While the man opened up the box of explosives Shaw took a walk around. This place was crammed with expensive equipment that could probably reach the ends of the earth with its signal. Down the centre drove a huge telescopic mast — the thing Tucker had been trying to manipulate — trying, presumably, to raise for a transmission. It was seated in a deep well in the floor of the compartment, and above it ran a shaft, closed now, up which the mast would be raised whenever Tucker needed to transmit. Probably he could use it only at night; when fully extended that mast would stick out from the mountain and be visible for miles in daylight. But this time Tucker had struck a hitch and he wouldn’t have been able to transmit at all.
Shaw blew the chains off Flame’s body with bursts from one of the heavy weapons and had her covered with a strip of canvas which he found in a store. She was lifted into the back of the radio truck along with the bodies of Adler and the two G.I.s — and Tucker, who was still unconscious. By this time Shaw and one of the enlisted men had carried out a thorough search of the whole headquarters and had rounded up four more of Tucker’s men who had been cowering in store-rooms after the shooting; Shaw had made use of these men to lift the opened side of the trap-door in the exit tunnel. This had proved an easy enough job since lifting gear and a spare steel bar were situated in the tunnel roof immediately above the trap. When Shaw got back to the truck the charges had all been placed in the radio-room and the wire for the electrical firing circuit was coiled down in the back of the truck.
Shaw said, “Right, let’s go. I’ll drive. Wind up all windows — they’re bullet-proof. I don’t know if the men on the gun-posts down the tunnel came along to join the party earlier or not — but we won’t chance it!”
He started up and, with the four remaining Negroes crammed under guard into the back, the vehicle moved ahead through the tumbled bodies of Tucker’s garrison and came into the darkness of the exit tunnel. Shaw switched on the headlights and the beams lit the tunnel like day. His foot went down. There was not a great deal of clearance for the truck, but Shaw handled the wheel expertly. They rounded the first bend and then, as they passed over the re-rigged trap, they heard briefly that hollow boom from below. Then they were past it and round the second bend, travelling fast now and heading right for the gates at the end — gates which, as Shaw had fully expected, were closed. Broad daylight showed beyond them now. From far behind there came a deep roar as the engineer in the back pressed the plunger and sent Tucker’s transmitting equipment into a tangle of shattered electrified metal. A blast of hot air swept past the truck. For a moment there was tremendous pressure on Shaw’s ear-drums and then they had hit the gates, smashing the flimsy disguising structure wide open, and burst through into one of the best dawns Shaw remembered seeing in years.
There was cheering from the back and a G.I. called hoarsely, “No one fired at us, Commander!”
Shaw grinned. “So they didn’t! We must have got the gunners during that lash-up in the main square.” He added, “Let’s hope it’s a good omen!”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Even now, in Red China, the manned-attack force would be waiting on the runways, the big nuclear-bomb-carrying aircraft ready to lift into the sky and gain height for their long run in across the Pacific with the intention of writing another Pearl Harbor into American history. The dawn, as Shaw took the truck out fast for Little Canyon, was shot with shades of green and pink and the air was clear and fresh and sparkling. Fair weather for an air strike; and a beautiful day to die.
Shaw took Tucker, still unconscious and still dressed only in his white, bloodstained trousers, direct to police headquarters. He didn’t want the Negro around the television building so early; it was still essential to keep matters as much under cover as possible. At headquarters Tucker and his four men were put in separate cells with a continuous guard of unprecedented proportions in the aisle outside the row of cages. Tucker’s arm and hand were attended to, as was Shaw’s wound. The bodies of the sergeant and the two enlisted men, together with Flame’s, were taken to the police morgue and the radio truck was garaged.
Before leaving Shaw had a private word with the police captain. He said, “I doubt if Tucker’ll talk, but if you can get him to when he comes round, so much the better, of course. We might get a definite line on any change of plan.” He added, “There’s no need to be too gentle so far as my susceptibilities are concerned!”
The police captain didn’t look as if gentleness were in his nature anyway. He said, “Just leave him to me. Where you heading now, Commander?”
“The Pan American Associated building.”
“I’ll have you taken there in my car.”
Shaw thanked him. The three enlisted men remained behind to await transport back to Chicago and Shaw was driven off. It was still early when he reached the television building but Thorssen was already in his office and pacing anxiously up and down, forehead wrinkled. Shaw gave him a summary of the night’s events and Thorssen said, “I’m not surprised you look all in, Commander. Why not have a couple of hours sleep? You’re very welcome to my settee.”
“Thanks a lot,” Shaw said. “I could do with it, but I’ll wait till after the broadcast. I have a few things to do before we’re quite ready.” He added, “I see you have the scrambler fixed. Mind if I go ahead and call Kirkham now?”
“Whenever you want. It’s all yours.”
Sitting on the edge of Thorssen’s desk Shaw took up the phone and called Washington. When he got the security chief he passed a full report of all he had done. Kirkham said, “Fine. Now all we do is pray you’re going to make Tucker televise himself out of a job.” He paused, and Shaw heard the rustle of papers coming along the wire. “I have a report here… the BMEWS station at Clear indicates the Chinese-manned Myasishchevs are airborne… they’re expected to cross the Pacific coast around 1130 hours, our time — E.S.T., that is. Naturally, they’re being tracked all the way in, for what that’s worth. They’re flying at around thirty-eight thousand and they’re well armed against interception. They’ll all be Kamikaze-type pilots too, I’ll bet! We’ll have fighters in the air, but we don’t want to have to use them, Commander.”
Shaw’s face was grim and anxious as he put down the scrambler. After that he went down and checked on the lines in the studio, the lines that would connect him with the White House and the Pentagon after the President started speaking, the time when secrecy would no longer be important.
Promptly at 1000 hours the coach party of supposed sightseeing food-store men arrived.
Shaw talked to them in Thorssen’s office, putting them fully in the picture as to what he wanted them to do that afternoon. Then he detailed the special parties and he and Thorssen went with them to the vital control points where they would be stationed from shortly before zero hour. After that he gave Thorssen a detailed private briefing on certain points and when he was satisfied everyone had the drill he called the Pentagon again on the scrambler and told Kirkham he was all set to go.
Kirkham said, “I have a similar report just in from the White House. Disloyal elements there won’t have a snowflake in hell’s chance.” He added, “Good luck, Commander. I’ll be right there rooting for you.”
“Thanks! What about the Sixth Fleet, General?”
“They’ve gone to sea and will be clearing the Virginia Capes shortly.”
Kirkham rang off and Shaw turned to Thorssen. “Nothing more we can do now,” he said, “except hope — and pray.”