'But of course.'
The aircraft was still settling and when I looked through the windows I could see a control tower and the roofs of buildings and then a whole row of military jets with US Air Force markings: the pilot had obviously put the fear of Christ into Zade and persuaded him there was an emergency and this was the nearest airport that could take us. I suppose he thought the best place to land a bunch of terrorists was at an Air Force base and that was a logical thought: the moment the Boeing touched down it'd be surrounded by enough fire power to blow an aircraft-carrier out of the sea. But I wasn't too happy because the thing we'd all have to avoid was a shoot-out because in a shoot-out there wouldn't be many survivors.
10:34.
Timing was now important. I didn't know if Ferris could do anything for us at this stage: there might be a short-wave transmitter at the airbase he could use for talking to London but I didn't know if London could do anything for us either. This was the end-phase and in the end-phase of a typical penetration job it's usually the executive hi the field who has to complete the mission without anyone's help: it's in the nature of the operation because he goes in alone and he's got to get out alone for the simple reason that that is what he's for.
Ferris would be 'here in two hours: I'd worked with him before and I knew his style. The minute we'd stopped talking on the phone when I'd called him from Belem he would have got on to the Secretary of Defence direct and asked for a pick-up in Manaus, and Burdick was capable of ordering a unmarked military aircraft to go and get him. This Boeing had been on the plot tables ever since it had taken off and Burdick would know it was now landing.
He would be here sooner than Ferris.
We were reversing thrust and I leaned against the bulkhead between the coach and first-class sections until the deceleration eased off; then I went forward and spoke to Kuznetski.
Zade had said that the bomb was the key to international power politics and of course he was right but he was here for more than one of the bloody things and they couldn't expect to get away with a shipment.
'I hear you studied at Prague,' I said to Kuznetski.
He turned to look at me. He was holding himself hi a lot, and only his eyes showed his nerves; he didn't look a typical terrorist, if there is such an animaclass="underline" he'd set up the Simplon Tunnel operation and shot his way out of gaol and all that sort of thing but he didn't look like a dedicated revolutionary; he looked as if he liked the technicalities of violence as distinct from its political excuses.
'Yes,' he said. 'I was in Prague.'
'In '69?'
He watched me quietly with his nerves in his eyes.
'No.'
'I was there in '70, on one of those exchange things. You've got a doctorate in physics, haven't you?'
His shoulder hit the edge of the bulkhead as the Boeing swung off the runway and gunned up a little, but he didn't take his eyes from my face.
'No. I have a degree.'
'What were you doing?'
'When?'
'In Prague.'
He hesitated, wondering whether to answer.
I heard voices from the flight deck now, and radio static.
'I did some revision techniques on deuterium moderators,' Kuznetski said. 'I was with Dr Schwarz.'
He seemed to be waiting for some kind of answer.
'Are you going after your doctorate?'
Again he waited, watching me.
'Perhaps.'
We could hear the pilot clearly now.
'-and if you think you're going to get me to take this goddam bird up again on three engines you're crazy!'
I now noticed that Kuznetski was slowly going pale.
'Satynovich,' he murmured, 'is a wild man. He makes me afraid.'
'You should choose your friends more carefully,' I said, and went back along the aisle, hitting a seat-squab as the Boeing swung again and slowed under the brakes.
Then we stopped, and the long wait began, as it had to, This was at 10:41.
Zade stood with one booted foot on the navigator's seat, staring through the windscreen.
In the last few minutes a nervous tic had started to jerk at the corner of his mouth. His physical control was adequate but he lacked the nerves to back it up and when he spoke mere was a tremor of rage in his voice.
He was listening now to the distorted tones from the radio.
'I repeat my offer to replace your hostage personally.'
James K. Burdick, US Secretary of Defence.
He had arrived by military helicopter ten minutes ago and was speaking direct from the control tower. When Zade replied his voice was hoarse and the sibilants were accentuated.
'The hostage remains with us.'
His psychology was sound: he knew that Burdick would do more for his daughter's safety than he'd do for his own.
Half an hour ago at 11.04 the FBI had opened up communications via the tower and two-way radio: they were headed by a small group of men standing on the tarmac below the tower and I could see the glint of the chrome aerials as they moved about. The man in charge had announced himself as Dwight Sorenson and he had opened the exchange with an immediate demand for surrender and this had provoked Zade into expressing his anxiety in the form of rage.
At 11.09 he had ordered me pilot and navigator off the aircraft, probably because he thought they might become dangerous. They had been told to confirm mat Patricia Burdick was indeed a hostage on board and that she was indeed in a worsening condition of fever.
As Zade began speaking again I heard an aircraft landing but couldn't see it because the main runway was at right angles behind the tail of the Boeing. Zade interrupted himself and ordered all air traffic to cease and got an undertaking from fee base commander that only emergency movements would be permitted.
The Defence Secretary broke in again.
The material for exchange has been sent for. In the meantime 1 would welcome a personal meeting with you. and would present myself at the aircraft, unaccompanied.
Zade considered this and said no.
Francisco Ventura was on the flight deck, watching me with his slow moist eyes, a sub-machine-gun in the crook of his arm. He had followed me here when I'd come forward soon after the Boeing had stopped. He didn't worry me too much because I believed he would only shoot on orders from Zade and I didn't intend that Zade should give such orders, because I wanted to avoid a shoot-out.
But Shadia worried me because she'd been standing in the staff area immediately aft of the flight deck for the last twenty minutes, watching me steadily. On the few occasions when I met her eyes I felt she was ready at any instant to fire the heavy-calibre automatic that he held in her slim tanned hand, and not necessarily on orders from Zade. Her expression would have been hard to describe but I would say that she felt I owed her a death and she wanted to take it.
I could hear Sassine's high rapid tones from the first-class compartment, with nobody answering. The aircraft that had just landed was rolling towards the control tower and in a moment I heard its sound die to silence. It didn't have Ferris on board: the earliest he could get here was 12:30.
At 12:21 Dr Costa came forward to ask if the air-conditioning could be turned on. Zade said nothing: he was now standing with his back against the bulkhead, watching the group of men at the base of the tower, his dark face shining with sweat. He had spent the last ten minutes releasing a little of his rage over the radio, telling Burdick that he had broken their agreement to make the exchange as soon as the Boeing had landed. Burdick had said that nobody had known where the aircraft was going to land, and that the material for exchange had been "difficult to obtain", for reasons that should be "well understood". This material, he assured Zade, was now on its way.