It had to be Locusta, Voda thought. It was his area of command, and he was the only one powerful enough to even dare.
"I want you to call General Locusta. Tell him that I know that he is behind this, and that he is to stand down," said Voda. "Tell him… "
Voda considered what to say. His instincts told him to be strong with the general — fierce. But perhaps it would be wiser to work out a deal.
"Tell him he must stand down," Voda repeated finally.
"I don't know if that will do much good coming from me, Mr. President."
Voda sensed that was a diplomatic answer — probably Washington had told him not to interfere.
"Are you going to help me or not?" asked Voda, struggling to keep himself from bleating.
"Yes. We will try to rescue you if we can. If you want."
Hope!
"Of course I want," said Voda, practically shouting.
"I want to connect you directly with the Dreamland people who have been supporting your counterterrorist troops. They will help you."
The loud bay of a dog echoed up the hillside.
"Are you there, Mr. President?" asked the American ambassador.
"Give me the number."
"I can connect you, or have them call you."
"No. Tell me the number now. It's not safe for them to call me; the phone can be heard, even when just buzzing. I will call them when I can, in a few minutes. Right now I have to move my family to safety."
The helicopter General Locusta commandeered to get up to the president's mountain house had been used during the Moldovan operation. There hadn't been enough time to completely clean the interior, and spots of dried blood covered the floor. Locusta stared at the blood, brooding. The operation had been successful, though if the Americans had deigned to provide better support, he would not have lost the helicopter with Brasov aboard.
The colonel had always been a problematic officer — a fine leader, but headstrong, occasionally impulsive, and unfortunately as committed to democracy as he was to getting ahead. He would have had to watch Brasov carefully had he lived— so perhaps it was a blessing in disguise after all.
But now that he was dead, Locusta missed him, and mourned the loss of his spirit. He was the sort of man an army needed.
The kind a country needed. Like himself.
A command post had been set up at the intersection of Highway 34 and the road leading up to President Voda's property. There was a field next to the intersection; a pair of spotlights and some small signal flares marked the area for the helicopter to set down.
Locusta sprang out as soon as the pilot nodded to him. Head down against the swirling wind, he ran toward the men standing near the road.
"General, we're glad you're here," said Major Ozera. "The situation is under control."
"You've found President Voda?"
"We expect to shortly. There was a tunnel from the house to a small cave at the edge of the property. We have dogs following his scent."
"Good."
Locusta looked around. About two dozen troops were holding defensive positions near the road.
"You've given orders that anyone found is to be shot?"
"Of course," said Ozera. "As you ordered. The troops have been told that the president is dead and that we're looking for the guerrillas. The special team is with the dogs," he added. "They won't get away."
"They had best not. They have already failed once."
Ozera didn't answer. The "special team" was the hand-picked group of assassins who had made the initial assault.
"Pull as many of the troops back as possible," Locusta told him. "Bring in more weapons, enough to fight a large force. But keep them a good distance away. Have only your men on the property."
"I've brought up everything we had," said the major. "Everything except the antiaircraft guns."
"Bring them. They're very useful."
The Zsu-23-4 mobile antiaircraft guns looked like tanks with four 23mm cannons mounted at the front of a flattened turret. They could be used against ground or air targets, as necessary.
"Our command post should be up at the house," Locusta added.
"Yes. Let me place these new orders, then get a driver."
While he was waiting for Ozera to return, Locusta called his headquarters.
"The Dreamland people keep calling to ask if we need help," said his chief of staff. "What should we tell them?"
"Tell them the situation is under control," said Locusta. "Tell them to remain on the ground. Tell them the situation is very confused, and we don't want them getting in the way."
"They already have at least one plane in the air, General. And we understand more are being readied."
"Tell them I'm traveling to the president's home personally and will confer with them soon," said Locusta. "But emphasize that we do not need them, and do not want them in the air."
"Yes, sir."
"Where is the plane they have in the air?" "I can check with air defense." "Do it. Call me back immediately." "Yes, sir, General."
"It's too rugged to land near that pump house," said Danny, pointing to the satellite photo of the area. "But if they can come up the slope a bit, over to around here, we can lower a basket, take them out like it's a rescue. Even in the dark it shouldn't be that hard."
"Can we get in there without being seen?" asked Samson.
"The Osprey is black, so it's hard to see," answered Danny. "But it is pretty loud. I would say the people on the ground would know we're there."
"The President wanted this done without the Romanians knowing we're involved," said Samson.
"I'd like to get in and out quietly too, General," said Danny. "The less people who know we're there, the safer we are. But no aircraft is silent."
"I think we just have to do our best," said Dog. "If they see us, they see us. But we can't not grab him because we might be seen."
"I didn't say we weren't going to do it, Bastian," snapped Samson. He turned back to Danny. "What sort of team will you need?"
"If we can sneak in? I'd say a three man team — Boston, Liu, myself. We don't want too many people because we want to move as fast as possible. For air support, one Flighthawk to show us what's going on, another if things get tight to cover our exit. And whatever else you can throw at them if all hell breaks loose."
"We could run the Flighthawks as a diversion," said Zen. "Do a low and slow approach along the road, have the Osprey come in from the north. That might solve the problem of the noise."
"If it's noise we're trying to cover," said Dog, "let's bring one of the EB-52s down close. That makes a hell of a racket."
"Good," said Samson. "We can use one of the B-1s as well — a nice sonic boom should get their attention."
"I thought you didn't want to be seen," said Danny.
Samson looked at Dog. "I think we can interpret the order to the effect that you're not to be seen," he said. "And take it from there."
"Where do we go when we have him?" Danny asked. "The American embassy," said the general. "Is that where he wants to go?"
"Why wouldn't he want to go to the embassy?" asked Samson.
"If I was the president, I'd want to go to my office, rally my troops."
"We can deal with that after we have him," said Dog.
"Bastian's right. Let's just grab him." Samson leaned across the conference table, looking at the Osprey pilots. "How long before you can get in the air?"
"As soon as the aircraft is fueled, we're good to go."
"Colonel Bastian!" Sergeant Liu stuck his head out from the communications area. "The Johnson is reporting four MiGs coming hot and heavy toward the Romanian border, straight across the Black Sea."