I fired at whatever moved across my line of vision, and I fired in short bursts, scattering them like so many leaves in the wind. I was moving backwards, pulling Rita along with me, when the first shot from the patrol boats exploded and the ancient temple trembled. More shots followed quickly, some landing outside in the trees, others direct hits. I knew that the Russian gunners were zeroing in on their target. Some of the men and women were trying to flee, others were gathering together to huddle in small groups, waiting for death to come. A full round of shots hit, and the walls of the old temple seemed to fall away like a child's cardboard house.
I clambered over the rubble and headed for daylight, pulling Rita along, pausing only to strip the robe from an inert form and give it to her.
She wrapped it around herself. We hit the ground, tumbling over a mound of rubble, as two shells whistled over our heads. Yanking her along, I got up and ran for the trees, falling again as another pair of shells whistled past to land amid the remains of the temple. They had really sighted their target now and almost every shell was hitting the mark. Rita and I stumbled from the thin line of trees onto the beach and I lay there, pulling out the sending set from my belt buckle.
"Operation DS," I called, hoping the shots hadn't killed the little power pack. "Operation DS. Hold fire. Pick me up on beach. Repeat. Pick me up on beach. Imperative."
We flattened ourselves on the beach as a trio of shells looped overhead. The little island was shaking from the fury of the barrage the four patrol cruisers were laying down, and I knew they were using their rocket launchers, too. Then, abruptly, the firing halted, and I breathed a sigh of relief. The power pack had still worked. I put my head up and saw, across the water, the white flash of spray from the prow of a fast-moving vessel heading directly toward us. Then the low lines of the patrol craft came into view, moving in as close as she dared.
"Let's go," I said, pulling Rita with me into the surf, "We've got to catch the bus."
The patrol craft slowed, turned and cut her engines not more than a few hundred yards off shore. Rita and I were swimming already, Rita having a rough time of it with the voluminous robe that soaked up water and lay on her like a dead weight I helped her until strong hands pulled us up onto the patrol cruiser. My mind had already left behind what had happened and was racing on, thinking about Carlsbad.
"Get the girl below decks, please," I said to the captain of the cruiser, a tall, square-faced Russian with short blond hair. "Some hot tea would help, too."
"Da," he nodded.
"And get me to your radio," I said. Once more he nodded and I followed him below decks. While they got a pair of dungarees and an old shirt for Rita, I was on the radio, making relay contact first with a big W Class Russian sub and then with the special frequency set up for this operation. I reported the bad news that Carlsbad had flown the coop and was moving forward with his plans elsewhere.
I heard Ostrov's voice, and then radio contact was temporarily broken off. When it came back, the Soviet intelligence commandant was giving me instructions which had been quickly cleared and agreed upon by himself, Hawk, Chung Li and Colonel Nutashi. We were going to be picked up by a big Soviet plane and flown to one of the United States carriers off Japan. Meanwhile, I was to prepare a full report to be given via the powerful carrier transmitter, Ostrov's rough, growling delivery was more pronounced than usual, and his final parting message sent my own hackles up.
"I'd expected something better, Carter. You had the man in your hands."
"Want to change places?" I asked, and he clicked off. I turned from the transmitter and went over to where Rita sat, clothed in a loose gray seaman's shirt and dungarees. Her hands found mine as I sat down beside her, close in the cramped quarters inside the patrol cruiser.
"I'll never be able to thank you," she said quietly.
"Ill let you try," I said. "In fact, you can start now. Think hard. Try to remember anything you may have heard your uncle or that large Japanese buddy of his say about where they were going. They left by chopper, which means that wherever it was, it wasn't too far away."
I watched a small furrow cut into her smooth forehead as she thought. "Uncle's visit to the temple was just to bring me there," she said. "The virus strain was never there. He said that if anything got out of hand, the temple would be the safest place to be, isolated by water and with a controlled population."
"So they stashed the strain somewhere else," I said. "Think hard — give me anything you can remember."
"Mostly they talked so low I couldn't hear them as we flew to the Kuriles," Rita answered. "But I heard enough to gather that the final phase of the plan would include a jet pilot who was to meet them, a man whose wife had been killed by a radioactive explosion."
I turned her words over in my mind. I knew they'd mean a helluva lot more if we could only fit them in with the missing parts. A jet pilot could mean they needed the use of a high-speed plane with a long range. And that even narrowed things down a little. A jet pilot with a wife killed in a radioactive explosion. I was starting to itch for that flying boat to get here. I had to get on that radio with Hawk. Rita's words brought me back.
"And there was something else," she said. "I heard Kiyishi use the phrase 'the tip of the three. He said the pilot knew to meet them at the tip of the three."
Rita sat back and moved her hands helplessly. "That's all I can remember, Nick. There was nothing else."
The tip of the three. I let the phrase roll around in my mind but it didn't trigger a damn thing, and then I heard the sound of the heavy engines of the flying boat approaching.
"Let's get topside," I said. "Every second counts." A week, Hawk had said. Now only a few days remained. I watched the big airplane taxi to a halt, and the patrol boat came up alongside the opened doorway. We transferred to the giant plane and within a few hours we were aboard the United States carrier in the misty coastal waters off northern Japan. The ship's nurses took Rita in hand and she was assigned one of the staterooms kept aside for visiting dignitaries. I got on the radio with Hawk and as always, he listened first. He didn't say anything till I'd completed a full report and then, his voice weary, he cut in.
"It's ironic, Carlsbad, calling us puppets. He isn't even master of his own plan. Maybe we're all mad, Nick, every last one of us."
He'd taken down the few things Rita had reported to me. I heard him put some crispness into his voice but it took effort. "Ill get everyone on this at once. You'll have to just stand by. It may take time, hours, if we come up with anything at all. Where's the girl now?"
"Resting in a stateroom," I answered.
"Get someone to stay with her constantly," he said. "Maybe she talks in her sleep. Maybe she's got something in her subconscious that'll come out when she's asleep."
"Roger," I said, and Hawk clicked off. I found myself smiling. After all, this was certainly nothing to entrust to just anyone. I went to the captain, told him that Rita Kenmore and I were to be disturbed only if Hawk radioed. We had vital plans to go over, I said. I think the captain may even have believed me. The boys in crew's quarters wouldn't have, showing the disadvantages of too much education.
I hurried to the stateroom, knocked and Rita opened the door. Her smile, the first real one I'd ever seen from her, lighted up the room.
"Oh, Nick, please come in," she said. She was wearing a deep red sweater and a cream skirt. She saw my eyes flick over the soft roundness of her breasts. "Thanks to the nursing staff aboard," she said, gesturing at her clothes.