Savage Son (James Reece #3) - Jack Carr Page 0,120

scope. Though EMPs are harmless to humans, they can cause permanent damage to electronic components.

The system in place on Medny Island was a proof of concept, one that would activate an invisible dome-like shield above the area. It was Russia’s experimental answer to the U.S. missile defense system. Guided missiles, aircraft, and even drones could be knocked out of the sky instantly. Mobile systems could send an entire battle space back into the nineteenth century while larger fixed weapons such as this one could potentially shield entire installations or cities from nuclear attack. Their only challenge at this point was projecting the pulse far enough into the atmosphere to interrupt nuclear-armed reentry vehicles. This system effectively protected the entire island up to an altitude of one thousand meters.

Zharkov glanced at the watch on his wrist before speaking. “Move the men inside the bunkers. In twenty minutes, begin pulses every sixty seconds.”

“It will be done.”

The contractors, their radios, and night-vision devices would be shielded inside the hardened bunkers while the weapon was in use. Once they had confirmation that the invaders were on the ground, Aleksandr would let slip his hired dogs of war.

CHAPTER 71

Medny Island, Russia

REECE COULD SEE THE island now, a long white blur against the dark sea below. He trusted their equipment and his belief in Farkus’s abilities was near absolute, but it was still a tremendous relief to see dry land. He thought about the four SEAL operators who had drowned during Operation Urgent Fury in Grenada. No matter how hard you train, Mother Nature and the enemy still get a vote.

With the island in sight, Reece began to use his toggles to fly the chute toward the LZ, following the stack of jumpers before him. He glanced down at the ATAK screen and double-checked the oversize altimeter strapped to his wrist. Then Reece’s entire world went black. He assumed that the cold had sapped the batteries in his NODs but, to be sure, he tried his go-to solution for all problems electronic: turn them off and then back on. Nothing. He flipped the NODs up and out of the way, seeing only a ghost of the illuminated image the night optics had provided seconds earlier.

The ATAK screen on his chest was as black as his NODs. Even though the device was set to the very dim night-vision mode, he should have seen at least a faint glow. He pressed the button on the side of the device. What the hell? Reece unbuckled the oxygen mask from his face, let it fall to one side, and pulled the boom mic on the Peltor headset toward his mouth. His other hand found the “talk” button through the fabric of his thermal suit.

“Spartan Two-One, this is Spartan Zero-One, over.”

Nothing.

“Any Spartan this is Zero-One, over.”

No response.

Straining, he heard a faint sound ahead, just above the howling of the wind, a human voice. The men were improvising, calling out to one another as beacons to guide them to the target. Reece pushed his earmuff headset ajar to better hear his teammates in the darkness; they risked detection by making noise but missing the target and landing in the icy waters meant certain death. Reece steered his chute by sound, following the voices in the wind.

As his eyes grew accustomed to the dark, he began to make out something in the distance; the faint white of the snow-covered island stood out in contrast to the blackness around it. Reece had spent enough time studying satellite imagery of the island to know where they were supposed to land. He was a product of an earlier era in which computers, GPS devices, and even NODs could not be depended upon. He’d been trained and mentored by Vietnam-era SEALs and had learned to navigate by terrain association. As a young frogman, Reece had lived by the map, compass, and iron sights. Those skills, ancient by the standards of today’s generation of special operators, were about to save his life.

The analog altimeter strapped to his wrist still worked, the tritium-impregnated hands sweeping slowly as he descended. Reece confirmed that he had sufficient altitude to allow him to glide into the target; he would rather come in high and turn into the wind than risk being too low. He could hear the roaring waves crashing against the island’s sheer cliff walls, which was yet another indicator that he was getting close. The wind picked up speed, pushing Reece more rapidly toward the unknown DZ. The combination of