Yuri flicked on his cannon and managed a half-second burst, but his overtake speed was too great and he was forced to climb on the B-52.
The huge black bomber had disappeared beneath him.
He could only keep his throttles at max afterburner, try to come around and align himself once more for another cannon run before his fuel ran out.
McLanahan was now fiercely pushing the control column, fighting the lumbering Old Dog. Its airspeed had bled off below two hundred knots.
Over the blare of the stall-warn horn Ormack shouted to him that they had stalled and to get the nose down…
McLanahan somehow did it. He had just leveled the Dog's nose on the horizon when a blur and a roar erupted outside his left window.
The fighter had rushed past, its twin afterburners glowin.
It was so close McLanahan felt the heat of its engines through broken glass and bullet holes. Then it began a shallow climb, arcing gracefully up and to the left.
Ignoring the blaring stall-warning horn, McLanahan pulled back on the control column and pointed the Old Dog's nose skyward once again.
But with the number-eight throttle at full power, the Old Dog began to slide to the left, its nose reaching a forty-degree angle, knifing skyward.
'Patrick, release the controls, now McLanahan ignored Ormack's order, waited, bone-tired, wrestling with a hundred tons of near-uncontrollable machine.
Then seconds before the MiG disappeared from sight, he ordered: 'Angie, right pylon missile-FIRE.'
It took a few seconds, but with a screech and a long plume of fire the Scorpion missile sped free of its pylon rail and in the cold semi-darkness of the long Siberian night, with two bright turbofans in full afterburner dead- ahead, there was only one possible target.
The missile plunged into the fighter, detonating as the hot afterburner exhaust hit the propellant. The entire aft section of the fighter + the twin-tailed MiG broke apart, shredding the nearly empty fuel tanks and adding thousands of cubic feet of fumes to the fury of the explosion.
McLanahan watched the fireball fly on for several moments in a wide bright arc, before plunging into the snowy peaks of the Koraksko e Mountains below.
Silence. No cheers. No gloating. And then the Old Dog turned eastward toward the Bering Strait-and home.
SEWARD AIR NATIONAL GUARD BASE, NOME, ALASKA
The hospital rooms were small and cold, the beds hard and narrow, and the food was just edible-but for the past week the crew of the Old Dog had felt like they had died and gone to heaven.
For the first time since their arrival, and by accident, they were all together. When she was notified by a nurse General Elliott was accepting visitors, Angelina Pereira, only one of the crew not seriously injured, walked through frozen streets of the Nome Airport to the Air National Guard infirmary and General Elliott's guarded room.
The entire crew was assembled.
'Well, hello,' she said, surprised but pleased. They were all there-John Ormack, sitting at a desk beside Elliott, head and shoulder heavily bandaged; Patrick McLanahan frostbite on his ears, hands and face; Wendy Tork, band ver parts of her face and forehead-, and General ER Angelina went over to his bedside.
'How you doing Angie?'
'Fine, sir… I'm I'm sorry about your leg.
truly-' 'Forget it, Angie,' Elliott said, glancing at the folded bedspread where his right leg would have been. 'Some of those doctors out at Bethesda already have me on the slate for a mechanical job, so I'll be up and making trouble before you know it. I'm not trying to be brave, I'm just damn glad to be alive actually I'm the one who should be making apologies. 'He was thinking especially of Dave Luger.
Angelina said: 'I was proud to serve with you, sir, and proud of what we accomplished. I think I speak for everybody ' Elliott looked at his assembled crew. 'Thank you, I'm damn grateful to all of you. 'He cleared his throat. 'I think you'll be glad to know that I spoke with the President this morning. He congratulated every one of you. He also said that a new agreement has been reached… the Soviets have agreed not to rebuild the Kavaznya facility, and in return we've agreed not to launch another Ice Fortress.
'He told me something else that will interest you. Our suspicions about a breach of security were on target. It seems a certain aide in CIA Director Kenneth Mitchell's office was passing information to the Soviets. I don't know if it was a birds-of-a-feather sort of thing, or money, or both. Whatever, if we hadn't faked that crash over Seattle, my guess is that the Russians would have been waiting for us with every fighter they could put in the air. As it was, we had our hands No one argued with that.
Elliott motioned to Wendy, who had gotten a smuggled bottle of wine from the general's closet. She and Angelina poured for everyone as Elliott went on.
'Of course the destruction of the Kavaznya laser and our new agreement doesn't nail down the lid on laser technology.
It's probably only a matter of time before we develop laser systems equivalent to the Soviets'.What we've got to hope is that they'll neutralize each other Elliott raised his glass. 'Well, to right now, and to the crew of the Old Dog. You guys broke the mold. 'Angelina raised her glass. 'And to Lewis Campos.'
McLanahan forced his voice to be steady. 'To Dave Luger… ' 'To Dave Luger,' Wendy added. 'The one who really brought us home.'
They finished their wine in a strained silence. It was Angelina who finally spoke.
'What will happen to the Old Dog, General?'
'Well, as a matter of fact, it may be back in action-although I still think John here suffered a crack in the head he's not telling us about.'
Ormack shrugged. 'With what it's been through, it doesn't seem right to let it be cut up for scrap metal. I'll super, some repairs and fly it back to Dreamland.'
McLanahan said, 'I'm probably out of my mind, but I volunteered to go back with him.
'Patrick seems to like the idea of hanging around with old coot like me,' Elliott said, smiling. 'He's accepted a working with me at Dreamland.'
Elliott nodded at Ormack, who reached into a duffel bag.
saved this one for you, McLanahan,' Ormack said, presented him with the pilot's control wheel.'it popped r' off the Old Dog's left control column. I didn't have it cut ol anything. I guess the beast wanted you to have it.
Wendy hung up the telephone at the nurse's station, turned to Patrick McLanahan sitting beside her.
'Everything okay at home?' McLanahan asked.
Fine. They were relieved to hear from me. They hahen't been able to get word-one out of the Air Force for the last two months.
'My mom was worried too,' McLanahan asked. 'I had a good excuse, though.
Told her I was busy bombing Russia.'
'You didn't-' 'Sure, why not? She didn't believe a word I said.'
Wendy smiled, then turned serious. 'Pat… that Catherine, you told me about. Did you call her too?'
'Yes. We had a long talk. Very long. I told her the truth, told her I used to worry I wasn't making a difference being in the Air Force, that what I was doing wasn't adding up to anything. I said I didn't feel that way anymore, that I going to stay in. I think she understood. She wished me luc 'Oh, well, that's good… I guess… And i you're off to Dreamland next month. 'She fidgeted with her hands. 'I'm sure you'll do… I'm glad things have worked out for you He stood up and looked down at her, into her eyes that refused to meet his. 'Hey, it's just a thought, but… well, you know, Elliott could use a good electronic warfare officer at Dreamland. And I'd like it if… oh, to hell with it,' an put his arms around her and drew her to him.
'I want you to come with me. I want us to be together. How about it'?'
