'Eight confirmed, plus another probable,' Lawrence said. 'Badir and I each got a Kfir climbing back to altitude after the SAM break. Then we latched onto a section of F-16s. We must have fought 'em for three or four minutes. Damnedest fight I ever was in. Finally nailed one but the wingie got away.'
Lawrence leaned forward, his blue eyes animated. 'You know, Pirate, I felt invincible in the F-8. Nobody ever got a clear win over me after I got out of the training squadron. Not even you. But in this 20… ' The redhead whistled softly. 'In the Tigershark, I'm immortal. I tell you, no lie, G.I. As long as I play my game and keep my eyeballs moving, ain't nobody can take me. And I've been up against the best.'
Bennett chuckled inwardly, recognizing the same world-class ego in his friend which he had once possessed in himself. 'Well, Jesus, Ed. I should hope you're that good. I mean, you only have seven thousand hours and one war up on the rest of these sports.'
The exec waved a deprecating hand. 'No, no. I mean it. Look, it's like I'm the world champion chess player. I don't have to fear any other grand master. Whatever he shows me, it's a move I've seen before or a strategy I've used myself.'
'Okay, I won't dent your fighter pilot ego. But for Pete's sake, Devil, remember you're pushing forty-eight years old. You can't keep this up forever.'
Lawrence gulped the last of his iced tea. Crunching the ice cube, he shook his head. 'Won't have to. Hell, I'll probably be KIA before this is over. Not through any fault of my own, of course. That's a statistical impossibility. But late one dark and stormy night, Allah might tap old Devil on the shoulder and ask me to help organize things in Paradise.'
Bennett looked his friend straight in the face. ''That's not the worst thing that could happen to you, is it?'
Lawrence returned the gaze. 'No, it sure isn't, pardner.'
'You know, I never mentioned this, but Claudia asked me about you and what you might do when this is all over.' He smiled a grim, bittersweet smile. 'She thought maybe we could adopt you and try to make you a useful citizen in society.'
'Bless her heart. I almost believe that girl could have saved me.' Lawrence paused, unsure of his ground. He had not heard Bennett mention Claudia's name since she was killed. 'You still miss her a lot?'
Bennett closed his eyes for a moment. 'Sometimes it's like she never existed for me. I mean, it's hard to believe I ever found her. Like she was just a pleasant dream. Other times… God, I can hardly stand it.' His voice dropped an octave. 'Whoever it was that killed her, I hope they're paying for it now.
Lawrence touched his friend's ann. 'After what happened today, maybe they are.'
Modi Aharon, a paratroop lieutenant colonel, opened a dirty knapsack and deposited the contents on the table. 'These were on the prisoner,' he said, 'and we picked up these items from Saudi patrol members.' The paratrooper handed the two piles of personal effects to the intelligence officer.
'Thank you, Modi. As usual, you have been very thorough.'
Chaim Geller thumbed through the documents. Then he picked up a standard rescue mirror. 'Where did you say you found this Saudi patrol?'
Pointing to a map coordinate, the lieutenant colonel said, 'About here, just south of the Jordanian border. We wouldn't have seen them if they hadn't shot at our scout helicopter. We already had the prisoner aboard and one of our own pilots. The gunship escort made one pass, then we landed to pick up documents. One of the bodies had this mirror and a signal book.'
Geller rubbed his chin. 'Now why would a Saudi foot patrol be up in that area, and why would only one of the men have a rescue mirror? You'd think each member would be equipped with this type of emergency gear.' He turned to the paratrooper. 'Which is the signal book?'
'Bottom of the stack, sir.'
'Hmmm. I'll have our linguists get right on it. Something is peculiar here, Modi. We'll have the answer soon enough.' He laid down the document. 'Now, where is our hotshot Saudi fighter pilot?'
'Outside in the hallway. We're giving him small quantities of water. He's partially dehydrated and the medics don't want to overdo it.'
The intel chief said, 'Now would be a good time to talk to him. His resistance will be down after a day and a half in the desert. '
They walked around the comer to where a medic and two paratroopers stood watching the young flier. His face was sunburned and he lay on a bench with his knees elevated, sucking on a handkerchief containing ice cubes.
'Good afternoon, Lieutenant,' Geller said, glancing at the Saudi's rank insignia. 'I trust you're feeling better. What is your name and unit?' English would be their common language.
The Saudi sat upright. 'I am Lieutenant Menas Abd Halif, Royal Saudi Air Defense Force.'
'Yes, Lieutenant, I know your air force. But what is your squadron?'
'I am not obliged to tell you, sir. Our nations are at war and I am a member of the Saudi armed forces which have lawfully declared war against Israel.'
'Come now, Lieutenant Halif. You needn't be coy with us. We know you are an F-20 pilot with the so-called Tiger Force. We know about your leaders, Colonel Bennett and Lieutenant Colonel Lawrence. We know you trained at Bahrain. We're merely filling in the necessary forms.' He waved a sheaf of blank papers in the air. It had worked several times before, but this was a new war against a new enemy.
The Saudi pilot made no reply, so Geller pressed on. 'We also know that your squadron leader, Captain Menaf, led your flight northward to pursue some of our aircraft, and was trapped by our withdrawal force of fighters.'
The lieutenant's face revealed surprise. Then the curtain descended, expressionless.
The Saudi looked up at Geller. 'What I do not know, sir, is who you are. What is your authority?'
Geller was momentarily surprised. For the first time in his life, the intelligence officer looked into the face of an enemy and saw reflected there an equal.
The combined staffs from each Israeli base which launched planes on the Saudi strike prepared a joint mission summary that night. Working late, the eight planners and intelligence officers finally had completed their work. They were tired, anxious, and some were discouraged.
Major Zev Lapido from Balhama snapped his notebook shut with a crisp movement. 'We have to give them credit. The Saudis set this up extremely well. The only fault I see here is the F-20 flight which chased some of our planes north to the border.'
Lieutenant Colonel Shimon Weiler, a former Mirage pilot, pounded his fist on the table. 'Damn it! Anybody could see this coming. We were suckered, to use the American phrase. And what did we accomplish? We moved some sand dunes, that's about all. In exchange for over forty planes and at least three helicopters. Not to mention the boys out there… '
The colonel directing the debrief, Reuven Yeier, wanted to regain control. 'Gentlemen, please. Let's remember we were
'Damn it, Reuven, that's no good.'· Weiler snapped at his superior, uncaring for the breach of decorum. 'The point is, this never should have happened. We were led down the path. The Saudis knew the government would order retaliation for their raids on Jerusalem and the Knesset. Next, we were drawn over the mobile SAMs, then the Sparrow volley, and the F-20s jumped our boys while most of them were still dodging missiles. Finally the Jordanian F-5s cut them off.' He picked up a sheaf of pilot reports. 'Look at these! Our pilots never even saw the F-5s until too late. They came out of the sun without radar warning due to enemy ECM. God in heaven!'
Colonel Yeier retained his composure. 'We knew the Saudis had accepted many of the Jordanians, who have a high standard of training. And we knew the radar jamming would be better than any we've faced before. After all, the Soviets don't like to show their hand by giving the Syrians all their first-line equipment.'
A captain from Hovda spoke up. 'I think we're missing the point. We're crying over what's past. I believe we
