The aging leader of the Gold Dragons, Korori Yoshishu, and his financial power force, Ichiro Tsuboi, were in Tsuboi’s offices in Tokyo when the call came from Suma’s security director. The two partners of Suma immediately assumed full command of the situation.
Within eight minutes after the explosion, Tsuboi used his considerable influence with the Japanese military to scramble a flight of jet fighters to chase the fleeing tilt-turbine. His orders were to intercept and attempt to force the plane back to Soseki Island. Failing in this, they were to destroy the craft and everyone on board. Tsuboi and Yoshishu agreed that, despite their long friendship with Suma, it was better for the Kaiten Project and their new empire that he should die than become a tool for foreign policy blackmail. Or worse, scandalized as a criminal under the American justice system. And then there was the frightening certainty that Suma would be forced to reveal details of Japan’s secret technology and plans for economic and military supremacy to U.S. intelligence interrogation experts.
Pitt took a compass heading on the position where the ship was cruising when he’d taken off for Soseki Island. He pushed the engines dangerously past their limit as Loren tried desperately to make contact with the Bennett.
“I can’t seem to raise them,” she said in frustration.
“You on the right frequency?”
“Sixteen VF?”
“Wrong band. Switch to sixteen OF and use my name as our call sign.”
Loren selected the ultra-high frequency band and dialed the frequency. Then she spoke into the microphone attached to her headset.
“Pitt calling USS Bennett,” she said. “Pitt calling the Bennett. Do you hear me? Do you hear me? Please answer.”
“This is the Bennett.” The voice replied so loud and clear it nearly blasted out Loren’s eardrums through the headset. “Is that really you, Mr. Pitt? You sound as if you had a sex change since we last saw you.”
The aircraft had been scanned by the Bennett’s supersensitive detection systems from the moment it left the ground. Once it was perceived as heading over the sea to the east, it was tracked by a tactical electronic warfare and surveillance receiver system. Within minutes of being alerted, Commander Harper was pacing the deck in the situation room. He stopped every few seconds and peered over the shoulders of the console operators who stared into the radar screens and the computer monitor that analyzed and measured the signals and enhanced the approaching target into a recognizable classification.
“Can you distinguish—?”
“Either a tilt-rotor or a new tilt-turbine,” the operator anticipated Harper. “It lifted like a helicopter, but it’s coming on too fast for rotor blades.”
“Heading?”
“One-two-zero. Looks to be on a course toward the position where we launched the two Ibises.”
Harper swung to a phone and picked it up. “Communications.”
“Communications, sir,” a voice answered instantly.
“Any radio signals?”
“None, sir. The airwaves are quiet.
“Call me the second you receive anything.” Harper slammed down the phone. “Any course change?”
“Target still flying on a one-two-zero heading slightly south of east, Captain.”
It had to be, but it couldn’t be Pitt, Harper thought. But who else would fly toward that particular position? A coincidence? he wondered. Not one to run on idle, he barked an order to his executive officer, who was standing at his side.
“Turn on a course toward the position where we launched the Ibises. Full speed until I tell you different.”
The officer knew Harper preferred efficiency to traditional protocol, so he turned without acknowledging and speedily relayed the orders to the bridge.
“Communications for you, Captain,” announced a seaman.
Harper snatched the phone. “This is the captain.”
“I have a signal from a woman claiming to be Congresswoman Loren Smith. She also claims Mr. Pitt is at the controls of an aircraft hijacked from Soseki Island, carrying eight passengers including Senator Michael Diaz and Mr. Hideki Suma.”
Too far down the chain of command to be informed of the abductions of Loren and Diaz, Harper could not be blamed for a lack of credence. “They hijacked an airplane and snatched Suma? And where in hell did Pitt dig up a pair of politicians on Soseki Island?” He paused to shake his head in wonderment, then gave an order over the phone. “Tell whoever you’re in contact with that I require more concrete identification.”
The communication specialist came back within half a minute. “The woman swears she’s Congresswoman Loren Smith of Colorado, and if we don’t guide them in and provide protection in the event they’re pursued, she’s going to lunch with Roy Monroe and demand you’re put in command of a tugboat in the Arctic. I’m not one to offer advice to the captain, sir, but if she’s friendly with the Secretary of the Navy, she must be who she says she is.”
“All right, I’ll buy her story for now.” Harper reluctantly caved in. “Give instructions to turn twenty degrees south and continue on a westerly heading until we meet up—”
“I have two aircraft rising from Senzu Air Base,” the console operator monitoring the tactical receiver system broke in. “Configuration and speed indicate Mitsubishi Raven interceptors of the Japanese Air Self-Defense Force. They’ve turned onto the same heading as the tilt-turbine and are probing with radar.”
“Damn it!” Harper burst. “Now we’ve got the Jap military to deal with.” He turned to his exec again. “Apprise Pacific Command of our situation. Inform them I am going on combat mode. I intend to fire on the pursuers if they show any indication of a hostile act. I’m taking on the responsibility of protecting those people in the tilt-turbine aircraft in the belief they’re American nationals.”
His executive officer hesitated. “Aren’t you going out on a limb, sir?”
“Not too far out.” Harper smiled shrewdly. “Do you seriously think I’ll be court-martialed for shooting down hostile aircraft to save the lives of two members of Congress?”
Harper’s logic was unarguable. The executive officer smiled back. “No, sir, I don’t guess you would.”
Pitt took the aircraft up to four thousand meters and held it there. The time for hugging the surface of the sea was past. He was out of range of the island’s missile systems and now had a straight shot at the Ralph R. Bennett. He relaxed and donned the radio headset and microphone that was hanging on the arm of his seat.
“Eighty kilometers to go,” he said quietly. “She should be coming into sight dead ahead.”
Giordino had relieved Loren in the co-pilot’s seat and was studying the fuel gauges with a bemused eye. “Suma’s ground crew was pretty stingy with the gas. We’ll be on fumes in another ten minutes.”
“They only needed to partially fill the tanks for the short hop from Soseki and back from Edo City,” said Pitt. “I’ve pushed her hard and used up fuel at an extravagant rate.”
“You better take it easy and conserve.”
There was a click in their earphones and a deep voice came through. “This is Commander Harper.”
“Nice to hear from you, Commander. This is Dirk Pitt. Go ahead.”
“I hate to be the bearer of grim tidings, but you’ve got a pair of Japanese mosquitoes chasing your tail.”
“What next?” muttered Pitt in exasperation. “How soon before they intercept?”
“Our computers say they’ll be sitting in your lap twelve to fifteen kilometers before we rendezvous.”
“We’re dead meat if they attack,” Giordino said, tapping the fuel gauges.