Final Flight

interrogation of the American sailor you did not hear. It was extremely technical. The only real danger from an unaltered weapon is that fire or an accident will split the skin of the weapon and cause nuclear material to be spilled. If one were handled carelessly enough, a conventional explosion of low magnitude could occur. But there can be no nuclear explosion unless and until a variety of sophisticated devices within the weapon have all had their parameters satisfied. For example, the devices must be initially stimulated by precisely the right amount of electrical current for precisely the proper length of time for the triggering process to begin. And that is only the first safeguard. But these safeguards must all be overcome or bypassed.”

“How will you do that?”

“We’ll need the cooperation of an American expert, one who helped design and construct the safeguards. Fortunately we are well on our way to obtaining the cooperation of just such an individual right now. We have identified him with the help of Henry Sakol.”

The left corner of El Hakim’s mouth rose slightly in a sneer. He knew Henry Sakol far too well. A former CIA agent, Sakol supplied weapons which El Hakim could obtain nowhere else, thanks to the American government, Mr. Sakol’s former employer. Sakol was a ruthless and greedy man, a godless man without scruple or loyalty. “When we have the nuclear weapons, we will have no further need of Sakol.”

“Truly.”

“Do you intend to use him for this operation?”

“Yes, Excellency. He knows much that will be useful.”

“He will betray you if given the slightest opportunity. The Americans would reward him well, perhaps even forgive his crimes.”

“He’ll have no opportunity. I’ll see to it.”

“And the weapons expert?”

“A fat fool with a very rich, very stupid wife and a fondness for small boys. He would serve the devil himself to preserve his filthy secret. I’m allowing him a quarter hour in the plan for him to alter just one weapon. But for our purposes, five or six hours must pass before the Americans are in a position to generate a military response to the incident. We need that time to escape. Then they must face the fact that we have also had sufficient time to alter the others. Of course, we don’t actually have to do it. The Americans must merely be delayed until they see that we have the personnel, the equipment, and the time to accomplish the task.”

Qazi searched El Hakim’s face. “The beauty of these weapons is that one never has to use them. They accomplish far more by simply existing, ready for use, than they could ever accomplish by exploding.”

The ruler smiled. “What course do you recommend?”

“An announcement by you to the world press immediately after the operation. This will cause alarm throughout the Western world and create confusion in Washington, where all the decisions will ultimately be made. The confusion will give us time while the Americans assess how they should react. We want a thoughtful reaction, not a knee-jerk lashing out by the American military. When they pause for thought, the Americans will realize the implications of our deed and will accept the new reality. The new reality will be that we are now a nuclear power. They will accept it! They have no alternative.”

They discussed it. The dictator prided himself on his understanding of the decision-making processes of the American government and his ability to predict its policies. The Americans would be greatly embarrassed, he thought, but the critical factor would be the hysterical fear of Western European governments that a military response to his acquisition of nuclear weapons would lead to a nuclear conflict on their soil or in their backyard. After all, they would scream at the Americans, “You are four thousand miles away from El Hakim, with an ocean between you. We are here.” So the Americans would wring their hands and suffer the humiliation. It would be a bitter pill, but they would swallow it. Finally El Hakim sighed. “Fortunately we are smarter and more determined than the Americans, praise Allah, even if we cannot match their technology. When can we proceed?”

“That we do not know, Excellency. The United States is now patrolling off the coast of Lebanon. How long she will be there no one can say. As you know, the Moslem factions, with Iran’s backing, will do all in their power to embarrass the Americans. And embarrassment is about all they can accomplish.”

El Hakim nodded his head a thirty-second of an inch and his jaw tightened. He did not appreciate being reminded of the limited options open to a group with few political assets and still fewer military ones. He had spent too many years in that position. “We must be ready when the ship enters port, whenever that is.”

“We’ll be ready, Excellency. We are monitoring the commercial hotels and airports at various possible ports of call. The longer the ship is at sea, the greater the likelihood that many wives will come from America to visit their husbands when the ship enters port. Advance hotel and airline reservations will give us ample warning.”

“We must not fail, Qazi. We cannot fail.” El Hakim’s voice was soft, yet hard, like a thin layer of sand over desert stone.

“I understand, Excellency.”

“The stakes are too high to allow my genuine personal affection for you to have any bearing on my decisions.”

It was Qazi’s turn to clench his teeth and nod.

“Keep me advised of the state of your preparations.” El Hakim rose and left the apartment, leaving the door open behind him.

5

How much longer before we go into port?”

Jake was still in his flight suit and stared at the admiral, Cowboy Parker. They were seated in the admiral’s stateroom on the 0–3 level, immediately below the flight deck.

“I don’t know.” As usual, Cowboy’s angular face registered no emotion. In his mid-forties, he had been identified years earlier as one of the finest young officers in the navy and had been sent to nuclear-power school after his tour as commanding officer of an A-6 squadron. He had served two years as executive officer of a nuclear-powered carrier, then as commanding officer of a fleet oiler. When he finished his tour as commanding officer of the Nimitz, he had been promoted to rear admiral. In spite of that, Jake thought, his ears still stuck out too much.

“We can’t keep flying around the clock like this. We’ve just lost one plane, and if we keep it up, we’re going to lose more. These men have been working like slaves.”

Cowboy sighed. “I know that, Jake.”

“If we can’t go into port, at least let’s pull off a couple hundred miles, say down south of Cyprus where we can get some sea room, and stand down at five- or ten-minute alert. It’s keeping airplanes aloft around the clock that’s wearing these guys down to nothing.”

“Jake, I don’t have that option. You know that! As soon as I get that authority, we’ll go down there.”

Grafton stood up and began pacing the little room. “Well, maybe we can drop our nighttime flights to just the E-2, a tanker, and a couple fighters. Maybe use the Hornets as fighters during the day and the Tomcats at night. Keep the A-6s in five-minute alert status at night, armed for bear.”

“Sit down, Jake.”

Jake eyed Cowboy. They had served together during the Vietnam War in an A-6 squadron aboard the Shiloh and had remained good friends ever since. When Cowboy had had his tour commanding an A-6 squadron in the late seventies, Jake had been his assistant maintenance officer.

“Sit down. That’s an order.”

Jake sat.

“This is like Vietnam, isn’t it?”

Jake nodded. “Yep,” he said at last. “Just another set of damn fools pulling the strings. And we’re grinding people into hamburger. It’s frustrating.”

The telephone rang. Cowboy picked up the receiver. “Admiral Parker.” He listened for a moment or two, grunted twice, then hung up.

The two men sat in silence. A plane slammed into the flight deck above their heads and the room vibrated