hedge. The jet engines were turning over with a soft whistling sound. Two crewmen in red nylon flight suits and brimmed caps stood at attention on each side of the steps leading inside the main cabin. Both were short, one slim, the other fairly bursting the stitched seams over his shoulders. They respectfully bowed their heads as Suma’s party approached.
Diaz stopped suddenly. “When I return to Washington, I’m going to hold a news conference and expose you and your monstrous plans. Then I’ll fight you with every means at my command in both houses of Congress, until every asset you have in the United States is confiscated and nationalized. I won’t rest until you pay for your crimes.”
Suma made an infuriating grin. “Our Washington lobbyists are more than strong enough to dilute your pathetic efforts. We own too many of your fellow legislators, who have a weakness for hidden wealth, for you to influence. Your voice will ring hollow, Senator Diaz. Your government, whether you like it or not, corrupt and mired in emotional programs instead of technology and science, has become a wholly owned Japanese subsidiary.”
Loren leaned toward Suma, her eyes narrowing in scorn. “You underestimated American guts fifty years ago, and once again you’ve awakened a sleeping giant and filled him with terrible resolve.”
“Admiral Yamamoto’s words after December the seventh do not apply now,” Suma said contemptuously. “Your people have lost the fortitude to make sacrifices for the good of the nation. You must face reality, Congresswoman Smith. America’s greatness is gone. I have nothing more to say except to urge you to warn your President of Japan’s intentions.”
“Don’t you mean your intentions,” said Loren bravely, the color coming back into her face. “You don’t represent the Japanese people.”
“A safe journey home, Congresswoman Smith. Your visit has ended.”
Suma turned and began to walk away, but he’d only taken one step when the two crewmen grabbed his arms from each side, lifted him off his feet and hurled him backwards through the open door into the aircraft’s cabin, where he seemingly vanished. It all happened so fast that Loren and Diaz stood in blank-minded shock. Only Toshie reacted, lashing out with her foot at the heavier-built crewman.
“Is this any way to begin an intimate relationship?” laughed Giordino, grabbing Toshie’s foot, sweeping her up in his arms, and hoisting her through the door to Weatherhill and Mancuso’s waiting hands as easily as if she was filled with air.
Loren gasped and started to mutter something to Giordino, but Stacy brusquely pushed her up the short stairs. “No time to waste, Ms. Smith. Please step lively.” With Loren on her way, she pulled at Diaz. “Get a move on, Senator. We’ve worn out our welcome.”
“Where… where did you all come from?” he stammered as Mancuso and Weatherhill hauled him through the hatch.
“Just your friendly neighborhood hijackers,” Weatherhill answered conversationally. “Actually, it was Pitt and Giordino who got the drop on the crew and tied them up in the cargo compartment.”
Giordino lifted Stacy into the cabin and scrambled up the stairs after her. He threw a smart salute at the two roboguards that aimed their weapons at him but stood in stationary bewilderment.
“Sayonara roboturkeys!”
He yanked the door shut and locked it. Then he turned and shouted one brief word in the direction of the cockpit.
“Go!”
The soft whistle of the two turbine engines increased to an earsplitting shriek, and their thrust flattened the grass under the stubby wings. The wheels lifted from the damp ground and the aircraft rose straight into the air, hung there for a few moments as the engines slowly twisted to a horizontal position, and then it shot off in a wide bank that took it over the sea toward the east.
Loren hugged Giordino. “Thank God you’re all right. Is Dirk with you?”
“Who do you think is driving the bus?” Giordino smiled broadly as he nodded toward the cockpit.
Without another word, Loren ran up the aisle and threw open the cockpit door. Pitt sat in the pilot’s seat, heavily concentrating on flying an aircraft that was new to him. He didn’t blink or turn his head as she slipped her hands around his neck and down inside his borrowed Suma Corporation flight suit and kissed him at least a dozen times.
“You’re alive,” she said joyfully. “Suma said you were dead.”
“It hasn’t exactly been a fun-filled day,” Pitt managed between her kisses. “Does this mean you’re glad to see me?”
She lightly dragged her nails over his chest. “Can’t you ever get serious?”
“Lady, right now I’m about as serious as I can get. I’ve got eight people depending on me to fly an aircraft I’ve never touched before. And I better get the hang of it real quick or we’re all going body surfing.”
“You can do it,” she said confidently. “Dirk Pitt can do anything.”
“I wish people wouldn’t say that,” Pitt groaned. He gave a quick tic of his head to his right. “Take the co- pilot’s seat and play with the radio. We’ve got to call in the cavalry before the samurai air force takes up the chase. No way we can outrun jet fighters.”
“Suma doesn’t own the Japanese military.”
“He owns everything else around here. I’m not taking any chances. Switch on the radio, I’ll give you the frequency.”
“Where are we going?”
“The
“A boat?”
“A ship,” Pitt corrected her. “A U.S. Navy detection and tracking ship. If we get to her before we’re intercepted, we’re home free.”
“They wouldn’t dare shoot us down with Hideki Suma on board.”
Pitt’s eyes flickered from the instrument panel to the water rushing by below. “Oh, how I hope you’re right.”
Behind them, Giordino was trying but failing to soothe Toshie, who was hissing and striking out like a hysterical rat. She spat at him but narrowly missed his cheek, catching him on the ear. Finally he grabbed her from the rear and held her in a tight vise grip.
“I realize I don’t make a good first impression,” he said happily, “but to know me is to love me.”
“You Yankee pig!” she cried.
“Not so, my Italian ancestors would never admit to being Yankees.”
Stacy ignored Giordino and the struggling Toshie and tightly bound Suma to one of several plush leather chairs in the luxurious executive main cabin. Disbelief was written all over his face.
“Well, well, well,” said a happy Mancuso. “Surprise, surprise, the big man himself came along for the ride.”
“You’re dead. You’re all supposed to be dead,” he muttered incredulously.
“Your buddy Kamatori is the one who’s dead,” Mancuso sadistically informed him.
“How?”
“Pitt stuck him on the wall.”
Pitt’s name seemed to act as a stimulant. Suma came back on keel and he said, “You have made a disastrous mistake. You will unleash terrible forces by taking me hostage.”
“Fair is fair. Now it’s our turn to act mean and nasty.”
The human voice can’t exactly imitate the hiss of a viper, but Suma came pretty close to it. “You are too stupid to understand. My people will launch the Kaiten Project when they have learned what you’ve done.”
“Let them try,” Weatherhill fairly purred. “In about another three minutes your Dragon Center is going to have its lights put out.”
The robotic electrical inspector Otokodate soon found the explosive charge taped to the ribbon of fiber optics. He deftly removed it and rolled back to his console. He studied the package for several moments, recognizing the timer for what it was, but his memory had not been programmed to analyze plastic explosives, and he had no concept of its purpose. He transmitted a signal to his superior in robotic control.
