more power and tweaked the nose higher.
“Joe and Corky, huh? And you, Shotgun?”
“Belenko and Smith, sir.”
“Well, this is how it is, guys. I’m going after those terrorists. Sixth Fleet ordered me not to. The president will probably approve of a pursuit, but we’ll lose the chance if we wait around. Those people killed a bunch of our guys and stole two nuclear weapons. I’m going with or without you. If you want to go back, that’ll be fine. If you go along, the fact that I’m the man responsible and you’re just following orders may not be a big enough piece of armor plate to cover your ass. I don’t have any steel underwear to give you. Think about it.”
Silence. He had 90 percent RPM on both engines now and they were passing through 12,000 feet. He was wasting fuel climbing this slowly, but the tanker pilot probably had his throttles almost to the stops.
“Uh, CAG,” Toad said over the intercom. “Don’t I get a vote in this? I’d like to stay out of prison if at all possible. I’m pretty young, you know. Whole life before me and all that. It seems to me—”
“Shut up,” Jake Grafton said. “You’re flying with me.”
The scrambler beeped. “What do you think they might do with those weapons, CAG?”
“They’re not going to mount them on a wall somewhere as trophies.”
The jets passed thorough a thin cloud layer. Above it, Jake could see the pink light of dawn to the southeast. The stars were fading rapidly. It was going to be a good day to fly.
“Red Ace Two Zero Six. This is Volcano on Guard.” “Guard” was the emergency frequency, 243.0, which was constantly monitored by a separate radio receiver in each plane. “RTB. Return to base. Contact Volcano on …” and he named a frequency.
When that transmission ceased, the scrambler beeped in, and the voice from the other fighter said, “CAG, we hold Palermo five degrees port. What are we gonna do when we get there?”
“What about you, Belenko?”
“If you guys are going to tilt some windmills, we wanta be there to watch.”
“Oh, shit,” Toad sighed.
From his seat Colonel Qazi could see the light in the eastern sky. The airplane was heading right for the spot where the sun would shortly appear. The windows were round and small and covered with scratches which suffused the pink dawn.
El Hakim was in the after part of the cabin watching Jarvis complete the task of wiring the trigger to the bomb. In the seat facing him, the bodyguard with the Uzi kept the gun pointed at Qazi’s stomach. Qazi shifted in his seat and tried to get comfortable. His wrist and head hurt from the blows of the night and his entire body ached from the exertion.
He heard someone walking this way. The dictator fell onto the seat beside the guard and leered at him.
“You know, I assume,” Qazi said, “that the triggers won’t work.”
El Hakim’s lips pulled away from his teeth, exposing them. “Oh yes. I thought you might do something along those lines, so Jarvis checked them before he left Africa. He replaced the timing devices.” The dictator leaned forward. “They’ll work
Qazi looked out the window. The fiery disk of the sun had peeped over the horizon. “You tipped your hand when you subverted Ali,” he said just loud enough for El Hakim to hear. “He was not a good double agent.”
El Hakim sat with his hands on his knees, the knuckles whitening. The muscles in his cheeks tensed and relaxed, tensed and relaxed, rhythmically. “Another possibility to be guarded against. Another precaution to be taken.” He leaned across and slapped Qazi hard. “
Qazi complied.
“You knew I might discover your sabotage of the triggers. What precaution did you take against that?”
Qazi merely looked at him.
“Answer!”
“Your only viable alternative,” Qazi said slowly, calmly, “is to take these weapons back to Africa and use them as diplomatic tools. They will give you stature and respect in international councils. Your voice in the Arab world will …
“What else did you do, Colonel? Tell me now.”
“I called the Israelis and told them you were coming. You won’t get within a hundred—”
El Hakim stood speechless, his mouth open. He licked his lips. It wasn’t true, of course, Qazi reflected. Too risky to give an aggressive bunch like that any advance warning of his acquisition of weapons that would change the entire power structure in the Mediterranean. But El Hakim was accustomed to calculating different risks.
“You’re lying,” El Hakim spluttered. “You’re bluffing.” He tried to laugh. “It won’t work with me.”
“The number in Rome is 679 93 62.”
El Hakim had him around the throat. He shook him like a dog shakes a snake. “Traitor! You filthy, slimy traitor!”
Qazi’s cuffed hands wouldn’t reach. He fought for air. He bit his tongue. The darkness closed in and his vision shrank to pinpoints. He could hear El Hakim shouting, but the words were being replaced by a roaring in his ears. Then suddenly the pressure on his neck ceased, leaving him gasping, chest heaving.
“… too good for you. Oh, no! I will kill you slowly, make you die by inches.” El Hakim stood over him, staring down. Perspiration glistened on his face. “You betrayed us. You betrayed
The three American jets came from the north, from the sea. Far below, the airmen saw the city of Palermo and they saw the thin, irregular line where the land surrendered to the sea. The land was rough, convoluted, and as the sun crept over the rim of the earth the ridges cast long shadows into dark, misty valleys.
With his throttles pulled back to max conserve, Jake remained at 25,000 feet and watched Joe Watson’s plane fall away toward the city below as he listened to yet another transmission from the
“That’s the seventh time they’ve called,” Toad said, his voice revealing his irritation.
“Persistent beggars, aren’t they?”
“Goddamn, CAG, Sixth Fleet! You can’t give the finger to Sixth Fleet. For the love of—”
“I’m not in the mood for you today, Toad. A lot of good men died trying to stop these assholes, and you’re whining. Now shut the fuck up.”
The sun was a fireball just above the horizon. As his plane turned through the easterly heading Jake was blinded by the glare coming straight through his heads-up display. He squinted behind the green visor of his helmet and tried to see the instruments. They were almost indecipherable. His eyes couldn’t look from brightness to darkness and accommodate anymore. It irritated him, as Toad did. So much at stake and nothing going right. What would Joe and Corky find down there? Was Qazi still there? Even if he was, where were the weapons? It was an impossible problem. He engaged the autopilot, knowing it would fly the plane more smoothly than he could and thereby save a few pints of fuel. A few gallons. He unfastened one side of his oxygen mask and swabbed his face with a gloved hand and let the mask dangle. Come on, guys. What’s down there?
“There’s a chopper here on the mat beside a hangar with the door closed, CAG. As near as I can tell, it looks exactly like one of those that was on the ship. No one in sight. Not a solitary soul. Nothing down here but light planes, Cessnas and Pipers. What do you think?”
Jake refastened his mask. “How many hangars?”
“Two.”
“How about big trucks? Any semis parked around?”
“Empty as a politician’s promise.”
Had the bird flown? Jake had to make a decision and make it fast. Joe Watson was down low, burning gas at
