The Lazarus Moment (4 page)

Zokwana’s
smile broadened and he wiped away the tears staining his cheeks. “That’s
perfect.” He sighed. “I’ve known I was going to die for some time now, but I
never dreamed it would be like this.”

Khomenko
looked at his friend. “Are you having doubts?”

Zokwana
shook his head. “No, I’d rather die on my feet any day than waste away in a bed
alone.”

Khomenko
rose, extending his hand. Zokwana stood, clasping it in both of his.

“To
dying on our feet.”

Hertzen Moscow Oncology Research Institute, Moscow, Russia

Two weeks before the Air Force One crash

“Have you found the target yet?”

Dudnik
nodded, handing a file folder to Khomenko. “His name is Senior Airman Cameron
Lennox. He’s twenty-six years old, has a wife and daughter and a baby on the
way. He’s been serving on Air Force One for six months and is scheduled to be
part of the crew for the South African flight.”

“And he has
access?”

“Absolutely.
He’s one of the two techs.”

Khomenko
smiled as he leafed through the rather thorough file. “He’s young.”

“He’s
perfect because of it.”

Khomenko
nodded. “Agreed.”

“When
will you execute the plan?”

“The day
the President leaves for South Africa.”

“Very
well.” Dudnik leaned forward, pointing at the file. “Are you sure you still
want to do this? If it gets traced back to you, or more generally, to Ukrainian
freedom fighters, America might enter the war.”

“They
already entered. The moment they allowed their citizens to fund the very
weapons that murdered my family, they entered the war.” He shook the file.
“It’s time for us to retaliate!”

“You
might lose all you have gained.”

Khomenko
inhaled. The possibility had occurred to him already. America might decide it
was best to move twenty thousand soldiers in and secure Eastern Ukraine under
the guise of the war on terror.

But his
homeland had one thing that Iraq and Afghanistan never had.

A
benefactor.

He
looked at Dudnik.

“If they
do, then Mother Russia will protect us.”

Hertzen Moscow Oncology Research Institute, Moscow, Russia

Two days before the Air Force One crash

“So you’re proceeding?”

“It’s
already in motion.”

Arseny
Dudnik sighed, shaking his head slightly. “I’m not sure this is a wise move.”

“Then
you shouldn’t have provided me with the file.”

“A man
is allowed to regret his decisions, isn’t he?”

Khomenko
smiled. “Of course. I’ve made a few that I regret.”

“In war
we all regret things.”

“And
that’s what you need to remember. This is war.”

Dudnik
shook his head. “No, this is revenge.”

“Is
there a difference?”

“I’d
like to think so.”

It was Khomenko’s
turn to sigh. “Perhaps, once, I felt the same way. But my homeland
is
at
war, and things are being made worse by the decisions made by this man. If he’s
eliminated, all those whose blood stains his hands will rest in peace knowing
their executioner has been himself executed.”

“I still
think your own loss is tainting your view of things.” Khomenko was about to
object when Dudnik raised a hand, stopping him. “
But
, I completely
understand your desire. Hell, if it were me, I’d probably want to do the same
thing. I just don’t know if I’d have the balls for it.”

“It
helps when they no longer work.”

Dudnik laughed,
tossing his head back. “Too much information, my friend, too much!” He looked
at Khomenko, the smile slowly fading. “I consider you a friend, you know that?”

Khomenko
nodded. “As do I. You’ve helped my people immensely.”

Dudnik
shook his head slightly. “No, forget the war. I deal with a dozen men like you
day in and day out. But you are the only one to have invited me into your home,
the only one I felt compelled to invite into my own home. I have met your wife
and daughter, and I grieve with you at your loss. If it were any of the other
commanders I deal with, your desires would have been left unfulfilled. Only
because it is
you
do I do this.” He paused, his eyes glassing over a bit
before he rapidly blinked them clear. “We shared many a meal and many a drink
over the past year. Your wife and daughter always made me feel like your home
was mine. I feel as if I’ve lost a sister and a niece.” He leaned closer. “Your
loss is my loss. You, my friend, are fortunate. You only have a few months left
to feel that pain. I have a lifetime, and will honor their memory for as long
as I have breath.” He reached into his pocket. “Which is why I give you this.”
He handed over a memory stick.

