“They don’t know what happened,” Leilani said.
“No,” Kurt replied. “Traveling on radio silence with no rearview mirrors or aft radar coverage means they can’t have seen a thing. More important, they won’t see us turn away and head for the Seychelles.”
“Is that where we’re going?”
Kurt had found a navigation readout on a small computer screen. They were almost dead center of the Indian Ocean. The Seychelles were four hundred miles to the southwest, about an hour’s flight away.
Kurt smiled. “Closest bit of civilization around,” he said. “And by civilization, I mean somewhere that has a phone and a Coke machine and where people aren’t trying to kill us.”
Leilani smiled. “That sounds good to me.”
Kurt found the smile endearing. It was kind and simple and uncomplicated. Somehow, uncomplicated seemed utterly perfect at the moment.
He began to turn the Russian jet to the west, figuring he’d be a hundred miles away by the time anyone even bothered to look around. But before he got too far off course, something caught his eye. A black dot on the silver sea.
Apparently Leilani saw it as well. “You think they’re headed for that island?”
“We’re a long way from the closest island,” he said.
“Well, that’s too big to be a ship,” Leilani replied.
Kurt stared. The truth hit him as the light from the rising sun glinted off a series of tall triangular structures dotted around the perimeter of the floating monstrosity.
“That’s because it’s not a ship,” he said. “It’s a floating hulk of metal called Aqua-Terra.”
A spike of adrenaline shot through Kurt’s weary body. Three amphibious aircraft, filled with weapons, inflatable speedboats and Jinn’s goons, did not qualify for the benefit of the doubt. They weren’t coming for a tour of the facilities. They were an attack force, operating under radio silence, planning to hit and take over the island at the break of dawn.
“Strap yourself in,” he said.
“Why?” Leilani asked. “What are we doing?”
Kurt reached over and shoved the throttles to the stops. “We’re about to make our presence known.”
CHAPTER 36
KURT SCANNED THE CONSOLE, LOOKING FOR THE RADIO. HIS eyes settled on a transceiver currently set to an odd frequency.
COM-1, he thought. “That’s got to be Jinn’s frequency,” he said. “Can you find me one of those headsets?”
Leilani began to scrounge around on the floor for one of the dead pilots’ headsets. She picked it up and handed it to him.
He plugged it in. He found a second transceiver and set the switches so he would still be able to hear anything coming over COM-1 but be broadcasting only over COM-2. He began to adjust the frequency to the one Nigel, the helicopter pilot, had used when they first approached Aqua-Terra.
“Can you please tell me what we’re doing,” Leilani asked. “I thought we were flying away from them, not getting closer.”
“Several friends of mine from NUMA are down there. They’ve been trying to figure out what happened to your brother. They must be getting close to an answer because they’re about to be attacked for it.”
“Attacked?”
“I saw Jinn’s men boarding the other aircraft,” he said. “They’re commandos. I’m pretty sure they’re about to storm the island.”
“I agree,” she said. “We must warn them.”
Kurt continued to flick through frequencies until he’d set 122.85 in the display window. “This is the one.”
He listened for a second, heard nothing and then pressed the transmit switch. “Aqua-Terra, this is Kurt Austin. How do you read?”
Nothing.
As Kurt spoke, he kept his eyes on the descending transports. They seemed blissfully unaware.
“Aqua-Terra, come in.”
“Try another frequency.”
“No. This is the one.” He pressed transmit again. “Aqua-Terra, do you copy? This is Kurt Austin. You’re about to come under attack. Prepare to repel boarders.”
He let go of the switch.
“Why don’t they answer?” she asked.
Kurt could think of a number of reasons, the most sinister of which had to do with the impostor in their midst. She might have disabled the radio or done something worse.
The two aircraft were now dropping below two thousand feet. They’d be on the deck in a minute, probably discharging their boats using the LAPES parachutes. From the dimensions of the cargo hold he figured each plane might carry up to seventy commandos, but not with the boats and the equipment on board too. Thirty would be the max. That still meant sixty commandos against Marchetti’s crew of twenty, plus Paul and Gamay. With the robots deactivated, they didn’t stand a chance.
With no answer on the radio, Kurt realized the time for warnings had passed, it was time to make a move.
IN THE CENTER OF AQUA-TERRA’S communications room, Zarrina stood with Otero and Matson, listening to Kurt Austin as he tried to warn his friends of the imminent attack.
Otero looked sick. “I thought Jinn said Austin and Zavala were dead?”
“Apparently he spoke too soon,” Zarrina said.
“Where is it coming from?”
“It could be anywhere,” she said, glancing out the window. She saw no boats on the horizon, but she did see the three aircraft approaching. One of them was well out of formation. It all but confirmed the worst of her fears.
“He’s taken over on one of the jets,” she said. “We need to warn Jinn. And we need leverage. Get the woman up here. Now!”
KURT PUSHED THE THROTTLES to full, and the one-hundred-and-ten-foot aircraft surged forward with surprising power.
As it accelerated, a plan formed in Kurt’s mind. He watched the other jets slowing almost to stall speed as they dropped toward the water.
They’d be vulnerable as they flew along the deck, discharging their commandos, and Kurt could force them into the drink like a stock car racer wrecking his competition by putting them into the wall.
The two aircraft ahead were spaced a half mile apart at less than three hundred feet. Kurt and Leilani were closing in rapidly when suddenly Kurt heard shouting in Arabic over COM-1.
Both jets reacted instantly. Their pitch changed from nose down to nose up, and the heat distortion trailing out behind their engines intensified rapidly.
“Damn,” Kurt said. “So much for the element of surprise.”
The jets began to accelerate, but Kurt was barreling down on them rapidly, moving at least a hundred knots faster. He chose the aircraft to the left and headed for it, pointing his nose down like a madman.
Kurt’s aircraft charged like a hawk swooping in for the kill. The other jet was coming up, struggling to climb and pick up speed like a big, slow pigeon.
It grew larger and closer, filling the window and then disappearing from Kurt’s view, flashing under them.
JINN SAT IN THE FLIGHT ENGINEER’S chair in the lead aircraft, shouting instructions to the pilot. The throttles were at full, the aircraft was straining to climb and accelerate.
“Look out! He’s right above you!” Zarrina shouted over the radio.
A wave of thunder and turbulence shook the aircraft. A shadow raced across the windshield, and the captain shoved the stick forward. Smoke, heat and exhaust from Kurt’s engines blasted the cockpit, but the planes did not collide.
Kurt’s pulling up at the last second gave them a few feet of precious space. On the other hand, the pilot’s involuntary flinch and the wake turbulence from the thirty-five-thousand-pound jet roaring past sent them down and to the left, headed for the waves.