"Yes, sir."
Parks ran from the embassy and jerked at one of the limo's doors. The driver pressed another button to unlock the doors for Katz and Parks.
In seconds, the limousine raced through the gates and accelerated into the morning traffic.
Snapping open his briefcase, Katz keyed the code for Gadgets's radio. "Mr. Wizard! Sadek's running for the airport. There's a Syrian plane there waiting for him."
Gadgets's voice answered. Auto weapons popped in the background. "That's your problem."
"What's the firing?"
"We're defending the fortress of the National Liberation Front. Some squads out there know where we are."
"You need help?"
"Nan. We got minefields, barbed wire, ten-foot-high walls. We got a few prisoners for you, but don't count on many. Mr. Allah in the sky better start some expansion plans, 'cause there's gonna be a crowd arriving in Paradise today. You going to get that Sadek dude or what?"
"I'll ask Mr. Parks." Katz turned to the Agency executive. "Can we stop him? Your friend Sadek?"
"Keep your sarcasm. I was wrong. I admit it. He fooled the Egyptians and he fooled the embassy. It took him ten years to gain the position he held. He must have had a total fanatical devotion to his cause."
"You didn't answer me."
Parks shook his head. "That's not a question I can answer. It's up to the Egyptians. We've called the officials who can order the flight stopped, but it's too early in the morning — they're not at their offices. Their aides will need to call their homes, and you know how the Cairo phone system is. I don't think we'll get the authorization. However, we will start negotiations for his extradition from Syria. We have, unfortunately, very limited diplomatic influence with that government."
Katz interrupted Parks by pressing the radio's transmit. "The Agency says they can't do anything," he told Schwarz. "Maybe I can arrange a solution."
"Like what?" Parks demanded. "Call your men to shoot up the airport? Assault the plane? Haven't they created enough chaos?"
"I heard that," Gadgets butt in. "Ask that goof which side he works for."
Katz laughed. "You know who he works for. How much damage did you do? Is the group gone?"
"Not really. We didn't get all of them in the city. And we didn't get all of them out here. If you want to do us a favor, arrange a ship to take us out of Cairo — we don't want to risk an Air Force plane; still too many of those crazies out there with SAM-7s. And when's that helicopter gonna get here? Jake Newton here is hurting. And the number one terrorist is hurting even worse. Ironman did a number on that dude."
"The helicopter has already left," Parks told Katz.
"On its way, Wizard."
"And so is Sadek, I guess," Gadgets commented. "Too bad that big one got away."
"Not yet," Katz told him. "Not yet."
Hurtling along the highway at a hundred miles an hour, Katz's car sped past the few cars and trucks leaving the city. Parks used the limo's radio phone to communicate with agents at the airport.
"They've delayed the Syrians," Parks told Katz. "But it's up to the Egyptian government to stop them."
"Will they stop the flight?"
"There's been no response to our requests yet. Sadek usually handled those things…"
As the limousine screeched to a smoking-tire stop, Katz and Parks threw open the doors and dashed into the international airport's drab terminal, Parks ahead of the limping Katz. Shoving through tourists and porters, they crossed the reception area. At the door leading to the administrative and technical areas, a guard stopped them.
Katz told the guard in Arabic that terrorists threatened the jets in the air over the airport. The guard called a supervisor.
Taking his hand radio from his jacket, Parks issued a call to all the agents.
The supervisor arrived. He saw Parks, smiled. "Gentlemen, how can I help you?"
"Terrorists," Katz told the supervisor in English. "The American Embassy received a threat against the international flights."
"Oh! Why weren't we told? Why haven't..."
"Take us to the control tower immediately!" Katz slipped past the Egyptians and strode toward the elevator.
Parks nodded to the supervisor and the two men followed Katz.
"Of course! Of course!" the supervisor was saying. "Should we call the police? I must notify my superiors."
As the elevator went up, Katz asked the Egyptian, "Is the third shift of flight controllers still here?"
"Yes. For another..." he glanced at his watch "...half-hour."
Katz left the elevator and shoved through the doors that led to the control tower. Employees in the lounge stared at the stiffly running man in the conservative gray suit of a diplomat.
Katz took the flight of stairs into the tower flight center. As he burst into the room, every controller turned and stared even as they continued speaking into microphones, reading information to waiting airliner captains. Katz scanned the personnel and saw the man who wore a pager. He went up to him.
He asked him in Arabic, "Are you Aziz Shawan?"
Fear flashed in the eyes of the controller. He bolted for the door. Katz tripped him.
He snatched the microtransmitter disguised as a pager from the Muslim's belt. Parks and the supervisor shoved through the door, caught Shawan as he attempted to crawl past them. In Arabic, Katz asked the other controllers, "Where is the Syrian flight?"
A controller pointed.
Streaking along the runway, the Syrian air force jet lifted away. Katz turned to the controller and shouted in Arabic, "Terrorists say they will hit all the jets with rockets. Reroute all the jets immediately. Hundreds of lives could be lost."
"Fortunately," the supervisor gasped, "traffic is very light. We have flights on the way, but several flights landed only a few minutes ago."
Glancing at a radar screen, Katz confirmed the absence of other flights in the sky above Cairo.
He pressed the button on the microtransmitter.
In the luxurious cabin of the Syrian air force jet, Sadek lounged in his velvet seat and accepted a crystal glass bubbling with champagne from a steward. The Syrian and Soviet officers gathered around him raised their glasses.
"To the Jihad!"
"To the Islamic Masses!"
"To the death of America!"
Flame flashed into the left-wing engine. Shock paralyzed the gathered men as the wing ripped away, tearing away the side of the fuselage.
Now it was a Syrian plane that was a flying coffin.
CLASSIFIED TOP SECRET
***SCRAMBLE VIA NSC***
FROM JOHN PHOENIX/ITALY
TO KONZAKI/STONYMAN***IMMEDIATE
ATTENTION***
BT
CORRAL CARL LYONS FOR ME WHEN HE RETURNS FROM EGYPT X LYONS AND ABLE TEAM IDEAL FOR ACTION AGAINST GUATEMALAN MUNITIONS SMUGGLER X RECENT MURDERS CLIMAX LONG MULTI-AGENCY INVEST IGATION X MUST SMASH NOW X LYONS HAS ENERGY AND SKILLS TO DEFEAT THESE KINDS OF MURDEROUS BUTCHERS X SUPPORT HIM ALL THE WAY X CERTAIN TACTICS USED BY ABLE IN CAIRO NAMELY TORTURE THREAT AND RECKLESS ENDANGERMENT CONFIRMED BY KATZ X SQUARES WITH YOUR NEWS RE CARL REJECTS BERETTA TO GO HIS OWN WAY X KATZ DEFENDS SAYS TEAM COMBAT SHIMMERS WITH SACRED FIRE X AND STONYMAN ONE ALWAYS COULD HANDLE SMM BETTER THAN CARL X BUT I MUST HAVE SERIOUS TALK WITH MR LYONS X FOREWARN HIM PLEASE PENDING MY RETURN X GOOD TO BE COMING BACK
BT
EOM