Operation Barracuda (2005) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  THE BESTSELLING NOVELS OF

  TOM CLANCY

  THE TEETH OF THE TIGER

  A new generation—Jack Ryan, Jr.—takes over in Tom Clancy’s

  extraordinary, and extraordinarily prescient, novel.

  “INCREDIBLY ADDICTIVE.” —Daily Mail (London)

  RED RABBIT

  Tom Clancy returns to Jack Ryan’s early days—

  in an engrossing novel of global political drama . . .

  “A WILD, SATISFYING RIDE.” —New York Daily News

  THE BEAR AND THE DRAGON

  A clash of world powers. President Jack Ryan’s trial by fire.

  “HEART-STOPPING ACTION . . . CLANCY STILL REIGNS.” —The Washington Post

  RAINBOW SIX

  John Clark is used to doing the CIA’s dirty work.

  Now he’s taking on the world . . .

  “ACTION-PACKED.” —The New York Times Book Review

  EXECUTIVE ORDERS

  A devastating terrorist act leaves Jack Ryan

  as President of the United States . . .

  “UNDOUBTEDLY CLANCY’S BEST YET.”

  —The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

  DEBT OF HONOR

  It begins with the murder of an American woman

  in the back streets of Tokyo. It ends in war . . .

  “A SHOCKER.” —Entertainment Weekly

  THE HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER

  The smash bestseller that launched Clancy’s career—

  the incredible search for a Soviet defector

  and the nuclear submarine he commands . . .

  “BREATHLESSLY EXCITING.” —The Washington Post

  RED STORM RISING

  The ultimate scenario for World War III—

  the final battle for global control . . .

  “THE ULTIMATE WAR GAME . . . BRILLIANT.”

  —Newsweek

  PATRIOT GAMES

  CIA analyst Jack Ryan stops an assassination—

  and incurs the wrath of Irish terrorists . . .

  “A HIGH PITCH OF EXCITEMENT.”

  —The Wall Street Journal

  THE CARDINAL OF THE KREMLIN

  The superpowers race for the ultimate Star Wars

  missile defense system . . .

  “CARDINAL EXCITES, ILLUMINATES . . . A REAL PAGE-TURNER.” —Los Angeles Daily News

  CLEAR AND PRESENT DANGER

  The killing of three U.S. officials in Colombia ignites the

  American government’s explosive, and top secret, response . . .

  “A CRACKLING GOOD YARN.” —The Washington Post

  THE SUM OF ALL FEARS

  The disappearance of an Israeli nuclear weapon threatens the

  balance of power in the Middle East—and around the world . . .

  “CLANCY AT HIS BEST . . . NOT TO BE MISSED.”

  —The Dallas Morning News

  WITHOUT REMORSE

  His code name is Mr. Clark. And his work for the CIA

  is brilliant, cold-blooded, and efficient . . . but who is he really?

  “HIGHLY ENTERTAINING.” —The Wall Street Journal

  Novels by Tom Clancy

  THE HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER

  RED STORM RISING

  PATRIOT GAMES

  THE CARDINAL OF THE KREMLIN

  CLEAR AND PRESENT DANGER

  THE SUM OF ALL FEARS

  WITHOUT REMORSE

  DEBT OF HONOR

  EXECUTIVE ORDERS

  RAINBOW SIX

  THE BEAR AND THE DRAGON

  RED RABBIT

  THE TEETH OF THE TIGER

  SSN: STRATEGIES OF SUBMARINE WARFARE

  Nonfiction

  SUBMARINE: A GUIDED TOUR INSIDE A NUCLEAR WARSHIP

  ARMORED CAV: A GUIDED TOUR OF AN ARMORED CAVALRY REGIMENT

  FIGHTER WING: A GUIDED TOUR OF AN AIR FORCE COMBAT WING

  MARINE: A GUIDED TOUR OF A MARINE EXPEDITIONARY UNIT

  AIRBORNE: A GUIDED TOUR OF AN AIRBORNE TASK FORCE

  CARRIER: A GUIDED TOUR OF AN AIRCRAFT CARRIER

  SPECIAL FORCES: A GUIDED TOUR OF U.S. ARMY SPECIAL FORCES

  INTO THE STORM: A STUDY IN COMMAND

  (written with General Fred Franks, Jr., Ret.)

  EVERY MAN A TIGER

  (written with General Charles Horner, Ret.)

