Danny had heard the entire exchange over the Dreamland circuit. It hadn’t exactly filled him with confidence about base security.
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openly hostile. The enlisted people were at best split down the middle, and the contracted workers, most of whom were either Palestinians or Pakistani, refused to go anywhere near the Americans. Which was just as well.
DOG HAD JUST SAT DOWN AT THE COMMUNICATIONS CONSOLE
in the Command trailer to get an update from Dreamland Command when the screen flashed with an incoming communication marked EYES ONLY, DREAM COMMANDER.
“Bastian,” he said after clearing the security procedures to allow the connection.
“Uh, Colonel, didn’t expect to get you so quick,” said Jed Barclay. “I, uh, just came out of a marathon National Security session. President and Admiral Balboa and Mr. Freeman, Defense Secretary Chastain—”
“I don’t need the roll call,” said Dog. “Give me the bad news.”
“How do you know it’s bad news?”
“Because you always beat around the bush when it’s bad news.”
“They want to beef up Xray Pop,” said Jed. “Under ideal circumstances—”
“We’re being assigned to work with Xray Pop?”
“That would be it, Colonel. Under Captain Storm’s command.”
Dog didn’t respond.
“The orders will be cut I’d say pretty quickly. Um, they’ll come through—”
“It’s all right. We’ll figure it out.”
“I, um, I know it’s going to be kind of a—not a good situation,” said Jed. “But—”
“Thanks.”
He killed the connection.
Dog leaned back from the console. The last time he’d been under a Navy commander, he’d been sent home within twenty-four hours. He’d probably beat that this time around.
144
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
“Hey!”
Dog turned around, surprised to see Jennifer standing in the trailer. She’d come in with the technical teams to work on the Werewolf and LADS lighter than air detection systems.
“Hey, yourself,” he said, getting up. She hugged him, and he gave her a kiss, trying not to seem too distracted.
Not that it worked.
“I thought you’d be happy to see me,” she said.
“I am, Jennifer, I am,” Dog told her. “But right now I have a dozen different things to sort through, and then I have to brief a mission.”
“I was just looking for a kiss,” she said, pressing against him.
“I did kiss you.”
“My grandma gives better kisses.”
Dog clasped her in his arms and gave her a “regulation”
kiss, melting his lips into hers. It was long and it was delicious and it was dangerously tempting.
“I do have to get to work,” he told her finally, pulling back.
“I know,” she said.
Somehow the tone of her voice made him want her even more. But before he could suggest that they leave the trailer and find a place where he could give in to temptation, two members of the Whiplash security team who’d been checking on the C-17 and its gear came inside.
Sergeant Lee “Nurse” Liu, the senior NCO on the Whiplash team, gave him an update on the security situation, along with the prediction that the Werewolves would be operational within an hour.
“There’s only one problem—Sandy Culver, the Werewolf pilot, is sick,” said Liu.
“How?” Dog turned to Jennifer, who had been on the flight with Culver.
“He has the flu or something,” said Jennifer. “He didn’t look too good when he got on the plane. And he started throwing up about an hour before he landed.”
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“Captain Freah is checked out on the aircraft,” said Liu.
“So am I,” said Jennifer. “That’s why I’m here.”
“I understood you were here to work on their systems, not to fly them,” said Dog.
“I can do both.”
“We’re going to need you on the LADS system,” said Dog. “You can’t do everything.”
“I can if I have to.”
“Danny can fly them,” said Dog. “Or Zen in an emergency. When you’re finished with everything else, we’ll talk about it.”
“Colonel, you have a call on the satellite telephone system,” said Sergeant Jack “Pretty Boy” Floyd, who had taken over the communications station. “It’s from the Navy.”
“That’ll be the new boss, wondering when we’re going to genuflect,” said Dog. “Excuse me.”
He walked to the back of the trailer and waited until Pretty Boy stepped aside before clearing the communication in.
“Bastian.”
“This is Captain Gale.”
“Captain, good afternoon,” Dog said evenly. “I’m sorry for the loss of your men.”
“Yes. That won’t happen again. I understand you’ve been looking for a submarine with a Piranha probe.”
“That’s right, Captain.”
“I’ll tell you what, Colonel. Let’s cut the bullshit here.”
“Gladly.”
“I’ve heard about you. You have a reputation for getting things done. I appreciate that.”
“Thank you.”
“I also have heard that you’re a cowboy. You don’t take orders from anyone.”
“On the contrary, I take orders very seriously,” said Dog.
“As long as you follow mine, we’ll have no trouble. You can call me Storm.”
146
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
Is that supposed to make me feel warm and fuzzy inside?
Dog wondered.
“What areas have you searched?” Storm asked.
“The Somalian coast from the Eritrean border east about fifty miles. We’ve only just started.”
“Well, the search has secondary priority now,” said Storm. “You’re working for me now and we’re going after the pirates.”
“Understood.”
“When I give you an order to sink someone, I want them sunk.”
Dog said nothing.
“The pirates work both sides of the Gulf,” the Navy captain continued. “They use hit and run tactics and then retreat.
Because of our rules of engagement, they know they’re safe near the coast. So I have to catch them in international waters. You spot them, vector me toward them, and I’ll attack.”
“It would be just as easy for me to attack them myself, then,” said Dog.
“You didn’t last night.”
“I was following my orders.”
“Well, you have new orders now. You spot the pirates, and I’ll take care of them.”
Dog thought Storm was a jerk, but that didn’t mean his frustration wasn’t justified. He’d been given a difficult job to do, then had his hands tied behind his back.
“Listen, Storm,” said Dog, deciding to offer an olive branch. “We can do a lot more for you than just fly around the ocean spotting patrol boats. For one thing, the sort of surveillance you’re asking for can be conducted by lighter-than-air blimps. I can have a dozen flown in from Dreamland; we can post them around the gulf and give the control units to your ships. You’ll have around-the-clock coverage of the entire gulf. And we can get you some better communications systems. I understand that you had a lot of difficulty communicating with my aircraft earlier. I know there was SATAN’S TAIL
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some sort of foul-up with your antiair missiles and you missed a MiG you were aiming at; one of my specialists believed it had to do with the radar link to the guidance system.
Maybe I can get some of my radar people—”
“Just get your aircraft working with my intelligence officers by 2000 hours, Bastian. I’m in charge. Not you.”
The line went dead.
Khamis Mushait
1621
BANDAR’S TOUR OF KHAMIS MUSHAIT STARTED WITH WHAT
seemed to be an old fort, but according to the Saudi pilot was just an old building at the edge of the original city.