Countdown by David Hagberg Page B

dead.”
    â€œYes,” Kurshin radioed back. “At this moment there are two aircraft just behind us, I assume they’re helicopter gunships. Tell them to back off immediately.”
    â€œNegative,” the OD shouted. “Pull over immediately, or we will destroy your transporter.”
    Kurshin smiled slightly. “I don’t think you’re going to want to do that, Captain, even if those aircraft were capable of it. We have placed fifteen pounds of plastique explosives around the body of the missile itself, twenty-four inches forward of the recessed flight vanes. If you know that missile, you will realize that should the plastique explode, it will spread the warhead’s fissionable material over quite a large area.”
    There was no answer, nor did the blips move off.
    â€œWe have control of the explosives from within the tractor, and we mean to fire them in the next twenty seconds unless you do exactly as I tell you.”
    Again there was no answer.
    â€œThe clock starts now!” Kurshin said, and he sat back in his seat. He looked over at Yegorov who glanced nervously at him.
    â€œThey’re not going to risk trying to take us now,” Kurshin said.
    Yegorov smiled thinly. “They’re damned fools if they don’t, considering the alternatives.”
    â€œWho the hell is this?” another voice blared from the radio.
    â€œYour worst nightmare,” Kurshin radioed back. “Fifteen seconds.”
    â€œPull over now, or I’ll give the order to blow your ass all over the highway!”
    â€œAsses,” Kurshin corrected. “There are three of us in control of this missile, and we’re about to take the next exit ramp. Ten seconds.”
    â€œThis is Colonel Robert Collingwood, chief of Ramstein Security. And you listen to me, you bastard, I’m giving you five seconds to pull over or we’ll blow you away.”
    â€œSeven seconds,” Kurshin spoke calmly into the microphone.
    Yegorov was downshifting, the big rig slowing, their exit barely half a kilometer away.
    â€œFive seconds,” Kurshin said. “Four … Three … Two …”
    â€œThere,” Yegorov shouted in triumph.
    Kurshin’s eyes flicked to the radar screen in time to see the two targets peeling off left and right and gaining altitude. He breathed his first sigh of relief and glanced over his shoulder at Schey whose expression had not changed, his thumb over the electronic trigger for the explosives.
    That one, he thought, would just as easily flip the switch he was holding as he would a light switch. But then, what good was a threat unless you meant to carry it out?
    â€œThank you, Colonel Collingwood,” Kurshin radioed.
    â€œYour transporter has a range of less than one hundred fifty kilometers, so you’re not going to get very far,” the security chief radioed.
    Kurshin figured he was in one of the helicopters that were still behind them, but now a couple of kilometers off.
    Yegorov downshifted again, the big transport shuddering as he turned off the superhighway and they rolled down the exit ramp which was marked: KAISERSLAUTERN, 12 KM.
    â€œWe’re not going very far, Colonel. Now listen carefully again to me.”
    â€œWe’re right behind you, I’m listening,” Colonel Collingwood said tightly.
    â€œWe’re going to bring this missile into the city, where we’ll set it up on Hauptbahnhof Strasse, directly in front of the train station.”
    â€œLike hell you will …” Colonel Collingwood sputtered.
    â€œI suggest for the safety of the city that you immediately see about evacuating at least the area surrounding the train station. If we should get nervous and blow the missile, there will be many casualties.”
    They had reached the bottom of the long ramp, and ignoring the traffic, Yegorov hauled the big transporter onto the highway leading into the city, sideswiping a small