  SHADOW WARRIORS: INSIDE THE SPECIAL FORCES

  (written with General Carl Stiner, Ret., and Tony Koltz)

  Created by Tom Clancy

  SPLINTER CELL

  SPLINTER CELL: OPERATION BARRACUDA

  Created by Tom Clancy and Steve Pieczenik

  TOM CLANCY’S OP-CENTER

  TOM CLANCY’S OP-CENTER: MIRROR IMAGE

  TOM CLANCY’S OP-CENTER: GAMES OF STATE

  TOM CLANCY’S OP-CENTER: ACTS OF WAR

  TOM CLANCY’S OP-CENTER: BALANCE OF POWER

  TOM CLANCY’S OP-CENTER: STATE OF SIEGE

  TOM CLANCY’S OP-CENTER: DIVIDE AND CONQUER

  TOM CLANCY’S OP-CENTER: LINE OF CONTROL

  TOM CLANCY’S OP-CENTER: MISSION OF HONOR

  TOM CLANCY’S OP-CENTER: SEA OF FIRE

  TOM CLANCY’S OP-CENTER: CALL TO TREASON

  TOM CLANCY’S OP-CENTER: WAR OF EAGLES

  TOM CLANCY’S NET FORCE

  TOM CLANCY’S NET FORCE: HIDDEN AGENDAS

  TOM CLANCY’S NET FORCE: NIGHT MOVES

  TOM CLANCY’S NET FORCE: BREAKING POINT

  TOM CLANCY’S NET FORCE: POINT OF IMPACT

  TOM CLANCY’S NET FORCE: CYBERNATION

  TOM CLANCY’S NET FORCE: STATE OF WAR

  TOM CLANCY’S NET FORCE: CHANGING OF THE GUARD

  TOM CLANCY’S NET FORCE: SPRINGBOARD

  Created by Tom Clancy and Martin Greenberg

  TOM CLANCY’S POWER PLAYS: POLITIKA

  TOM CLANCY’S POWER PLAYS: RUTHLESS.COM

  TOM CLANCY’S POWER PLAYS: SHADOW WATCH

  TOM CLANCY’S POWER PLAYS: BIO-STRIKE

  TOM CLANCY’S POWER PLAYS: COLD WAR

  TOM CLANCY’S POWER PLAYS: CUTTING EDGE

  TOM CLANCY’S POWER PLAYS: ZERO HOUR

  TOM CLANCY’S POWER PLAYS: WILD CARD

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  TOM CLANCY’S SPLINTER CELL®: OPERATION BARRACUDA

  A Berkley Book / published by arrangement with Rubicon, Inc.

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley edition / November 2005

  Copyright © 2005 by Rubicon, Inc.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without

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  eISBN : 978-1-101-00373-2

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  http://us.penguingroup.com

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  The author and publisher wish to acknowledge the work of Raymond Benson, whose invaluable contribution to this novel is immeasurable. Many thanks go to Ubisoft Entertainment personnel Mathieu Ferland, Alexis Nolent, and Olivier Henriot for their cooperation and support, and to Vanessa Lorden for her help. Finally, a big thank-you each goes to James McMahon and Dr. Grace Stewart for their expertise.

  1

  THE OPSAT’s mechanical alarm wakes me at eleven o’clock sharp. Since I possess the ability to sleep soundly at the drop of a hat, anywhere, at any time, the OPSAT’s built-in prodder that nudges the pulse in my wrist comes in very handy. It’s silent and it doesn’t jolt me awake the way alarm clocks sometimes do.

  I hear the wind blowing outside the small tent. The weather forecast had warned of a winter storm before midnight and it appears to be just beginning. Terrific. The sub-zero weather outside my bivouac would have in normal circumstances turned me into a Popsicle hours ago had it not been for Third Echelon’s technological breakthrough in designing the skintight, superhero-like uniform that separates my very human body from the harsh elements. Not only does it protect me from extreme heat or cold but the threads of Kevlar woven into the fabric somewhat serve as bulletproof material. At long range, the stuff works pretty well. I don’t want to have the pleasure of testing its strength at short range, thank you very much.

  I crawl out of the tent, stand, and take a moment to survey the dark forest around me. Aside from the howling wind, I can’t hear a thing. Lambert had warned me that I might encounter wolves this far into the woods but I must have lucked out. If I were a wolf, I’d stay in my den and keep the hell out of this kind of weather. There sure won’t be any meals wandering about in minus ten degrees Fahrenheit. None except a two-legged mammal that happens to be heavily armed.

  I quickly roll up the tent. The unique camouflage makes it appear to be a snow-covered rock when it’s erected on the ground. One would have to examine it at close range to recognize it for what it really is. Again, a well-designed piece of equipment, courtesy of the National Security Agency. It’s ironic that only a handful of the personnel within the NSA know of the classified department called Third Echelon. I’m such an elite employee of the United States government that you could count on two hands the number of people who can define “Splinter Cell.” And to tell the truth, I couldn’t name all those people. Aside from my immediate supervisor, Colonel Irving Lambert, and the minuscule team working in the unremarkable, unmarked building that stands separate from the main NSA headquarters in Washington, D.C., I have no clue as to what senators or Cabinet members have heard of Third Echelon. I’m pretty sure the president knows about us, but even he would Protocol Six me if I were caught. That means I’d be disavowed—they would wash their hands of me and pretend I never existed.

