top left of his screen; the unmanned airplane had to be somewhere just to its right, but he couldn’t see it yet on the visual.
Zen realized what was happening a second before McNamara alerted him from the flight deck.
“We have his radar,” said McNamara. “They’re targeting the Chinese plane!”
“Warn them,” said Zen. “The AMRAAMs — can you target the clone?”
The interphone and radio circuits clogged as the pilots above tried to communicate with the Chinese plane and locate the clone at the same time. Zen continued on his course, powering up his own weapons. An upside- down W appeared on the left side of his screen, whitish-gray in the harsh light above the waves. It was the clone.
Zen pushed his stick hard, trying to get it into his aiming reticule.
He was too far. He’d never get to it before the clone opened fire.
“Can you jam his radar?” Zen asked.
McNamara didn’t answer. Instead, C3 gave a buzz indicating that
Which gave him an idea.
“Get north,” he told Alou. “Get between the clone and its mother. Knock down its signal.”
Again, the only answer from the bridge was nonverbal — a quick jerk in the air as the heavy bomber lurched northward, trying to follow Zen’s directions.
Zen’s targeting cue began blinking, its color changing to yellow. He was lined up for a shot but too far away, the computer was telling him. He needed to wait until the cue blinked red.
The clone danced up and down, weaving through the air. Then it exploded—
No, it was firing.
Zen pressed the Flighthawk trigger, though he was still well out of range. The W-shaped boogie split off to the right, climbing. Zen turned hard and hit the gas, immediately getting a proximity warning.
“Turn off the ECMs. I have to follow him.”
“Zen, we’re at bingo. We’re beyond it — we have to refuel. We have to go back,” said Alou.
His voice was so stern Zen didn’t argue. He pulled around, looking in the direction of the H-5.
It was still on the water, taxiing he thought. Then the large tail seemed to fold backward, the massive airplane crumpled like a piece of origami caught in a tornado. Flames burst from the engines; in a matter of seconds, the entire aircraft had disappeared under the water.
“Oh shit,” said Zen.
III
Chips
Dog had just stripped and turned on the water to take a shower before dinner when his secure satellite phone buzzed. Thinking — hoping — it might be Jennifer, he grabbed it off the sink and looked at the LED window on the top, which was like a caller ID device indicating which node of the Dreamland secure system had originated the communications. He was surprised to find that the alphanumeric was Z-99—Zen.
“Bastian,” he said, wrapping a towel around himself.
“Colonel, we have a problem. We found the ghost clone, but before we could get to it, it shot down the Chinese aircraft. It took off before we could apprehend it.”
Dog reached back into the tub to turn off the shower as Zen continued, explaining what had happened.
“There’s a merchant ship about twenty minutes away,” Zen added. “He’s en route. We can see debris on the water, but no survivors.”
“No survivors?”
“We’re still looking,” said Zen.
He added that the Chinese had additional assets en route. The final transmission from the H-5 was garbled, and it wasn’t clear to them what happened.
“The Chinese know the plane is down?” asked Dog.
“Yes, sir. A J-8 was coming down to hook up with it and escort it home. The J-8 radioed us shortly after the shootdown when it didn’t show on radar. We told them we were refueling but would come up and look for them. It wasn’t a lie, exactly. We just left out some of the details.”
There was a knock on his door. Dog ignored it. “What are you doing now?” he asked Zen.
“I’d like to stay around until the ship gets there at least.”
“Any possibility of finding the clone?”
“We can try, but the trail’s pretty cold. Alou won’t complain, but his crew’s been at it a pretty long time.”
Whoever was at the door knocked again. Dog thought it must be Mack, who’d promised to give him a ride over to the palace.
“All right,” Dog told him. “Stay aloft until the Chinese have the area covered. Offer whatever assistance you can. After that, head back. I’ll meet you in the trailer.”
“The Chinese are going to think we shot them down,” said Zen.
“I know.”
Dog hit the End button and pulled the towel tighter around his waist. But instead of Mack he found Miss Kelly.
“Colonel, you’re not dressed yet,” she said.
“I’m afraid there have been new developments,” said Dog. He decided to give her a brief overview of what had happened.
“I have to check with Washington to see precisely how they want to handle this.”
“It’s not good,” she said.
“No, it’s not,” said Dog. “I’m going to have to miss dinner with the sultan.”
“You can’t.”
“This is much more important.”
“Not showing up will be interpreted as an insult.”
“I’m afraid it can’t be helped.”
“Colonel, you can’t snub the sultan.”
“I’m not snubbing him. I just don’t have time for diplomatic bullshit,” he told her. “You’re the State Department. You fix it.”
“But—”
He slammed the door before she could finish her sentence.
The storm cloud approached from the east, rushing in like a tempest sent from the gods. Low to the water, riding in the thick band of the setting sun, it seemed to kick up fire and ash rather than steam as it came toward the
The
