kasperov staged this
     event with the government’s help? They’re in on this together.”
    “For what purpose?”
    “The company’s in bed with the FSB. Maybe there was a breach, and they staged this
     to contain it.”
    “Well, if that’s the case, we’re taking the bait.”
    “Or maybe there
is
a Mayak connection and this is their first stage in dealing with it.”
    “Hey, excuse me, but Nadia Kasperov has a VK account,” Charlie said. “I hacked it
     and her last post was her saying good-bye to Moscow.”
    Fisher cocked a brow. “So she bolted, too. If we find her, maybe we’ll find him.”
    “Holy shit.”
    That expletive had come from the SMI table, where Grim was bringing up Keyhole satellite
     surveillance footage, along with imagery captured by the U.S. Army’s latest Vertical Take-Off and
     Landing Unmanned Aerial System dubbed the “Hummingbird.”
    Fisher reached the table and scanned the schematics of the drone, displayed on a data
     bar to his right.
    Equipped with the ARGUS array composed of several cameras and a host of other sensor
     systems, the Hummingbird and her systems were capable of capturing 1.8 gigapixel high-resolution
     mosaic images and video, making it one of the most capable surveillance drones on
     the planet.
    At the moment, the UAV had her cameras and sensors directed at a rugged, snowcapped
     mountainside with a long pennon of black smoke rising from it.
    “What?” asked Fisher.
    “That’s Dykh-Tau,” said Grim. “It means ‘jagged mount’ in Russian. It’s about five
     klicks north of the Georgia border, and it’s the second-highest peak in the Caucasus
     Mountains.”
    “That’s a pretty big fire down there.”
    “That’s not just a fire. Kasperov’s plane just crashed.”
    “Was it shot down?” asked Briggs.
    “Don’t know,” answered Grim. “No reports of aircraft scrambled, nothing on radar.”
    “What’s our ETA over that site?” asked Fisher.
    Grim brought up the maps, worked furiously on the touchscreen, and then the SMI drew
     the line and displayed the data bars. “If we divert from Incirlik right now, it’ll
     be eighteen minutes at top speed.”
    “The Russians will send in some S&R crews. Think we can beat ’em?”
    Grim consulted the SMI and pinpointed the locations of the nearest military bases
     and local authorities equipped with air power. “That location’s pretty remote. You’ve
     got a shot. But the sun doesn’t set for another two hours, and if you HALO jump right
     in there, they’ll spot your descent.”
    “I know. I’ve got a work-around.”
    “What about getting out?”
    “That part always gives me a headache. You mind calling us a cab or something?”
    Grim rolled her eyes. “I’ll see what I can

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