Long before he evacuated Syracuse, however, Fitzgerald had dispatched a large contingent of his undercover agents into areas coming under control of The Circle. These spies would be the eyes and ears of the democracies — first-hand witnesses to the madness that was sweeping the,continent east of the Mississippi.
Already their reports were filtering in…
All across the eastern half of the continent, they said, regular army units loyal to The Circle were sweeping through small towns and villages, signing up eager recruits and impressing the not-so-enthusiastic, to fight in "The War Against the West." It was a road show rivaling the fervor of a religious revival. Walls and billboards were painted and posters plastered up anywhere and everywhere — all proclaiming the righteousness of attacking the governments of Texas and west of the Rockies. "Manifest Destiny!" one poster read,
"Recover our profitable lands! The oil of Texas, the mineral rich mountains of Colorado, the beachfront property of California are being held unfairly by the greedy governments of the West."
Only by war could the people of the East claim what was "rightfully" theirs.
The rallying cry was all that was needed for the thousands of rogue soldiers who had been wandering the countryside, especially in the south ever since the break-up of the Mid-Aks and the destruction of The Family. Making war was their trade. Most of them carried a festering hatred for the forces that now made up the armies of the West, for it was these same warriors who had defeated them in the Northeast and at Football City. Along in the ranks with these veterans were the raiders, bandits and outlaws who knew it was more profitable to fight with an army than on their own. Many grounded air pirates — no longer able to keep a working jet fighter in order — joined up too, a number of whom became officers in the ever-expanding army.
But it was the raw youth of the East — teenagers who were too young to fight in the big war and had grown older in New Order America — who filled the infantry ranks of The Circle Army. Living a hand-to-mouth existence for several years made these recruits particularly vulnerable to Viktor's brand of adolescent propaganda. It was widely rumored that, per Viktor's orders, the chow at the recruiting camps was liberally sprinkled with feel-good drugs. Long hours of indoctrination followed for a new recruit, along with rudimentary military training and a promise of a bag of gold once The Circle captured California.
In six weeks, The Circle had its "perfect grunt": drug-addicted, brainwashed, armed and foaming at the mouth.
So with this unhealthy mixture of cynical battle-hardened veterans, whipped-up teenage fodder and many freed prisoners, habitual criminals, psychotic murderers thrown in, the Circle Army could boast close to 180,000 men under arms. All under the tight control of the minions of the mysterious Viktor — a man they had never laid eyes on in the flesh.
And conveniently unmentioned in all the hoopla was that the Russians would be providing air defense cover over the frontline in the catastrophic war to come…
Hunter started to get shivers about a hundred miles south of Devil's Tower.
The sun was just setting,on the day he began in Hawaii. His body was pumping with adrenaline. The news of the frenzy sweeping the East was upsetting, but he couldn't let it get to him. The importance of the recovery mission had long ago overridden the less human concerns, such as peace of mind, eating a good meal or sleeping. His concentration had to remain focused on retrieving the second black box. The massacred convoys. The retreats from Syracuse and Football City. The Russian SAMs. The Circle. The slaughter that was about to begin. Dominique. Everything had to become secondary. Just get the box, he told himself.
Yet it was the spookiness of the landscape below him that was nearly overwhelming. The fact that the rugged countryside of Wyoming was now supposedly the home to many renegade Indian gangs did nothing to lighten up the situation. If he believed just half the stories going around, then were he forced down here for any reason, his chances of getting out were just as bad — if not worse — than being stranded in the Badlands.
Devil's Tower was a conical mountain with a strangely flattened-out summit, located in the northeast corner of Wyoming. Theories ranging from a backfired volcano to an ancient landing site for UFOs were thrown out as explanations for its unusual shape. Whatever the reason, Hunter's own deep psyche and extraordinary senses all signaled that strange forces resided near the place.
Airline as well as service pilots avoided going near the remote area whenever possible, pointing to screwed up instruments and incorrect readings any time they had to overfly the place. And reports of strange lights in the skies had become routine over the years.
And once again, no one could ever accuse General Josephs of not having a vivid imagination: The second black box was reportedly hidden in "an altar-like stone at the very center of the Tower's flat peak." For Hunter, the whole thing was like something out of a science fiction movie.
He brought the Yak because he knew a vertical landing on the Tower's flat peak was the only way he could retrieve the black box quickly. But as the airplane drew closer to the place, it started acting up. At first he thought it was just the shitty Russian cockpit instruments. The airplane was so crude by American jet fighter standards, even he had a hard time figuring out just what every button and lever was really for.
But now everything seemed to be going haywire at once. Lights flashed on his panel simultaneously indicating that he was out of fuel, half full and at full fuel maximum. His altimeters — one electric, one pressure-driven — told him he was 10 feet off the ground or at 87,400 feet, take your pick. At one point, his "Missiles Away" indicator light came on, went off, came back on then started to blink as if to mock him.
He decided to ignore the airplane's wacky instruments and fly it on instinct.
He climbed to 30,000 feet and started to widely circle the mountain. Right away he knew there was trouble below. He could see lights — red, yellow, green — ringing the top of the Tower. Some were blinking, others not. Immediately the "landing site" theory leaped into his mind. The way the lights were laid out, it did look as if whoever installed them expected something to come out of the sky and set down there.
He lowered down to 30,000 then 25,000. All the while he had the airplane on a portside bank, allowing him to focus in on the lights and the Tower below.
Down to 20,000, then 17,000. At 15,500, he flipped the switch which started the jet's thrust turning from the horizontal to the vertical. It allowed him to slow down and finally hover long enough to take photos with the infrared camera he brought along. The Russian fighter had nothing even approaching the sophistication of an outside infra-red camera mounting. This one he'd have to do the old-fashioned way — by hand.