Page 33 of Tom Clancy Line of Sight
“But without question, the first instance of radio jamming during war happened in 1904, when a Russian operator jammed Japanese radio signals during a bombardment of Port Arthur. Of course, radio jamming was practiced in World War One and perfected in the Great Patriotic War by all sides.”
Sevrov tapped more keys. Another live feed came up showing a BAZ-6900 series cab-over truck, another four-axled transport, but this one was enclosed. A three-dish array deployed on the back end of the roof rotated in a slow circle.
“This is the Krasukha-4 jamming station with a three-hundred-kilometer range, designed to neutralize airborne radar systems like the E-3 Sentry AWACS and the E-8 Joint STARS. It is also capable of attacking low Earth orbit (LEO)systems like the Lacrosse/Onyx radar-imaging reconnaissance satellites and, of course, UAVs like the Reaper. And these are just a few of the many new systems we’re deploying now, including handheld devices and aerial drone systems.”
Sevrov surveyed the room again. He had their attention for sure now, particularly the Republika Srpska delegates.
“Without question we are years, even decades, ahead of NATO in EW weaponry, deploying systems that will utterly deny NATO’s C4ISR capabilities with a virtual flip of the switch. Flipping that switch will render them electronically blind, deaf, and dumb, completely disrupting their battle plans.
“And one last thing, perhaps equally important. All of these systems, and others detailed in your briefing books, also provide impenetrable defenses for our own forces against NATO’s inferior EW capabilities.
“In short, our doctrine provides total electronic support, protection, and attack resources for all of our tactical and strategic operations. As you can clearly see, our Radio-Electronic Combat doctrine is both a sword and a shield, and my government is proud to extend both to our Slavic brethren throughout the region.”
Sevrov shut his laptop and cast a glance back up at the portraits of old Serbian generals hanging on the wall. He swore they were smiling at him.
General Sevrov set his controller down, then stepped out from behind the lectern, raising his opened palms, and smiling like a kindly uncle.
“Questions?”
18
CENTRAL BOSNIA
The driver squinted his weary eyes through the fog of cigarette smoke in the truck cab. The dark figure in his headlights stood in the two-lane asphalt road far ahead, waving a red flashlight.
The driver tapped the brights. The figure in the road was clad in black and masked, with a rifle slung behind his back.
The driver’s heart fluttered for a moment. The Croatian Mafia was active in this part of the country, and truck hijackings weren’t uncommon. He wasn’t sure if he should try and speed past the guy—or maybe run him over.
But before he could decide, his headlights caught the white fluorescentPOLICIJApatch blazoned across the man’s chest, and the driver’s tension eased a little. He geared down and tapped the big truck’s brakes with a short bark of compressed air.
The truck slowed to a crawl as the policeman leaped onto the running board, seizing the chrome handle assist on the side ofthe cab. He directed the driver onto a rutted dirt road that angled off into a deserted farm a few hundred meters from the highway.
The truck driver panicked again, but the tactical officer could easily shoot through the glass if he tried anything, so what was he to do?
When the truck reached the farmhouse, the cop signaled for the driver to stop and cut the lights, which he did, killing the engine and setting the parking brake with a final blast of air.
The driver’s door flew open and the policeman grabbed a fistful of the trucker’s stained soccer jersey, flinging him all the way down into the hard dirt with a crashing thud.
Before the driver could raise himself up, a knee in his spine forced him back down and a strong pair of hands wrenched one of his arms back. The driver felt something hard and sharp cut into his wrist with a zipping sound, and then his other arm was yanked into the same position, and the other plastic cuff was zipped into place. A hand shoved the driver’s face into the ground and held it there for a moment, a silent command to lie still and be quiet. What else could he do?
The officer finally stood, relieving the pressure from the driver’s back. He heard the man unsling his weapon and rack the firing bolt. Warm urine flooded the driver’s oily trousers.
He was going to die.
—
The tall policeman raised a pair of bolt cutters and snipped the padlocks with a couple violent cuts. The shorter officer pulled the ruined padlocks off and the two of them lifted the handles and unbolted the trailer doors.
They pulled out their flashlights and scanned the contents.It was a stack of cardboard boxes, eight high, markedELECTRONICSandMADE IN CHINA.
The tall policeman climbed into the trailer and with a crash pulled down a box as the shorter one glanced over at their partner standing guard over the truck driver and watching the road.
The tall policeman pulled out his heavy combat knife and slashed open the top seal, revealing several smaller boxes of LED desk lamps with flexible necks.
The two exchanged a worried glance through their balaclavas.
The tall one pulled down another box, then stood on his toes and flashed his light toward the back of the truck. He turned around, his eyes beaming. He flashed a thumbs-up, then pulled down three more boxes to make room to crawl. He lowered his long arm and the smaller cop grabbed his hand and pulled, and soon the two of them were scrambling over a few rows of boxes to get to the real thing.
