"Mask up!" Major Dotson ordered over the radio. Thorpe knew he was fearful that they were being drawn into a trap. He pulled the mask out and slipped it over his head, tightening the straps down. He covered the inlet and sucked in a breath. The mask compressed around his face, letting him know he had a good seal. He continued on his way.
Lieutenant Boorstin was watching his screens carefully. The AWACS rotodome was picking up everything in the air throughout the region. He had the combat Talon clear of the target area and heading back to Israel by the same route. The four F-14 Tomcats were holding in a very tight pattern over the Red Sea, burning fuel.
A new grouping of dots appeared on the screen. Boorstin adjusted the reading, but he already had a very good idea what he was looking at.
He keyed the radio linking him to Langley. "Ops, this is AWACS Eye. We've got four helicopters airborne out of the Saudi air force field at Al Wajh."
"This is Gereg. How long until they reach Nabi Ulmalhamah?"
The dots were moving and Boorstin made a quick calculation. "Approximately thirty minutes."
The key opened the door and Terri slid through. A long concrete passageway beckoned. Halfway down, about thirty feet away, she could see an opening to the right where the stairs came down. A large steel door was at the other end, sixty feet away.
She padded down the hallway. She had heard the loud explosions and gunfire, but that had stopped about thirty seconds ago. She had no idea what was going on and she refused to allow herself to believe that rescue was here.
She heard the thud of boots on stairs and brought the pistol up. The man with all the rings stepped into the corridor, turning toward the steel door and away from her.
Terri didn't hesitate. She dashed forward and jammed the gun hard against the side of Jawhar's head.
"I'll kill him!" she screamed at the group of men still on the stairs, most of them caught with their weapons pointed up the stairs.
As Thorpe turned the next corridor, he saw Major Dotson in the main hallway of the east wing, the officer rattling off orders, coordinating the movement of his elements toward the center of the palace. Thorpe fell in behind the eight troopers with Dotson, willing to let the experts take the lead.
But it appeared the battle was over, as they encountered no more resistance. They closed on the center of the palace from both wings, the troops in the west wing also reporting no opposition.
Both groups reached the large center room on the first floor at the same time.
"The stairs." Dotson waved his men forward toward a double-wide door beyond which a set of stairs headed down.
"You will not shoot," Akil had his submachine gun centered on Terri's forehead.
She dug the barrel of the gun deeper into Jawhar's temple. "I will. You know I will. Just as you shot Patricia, I'll shoot your brother down."
Akil's eyes shifted between his brother and the girl. "Listen—"
A burst of bullets from above blew one of the guards down the stairs.
"Stop it!" Akil screamed. "Stop shooting! We have the girls!"
"Hold your fire!" Thorpe shoved his way in front of the Delta Troopers. "Hold your fire!"
He stood in the middle of the stairs. A small cluster of guards, holding the two girls, was grouped behind Akil. Thorpe couldn't see who Akil was pointing his weapon at. He edged down another step, braving the muzzles of the guards' guns, sensing the weapons from the Delta men behind him. He saw Terri holding the pistol on Jawhar.
Dublowski caught a glimpse of the car in his rearview mirror. Dark green, just like the paint scrapings on Takamura's car. The other driver was good, but three turns left no doubt the man was following.
"Clock's ticking!" Dotson muttered. "We take them down now, we get the VZ, we get the bad guys. We get the hell out of here."
Thorpe could see the two metal briefcases being held by the guard closest to Akil. "And kill three girls."
"There's no—" Dotson began, but Thorpe waved him to be silent. He slowly bent over and placed his submachine gun on the step at his feet.
"We can work this out," he shouted. Akil's eyes were shifting back and forth from his brother to Thorpe. "I do not think so."
"She'll kill your brother," Thorpe said. Akil nodded, ever so slightly. "Yes. I know she will. She was the best of them. But if she does, she dies. If you shoot at us, you will all die."
"I don't think so, buddy boy," Dotson growled, the small red dot from the laser sight on his MP-5 centered right between Akil's eyes.
"All the VZ is not in the cases," Akil said. He turned away from Terri very slowly, so as to not precipitate any untoward action. His gun now pointed at the two girls.
"Where is it?" Thorpe asked.
Akil nodded toward the girls. "In them."
"In them?" Thorpe repeated.
"Yes," Akil said, "and if I shoot them, it will set off a small charge rigged against the container which is just below their left lungs. The charge will explode, sending VZ into the air. Everyone here will die. No one wins." He barked an order in Arabic and a guard reached out and lifted the left side of Leslie's smock. Thorpe and all the Delta men could see the long scar on her side.
"You're full of shit," Master Sergeant Grant muttered.
"No," Akil said, "they are full of nerve agent. Injected with a needle by our good doctor directly into the canister," Akil said. "Didn't he?" he asked Leslie.
She nodded. "He put something inside of us a while back." She was speaking quickly, taking quick, shallow breaths in between, as if afraid even that act would set off the device. "We could feel it. I can still feel it inside me. And the doctor took something out of those cases and used a needle to put it into us. Into the thing, whatever it is."
Dublowski went over a rise in the road. The trailing car was out of sight, as it had been most of the time. He twisted the wheel and skidded off onto a dirt trail on the right side. He flipped open the lid to the other case Simpkins had given him and turned a knob on.
Simpkins had prepared the program. It took over the frequency of the bug secreted in Dublowski's truck and projected the same signal. Except with diminishing power, as if the truck were still going down the road.
Dublowski jumped out of the truck, a small backpack over his shoulder. He walked to the side of the road, a thick tree hiding him. He heard a car's engine and an old Mustang came racing over the rise. He caught a glimpse of the driver — the glasses, beard — just as Parker had described O'Callaghan.
Dublowski stepped forward as the Mustang came by. O'Callaghan's head swiveled, staring wide-eyed in surprise at Dublowski standing at the side of the road as his foot reached for the brake.
Dublowski tossed the backpack onto the trunk of the Mustang, the powerful magnet clinging to the metal. The tires on the Mustang locked as the car skidded, trying to slow from sixty miles an hour.
The bomb inside the backpack exploded, blowing through the trunk and igniting the gas tank in a ferocious secondary explosion as the car was still sliding.
Dublowski shielded his eyes as the fireball consumed the car and O'Callaghan.
"Once too often." Dublowski spit, then turned for his truck. He paused suddenly, his head cocked as if he heard something. "Ah, Terri," he whispered, his eyes looking to the dark eastern sky.
"What kind of deal?" Thorpe asked.