I landed atop one of the Chinese, and he went down. As he did, I brought the wrench around in a short arc and clipped the other one alongside, feeling the weight and force of the blow crack hard into his skull. He crumpled where he stood. I was on the floor, atop the first one who was still a little dazed, when the third man leaped at me. I got a knee up and helped him over my head. He landed on his back, started to roll over and got only halfway across when Hugo flashed in my palm and struck deeply into his chest.
But the last one, the one I'd landed on, had come around at least enough to run for it I saw Rita stick out a foot and he went flying. "Nice going," I said as I threw Hugo hard and fast The blade skewered him through the back of the neck and Rita grimaced and turned away. I was retrieving the stiletto when two more men came around the corner of the hangar, stopped short for a second, and then turned and ran. They were off and across the airfield, shouting, and I swore under my breath.
"Get into the plane," I yelled at the girl, and she scrambled. At the far end of the hangar, in one corner, I saw perhaps ten drums of fuel. I drew Wilhelmina. I needed some diversion, anything that would create excitement and cause confusion so all their attention wouldn't be concentrated on us. We were far enough from the drums so that we wouldn't go up with them, not right away, at least.
I climbed into the plane, hung out the door for a second and emptied Wilhelmina into the fuel drums. I slammed the door shut as they went up with a roar of flame and the old plane shook. As I sat behind the wheel and switched on the engines, I had the frightening thought that if the plane was in for engine repairs, the game was over. It grew more frightening as I pressed the starter switch again and nothing happened.
I pressed a third time and she caught, both engines coughing into a whirring roar. There was no time to wait for them to warm up. I sent the TU-2 moving out of the hangar as the heat of the flames started to peel the paint. A runway loomed directly ahead of me and I went for it. I saw men racing from the main building. Some of those running toward the hangar thought I was merely moving the plane to safety and directed their energies to the fire. Then I saw others move at top speed from the main building carrying rifles. I gunned the old plane, felt her creak and respond, wheels gathering speed on the concrete. The guards fell to their knees and shot. I heard two bullets strike the cabin and whip through.
"Stay low," I yelled back to Rita. I held the old TU-2 steady and lifted up with her as she left the ground. I didn't dare try a fast turn with the engines not even warmed up. I heard a half-dozen more shots slam into the underside of the plane, and then I tried a slow bank. Below, I saw the guards racing back into the main building of the field and I knew they'd be on the radio in seconds. I headed out to sea at once and Rita appeared in the pilot's cabin.
"How's your uncle?" I asked.
"No change," she said. "But we made it."
"Don't count chickens," I said gruffly. "Not yet." I switched on the radio and called the carrier.
"Operation DS calling Carrier Yorkville," I said into the mouthpiece. "Come in Yorkville. This is N3 calling. Come in Yorkville. Over."
Bless their Navy hearts, they picked me up at once, and I heard a voice with a Dixie accent in it.
"We hear you, N3," it said. "What do you want?"
"I'm flying a TU-2 with Chinese Air Force markings, heading south by southeast over the Sea of Japan. I may have unwelcome company. Need escort cover immediately. Repeat, immediately. Do you read me? Over."
"We read you," the voice answered. "One squadron Phantom II jets taking off. Stay on your course. We'll pick you up. Over and out."
"Roger," I said and flipped the transmitter. The morning sun was streaking the sky with red smears and I had the old TU-2 up to her top speed of three hundred and forty-five. She was groaning and shaking and I let her down a little.
"Keep looking out the windows," I said to Rita. "Yell if you see any other airplanes."
"You think they'll send planes after us?" Rita asked. "You still think Chung Li is behind what's happened?"
"I can't shake how I feel," I answered. "I'm sure our grabbing this old bird hasn't filtered up to Chung Li yet. Right now it's only a plane theft."
If Rita had another question, it was cut off by the starboard engine as it coughed once, then twice and died. I worked the choke button frantically and let out my breath as the engine roared back to life, sputtered and then caught again. My fingers were stiff and cramped and I stretched them. Suddenly I heard the roar of engines and Rita was pointing up into the sky. I gazed out the left window and saw them come out of the sun, Phantom IIs, and they wheeled and circled overhead in figure eights. They were a reassuring and comforting sight.
"Why the acrobatics?" Rita asked, and I smiled wryly.
"We go three-fifty an hour, maybe," I said. "They do over fifteen hundred. They're doing the figure eights so they can stay with us."
And they did till we sighted the carrier. If the Chinese Reds had sent planes after us, they only came close enough to take a look and disappear. I set the old TU-2 down on the carrier deck as smoothly as possible which wasn't smooth at all.
VI
The white corridors of Walter Reed Hospital were efficiently impersonal, like those of all hospitals everywhere, with their own kind of comforting reassurance. A Navy jet had flown us to the coast where we'd transferred to another plane which brought us to Washington. Hawk had them all primed for our arrival, and a team of doctors were waiting to whisk Carlsbad up into the vastness of the hospital. A Dr. Hobson gave me instructions.
"We'll have a preliminary opinion for you in a few hours," he said. "Call me if you haven't heard from us by ten."
I took Rita and steered her outside. Night had just descended on Washington. I walked toward a taxi at the curb.
"You'll stay at my place," I said. She gave me a narrowed-eyes look.
"You haven't anywhere else to stay" I reminded her. "Your uncle's house was blown up, remember? I almost went with it."
She said nothing — and what could she say at this point? At my place I found her a pajama top to wear after she showered. It was an old one, dating back to when I still wore pajamas a long time ago, and it was almost long enough to be a dress. But when Rita curled up on the couch in it, her long, lovely legs stretched out, she was both beguiling and sensual. Ordinarily my mind would have been tuned in on the same wave length as hers, but I was still brooding and worried. I fixed us bourbon old fashioneds, and as she sipped hers she looked over the rim of the glass at me.
"It bothers you, doesn't it?" she commented.
"What does?" I asked.
"Not having all the answers."
I looked at her lovely legs, half hidden under her, white smooth skin traveling up to the beginning roundness of her buttocks and I got up and started toward her. I'd taken three steps when the phone rang, the one I keep in the drawer of the desk, the one whose ring is a command. I turned and took it out of the drawer. Hawk's voice was tired and strained, almost exhausted.
"Get over here to the office," he said. "A call is coming from Chung Li in fifteen minutes. I want you here."
"Fifteen minutes?" I exclaimed. "I don't know if I can make that."
The old boy may have been tired but he was never too tired to be sharp. "You can make it," he said. "That gives you four to get dressed, one to kiss her goodbye and tell her you'll be back, and ten to get here."