“Not particularly.”
Boomer took the spaceplane right up to three hundred and sixty thousand feet, above most of the atmosphere, then throttled back and stabilized the airspeed at Mach nine. “We’ll start the descent in eighty-three minutes, everyone,” he said. “Check your oxygen, check your buddy, and report in when the station check’s done.”
“Everyone’s good back here,” Hal Briggs said from inside the passenger module. “We had to wake ‘the Kid’ up to do his safety check — the guy can sleep in the middle of a typhoon. The Kid,” U.S. Army First Lieutenant Russ Marz, was the Battle Force ground ops team’s newest and youngest member, and Hal had taken “The Kid” under his wing — probably, Patrick had surmised, because he was very much like Hal himself when he was twenty years younger.
The time went quickly. In less than an hour they had crossed the entire width of Russia and the Arctic Ocean, and the coast of North America was in sight a few minutes later. “The computer has started the pre-descent checklist, everyone,” Boomer announced. “We’re going to do a one point five G descent profile this time instead of three so NORAD won’t think we’re another Russian cruise missile sneak attack, and I’d like to keep the belly cool in case we have to do a quick-turn and launch again. Keep ahead of the plane and G-forces and sing out in case you’re having any problems. I’d like you all to…”
Suddenly the threat warning receiver blared, “Warning, warning, target tracking radar, two o’clock, one thousand three hundred fifty miles.”
“What did it say?” Boomer remarked. “I’ve never heard of any radar tracking at that kind of…”
“Warning, warning, warning, laser spike, laser spike…warning, warning, warning, emergency cooling circuit activated…warning, spot hull temperature increasing, station three hundred…warning, spot hull temperature increasing, station three-eighty…warning, warning, warning, hull temperature reaching critical, station four- twenty…”
“What in heck is going on?” Ann Page asked.
“I don’t know, but we’re going to melt here in a second,” Boomer said. He immediately disconnected the autopilot and rolled the Black Stallion hard left using the control thrusters.
“What are you doing, Boomer?”
“We’re getting a sudden uneven heating of a small section of the fuselage,” he replied. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I need to expose a different part of the fuselage to whatever that heat source is and give the emergency cooling system a chance to bring the temps down, or it’ll fail. General, are you reading this?”
“Just keep turning, Boomer,” Patrick McLanahan radioed. “Don’t stop maneuvering. We’re analyzing the information now.” And then they heard him say under his breath, “My God, I don’t believe it. They couldn’t possibly have done it…”
“Warning, warning, laser spike, laser spike…warning, warning, spot hull temperature rising, station…warning, warning, hull temperature reaching critical, station one-forty…”
“Boomer! Keep rolling!” Patrick radioed frantically. “As hard as you can! Don’t worry about depleting thruster fuel now! Move!” Boomer rolled the spaceplane hard to the right, nearly going inverted…
…and then he saw it — a bright orange-blue dot on the horizon with the familiar shimmering three- dimensional texture of collimated laser light. “We’re being hit by a laser — a big mother laser hot enough to almost burn through our heat shields!” he shouted. At that instant, it winked out. “Did you see that, Ann?”
“No — I was too busy praying we wouldn’t turn into a shooting star.”
“We saw it down here, Boomer,” Patrick said. “It’s something I prayed we’d never see again…but it’s back, and it’s operational.”
CHAPTER 3
A flight of three Mi-35 attack helicopters swooped in from the west in perfect formation. As two helicopters hovered and took up a protective position, the third landed just a hundred meters from the outer wall of the Ruhollah Khomeini Library and shut down its engines. A general officer and three bodyguards stepped out moments later. They carefully surveyed the outer walls of the library compound; then, one of the bodyguards made a radio call, and the two hovering attack helicopters moved away and out of sight.
As the general waited, a captured armored personnel carrier emerged from the library compound and drove out to him. The general’s bodyguards had assault rifles and grenade launchers at the ready, but the general did not try to take cover, standing defiantly, almost impatiently, fists on his hips.
Hesarak al-Kan Buzhazi emerged from the APC with Mansour Sattari and three bodyguards of his own surrounding him. He saluted the newcomer, and the general returned the salute. Both men were silent for a few long moments; then General Hoseyn Yassini, chief of staff of the Iranian armed forces, said, “Well well, Hesarak, it seems you have been quite busy lately.” Buzhazi said nothing. The officer looked at the men assembled behind Buzhazi, nodding to Sattari. “Hello, Mansour. Quite the daring raid you pulled at Doshan Tappeh. That’ll teach the Pasdaran not to be so cocksure next time, eh? Think you taught them a little lesson?”
“I hope so, sir,” Sattari said, nodding respectfully.
“Unfortunately you didn’t use the opportunity to get out of the country with your hides intact,” Yassini said. “Instead, you decided to throw in with the general’s plan to…” He turned to Buzhazi: “What, Hesarak? What’s the plan? Where do you go from here?”
Buzhazi took a thick packet of files from Sattari and handed them to Yassini. “Copies of the evidence we’ve gathered from Orumiyeh,” he said, “proving that Badi ordered the conspiracy to attack the base and kill Iranian soldiers with Pasdaran forces disguised as Kurdish rebels in order to discredit the Internal Defense Force and further his own political ambitions.”
Yassini took the files but didn’t look at them. Keeping his eyes on Buzhazi, he dropped the files to the ground beside him. “You are too funny, Hesarak,” he said, shaking his head with a wry smile. “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. Are you seriously trying to tell me all this is just you wanting to get back at that worthless piece of walking crap Muhammad Badi for concocting that ridiculous plan to discredit your precious Basij? It was obvious to everyone with half a brain in Tehran what happened in Orumiyeh. Do you expect what’s in that folder to make one bit of difference for what you’ve done in the past few days?”
He shook his head. “Hesarak, you magnificent idiot, if you had just stopped with killing Badi and escaping from Doshan Tappeh, you’d have become a legend in the Iranian military,” he said. “Hundreds of very powerful and influential men would have silently cheered for you, including some who could have pardoned you after a short stay in Anzali Prison. Badi got too powerful and pried into too many personal affairs — you just saved some other poor bastard from having to do the job. You could have even escaped to Syria or Yemen — hell, man, I probably would’ve helped you get out of the country! You’d be living like a prince in charge of some sheikh’s personal security detail.” He looked at the walls of the Khomeini Library compound. “But then you did…this. Strategically clever, I must say. If you were going for maximum shock value to the clerics in Tehran, you couldn’t have picked a better spot. Foolhardy, but clever.”
“‘Shock value’ had nothing to do with it, Hoseyn,” Buzhazi said. “Are you blind, or just preferring to act the obedient, brainless soldier? Don’t you see what the clerical regime has done to our country? The Pasdaran is out of control. There are Pasdaran troops stationed in dozens of countries from Morocco to Malaysia, and they are running al-Quds death squads in every corner of the globe. The Pasdaran has nuclear weapons, long-range ballistic missiles, submarines, and long-range bombers. For what? Some dead cleric’s idea of a global Persian empire? The return of the caliphate? This is the twenty-first century, for God’s sake.”
“Listen to you, Hesarak — fretting about empire and caliphates and political intrigue.” Yassini laughed. “Twelve years ago you were the clerics’ toughest supporter. You were ready to take on the United States of America in the Persian Gulf in support of the government — the very same government we have today!”
“I was blind and stupid back then,” Buzhazi said.
“Perhaps — but when they took the opportunity to get support from China, they abandoned your grand plan. That’s what you’re angry about, isn’t it? So which is it, Hesarak — do you truly feel the government is headed in the
