curse, he tried to deal with the pain as a pair of boots came into his restricted field of vision.
'Do not get overly excited,' the other man said. 'It's heading to Haiphong to count the ships. Now, my friend, we need to become acquainted.'
Cody- 193 continued northeast, holding a nearly constant speed and altitude as it entered the dense air- defense belt surrounding North Vietnam 's only major port. The cameras in the Buffalo Hunter recorded several triple-A batteries, observation points, and more than a few people with AK-47s, all of whom made at least a token shot at the drone. The only thing -193 had going for it was its small size. Otherwise it flew on a straight and level course while its cameras snapped away, recording the images on 2.25-inch film. About the only thing not shot at it were surface-to-air missiles: -193 was too low for that.
'Go, baby, go!' the Major said, two hundred miles away. Outside, the four piston engines of the Warning Star were straining to maintain the altitude necessary for him to watch the drone's progress. His eyes were locked on the flat glass screen, following the binking blip of the radar transponder. Other controllers monitored the location of other American aircraft also visiting the enemy country, in constant communication with red crown, the Navy ship that managed air operations from the seaward side. 'Turn east, baby - now!'
Right on schedule, Cody-193 banked hard to the right, coming a touch lower and screaming over the Haiphong docks at 500 knots, a hundred tracer rounds in its wake. Longshoremen and sailors from various ships looked up in curiosity and irritation, and not a little fear for all the steel flying in the sky over their heads.
'Yes!' the Major shouted, loudly enough that the sergeant-controller to his left looked up in irritation. You were supposed to keep things quiet here. He keyed his mike to speak to red crown. 'Cody-one-niner-three is bingo.'
'Roger, copy bingo on one-niner-three,' the acknowledgment came back. It was a false use of the 'bingo' code word, which ordinarily meant an aircraft with a low fuel state, but it was a term so commonly used that it made a more than adequate disguise. The Navy enlisted man on the other end of the circuit then told an orbiting helicopter crew to wake up.
The drone cleared the coast right on schedule, keeping low for a few more miles before going into its final climb, down to its last hundred pounds of fuel as it reached its pre-programmed point thirty miles offshore and began circling. Now another transponder came on, one tuned to the search radars of US Navy picket ships. One of these, the destroyer HenryB. Wilson, took note of the expected target at the expected time and place. Her missile technicians used the opportunity to run a practice intercept problem, but had to switch off their illumination radars after a few seconds. It made the airedales nervous.
Circling at five thousand feet, Cody-193 finally ran out of fuel and became a glider. When the airspeed fell to the right number, explosive bolts blew a hatch cover off the top, deploying a parachute. The Navy helicopter was already on station, and the white 'chute made for a fine target. The drone's weight was a scant fifteen hundred pounds now, barely that of eight men. Wind and visibility cooperated this day. The 'chute was snagged on their first attempt, and the helicopter turned at once, heading for the carrier USS Constellation, where the drone was carefully lowered into a cradle, ending its sixty-second combat mission. Before the helicopter could find its own spot on the flight deck, a technician was already unfastening the cover plate on the photo compartment and yanking the heavy film cassette from its slot. He took it below at once, and handed it over to another technician in the ship's elaborate photo lab. Processing required a brief six minutes, and the still-damp film was wiped clean and handed over yet again to an intelligence officer. It was better than good. The film was run from one spool to another over a flat glass plate under which was a pair of fluorescent lights.
'Well, Lieutenant?' a captain asked tensely.
'Okay, sir, wait one...' Turning the spool, he pointed to the third image. 'There's our first reference point... there's number two, she was right on course... okay, here's the IP... down the valley, over the hill - there, sir! We have two, three frames! Good ones, the sun was just right, clear day - you know why they call these babies Buffalo Hunters? It's -'
'Let me see!' The Captain nearly shoved the junior officer out of the way. There was a man there, an American, with two guards, and a fourth man - but it was the American he wanted to see.
'Here, sir.' The Lieutenant handed over a magnifying glass. 'We might get a good face off of this, and we can play with the negative some more if you give us a little time. Like I said, the cameras can tell the difference between a male and a female -'
'Mmmmm.' The face was black, meaning a white man on the negative. But - 'Damn, I can't tell.'
'Cap'n, that's our job, okay?' He was an intelligence officer. The Captain was not. 'Let us do our job, sir.'
'He's one of ours!'
'Sure as hell, sir, and this guy isn't. Let me take these back to the lab for positive prints and blowups. The air wing will want a look at the port shots, too.'
'They can wait.'
'No, sir, they can't,' the Lieutenant pointed out. But he took a pair of scissors and removed the relevant shots. The remainder of the roll was handed to a chief petty officer, while the Lieutenant and the Captain went back to the photo lab. Fully two months of work had gone into the flight of Cody-193, and the Captain lusted for the information he knew to be on those three two-and-a-quarter-inch frames.
An hour later he had it. An hour after that, he boarded a flight to Danang. Another hour and he was on a flight to Cubi Point Naval Air Station in the Philippines, followed by a puddle-jumper to Clark Air Force Base, and???-135 that would fly directly to California. Despite the time and rigors of the next twenty hours of flying, the Captain slept briefly and fitfully, having solved a mystery whose answer just might change the policy of his government.
CHAPTER 4
First Light
Kelly slept nearly eight hours, again arising at the sound of the gulls to find that Pam wasn't there. He went outside and saw her standing on the quay, looking out over the water, still weary, still robbed of the ability to get the rest she needed. The Bay had its usual morning calm, the glassy surface punctuated by the circular ripples of bluefish chasing after insects. Conditions like this seemed so fitting to the start of a day, a gentle westerly breeze in his face, and the odd silence that allowed one to hear the rumble of a boat's motor from so far away that the boat could not be seen. It was the sort of time that allowed you to be alone with nature, but he knew that Pam merely felt alone. Kelly walked out to her as quietly as he could and touched her waist with both his hands.
'Good morning.' She didn't answer for a long time, and Kelly stood still, holding her lightly, just enough that she could feel his touch. She was wearing one of his shirts, and he didn't want his touch to be sexual, only protective. He was afraid to press himself on a woman who'd suffered that kind of abuse, and could not predict where the invisible line might be.
'So now you know,' she said, just loudly enough to be heard over the silence, unable to turn and face him.
'Yes,' Kelly answered, equally quiet.
'What do you think?' Her voice was a painful whisper.
'I'm not sure what you mean, Pam.' Kelly felt the trembling start, and he had to resist the urge to hold her tighter.
'About me.'
'About you?' He allowed himself to get a little closer, altering his hold until his arms wrapped around her waist, but not tightly. 'I think you're beautiful. I think I'm real glad we met.'
'I do drugs.'
'The docs say you're trying to quit. That's good enough for me.'
'It's worse than that. I've done things -' Kelly cut her off.
'I don't care about that, Pam. I've done things, too. And one thing you did for me was very nice. You gave me something to care about, and I didn't ever expect that to happen.' Kelly pulled her tighter. 'The things you did before we met don't matter. You're not alone, Pam. I'm here to help if you want me to.'
'When you find out...' she warned.
'I'll take my chances. I think I know the important parts already. I love you, Pam.' Kelly surprised himself with those words. He'd been too afraid to voice the thought even to himself. It was too irrational, but again emotion won out over reason, and reason, for once, found itself approving.
