The Project 05 - The Tesla Secret

a good day.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

    A freighter flying the Panamanian flag churned across choppy waters fourteen miles off the Virginia coast. The Consuela had been stopped once by the US Coast Guard, a routine inspection that yielded nothing. Her papers were in order. She was bound from Vera Cruz to Norfolk with shipping containers full of furniture consigned to an American chain that specialized in items from third world countries.
    The Coast Guard had opened two of the containers and brought on the drug sniffing dogs. The captain of the freighter had given them a friendly wave as they went back to their patrol boat and turned south.
    Captain Krushenko was one of Foxworth's finds. Before he'd left the Russian navy he had commanded an Ovod class small missile ship. The Ovod class fielded six P-15 Termit cruise missiles, unreliable weapons with barometric altimeters and erratic guidance systems. The Termits were subsonic, reaching speeds of about 600 MPH.
    Krushenko didn't have any of those. He had only one missile, a Chinese CJ-10. Unlike the Termit, the CJ-10 was supersonic, capable of traveling at two and a half times the speed of sound. It lay flat in one of the long cargo containers, surrounded by boxes of wooden trays and salad bowls.
    The CJ-10 could be armed with either a nuclear warhead or conventional explosive. This one carried a generous payload of a new high energy explosive more than twice as powerful as the older types. The missile used an accurate inertial guidance system and was difficult to detect. It skimmed above the terrain at 1900 MPH until it reached and destroyed its target. Once launched, the CJ-10 was a lethal, single purpose, suicidal robot.
    The distance from the Consuela to the target was approximately a hundred and seventy miles. Krushenko estimated time elapsed between launch and impact at less than twelve minutes. By the time coastal defenses could react it would be too late. That was the beauty of a cruise missile. It hugged the terrain and flew under the radar, with a low profile and high speed. Anti-missile defenses like the American AEGIS system required sufficient notice to be effective. The missile would already be over land before they detected it. There wouldn't be enough time to intercept.
    Krushenko didn't know why this particular target had been chosen, but he wasn't curious. He was just doing a job. He figured he had a better than 50-50 chance of getting to shore once the missile was launched. The risk made the game more exciting. He was being paid accordingly, an extravagant sum.
    The sides and top of a false cargo container had been removed, exposing the missile and launcher and a camouflage of boxes around it. Krushenko used a remote control to activate the launcher. The missile lifted into firing position.
    The missile employed a cold launch system. Cold launch used pressurized nitrogen to send the missile airborne, eliminating the complex venting systems necessary for a conventional, hot launch. It was the reason the CJ-10 could be concealed in a container and fired from the deck. Once free of the carrier, the solid fuel engine would ignite and send the missile on its way. The electronic brain inside already contained the coordinates for the target.
    Krushenko walked in a leisurely way to the side of the freighter and descended a sea ladder to a fast motor launch that would take him to shore and safety. His skeleton crew waited in the boat. The launch pulled away. Krushenko watched the abandoned ship sail steadily on toward Norfolk. When he judged it was far enough away, he took out his remote and triggered one of two switches.
    The pressurized nitrogen released with a deadly hiss and sent the missile away from the ship. It rose into the air like an ancient, mythic sea monster. The engine ignited. The missile accelerated, broke through the sound barrier with a crack like thunder and vanished over the horizon.
    Krushenko flipped the second switch. Explosions blew out the bottom of the Consuela . The ship lifted out of the water, then settled straight down, all buoyancy gone. The ocean poured over her deck. A moment later the only sign she had ever existed was a frenzied boiling of sea froth and foam on the surface.
    The missile was gone. The ship was gone. The target would soon be gone. The motor launch headed for shore. Krushenko lit a cigarette and entered a number on his satellite phone.
    In London, Foxworth said, "Yes."
    "It's done."
    "Good. Captain Krushenko, are you