Air Battle Force

“ ‘Tried’?”

“The Taliban troops were waiting for them,” Izzy said. She tapped the folder with a long, red-painted fingernail. “Looks like every Russian helicopter was shot down, and every Russian soldier is either dead or captured. The satellite photos, sent from Battle Mountain, are pretty explicit.”

“My God.” Maureen thought for a moment. “Ask Colonel Briggs to come in here.”

The tall, good-looking black officer was brought into the VIP cabin within moments, followed by Sergeant Major Chris Wohl. Maureen handed Briggs the message form.

“Your thoughts, Colonel?” she asked.

Briggs studied the reports for a few moments, then handed them to Chris Wohl. “Any word from the Turkmen foreign ministry?” Briggs asked.

“Just the warning that insurgents have taken Mary.”

“Has Turkmenistan revoked our overflight authorization?”

“No,” Isadora Meiling said. She turned to Hershel and said, “The closest divert base is Athens. Ankara, Turkey, is ahead, or we can reverse course and go to Rome.”

Hershel looked puzzled. “Land in Europe? We’ve already got clearance to land in Bahrain, and we’ve got permission to land in Ashkhabad. Why do we need to reverse course?”

“Why? A major shooting war just started in Turkmenistan!”

“I agree with the deputy secretary,” Briggs said. “If everyone is going to respect our diplomatic credentials, we should keep on pressing forward.”

“Land in Turkmenistan? In the middle of a war? Excuse me, Colonel, but that sounds crazy,” Meiling said incredulously. “Is there any guarantee that the Taliban or the Russians are going to respect our credentials? Is someone’s air-to-air or surface-to-air missile going to respect our credentials before it blows us out of the sky?”

“Good points,” Chris Wohl said.

Izzy Meiling nodded and smiled at the big Marine — and Hal Briggs nearly fell over in a dead faint when he saw Wohl nod and even appear to favor her with a half smile in return. When Chris Wohl was on the job, he usually remained as serious as a nuclear war. That microscopic smile was the closest Hal had ever seen the big Marine come to emotionally connecting with a woman — Hal hesitated to call it a “flirt”—in eleven years of working with the guy.

“It might be safer to land in some neighboring country — the United Nations base at Samarkand in Uzbekistan would be my first choice — and proceed by land or helicopter, or conclude your business by phone, or have the principals come to you,” Wohl added.

“All good suggestions — except I don’t feel we have the time,” Hershel said. “I know there’s a risk involved, but I want to proceed.”

There was a knock at the door. Meiling checked the peephole. “It’s President Martindale.” The phone rang at that moment, and Hershel picked it up immediately as she waved for Meiling to let Martindale in. “Hershel… okay, operator, going secure.” She pushed a button on her phone and waited for the beeping and hissing to stop. “Yes, I’m secure, thank you, operator…. I’ll stand by.”

A few moments later: “Maureen?”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

“I don’t suppose I can assume that because your plane hasn’t diverted, you didn’t get the word.”

“I got the information on the attacks on the city of Mary and the Taliban ambushing those Russian commandos, Mr. President,” Hershel replied. “But unless they revoke our landing permission, I intend to complete this mission.”

“Miss Hershel, you know I try not to involve myself in my staff’s decision making, but this is one instance when I think the smart thing would be to postpone your trip to Turkmenistan until things have calmed down.”

“I’ll talk it over with my staff, sir.”

“But your inclination is to go ahead with the trip.”

“It is, Mr. President.”

Maureen heard the president sigh, but he did not contradict her. Instead he said, “I heard you brought along some… help.”

Not one word of advice, second-guessing, or questioning — Maureen liked that. This was a president who trusted his staff, all right. “I hope that’s okay, sir.”

“It was a good call. What’s your plan?”

“If we’re allowed to land, I’m going to meet with Gurizev,” Hershel replied. “If they refuse, I’ll make a courtesy call to Niyazov — maybe he’ll have some information. Then I’ll meet with the Russian ambassador, if he’s still in the capital. And then I’ll try to meet with the Taliban general.”

“And what about your new ‘security personnel’? What are their plans, once they get to Turkmenistan?”

“Their plans, sir?”

“In light of what’s happened in Turkmenistan these past few days, Miss Hershel, I think they’ll be more effective on their own, not tied to your embassy staff or your travel contingent,” the president said.

Hershel looked at Briggs and Wohl — and only then realized that they were probably not going to want to stick around just to baby-sit her. “I think I see what you mean, sir. I’ll find out and let you know.”

“Sounds fine, Maureen,” the president said. “Keep me advised. Good luck.”

“Thank you, Mr. President.” And like that the call was over. Maureen looked at the receiver as if wondering if that was really all he had to say, then put the receiver back on its cradle. “The president wished us luck.”

“What’s happened, Maureen?” Kevin Martindale asked. He saw Briggs and Wohl and extended a hand. “How are you boys doing?”

“Very well, sir,” Hal Briggs replied.

“Mr. President,” Chris Wohl chimed in, as warm as he ever was — which was never very warm at all.

“I heard that Thorn reinstated you and gave you promotions. I’m glad to hear it.”

“Thanks to you, I hear, sir,” Briggs said.

“Just trying to undo the mess I caused by signing us on to that deal in Africa,” Martindale said. “I know I’ll never undo the pain I’ve caused Patrick. How is he?”

“Just fine, sir.”

Maureen Hershel’s face brightened when she heard Patrick’s name. “I didn’t realize you knew each other,” she said.

“We go back a long way,” Martindale said. “I didn’t know they were part of this trip, but, by God, I’m glad they’re here.” He clasped Wohl on the shoulder. “I hope you brought all the gear with you.”

“We did, sir.”

“And Patrick…?”

“Standing by, sir.”

“Excellent.” He turned to Hershel. “What’s happened, Maureen?”

“Things are getting pretty tense over in Turkmenistan, Mr. President,” Hershel said. “There’s been a skirmish—” She stopped, then said, “No, I won’t try to soft-pedal this. Sir, there’s been a serious development. The Taliban insurgents decimated a Turkmen army force outside the city of Mary.”

“My God,” Martindale breathed. “Thorn should expect the Russians to counterattack, maybe try to land some commandos behind the Taliban forces in the city, maybe send some long-range bombers to pound the crap out of them like they did in Chechnya—”

“The Russians apparently tried to airlift about three hundred commandos into the outskirts of Mary,” Maureen said. “Some Taliban forces ambushed them with shoulder-fired antiaircraft missiles. All of the Russians were either killed or captured.”

“So it’s war,” Martindale muttered. “Have we been ordered to turn around? Have our landing or overflight rights been canceled?”

“No, sir.”

“Did Thorn order you to turn around?”

“The president advised me to postpone the trip,” Hershel replied, “but he said it was my call.”

“And?”

“The conflict happened almost two hundred miles from the capital — I think we’ll be all right,” Hershel said.