“Hokay,” Wyatt said and got his feet under him. “It’s still afternoon in D.C.”
He went to the console and powered up the radios. Selecting the Tac One set, he punched in the frequency numbers that Embry had given him.
Barr got up and went to stand beside him.
Wyatt depressed the transmit button and said, “Paper Doll, this is Yucca Flight.”
The response was immediate. The NSA people were monitoring them closely.
“Yucca, this is Doll.”
“I need to talk to Paper Doll One or Two.”
That was Church or Embry.
“Stand by, Yucca, I’ll see what we can do.”
It was twenty minutes later before they heard Church’s voice.
“Yucca Flight, Paper Doll One.”
“I’ve been waiting for this,” Barr said. “Can I talk to him?”
Wyatt waved him toward the desk microphone.
Barr picked it up and said, “Hello, Dolly.”
Formsby laughed.
A very sober Church said, “I trust you’re in place.”
“Righto,” Barr said. “We have a need for data.”
“What data?”
“The Test Strike launch time.”
“We haven’t gotten anything yet, but I’m hopeful. I’ll call as soon as I know anything, but at least by 4:00 A.M. your time.”
“0400 on the first of August?” Barr asked. “It’s almost that, now.”
“0400 on the first,” Church confirmed.
“Yucca out,” Barr said, dropping the mike back on the console. “Hell, I might as well go find an oasis.”
“See if they’ve got take-out, will you, Bucky?” Formsby said.
For the duration of the exercise, Lieutenant Colonel Ahmed al-Qati had established the encampment for the First Special Forces Company one kilometre east of the Marada Air Base. Major Khalil Shummari’s helicopter crews were also stationed at the cantonment area.
The tents were aligned in neat rows, and many of his enterprising soldiers had suspended parachute canopies inside the tents, to trap a layer of insulating air between the canopy and the tent roof The construction detracted several degrees from the forty degree Celsius temperatures that were being achieved during the day.
The first tent in the first row was utilized as the headquarters tent, and al-Qati met there with Shummari and Captain Rahman late at night.
“With the information leakage that takes place in Tripoli,” he told them, “I would not be at all surprised if Test Strike is common knowledge in the West.” Shummari nodded.
“And since I prefer to be prepared for all contingencies, I am going to assume that an air assault by — it doesn’t matter by whom, is an imminent possibility.” “That would fall to the province of the air defence organization, would it not?” Rahman asked.
“It should, yes, Ibn. However, I am also concerned that Colonel Ramad does not take the threat seriously. His staff and pilots are preparing a plan, but I believe that their hearts are not in it.”
“We must work from assumptions,” Shummari said. “Yes, we must. First, I assume that the attack would be launched as pre-emptive of Test Strike, and therefore, must come prior to the morning of August second.
“Second, I assume that aircraft of the American Sixth Fleet will not be utilized, as being too obvious. This assumption is partially supported by the intelligence report of F-4 aircraft being prepared.”
“Not by the Israelis?” Rahman asked.
“That is possible, but I think no one will want to point fingers at the Americans or the Israelis — that is, to the sea, or to the east. The attack will come from the west or from the south.”
“It may not happen,” Shummari said.
“It may not, and we will be all the happier. However, in the event that it does, what can we do?”
“I will keep my SA-7 air defence missiles on alert,” Rahman said.
“And I can load air-to-air missiles aboard the four Mi-28s,” Shummari added.
“Good. And I am afraid that is the extent of our air defence capability. But I want to think beyond that. With Ramad’s MiG-23 interceptors ranged against the F-4s, it is likely that one, or perhaps two, of the intruders will be shot down. Ibn, I want your Strike Platoon ready to take off at any moment. Khalil, we will need to assign two of your Mi-8s to them. We want to be the first on the scene of a downed aircraft, to gather evidence, hopefully to capture a pilot alive.”
“I see where you are going with this,” Shummari said.
“Yes. If the attack occurs prior to Test Strike’s launch time, perhaps we can prove to our superiors that knowledge of the exercise is widespread.”
“You would like them to call it off?” Rahman asked.
“Absolutely.”
“I would like that, also,” the captain said.
Al-Qati looked to Shummari.
The aviation company commander nodded his approval.
The two officers left him alone with his thoughts, which was not particularly good for him. His mind was divided along two paths lately, and he was never certain which path he would travel.
He was extremely tired of worrying about Ramad’s ambitious designs.
He preferred wandering the path of Sophia.
And he looked to the back of the tent, where the radio set was located on a spindly-legged table.
Rising from the camp stool he sat on, he carried it back to the radio.
He called his battalion headquarters in El Bardi and had the radio operator dial the telephone number for him, then connect him with the landline.
She was waiting, as she always was. Al-Qati thought that a statement in itself. Any time he called, she was waiting. It elated him.
“Yes?”
“Sophia, it is Ahmed.”
“Wonderful! You are here?”
“Alas, no. I just have a few minutes, and I wished to fill them with your voice.”
“Ahmed, you are too charming.”
“That is not the image I have of myself,” he admitted.
“Nonsense. When will I see you again?”
“As soon as this exercise is completed. I think that it should be soon.”
“When does it begin? So that I might count the hours.”
He almost told her, but then remembered he was on an open radio link.
Also, a little question mark popped into his mind.
It was on the path labelled, “Sophia.”
Wyatt had difficulty getting to sleep. The interior of the Hercules had become stifling, and he had moved his sleeping bag outside, under the transport, and sprawled out on top of it, draping his mosquito net over his head. The heat of the earth seeped through. There wasn’t a whisper of a breeze.
All around him, others had also unrolled their sleeping bags and wrapped their mosquito netting around them. They had brought tents with them, but no one was eager to erect one.
Night in the desert brought with it creeping, crawling animation, and several times, he felt, or thought he felt, something walking on his legs. He shook it off, real or imagined.
He wasn’t alone. Occasionally, he heard someone slapping at clothing.
A few had given up and gone back into the Hercules, preferring heat to insects.
The only real positive was that, with no pollution to taint the air, the starscape was a dazzler. He could see infinity, and he could believe in it.
He was worried about the air strike and all of the things that could go wrong. He was halfway amazed that they had made it to the staging base with only the loss of one tire.
Though he felt relatively confident in the upgraded F-4s, he didn’t want to become overconfident. The MiG-23 was still a worthy adversary. Barr had made some sense in suggesting they turn the C and D models into strict bombers and use the F-4Es as air superiority fighters, rather than try to accomplish both missions with one platform.