“Is this
it?” asked Khomenko, his heart beginning to race.

Dudnik nodded.
“Yes. Give this to your Airman Lennox. All he needs to do is insert it into any
terminal connected to the isolated avionics network on the aircraft, bypass the
security protocols, then remove the device. Everything else is automatic.”

Khomenko
waved the stick between his fingers. “And you’re sure this will work?”

Dudnik shrugged.
“Our tech division says it will. We have an old 747-200 that’s been modified to
match what we believe to be Air Force One’s configuration, including the latest
upgrades that were just completed. In fact, it was those modifications that
made all this possible.”

Khomenko
smiled. “You have to love progress.”

“It’s
their Achilles heel.” He motioned toward the memory stick with his chin. “If
something should happen, you never got that from me.”

“How did
you
get it?”

“A very
large bribe, paid for through my discretionary fund. Fortunately for you, my
friend, I have millions of Rubles to spend on the Ukrainian situation. I’ve
earmarked enough for your operation and the payment to your friend’s family.
Everything will be taken care of, assuming you succeed.”

“And if
they catch you?”

“The
money has already been moved. There’s no stopping the plan now.”

Khomenko
smiled, holding up the memory stick. “What does it do?”

“Let’s
just say that once Air Force One takes off, it will never land again.”

Madison Cove, Andrews Air Force Base, Maryland

One day before the Air Force One crash

Cecilia glanced at her watch.

You’re
late.

She
sighed.

Again.

She
patted her stomach, there no hiding the baby bump now. Four more months of
getting fatter and puffier and slower and fatter.

You
said ‘fatter’ twice.

She
turned to her side, shoving her hips forward, exaggerating her bump.

Then
shrugged.

So
what? Pregnant is beautiful.

At least
that’s what her husband kept telling her, and she actually believed him. He
hadn’t lost interest in her during her first pregnancy, and he certainly hadn’t
lost interest in her yet.

She
flushed at the thought of last night’s romp. He was leaving for a week, his job
sending him across the country and around the world on a far too frequent
basis. Yet that was the military life, and she didn’t mind it. She had grown up
in a military family so knew the sacrifices that were made, but also knew how
amazing a community it was. When you were posted, dropped into a community
where you might know no one, you were always welcomed with open arms, the
soldier treated like a brother or sister by his unit, their spouse the same.
And the kids were surrounded by others who had been through the same thing too
many times.

She
credited the military with her ability to make friends quickly. It was a gift
forced upon her. She had lived in six different places as a child, too often
arriving late in the school year, though it had never mattered. The other
military kids would embrace her and before the end of her first week, she’d
always have a new best friend.

And the
same was true now.

Some of
the wives weren’t from military families and they sometimes found it difficult,
and she always made an extra effort with them. Nobody arrived at a new base
without someone showing up on their doorstep the first day to welcome them.

Because
they were family.

She
loved
the military and all it had done for her family. Her father was still serving,
he and her mother currently stationed in Okinawa. She would have loved to be
there. She had met Cameron at college in California where her dad had last been
stationed. It had been love at first sight.

Maybe
second sight.

She
smiled as she remembered how awkward he had been that first day, asking her out
for coffee after class. It wasn’t until their second date, an actual dinner
date, that he had confessed he was in the ROTC program, the Air Force paying
for his education in exchange for four years of service after.

That
was when she knew he was the one.

They
married straight out of college, just before his first posting, and little
Janice had been born less than a year later.

And
now whoever you are.

She stared
at her stomach then shrugged.

Embrace
it!

She
touched up her lipstick then headed down the hall, poking her head into
Janice’s room. “Are you ready?”

