The Project 05 - The Tesla Secret

eyebrows. "I did not know that." China had long been a traditional enemy. It still was, in spite of trade alliances and public assertions of friendship.
    "You can bet Vysotsky does. Once it's operational, whoever has this can target anyone, anywhere. Do you think he's just going to hand it over to the Kremlin? All that power?"
    Korov remembered something Vysotsky had once said. They'd been in the General's office. Vysotsky had been drinking.

    "We are patriots, Arkady, you and I. We believe in the destiny of our nation."
    Korov had nodded agreement. General Vysotsky often confided in him when he'd been drinking. Vysotsky had mentored him, even treated him as a friend, but Arkady knew better. He was Vysotsky's subordinate, not his friend, in a system built on rigid obedience to orders.
    Vysotsky emptied his glass, filled it again. "Our leaders are fools. I thought we had a strong leader again, but I was wrong. We need someone who is not afraid to act. Someone who will not be cowed by the American hegemony. Someone who understands our power. These men, they have no balls. If I was in charge, things would be different."
    He waved his glass in the direction of the Kremlin. Vodka spilled onto his desk.
    "No balls," he said again.

    The weapon would give Vysotsky the power he longed for. Why hadn't he mentioned the targeting satellites? It came together in Korov's mind. Vysotsky hadn't sent him here because he wanted to hand the weapon over to Russia. Seizing control wasn't for the good of the Motherland, it was for the good of Vysotsky. The realization shook him to the core. It was a betrayal.
    Nick was right. Vysotsky was using him.
    "Arkady." Nick spoke with quiet urgency. "I know the President. He won't back off. This thing can start the next World War. We have to destroy it. If Zhukov was murdered, AEON knows we're here. There's no way we can get control, much less keep it."
    The Russians and the Americans watched Korov and Nick talking. Lamont and Ronnie stood apart from the others. Ivanesky watched them with a cold stare.
    "Looks like a serious discussion," Lamont said.
    "Yeah. Let's hope it's not an argument."
    "Korov is a pretty good guy."
    "He's a Russian," Ronnie said, "good guy or not. The question is, what kind of Russian?"
    "We're about to find out." Nick and Korov were coming back.
    "There is a door ahead," Korov said. "It should lead inside. Bukharin, take the point. Ivanesky, behind him. Once through the door, we will carry out our orders and destroy this thing."
    He was speaking English. Nick nodded to himself. He'd been certain all along that the Russians spoke English. They were Spetsnaz, after all. Foreign languages, especially English, were a requirement for all Russian Special Forces. When Korov said they would destroy the pyramid, Nick watched for a reaction. Ivanesky showed a flicker of surprise before his face returned to a mask.
    "Yes, sir," Bukharin said. The two moved down the hall. The others followed.

CHAPTER SIXTY- TWO

    The door was made of the same ceramic material as the walls. Bukharin pulled it open a crack and peered through. The buzzing sound got louder, like the sound of a thousand bees. He opened the door wide. They went through the door and spread out to the sides, weapons ready.
    The base of the pyramid was a vast, square chamber. A wide walkway of concrete went around the four sides. Light strips on the walls gave off the same glow that lit the hall. The walls sloped upward for a hundred feet or more to a flat ceiling high overhead. Like the hallway, the walls were lined with white ceramic material.
    Nick looked out over what seemed to be a bottomless pit, trying to make sense of what he saw. In the exact center of the chamber was a flat concrete platform surrounded by a low railing. Bridge-like walkways crossed to it from each side of the perimeter. Four massive columns of copper rose from the pit to support the corners of the platform and continued upward, halfway to the ceiling. A constant, crackling discharge of blue-white lightning danced from column to column. Four thick rods of copper projected from the ceiling above the columns. Electricity flowed in four continuous streams between the columns and the rods.
    In the middle of the platform was a machine. The buzzing sound came from six giant wheels made of smooth, circular bands of metal. Each was an odd golden color. Each was at least twenty feet high. They turned in a steady blur.
    Impossible, Nick thought.
    The wheels