File Zero. Джек Марс

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СКАЧАТЬ knew precisely what the captain was referring to. Mere days earlier, a terrorist organization had attempted to blow up the USS New York, an Arleigh-Burke destroyer that was moored at the Port of Haifa in Israel. And only two days ago, the same insurgent cell had taken out an underwater tunnel in New York City. Captain Warren had convened the entire crew in the mess hall to tell them the dire news. The CIA had caught wind of the attack just hours before it was carried out and managed to save a lot of lives, but hundreds had still perished and far too many were yet unaccounted for. The scale of the attack was not nearly that of 9/11, but it was still one of the most substantial attacks on US soil in the last hundred years.

      “This is the world we live in now, boys,” said Warren, shaking his head in disdain. Clearly he was thinking the same thing as Thomas. They all were.

      “It’s veering off,” said Gilbert through the radio, jarring Thomas out of his thoughts and back to his console. The ensign was right; the third ship was just shy of point-three miles and steering toward the west. “Looks like I’ll be out twenty bucks.”

      Thomas let out a sigh of relief. In another minute the ship would be gone, beyond a half-mile range, and the Constitution would continue its easterly patrol route toward the strait. Please don’t do anything stupid, he thought as he said, “IRGC cruiser is at point-two-eight, veering east. Doesn’t look like it’s interested in us, sir.”

      Warren nodded, though if he was as glad as Thomas, he didn’t show it. The lieutenant could guess why; the rules of engagement had changed, and quite suddenly at that. How long would it be before they found themselves in another situation like this one?

      Lieutenant Davis looked up sharply and suddenly. “They’re hailing us, sir.”

      Captain Warren closed his eyes and sighed. “All right. Relay this, and be quick about it.” More than just the communications officer, Davis was fluent in Arabic and Farsi. He translated the captain’s message as Warren spoke it, listening and talking at the same time. “This is Captain James Warren of the USS Constitution. The US Navy’s rules of engagement have changed. Your superiors should be aware of this by now, but if you are not, we are fully sanctioned by the American government for the use of deadly force should any vessel—”

      “Rocket out!” Gilbert cried in Thomas’s ear.

      “Rocket out!” Thomas repeated. Before he even knew what he was doing, he tore the headset from his head and dashed to the port windows. In the distance he saw the IRGC cruiser, as well as the brilliant red streak soaring in a high arc in the sky, a plume of smoke trailing behind it.

      As he watched, a second rocket fired off from the deck of the Iranian ship. They were fired on a trajectory parallel to the Constitution, far enough off that they would hardly make waves for the destroyer.

      Thomas spun to the captain. Warren’s face had turned a shade whiter. “Sir—”

      “Return to your post, Lieutenant Cohen.” Warren’s voice was strained.

      A knot of dread formed in Thomas’s stomach. “But sir, we can’t seriously—”

      “Return to your post, Lieutenant,” the captain said again, his jaw flexing. Thomas obliged, lowering himself slowly to his seat but not taking his eyes off of Warren.

      “This doesn’t come from the admiral,” he said, as if trying to explain to them what he knew had to happen. “Not even from the CNO. This is from the Secretary of Defense. Do you understand that? It’s a direct order in the interest of national security.”

      Without another word, Warren plucked up a red phone mounted on the wall. “This is Captain Warren. Fire torpedoes.” There was a moment of silence, and the captain said again, forcefully, “Affirmative. Fire torpedoes.” He hung up the phone, but his hand lingered upon it. “God help us,” he murmured.

      Thomas Cohen held his breath. He counted the seconds. He reached twelve before he heard Gilbert’s voice, soft and breathy and almost reverent through the radio.

      “Jesus almighty.”

      Thomas stood, not leaving his post but gaining a partial view of the port window. They heard no explosion through the thick armor-plated glass of the bridge, designed to sustain heavy ballistic fire. They felt no shockwave, absorbed as it was by the vast Persian Gulf. But he saw it. He saw the orange fireball rise in the sky as the IRGC ship was, as he had predicted, destroyed in seconds by a wave of torpedoes from the US destroyer.

      The green blip vanished from his screen. “Target destroyed,” he confirmed quietly. He had no idea how many people they had just killed. Twenty. Maybe fifty. Maybe a hundred.

      Davis stood as well, looking out the window as the orange fire dissipated, the ship torn asunder and sinking rapidly into the depths of the Persian Gulf. It might have been the angle, or the reflection of sunlight, but he could have sworn he saw his eyes gloss with the threat of tears.

      “Cohen?” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “Did we just start World War Three?”

      Five minutes earlier, the furthest thing from Lieutenant Thomas Cohen’s mind had been war. But now, he had every reason to suspect he wouldn’t be making it home to Pensacola in three weeks.

      CHAPTER THREE

      “Excuse me,” said Zero, “do you think we could drive just a bit faster?” He sat in the back seat of a black town car as a White House chauffeur took him home to Alexandria, less than thirty minutes from Washington, DC. They drove mostly in silence, for which Zero was thankful; it gave him some precious minutes to think. There was no time to sort through the deluge of newfound skills and history that had been unlocked in his head. He needed to focus on the task at hand.

      Think, Zero. Who do you know is in on this? The secretary of defense, the vice president, congressmen, a handful of senators, members of the NSA, the National Security Council, even the CIA… Names and faces flashed through his mind like a mental Rolodex. Zero sucked in a breath as a tension headache began to form at the front of his skull. He had investigated many of them, had even found some evidence—the documents he had locked in the safe deposit box in Arlington—but he feared it wouldn’t be enough to definitively prove what was happening.

      In his pocket, his cell phone rang. He let it go.

      Why now? He didn’t need his newfound memories for that part. It was an election year. In a little more than six months, Pierson would either be reelected for a second term or ousted by a Democrat. And nothing would drum up more support than a successful campaign against a hostile foe.

      He was certain that Pierson was not a part of it. In fact, Zero recalled during Pierson’s first year in office when he signed a bill decreasing US military presence in Iraq and Iran. He was opposed to further war in the Middle East without provocation… which was why those in the shadows needed the Brotherhood’s catalyst.

      And while the US decreased their presence, the Russians increased theirs. Maria had mentioned that the Ukrainians were nervous that Russia intended to seize oil-producing assets in the Black Sea. That’s why she had made a cautious alliance with them to share information. The US conspirators were in bed with the Russians. The US would get the strait, and the Russians would get the Black Sea. The United States would do nothing to stop Russia from their endeavors, and Russia would respond in kind, possibly even lend support in the Middle East.

      Two of the world’s superpowers would become richer, more powerful, and nigh unstoppable. And as long СКАЧАТЬ