The Deputy-Director for special operations rose as the pretty, young woman entered his office. He held out an arm for her offering the chair in front of his desk.
"Good morning Kym," he smiled. "How have you been?"
"Just fine. Thank you sir," she replied, settling into the chair. "Keeping out of trouble as usual."
"So I hear. Congratulations on the Egyptian affair. You handled yourself well. How's the leg doing, better now?"
"I'm fine sir. Wounds heal."
"That was quite a firestorm wasn't it?"
"It had it's moments, definitely."
The Deputy-Director looked over his glasses and folded his hands on top of his desk. The file on SpecOps agent Kym Cannon was impressive. 5'11'', 152 Lbs, blond and beautiful, she was a tough, no-nonsense operative with combat flying experience in the Gulf and East Africa as well as being a veteran of over 14 covert and deep cover missions.
A third dans black belt in karate with weapons training, she was also an unparalled marksman, able to compete at the level of international competition. She had nerves of steel and was unflinching under pressure. Ms. Cannon held certificates in pyrotechnic explosives and was notorious for turning simple, everyday items into deadly weapons. She had once killed a man with the plastic top from a Bic pen. Despite her beauty, there was a coldness behind her placid, blue eyes. The Deputy-Director knew that he was sitting across from possibly the most lethal female on the planet.
"We have a new situation developing that has the potential to become serious. We have detected unfriendly activity in the area of one of our old decommissioned Distant Early Warning supply centers in the far north. As you know, the DEW line was our first line of defense in case of a Russian missile attack. These NATO radar stations are hopelessly outdated now but the administration keeps them operative as part of our commitment to the alliance. Satellite surveillance has shown definate Russian activity in a remote, abandoned supply center just south of the DEW line."
"With all due respect sir, the cold war is over. The Russians are our friends now. Why would they jeopardize all those economic relief funds by operating over here?"
"This isn't the Russian government, unfortunately," the Deputy-Director said, shifting in his chair. "We're talking about the Russian mob which is far more dangerous and unpredictable. In specific, I want to draw your attention to this man," he said, tossing a black and white, glossy photograph across the desk. "His name is Yuri Latinsov and he's one of the nastier by-products of the fall of communism. He runs his own fiefdom in northern Siberia around the area of Ust' Klonick. He tyrannizes the place like it was his own private country and uses the usual mob methods to terrorize and control the locals and any other perceived enemies.
The Deputy-Director rose from his chair and began to pace the room as he spoke, warming to his subject. "Yuri Latinsov is a known arms dealer and has extended links to organized crime and terrorist groups around the world. He was involved in the disappearance of weapons grade nuclear material from Sevastopol during the Black Sea Fleet division crisis in '95. Several high level operatives in the Russian and Ukrainian Navies were assassinated and the nuclear material never surfaced. He is also known to be involved in the production and stockpiling of biological agents some of which have been suspected used in the area. Word has come down to us of mass die-offs of people and wildlife in remote locations around Siberia. Latinov's name is always whispered in association with these events by terrified locals. By no means is this a nice guy."
"Have you ever heard of Brace Emprise?"
They were a space exploration company weren't they. They went under a few years ago," Kym replied, leaning forward, her attention now undivided.
"Yeah. They were a bunch of dreamers with a plan to peacefully colonize Mars with some kind of co-operative, international effort. They managed to do a few launches but then the company was torn apart by intrigue and the divergent interests of it's shareholders. Of course, now there's enough junk on Mars to start a landfill but Brace Emprise was the first company other than NASA to land assets on Mars.
One of Brace Emprise's staging and launching sites was in Northern Siberia and they had a large contingent of Russians on their board. In fact, evidence is now showing that Latinsov may have been involved in Brace through a puppet contracting company. At any rate, after the demise of the company, Latinsov quickly absorbed all remaining Brace Emprise assets in Siberia through dirty money and gulag style intimidation. One of those assets was this." He handed another picture across the desk to Kym, this time a satellite photo of a barren landscape spotted with regular man-made domes built in a cirle around a larger dome-like sphere.
"This is Cosmodrome Vrianski. Brace Emprise did several space launches from here in the mid-ninties. Latinsov owns it now but our intelligence has been unable to gather much information about the site. He could have ICBM's with nuclear capability or with technology leftover from the Brace Emprise fiasco, he could be ready to do a space launch for all we know. He's very secretive and our satellites can't penetrate the area as much of the complex is underground.
"I want you to go north to the DEW line and find out what these gangsters are after. As you know, the administration considers North America a fortress and the mob has stepped over the line. These guys can prey on their own people but we only want good, clean, wholesome American criminals here. Should your investigation lead you by accident into Mother Russia, then you have the green light to proceed as the situation warrants. This is a matter of national security and you are authorized to protect that security at your own discretion. Of course, in the event of an international incedent, we will deny all knowledge of you or any events surrounding your mission."
Kym Cannon rose from her chair and smiled mischieviously. "Everytime I hear that I get warm and fuzzy all over."
CANADIAN FORCES/NATO MISSILE TESTING RANGE, COLD LAKE, ALBERTA
Kym found the airtight, white flying suit bulky and uncomfortable, especially with her body armor underneath. The 9mm-Glock felt reassuring in it's shoulder holster though as she walked down the runway trying to pay attention to the little, bald, bespectacled man who was nattering away beside her. Her mind was preoccupied but the bookish looking Canadian was giving her the spec's on the new aircraft and she forced herself to pay attention.
"She'll do a completely vertical takeoff or landing and can be flown under turboprop, jet or rocket power. At full rocket thrust, she'll do mach V, maybe more. Nobody's really pushed her that hard yet. You have full laser, digital readout on the canopy and the most advanced guidence systems as well as full stealth technology. The Brits built the Sonicsparrow with first strike missions in mind. This will be her first live, operational test.
Kym could hear the metallic voices from the tower going through a preflight checklist through the speakers in her helmet. "What kind of weaponry are we talking here?"
Air to target Tomahawks, smart, of course. Heat seekers and twin, for-mounted cannons. She has launching capabilities for nuclear tipped cruises as well. You shouldn't need those on this trip I wouldn't think, now should you?"
"You never know. You always want to be prepared. The mission you don't have one is just when you'll be sorry you left it behind," Kym replied as she climbed the metal ladder to the cockpit door of the Sonicsparrow.
"And please don't pack her in. She's a prototype and worth a bloody fortune. For God's sake be careful."
Kym looked innocently down from the fuselage door.
"Just trust me."