“Negative. Keep me advised.”
Now he throttled back and cracked the speed brakes. He was closing rapidly. Passing 15,000 feet. Goddamn, Jelly’s nose was way down. In the darkness Jake found it extremely difficult to judge the closure, and he finally realized he was too fast. He cross-controlled with the speed brakes full out and overshot slightly.
“Thirteen thousand feet,”
Jake slid in on Jelly’s left side as he thumbed the boards in. Toad shone his white flashlight on the front cockpit of the other fighter. The pilot’s helmeted head lolled from side to side. In the back cockpit Boomer also appeared to be unconscious. Both men had their oxygen masks on.
“We’re steepening up, CAG.” Toad said. “Twelve degrees nose down. Fifteen-degree right turn. Passing nine thousand.”
“Jelly, talk to me, you son of a bitch.” No good. “Wake up!” Jake screamed.
He crossed under the other plane and locked on the right wing. He moved forward as Toad kept the flashlight on Jelly’s helmet. He flipped the radio channel selector switch to the emergency channel and turned off the scrambler.
“Wake up, Jelly, or you’re going to sleep forever!”
“Six thousand.” Toad’s voice.
“Pull up!”
“Five thousand.”
“Eject, eject, eject! Get out Jelly! Get out Boomer!”
“Four thousand. Fifteen degrees nose down.”
Jake began to pull his nose up. As the descending Tomcat fell away he lost sight of the slumped figures in the cockpit. He rolled into a turn to keep the lights of the descending plane in sight.
“Pull up, pull up, pull up, pull up, pull …” He was still chanting over the radio when the lights disappeared.
“Sweet Jesus,” Toad whispered. “They went in.”
“Strike, Red Ace Two Oh Seven just went into the drink. Mark my position and get the angel out here buster.” The “angel” was the rescue helicopter. “Buster” meant to hurry, bust your ass.
“Red Ace, did the crew get out?”
“I doubt it,” Jake Grafton said, and removed his oxygen mask to wipe his face.
“How heavy are the weapons?” El Hakim asked.
“About two hundred kilos,” Colonel Qazi replied.
El Hakim stood in the apartment window and let the warm, dry wind play with the folds in his robe. Already the great summer heat had begun. Here in this retreat deep in the desert he did not wear the military uniform that he was obliged to wear in the capital before the Western diplomatic corps and press. He hated the uniform, but it gave him an air of authority that he felt essential. Soon, very soon, he would burn the uniform. He closed his eyes and faced the rising sun. He could feel it through his eyelids. The power of the sun would soon be his. Praise Allah, he would make the unbelievers kneel.
“So no matter how many weapons are there, we can only take a few.”
“Correct, Excellency. Our goal shall be to obtain six. Even half that many will make us a formidable political force to be reckoned with.”
El Hakim left the window reluctantly and returned to his seat on the carpet. “If you destroy the ship, the Americans will not know for sure how many we have.”
“True, but they will be able to estimate the number with accuracy. Destruction of the ship will merely ensure our escape. The Americans will undoubtedly leap to the proper conclusion without evidence.”
“No doubt.” The dictator snorted. “They have demonstrated their capacity for that aerial feat numerous times in the past.”
“So when the mission is complete, we must inform the world promptly in order to forestall any rash action on the part of the Americans. They are very sensitive to public opinion, even when goaded beyond endurance.”
El Hakim tilted his head back and narrowed his eyes. “The political and military exploitation of your mission is my concern, Colonel, not yours.”
“Of course.” Qazi lowered his gaze respectfully. “But still, Excellency, our mission will be for naught unless the Americans are sufficiently delayed to give us time to escape and alter the weapons.”
“Time? How much time?”
“The Americans have built numerous safety devices into each weapon. That information was part of the interrogation of the American sailor you did not hear. It was extremely technical. The only real danger from an unaltered weapon is that fire or an accident will split the skin of the weapon and cause nuclear material to be spilled. If one were handled carelessly enough, a conventional explosion of low magnitude could occur. But there can be no nuclear explosion unless and until a variety of sophisticated devices within the weapon have all had their parameters satisfied. For example, the devices must be initially stimulated by precisely the right amount of electrical current for precisely the proper length of time for the triggering process to begin. And that is only the first safeguard. But these safeguards must all be overcome or bypassed.”
“How will you do that?”
“We’ll need the cooperation of an American expert, one who helped design and construct the safeguards. Fortunately we are well on our way to obtaining the cooperation of just such an individual right now. We have identified him with the help of Henry Sakol.”
The left corner of El Hakim’s mouth rose slightly in a sneer. He knew Henry Sakol far too well. A former CIA agent, Sakol supplied weapons which El Hakim could obtain nowhere else, thanks to the American government, Mr. Sakol’s former employer. Sakol was a ruthless and greedy man, a godless man without scruple or loyalty. “When we have the nuclear weapons, we will have no further need of Sakol.”
“Truly.”
“Do you intend to use him for this operation?”
“Yes, Excellency. He knows much that will be useful.”
“He will betray you if given the slightest opportunity. The Americans would reward him well, perhaps even forgive his crimes.”
“He’ll have no opportunity. I’ll see to it.”
“And the weapons expert?”
“A fat fool with a very rich, very stupid wife and a fondness for small boys. He would serve the devil himself to preserve his filthy secret. I’m allowing him a quarter hour in the plan for him to alter just one weapon. But for our purposes, five or six hours must pass before the Americans are in a position to generate a military response to the incident. We need that time to escape. Then they must face the fact that we have also had sufficient time to alter the others. Of course, we don’t actually have to do it. The Americans must merely be delayed until they see that we have the personnel, the equipment, and the time to accomplish the task.”
Qazi searched El Hakim’s face. “The beauty of these weapons is that one never has to use them. They accomplish far more by simply existing, ready for use, than they could ever accomplish by exploding.”
The ruler smiled. “What course do you recommend?”
“An announcement by you to the world press immediately after the operation. This will cause alarm throughout the Western world and create confusion in Washington, where all the decisions will ultimately be made. The confusion will give us time while the Americans assess how they should react. We want a thoughtful reaction, not a knee-jerk lashing out by the American military. When they pause for thought, the Americans will realize the implications of our deed and will accept the new reality. The new reality will be that we are now a nuclear power. They will accept it! They have no alternative.”
They discussed it. The dictator prided himself on his understanding of the decision-making processes of the American government and his ability to predict its policies. The Americans would be greatly embarrassed, he thought, but the critical factor would be the hysterical fear of Western European governments that a military response to his acquisition of nuclear weapons would lead to a nuclear conflict on their soil or in their backyard. After all, they would scream at the Americans, “You are four thousand miles away from El Hakim, with an ocean between you. We are here.” So the Americans would wring their hands and suffer the humiliation. It would be a bitter pill, but they would swallow it. Finally El Hakim sighed. “Fortunately we are smarter and more determined than the Americans, praise Allah, even if we cannot match their technology. When can we proceed?”