“No weapons.”
Danny clicked into the interphone circuit, connecting with the pilots. “How long to the target area?”
“Thirty-five minutes, Colonel. We’ve got the pedals to the metal.”
“Keep them there.”
12
The earth shook a second time as the sky cracked behind them. Rubeo recognized the distinctive sound immediately — the Tigershark had fired its rail gun. Whiplash was nearby.
Action was always the best alternative.
But they weren’t in the clear yet.
“Up over there, onto the peak of that hill,” Rubeo told Kharon, pointing to the left. “Come on, come on.”
But it was Rubeo who lagged, tiring after only a few steps. While he was in reasonable shape for his age, he had never been an athlete, and on the far side of fifty he wasn’t about to win any sprints, let alone a marathon. He went down to his knees as he reached the peak, struggling for breath.
“The trucks blew up,” said Kharon.
“It’s the Tigershark — it’s a Whiplash — aircraft. We’re going to be — rescued,” said Rubeo, hunting for his breath. “It’s just a matter — of time.”
“There are two men, running up the road,” said Kharon.
“Let them go.”
Rubeo pushed up to his feet, steadying himself. They’d run about four hundred yards, not quite a quarter mile.
If the Tigershark was above them, a rescue team wouldn’t be too far off. All they had to do now was sit and wait.
Kharon looked across the sandy hilltops, orienting himself in the landscape. There was a town or city to the south, on his right. Behind them, to the west, were more hills. The ground was dry, but small trees and shrubs grew in rows in the valleys. These were the few spots where water remained from the wet season. While the area was not quite as barren and inhospitable as western Libya, where the Sahara’s dunes and moonlike extremes ruled, it was neither a breadbasket nor vacation spot.
Should he stay with Rubeo and be rescued? There was no alternative — even if he reached whatever city was to the south, it was a good bet that Foma would find him there.
But surely he couldn’t return with Rubeo — he’d be prosecuted for the murder of the villagers. And while he hadn’t told Rubeo everything about his work with the Russians, he’d certainly told him enough to warrant an arrest.
Just the sabotage alone would condemn him.
The men with the guns had been killed. Maybe he could get their guns, arm himself, and get to the city. At least then he would have a chance.
He looked at Rubeo. The scientist was thin, older, not frail but certainly not the tall and powerful man in his imagination. Not the monster.
If he could be believed. If what he had said were true?
Kharon, to his shame, sensed it was.
“I forgive you,” he told Rubeo. “I was wrong about you.” And then he set out on a dead run toward the trucks.
13
Danny Freah tapped his helmet to let the incoming communication pass through to his screen.
It was Chase, the security director of Rubeo’s European company.
“Colonel Freah, I see that you have located Dr. Rubeo,” said Chase. He sounded as huffy as ever.
“You see that, huh?”
“We’ve just a few minutes ago intercepted telephone communications between a Russian individual in Tripoli and the Libyan government. He has asked them to scramble forces to retrieve Dr. Rubeo, or kill him if necessary.” Chase cleared his throat so loudly that the antinoise dampers in Danny’s helmet — designed to filter out the sound of an explosion over the radio — kicked in. “They are also intending to retrieve two items that we have in the second van. Those items are our property, and we want them back.”
“What are they?”
“Robots.”
“What type?”
“I do not have the details. Both are experimental and highly valuable.”
Danny doubted that Chase didn’t have the details, but let it pass. “I’ll take that into consideration.”
“Colonel, I would greatly prefer that the items are recovered intact,” said Chase quickly. “I’m sure Dr. Rubeo would agree. However, if that is not possible, one of the items contains equipment that is extremely sensitive. If the situation warrants, you may have to blow it up.”
“You don’t know what they are, but you think we should destroy them?”
“An ounce of prevention — wouldn’t you agree?”
“How exactly do you know about the communication?” asked Danny. “Are you bugging their telephones?”
“We have taken steps to protect Dr. Rubeo,” said Chase smugly. “Some of those are not available to you, for a number of reasons.”
“Who is the individual?”
“He’s a Russian officer with the SVR. I will transfer the information to you anonymously.”
“Thanks,” said Danny.
The Tigershark’s computer warned Turk that four aircraft were coming off the runway at Ghat.
“Identify.”
“Aircraft are MiG–25 NATO reporting code name ‘Foxbat,’ variant unidentified.”
The MiGs were rocket fast — and about as maneuverable as a refrigerator. They were no match for the Tigershark: easier prey than the Mirages, though they could certainly run away faster.
Their airfield was some four hundred miles south. Assuming they went to their afterburners, they could be in firing range within twenty minutes, perhaps even sooner. That didn’t make them an immediate threat, but it could potentially complicate the pickup, as the Osprey would be easy prey.
“Danny, I have four government aircraft getting airborne in a hurry,” he radioed. “Not sure yet where they’re headed. They could be a threat.”
“I doubt they’re heading in your direction,” said Danny.
“Acknowledged. If they do, can I engage?”
“Hold your present position, Tigershark. I have to sort this out.”
Turk understood that getting clearance would be a problem — the aircraft were not yet considered hostile. And in fact they might not be until the Osprey was in serious danger.
“I say we warn them off,” suggested Turk. “Tell them to stay clear.”
“I’d rather not advertise the fact that we’re in the middle of a rescue operation,” said Danny. “My pilot says we’re about fifteen minutes from touchdown.”
“That’s still going to cut it close,” said Turk. “Your aircraft will be in range of their missiles if they go all out.” He pointed at the detail panel, showing what the computer interpreted the MiGs were carrying.
“Computer says they have an Apex variety, R27 missiles. That’s a decent medium range missile, Colonel,” Turk reported. “Could take out your aircraft.”
“Stand by,” Danny told him.
“Yeah, roger that,” said Turk. He recalculated an orbit that would take him south, putting him in a better position to intercept the planes. As he did, the computer gave him a fresh warning — the Mi–35V Hind and the Chinook in town were revving their rotors.
14
Rubeo stared after Kharon in disbelief as the other man ran down the hill.
What the hell was he doing?
“Neil!” yelled Rubeo. “Neil!”
There was no answer or acknowledgment. Cursing, he followed.
“Where are you going?” yelled Rubeo. “We have to wait — we’ll be rescued shortly. I’m sure of it. Stop. Just stop!”
Kharon either didn’t hear him or didn’t want to pay attention. He kept running toward the trucks.