Black Sea Affair by Don Brown Read Free Book Online
Authors: Don Brown
in without my permission. Understand?"
"Of course, Kapitan ."
National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency Fort Belvoir, Virginia
Kent Pendleton, a twenty-year veteran intelligence agent, loved working the midnight shift at the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency's satellite interpretation center.
For one, the traffic wasn't so bad around the Capital Beltway at midnight. And since NGA had moved its headquarters from suburban Bethesda, Maryland, to Fort Belvoir, he could make the trip in less than an hour. The commute time would double during the day. Of course driving back to his home at eight in the morning was another story.
Download time. He typed in a few commands, ordering the computer to download the latest satellite feed from Volgograd. Then he got up from his desk and walked over to the kitchen. Another cup of steaming black coffee was what the doctor ordered to get the squints out of his eyes for seven more hours of staring at computer screens.
When he got back from coffee break, the last satellite photo of Volgo-grad was still frozen on the screen, and in the upper right of the screen, under the word Volgograd were the times the photo was snapped on the satellite's last pass approximately ninety minutes ago. 7:30 Local, 3:30 GMT/UTC, 23:30 EST.
The aerial photograph began scrambling in front of his eyes, and as the image scrambled, the word Transmitting appeared in the screen on red.
A moment later, Transmitting vaporized from the screen and was replaced with a new satellite photograph, taken one hundred miles above the area. Under Volgograd in the upper right corner, the new times were reflected showing that the image had just been taken and transmitted: 9:00 Local, 05:00 GMT/UTC, 01:00 EST.
Pendleton clicked each sector of the photograph, giving him enlarged images for closer inspection.
On his fourth click, along the main road leading south out of the city along the Volga River, he spotted something. He rubbed his eyes and squinted again. Was he seeing what he thought he was? He stared at the screen in disbelief. Yes. His eyes were not playing tricks on him.
Armored vehicles.
Hundreds of them.
Tanks.
Personnel carriers.
A massive convoy of the Russian Army was on the move.
"Hey, get a load of this!" The excited voice came from two cubicles over where another intelligence analyst and one of Kent's subordinates, Tommy DiNardo, was reviewing satellite photos shot over the Russian republic of North Ossetia. "I've got military movement -- army -- headed due east!"
Kent got up and rushed over to Tommy's cubicle. "Will ya look at that?"
"If those aren't armored columns, I don't know what is." Tommy spoke with excitement in his voice.
"I've got the same thing on my screen, " Kent said. "The Russian Army's on the move."
"The question is where, " Tommy mused.
"Good question, " Kent said, glaring at Tommy's screen. "My guess is Chechnya, if we're lucky."
"Why do you say that?"
"The main column from Volgograd is moving down the Caspian Depression, which is very low land between the Caucasus Mountains and the Caspian Sea. We've got to hope they stop at Chechnya, because if they don't, they can easily slip along the Caspian coast into Azerbaijan, and from there, Iran. And from there, it's a straight shot due south to Iranian, Iraqi, and Kuwaiti oil fields." That thought sent a fearful shiver through Kent's body. "And if the Russian Army invades the Middle East, the balloon goes up."
"You mean kaboom , " Tommy said.
"I mean kaboom , " Kent said.
"Should we wake the president?" Tommy asked. "I can get the codes for the White House hotline."
"Not our call, " Kent said. "But we've gotta move fast."
He reached over and punched in the line to the secretary. "Get G. B. Harrell over at the National Security Agency on the secure line. Yes, now." He replaced the phone.
"Tommy, come see my pics."
They both jogged over to Kent's workstation. Tommy's eyes bulged at the sight before him. "This force looks three
"Of course, Kapitan ."
National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency Fort Belvoir, Virginia
Kent Pendleton, a twenty-year veteran intelligence agent, loved working the midnight shift at the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency's satellite interpretation center.
For one, the traffic wasn't so bad around the Capital Beltway at midnight. And since NGA had moved its headquarters from suburban Bethesda, Maryland, to Fort Belvoir, he could make the trip in less than an hour. The commute time would double during the day. Of course driving back to his home at eight in the morning was another story.
Download time. He typed in a few commands, ordering the computer to download the latest satellite feed from Volgograd. Then he got up from his desk and walked over to the kitchen. Another cup of steaming black coffee was what the doctor ordered to get the squints out of his eyes for seven more hours of staring at computer screens.
When he got back from coffee break, the last satellite photo of Volgo-grad was still frozen on the screen, and in the upper right of the screen, under the word Volgograd were the times the photo was snapped on the satellite's last pass approximately ninety minutes ago. 7:30 Local, 3:30 GMT/UTC, 23:30 EST.
The aerial photograph began scrambling in front of his eyes, and as the image scrambled, the word Transmitting appeared in the screen on red.
A moment later, Transmitting vaporized from the screen and was replaced with a new satellite photograph, taken one hundred miles above the area. Under Volgograd in the upper right corner, the new times were reflected showing that the image had just been taken and transmitted: 9:00 Local, 05:00 GMT/UTC, 01:00 EST.
Pendleton clicked each sector of the photograph, giving him enlarged images for closer inspection.
On his fourth click, along the main road leading south out of the city along the Volga River, he spotted something. He rubbed his eyes and squinted again. Was he seeing what he thought he was? He stared at the screen in disbelief. Yes. His eyes were not playing tricks on him.
Armored vehicles.
Hundreds of them.
Tanks.
Personnel carriers.
A massive convoy of the Russian Army was on the move.
"Hey, get a load of this!" The excited voice came from two cubicles over where another intelligence analyst and one of Kent's subordinates, Tommy DiNardo, was reviewing satellite photos shot over the Russian republic of North Ossetia. "I've got military movement -- army -- headed due east!"
Kent got up and rushed over to Tommy's cubicle. "Will ya look at that?"
"If those aren't armored columns, I don't know what is." Tommy spoke with excitement in his voice.
"I've got the same thing on my screen, " Kent said. "The Russian Army's on the move."
"The question is where, " Tommy mused.
"Good question, " Kent said, glaring at Tommy's screen. "My guess is Chechnya, if we're lucky."
"Why do you say that?"
"The main column from Volgograd is moving down the Caspian Depression, which is very low land between the Caucasus Mountains and the Caspian Sea. We've got to hope they stop at Chechnya, because if they don't, they can easily slip along the Caspian coast into Azerbaijan, and from there, Iran. And from there, it's a straight shot due south to Iranian, Iraqi, and Kuwaiti oil fields." That thought sent a fearful shiver through Kent's body. "And if the Russian Army invades the Middle East, the balloon goes up."
"You mean kaboom , " Tommy said.
"I mean kaboom , " Kent said.
"Should we wake the president?" Tommy asked. "I can get the codes for the White House hotline."
"Not our call, " Kent said. "But we've gotta move fast."
He reached over and punched in the line to the secretary. "Get G. B. Harrell over at the National Security Agency on the secure line. Yes, now." He replaced the phone.
"Tommy, come see my pics."
They both jogged over to Kent's workstation. Tommy's eyes bulged at the sight before him. "This force looks three