Shayhidi took a deep gulp from his drink. "The authorities can always be bought."
"That may be true, but the people who have worked hard to arrange a new identity for you can't be bought."
A deep frown formed on Shayhidi's forehead. "What are you talking about? What are you suggesting?" he asked, tossing back the last of his scotch and soda.
"Their business, their cover, and their reputation will be harmed if you don't play by their rules. Simply stated, they will kill you, and it will take a long time for you to die, my friend."
Shayhidi discounted the threat, ever certain of his ability to get away with anything he planned. "Good advice. I'll keep it in mind."
After landing at Benito Juarez International Airport, U. S. Secretary of State Brad Austins gleaming C-32A, a Boeing 757, was directed to the VIP parking area at the Presidential Transport Squadron. After deplaning, Secretary Austin and his entourage were greeted with assumed earnestness by Antonio Ferreira, the Mexican secretary of foreign affairs, a foppish, impertinent fellow with an oily shine to his coal-black hair.
A band played several tunes, including the U. S. National Anthem. Young girls formed a line and handed Austin homemade gifts, cards, and an assortment of colorful flowers.
After the pleasant ceremony, Austin and Ferreira entered a shiny limousine and headed for Los Pinos, Mexico's stately presidential palace.
Waiting for their helicopter to arrive, Jackie called Frank Wakefield while Scott remained in the taxi with their luggage and their weapons. Because of the tight security at airports since the dams were destroyed, he would take their weapons out of town to a rendezvous point. They had agreed on a location where Jackie could land and pick him up.
With special permission provided by the FAA, and a select transponder code, the Bell 206L-4 LongRanger landed a few minutes early Other than military aircraft, law enforcement helicopters, and news helicopters, few aircraft were flying.
The ferry pilot was an FAA employee who was curious about his special flight. Jackie was pleasant to him but apologized for the rush. She thanked the pilot and walked outside to signal Scott. Minutes later, she took off and headed for their rendezvous with Scott. He would be waiting south of the point where Interstate 15 merges with Highway 93.
After she landed, Scott stowed their luggage and their weapons in the back of the LongRanger. Airborne, they headed southeast.
Adjusting his Bose headset, Scott keyed the intercom. "What did Wakefield have to offer?"
"An update on Farkas."
"Any idea where he might be?"
"Let me start from the beginning," she said, glancing at the helicopters near the Colorado River. "A group of people cavorting around in dune buggies saw the bomber crash and also saw Farkas descending in a parachute. They went to see if they could help, but a helicopter landed nearby and Farkas limped to the helo and climbed in."
"Limped?"
"That's right." Jackie paused to answer the controllers question. "He apparently injured himself when he bailed out — which I still cant believe we didnt see — or when he hit the ground."
"Which way did they go?"
She checked her notes. "Southeast — a blue and white MD 500 with wheels."
"How do they know what kind of helicopter it was?"
"There was a helo pilot in the dune buggy group. He swore it was an MD 500. Said he had about two hundred hours in that particular model — unimpeachable eyewitness."
"Anything else?"
"Yes, heres the strange part. According to Wakefield, an MD 500 matching the description of the one at the B-25 crash site landed in Flagstaff to refuel. From the time it left the dune buggy group to the time it arrived in Flagstaff matches the flying speed of the MD 500. The manager of the FBO became suspicious when he saw the two men, both definitely of Middle Eastern origin. He contacted the FBI immediately after the helo took off."
"Did he see anyone limping?
"No." Jackie paused to switch radio frequencies. "Only one person got out of the helicopter, and he didnt match Farkas's description. The guy was bigger than Farkas and had thin hair — paid in cash, too."
"Still headed southeast?"
"South, straight south."
"Any advice from Wakefield?"
"Yes, but let me finish. About forty to fifty minutes after the MD 500 left Flagstaff, two hikers in the Coconino National Forest saw a blue-and-white helicopter land near an abandoned fishing lodge. After the pilot shut down the engine, two Middle Eastern men got out — one was limping — and went inside the old lodge. The hikers were concerned and contacted the FBI field office in Phoenix. The special agent there called Wakefield."
"Is Wakefield sending his people up?"
"Yes, as soon as they can get everyone to a staging area." Jackie paused to check in with the next controller. "He wants us to reconnoiter the area and see if we can locate the helo."
"Sounds good. You want to top off in Flagstaff?"
"Yes. Then I want to go high and be as unobtrusive as possible."
Steaming in the North Arabian Sea south of Gwadar, Pakistan, the carrier Stenniss battle group and Carrier Air Wing Nine (CVW-9) were preparing to launch a night strike. The targets were in western Afghanistan and remote sections of Iran and Syria. Many of the aircraft actually delivering weapons were armed with the SLAM-ER (standoff land-attack-missile expanded response) or the JSOW bomb (joint standoff weapon). Others would be armed with Saddam Specials, 2,ooo-pound GPS-guided JDAMs (joint-direct attack munitions).
Tomahawk cruise missiles from surface combatants and submarines were already raining destruction on various terrorist training camps and weapons storage and assembly facilities. Two of the missiles had leveled a headquarters building near the Iranian-Afghanistan border, killing a senior al-Qaeda leader, his son, and six members of his staff.
In eastern Iran a terrorist stronghold was about to be targeted by a B-2 stealth bomber. U. S. intelligence sources were convinced a meeting of senior al-Qaeda operatives was about to begin at the underground bunker.
The bomber was carrying the new ten-ton Massive Ordnance Air Blast Weapon. The 21,500-pound, all-weather, precision-guided bomb, known as the mother of all bombs, would collapse the fortification. The detonation from the Big One would be heard and felt for thirty-two miles in every direction.
The U. S. Navy carrier air wing would be supplemented by a contingent of British Royal Air Force GR-1 Tornados and U. S. Air Force F-15E Strike Eagles based at Kuwait's A1 Jaber Air Base. USAF tankers based in Qatar, along with British RAF VC-10 tankers, would provide fuel for the large strike package.
The launch would be a "pinkie" evolution in the fading rays of daylight. Although many of America's so-called allies continued to deny the United States permission to use their runways and facilities, the floating sovereignty of Stennis provided a perfect platform from which to fight terrorism.
Partway through the launch cycle, a marine corps F/A-18 from the Black Knights of VMFA-314 taxied to the starboard bow catapult. The pilot, Captain Kurt Turcotte, gave a thumbs-up to the crewman holding the weight board. The yellow-shirt signaled the pilot to keep his feet off the brakes and gave the tension signal. After the Hornet was in tension, the director signaled Turcotte to retract the launch bar.
The pilot completed a thorough wipeout, carefully checking the flight controls, and then concentrated on his engine instruments.
Satisfied that everything was normal, Turcotte checked to make sure he wasnt sitting on the ejection handle. Feeling on top of the world, he snapped a sharp salute and grabbed the towel rack to brace for the exhilarating E-Ticket ride down the short cat track.