  I pack the tent and lower my goggles. The night vision mode works remarkably well in a Ukrainian snowstorm. I may feel as if I’m in a scene from Doctor Zhivago but at least I’m not going to bump into any trees as I move forward.

  Obukhiv is five miles away to the south. I’m somewhere between that small village and Kyiv to the north, which is where I began my mission. We spell it “Kyiv” now instead of “Kiev” because it’s the English translation of the proper Ukrainian name for the city. Same goes for “Obukhiv,” which used to be “Obukhov.” The people made a concerted attempt to change all city names from Russian to Ukrainian since the nation became independent in 1991. I’m pretty sure the Russians will keep spelling them the old way.

  Moving through a free Ukraine is no problem these days so I had little trouble picking up my equipment from the American Embassy in Kyiv and obtaining an SUV to drive to Obukhiv. I laughed when I saw the thing—a 1996 Ford Explorer XL with 120,000 miles on it. But it runs okay. From the village I hiked into the woods earlier today and set up camp here in the cold forest. Third Echelon intelligence confirmed that the Shop’s third hangar for their stealth plane—which was destroyed a few months ago in Turkey—is located here in a clearing beyond the woods and is still in use. Satellite photos revealed that vehicles occasionally appear and men continue to go in and out of the structure. I already got rid of one of the three hangars, located in Azerbaijan near Baku. A special ops military force blew up the one that sat in Volovo, a tiny hamlet south of Moscow. Now I have the job of checking out the third one here to see what they’re up to. The Shop, a notorious arms-dealing network of Russian criminals, was left in disarray after the business in Cyprus last year. We seriously damaged their organization but the leaders are still at large. Much of our intelligence indicates the Shop picked up and moved headquarters out of Russia and went to the Far East, possibly the Philippines or Hong Kong. That remains to be seen. One of Third Echelon’s top priorities over the last several months has been to find the four so-called directors of the Shop and bring them to justice. Or kill them, whichever comes first.

  A Georgian named Andrei Zdrok is the main man. He’s number one on the “to do” list. The other directors consist of a Russian army general named Prokofiev—no relation to the composer, I don’t think; a former GDR prosecutor named Oskar Herzog; and another Russian—former KGB—by the name of Anton Antipov. If I can find any information pertaining to these guys’ whereabouts, I’ll have accomplished the mission and can go home.

  “I see you’re on the move, Sam.” It’s Colonel Lambert, speaking to me through the implants in my ears. They allow me to talk with the team back in Washington when the reception is good. I answer him by pushing on the one in my throat.

  “I’m approaching the compound now. What’s the satellite show?”

  “There’s n
o activity. You’re clear to infiltrate.”

  I move quietly through the woods, my boots inadvertently making squish sounds in the snow and ice. Can’t be helped. I seriously doubt there are any guards this deep in the forest. I’ll have to be more careful when I approach the hangar, though. And it appears to be just up ahead, where the trees begin to thin out.

  Crouching, I scan the field in front of me. A building that once served as an airplane hangar sits at the end of a runway. Whoever piloted the stealth plane had to be pretty adept—there isn’t much breathing space at the end before the trees become thick again. A smaller building adjoins the hangar—most likely offices and bunks for the guys working there. An electrified fence and gate surrounds the perimeter and an unpaved road—now covered by snow—runs through the forest from the facility to the highway leading out of Obukhiv. The No Trespassing and Keep Out signs have apparently done a good job keeping out the curious.

  Three Taiga snowmobiles sit parked outside the compound. I see a lone guard in front of the door, smoking a cigarette. Damn. If I’m going to deactivate the fence, someone inside is going to know about it.

  Wait. Someone’s coming down the road. I see approaching headlights through the trees and hear the sound of vehicles.

  “You’ve got company, Sam,” Lambert says. “Looks like a motorcycle, or maybe a snowmobile, and a car. Came out of nowhere.”

  “Yeah, I see ’em.”

  I quickly move through the brush to the edge of the gate and lie flat in the snow. Most of the time my uniform is black but since it’s custom-made for a Russian or Ukrainian winter, this model is completely white and thus blends in well with the natural surroundings. In a moment I’ll unzip it, peel it off, and reveal the darker uniform for when I need to lose myself in the shadows.