the crew managed in spite of the g-forces that threatened to crush them to place three plastic patches against the holes that appeared as if by magic.
The ten-man crew didn’t know what had happened either to them or to the Glorious March, but they did know that one of their three computer systems was out along with their radar. The communications module was damaged and they were leaking oxygen.
On the ground, multitudes watched as the third stage of the Magnificent Dragon reached lower orbit and kept climbing, barely escaping the death that had caught her sister ship. All at once a thousand voices started shouting out their troubles from the various telemetry stations.
The Magnificent Dragon had achieved orbit, but no one knew yet if it could stay there, much less continue on to the Moon.
Sixteen miles away, Tommy Green didn’t know if his crusade had achieved the desired effect as he scrambled to get the F-14 out of North Korean airspace. There were now ten MiG-31s on his tail and he doubted if escape was in his future, but he suspected it had never been in the plans of his employers. He should have been angry, or disappointed, but he knew he had been given the choice, and God had helped make the decision for him.
With no thought of regret or remorse, Thomas Green, former captain in the United States Navy, and a devout follower of Samuel Rawlins, turned the F-14 Tomcat around and headed straight toward his pursuers. He released the clip on his oxygen mask and started saying the Lord’s Prayer as he pointed the Tomcat’s nose at the flight leader and opened fire with his rotary cannon. To his surprise, the barrel started its electrically driven spin, but no twenty-millimeter rounds came out of the rotating barrel. Green smiled and shook his head, not feeling betrayed in the least. After all, he thought, the mission parameters were such that his trail could not lead back to McCabe or Rawlins. Their work was far from complete, while his duty to God was.
Green closed his eyes a split second before six Chinese-made Luoyang PL-12 active-radar-guided missiles slammed into his Tomcat, scattering small pieces over the Sea of Japan.
8
The four men listened to the BBC radio broadcast and heard the news just after midnight in Berlin. None of them could believe the audacity and firepower the unseen forces were bringing to bear. Jack and the others knew now that it had to be McCabe behind what was happening. The memory of the crated weapons systems haunted the men as they sat listening to the report on the loss of life involved in the Chinese incident.
“These nuts are serious,” Everett said, staring out of the windshield at the darkened street beyond.
“It seems to me that all of these governments would be more than ready to stop this foolishness and cooperate now that people are dying for nothing,” Ellenshaw said from the backseat, as he stared without interest at his McDonald’s cheeseburger.
“You’d think,” Jack said, as he adjusted the small dome light. He had begun reading the file the German commando had delivered to him. “You’ll soon learn, Charlie, that once a course of action has been initiated by any government, it’s harder to stop than an avalanche.” Jack stopped talking when he came across a picture captioned “1947-Spandau.” He saw the face he had been looking for. It was a group photo of sixteen American officers lined up in front of the Spandau military prison.
“Here’s our boy,” Jack said, as he slid the photo out of the file and handed it to Everett.
“That’s him, all right, and I’ll be damned if he doesn’t look as familiar as he did before. He’s a lieutenant colonel, I can see that. But I can’t see his shoulder patch. The commanding officer of the prison is listed, but his staff isn’t.”
“Here’s the list of the only seven prisoners ever kept there,” Collins said, passing the list to Carl, who handed the photo to Golding and Ellenshaw in the backseat. “Notice something odd?”
Everett read the list aloud. “Rudolf Hess, life sentence, died 1987. Walther Funk, life sentence, released 16 May 1957. Erich Raeder, life sentence, released 1955. Albert Speer, twenty-year sentence, released 1966. Baldur von Schirach, twenty-year sentence, released 1966. Konstantin von Neurath received a fifteen-year sentence but was released in 1954. Admiral Karl Donitz served a ten-year term and was released in 1956.” Everett scanned the rest of the original roster and he indeed noticed something. “No mention of our boy Joss Zinsser.”
“Quite an omission, don’t you think?” Jack asked.
“Well, we know he was there. Why would someone erase his name from the list of prisoners?”
“Simply to make what we’re currently attempting that much harder,” Collins answered as he turned back and looked at Pete. “We need Europa.”
“That means returning to the plane, Jack. That could be a little dangerous, at least until your friend clears the way for us.”
“We can’t wait. We need to know who this American lieutenant colonel is.”
“Well, get me to the plane and we’ll take a shot at it,” Pete said, looking over at an excited Ellenshaw, who reached out and lightly elbowed Pete.
“You see what I mean. We’re in danger constantly with these two, and it only gets better.”
Golding gave Ellenshaw a look and a brief smile that never touched any other part of his face. He nodded and looked out of his window as Captain Everett started the car. He saw Charlie Ellenshaw’s face reflected in the glass and noted that the rumors about crazy Charlie were accurate-he was indeed crazy.
An hour later Jack stood next to the main gate at Tempelhof International Airport as Everett, Golding, and Ellenshaw watched from the shadows. The private portion of the airport was guarded by what appeared to be military personnel and Collins knew the security situation had changed since the attack in Berlin the day before, necessitating the change in airport status. Jack hissed through his teeth as he realized that, without the use of deadly force against the soldiers, there would be no entering from that area. He turned and ducked back into the shadows of a hangar that lined the fenced-in area.
“Forget about the gate,” he said as he approached Everett and the others.
“How about this?” Everett asked, lightly tapping an aluminum building that housed a private aviation company.
Collins looked it over but saw that there was no window or door access on this side of the secured area.
“Not unless we have a blow torch or hacksaw.”
“I’m sure the owner would be very put out if you damaged his building,” a voice said from the darkness.
Jack relaxed when he recognized Sebastian Krell, who eased out of the shadows of the building next door.
“Damn, you’re getting better at that,” Collins said.
“I had a good teacher.” Krell removed the dark mask and shook Jack’s hand. He nodded at the others. “Those are my men at the gate. I told the airport security department we would be running a drill for the next three hours, so I suggest that since you’re an hour late you board your aircraft and get the hell out of Berlin before one of my brethren in law enforcement blows your ass back to the States.”
Collins slapped Krell on the shoulder. “Hang out awhile until we get airborne?”
“That was the plan.” Sebastian looked at all four men. “Now look, you have an authorized aircraft next to your own. We’re running a check on it at this time, and we can’t just board it, so we don’t know who it belongs to.”
“Why do you mention that?” Everett asked as he felt for the comfort of the nine-millimeter under his shirt.
“Because, Captain Everett, the aircraft’s pilot, like your own, never left the plane after landing two days ago.
