"Perhaps they are spelling out a message," said Chiun.
"Get off it."
"I am only glad to be out of it," sniffed Chiun as the Yak screamed for higher altitude and more distance from the smoking cosmodrome.
They watched through the window as long as it was possible to watch.
There was no fourth cone of light. No one was disappointed.
"Sure hope Smith understood what I was saying," said Remo.
"Who is Smith?" asked Colonel Rushenko conversationally. "Your Mr. Waverly, perhaps?"
"Remind me to kill you later," said Remo.
Colonel Rushenko subsided. But he made a mental note of the name Smith. Probably an alias. But Americans were so devious it was best not to discount anything they said.
Chapter 31
The destruction of the Baikonur Cosmodrome and the Russian shuttle fleet hit the Kremlin with all the force of a nuclear detonation.
In the old days, it would have led to the highest state of alert. The old Strategic Rocket Force would have been placed on alert, their SS-20 and Topol-M missile crews put on prelaunch posture.
But this was post-Soviet Russia.
It took an hour for the first report to reach the Kremlin. Another hour to bring the leadership up to speed. A third to argue over a response.
By that time, everyone from the president of Russia to his defense minister was thoroughly drunk.
"We must have someone to blame," the president said, pounding the table with his hammy fist.
"America!" an adviser bellowed.
"Da. America."
So it was decided America was to blame.
Then the call was put in to the Strategic Rocket Force to go to maximum alert and to be prepared to launch a retaliatory strike at an instant's notice.
"At whom?" the general in charge wanted to know.
"Who else? America!" the defense minister bellowed drunkenly.
"But they will strike back with overwhelming force, obliterating us all."
This was considered on an open line with another bottle of Stoli being the only casualty.
"You make a good point. Target a portion against China, too."
"Yes, General," the Strategic Rocket Force commander replied, gulping.
With that settled, the Russian leadership went back to drowning their sorrows. Somewhere in this, someone remembered to call Major-General Stankevitch at FSK.
"General Stankevitch, I regret to inform you that Baikonur Cosmodrome has been obliterated by the same superweapon that has struck America two times this week."
"Then the U.S. is not to blame."
"You are mistaken. There is no one else."
"What?"
"There is no one else to blame but the US. They have the technology. We do not. Your task is to prove this."
"What if it is a lie?" asked Stankevitch.
"Prove that, too. But you must hurry. The fate of mankind and the Motherland depend upon learning truth. Go now. Learn things. Assemble facts. Report immediately."
And to Major-General Stankevitch's utter horror, the phone went dead with an audible bonk. No one hung up. The handset had simply fallen from a drunken fist.
Quietly the General replaced the butter-colored receiver on his end and sank into his chair.
He had the most difficult decision of his life to make. And if he made the wrong one, mankind was doomed.
Clearly, he thought, reaching into the locked bottom drawer of his desk, it was time for a drink.
Chapter 32
The President of the U.S. received the report from the National Reconnaissance Office of the National Security Agency by telephone.
"Sir, it appears that Baikonur Cosmodrome has been destroyed by the same power that obliterated our shuttle."
"Then it can't be the Russians," the President blurted.
"Sir?"
"The Russians wouldn't target their own space center, would they?"
"That's a jump we at NRO are not prepared to make," the NRO director said guardedly.
"Why not?"
"Could be a diversionary tactic."
"Explain."
"They hit two of our targets, then hit Baikonur to throw us off the scent."