Page 60 of Enemy Within

“No, ma’am. Our other situation.” Bradford swiped an image from his tablet to the main screen along the Situation Room wall.

The Swedish weather satellite data appeared, the grainy black-and-white image with the bright fuchsia cloud extending from the Kara Sea and wrapping around eastern Russia.

Except, the cloud had grown. Ugly fuchsia swept across all of eastern Russia, most of China, the Korean peninsula, Japan, and into the Pacific. It was sweeping south, too, fingers of the cloud stretching to Central Asia, Pakistan, and India.

“Shit,” she breathed. “It’s growing fast.”

“It will cover the northern hemisphere in days. The globe, soon after.” Bradford swallowed. “If he detonates now, the death toll is estimated to be around four billion. It will only grow from here.”

She sighed, dropping her head between her shoulders.What’s your play, Madigan? When are you going to blow the planet? When do you want to murder the entire world?Slowly, she pulled herself up. “Thank you, General. Keep me updated.”

Bradford and Director Mori both nodded.

She headed back to the Oval Office, Levi walking side by side with her. “Do you have the uplink set up?” she asked softly, turning her head toward his.

He nodded. “Let’s do it in your private office.” He took over the lead, badging the way into the president’s private study. It still felt like Jack’s. His papers, his clutter, were still all over the place. A leftover jacket over the back of his chair. She couldn’t tell if it was Jack’s or Ethan’s. A picture of Ethan, red-faced and laughing like he was about to pee his pants, framed on Jack’s desk next to the computer.

She waited while Levi pulled a sat phone from his jacket, turned it on, and passed it to her. Their eyes met and held, and then Levi went to the door, both standing guard and listening for anyone coming.

Taking a deep breath, she tugged a slip of paper from her pocket and punched in the number.

It rang, and rang, and rang. Cursing, she shared a nervous look with Levi, waiting out another long ring.

And then—

“Captain Anderson,” a gruff voice answered.

“Captain, thank God,” she breathed, exhaling. “I thought something had happened.”

“It took us longer to surface, Madam President. We picked up some Chinese northern fleet activity. Stayed deep until they had passed out of range.”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes. “Looks like the Chinese are heading our way. Backing up Moroshkin’s forces in Canada, most likely.”

Captain Anderson was quiet. “What are our orders, Madam President? We’re out here off the coast of Russia. South of Petropavlovsk. Should we turn around and chase those Chinese?”

“Not just yet. I need you to do something else. Head to Simushir Island, north of Bussol Strait. Make way for the north end of the island, to Broutona Bay. There’s a flooded caldera there and an abandoned Soviet nuclear sub base.”

She practically heard Captain Anderson blinking over the satellite connection. “Madam President, what is our purpose at this base?”

“You’re meeting your contact there, Captain. Send a party to shore. They should be there soon if everything went well. Your contact is designated Phoenix One. They’re connected to the Russian insurgency.” Her eyes drifted to another framed picture: Jack and Ethan staring into each other’s eyes, trying hard not to burst into laughter. She remembered that moment, that night. Sergey Puchkov’s State Dinner.

“And what am I doing when I meet with Phoenix One?”

“Make contact. Provide any and all aid required. And then contact me immediately.” Her hand squeezed the sat phone casing, hard enough to make the plastic creak and groan.

“And if I can’t make contact?”

“Pray that you do, Captain. We need to find Phoenix One, and we need to find him now.”

26

Simushir Island - Okhotsk Sea

DAWN BROKE OVER THE SEA, muted sunlight smearing over the horizon, painting the waters with smudged gold and faint periwinkle, wavering colors that bled into the fog-laden sky. Their stolen boat puttered on. Simushir Island loomed ahead, an expanse of loamy granite shrouded in mist and thick fog. Dark volcanic rock made the island seem menacing, and the peak of one volcano disappeared entirely into the leaden cloud bank. If ever there was a super-villain island, Simushir could be its twin.

Sergey yawned at the wheel, blinking hard. He’d been up all night, steering the boat on their heading and keeping them on course. Pouring more fuel into the tank when they ran low. The voices of his men in the main cabin had faded as the hours wore on, until all he heard were snores.

Sergey headed down, looking for leftover coffee. It would be cold, but it also would be caffeinated, and that was what he was in need of. He stepped softly, moving around his sleeping men. Aleksey had passed out halfway up the stair ladder, leaning against the railing, and right in the way. He made it around the sleeping policeman without waking him.