The
little four-year-old nodded, looking anything but ready.

The
doorbell rang.

She
frowned.

“Who
could that be?”

“I’ll
get it!”

Little
feet pounded on the parquet floors as Cecilia rushed after her. “Don’t open the
door, honey, let Mommy do it.”

Janice
stopped short of the door, turning toward her mother. The doorbell rang again.
“Coming!” She hated when people were impatient. She had half a mind to not
answer, but she was already late for the meet-and-greet.

It’s
probably Betty wanting a ride.

Betty
was her neighbor.

Her
chronically late neighbor.

She
opened the door, surprised to see two men in suits standing on the doorstep.
Immediately her heart raced.

Something’s
happened to Cameron!

She
looked again.

There
was no chaplain. And they weren’t wearing uniforms.

He’s
okay.

“Can I
help you?”

“Are you
Mrs. Cecilia Lennox?”

She
nodded. “Yes.”

Something
sprayed in her face and her world went black.

Air Force Base Waterkloof, Outside Pretoria, South Africa

One day before the Air Force One crash

Command Sergeant Major Burt “Big Dog” Dawson laughed at his best
friend and second-in-command, Master Sergeant Mike “Red” Belme. “You drew the
short straw.”

“I
always draw the short straw.”

“Then
you shouldn’t let me hold them.”

“You
mean you’ve been cheating all these years?”

“Nobody’s
that unlucky.”

Red’s
face screwed up as he eyeballed his friend. “Bullshit. You’re the most honest
guy I know. There’s no way you’ve been cheating.”

Dawson
shrugged. “Then I guess you’re the unluckiest bastard ever.”

Sergeant
Carl “Niner” Sung poked the air with a finger. “My money’s on that. Have you
ever been to Vegas with Red? He puts it on red, it comes up black. Puts it on
black, comes up red. Keeps putting it on red, black has a streak like you’ve
never seen. He switches. It’s red.”

Red
nodded. “That’s why my wife won’t let me play poker with you guys anymore,
she’s afraid I’ll lose the car.”

“We play
for nickels,” boomed Sergeant Leon “Atlas” James, his impossibly deep voice
filling the room. “I think it’s safe.”

“Have
you seen his car?” asked Niner. “If that thing’s worth more than a
buck-ninety-five I’ll renounce my Korean family.” He turned to Atlas. “They’re
starving, you know, so clearly I must really believe his car’s a piece of
shit.”

“You’re
South
Korean,” groaned Sergeant Jerry “Jimmy Olsen” Hudson. “And you’re not even
that! You were born two hundred miles from where
I
was for Pete’s sake!”

“Did you
read that in your school paper, Jimmy Olsen?”

Jimmy
flushed, his moniker earned when someone had discovered he had been editor of
his school paper. “I can tell you one thing, there was a hell of a lot more
truth in that rag than what’s coming out of your mouth.”

“So you
think the car is worth more than a buck-ninety-five?”

“Can we
please stop talking about my car? I like my car.”

Niner
nodded toward Red’s normally bald scalp, orange stubble showing. “Look, the
poor man can’t even afford razor blades for his head.”

Red
pulled his bowie knife. “I use this. It’s also good for castration.”

Niner
snapped his knees together, covering his boys. “So what do
you
think
your car’s worth?”

“More
than a moment’s silence from you, that I can assure you.” He examined himself
in the blade’s reflection then ran his hand over his head. “I feel like I’m out
of uniform.”

“Something
bothering you?” asked Dawson, his friend usually religious about keeping his
head shaved.

Red
shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about growing it back.”

Everyone
froze. Niner broke the silence. “You shittin’ us?”

“No.”
Red sighed. “We were watching something on the news the other day about white
supremacists. Bryson pointed and said they looked like me then asked if I was a
racist.”

“Want me
to talk to him?” asked Atlas. “I’m black and you’ve treated me with nothing but
respect. You’re the least racist man I know.”