“You’ve got a point there,” John said, unable to keep from thinking about Gregory, nor feeling the sting that came along with not having freed his son. “So where can we send them?” John asked.
Wilbur stared up at the sky and pursed his lips. “Least half my birds were killed when a Chinese shell landed nearby. I do got one group that can travel as far as Greensboro.”
“That’s too far. We need something closer to the front lines.”
“Then it’ll have to be Boone, North Carolina. Just a stone’s throw from the Appalachians. I got five birds who used to make that trip on a regular basis.”
John nodded, folding his arms. “That should do. But it’ll mean including instructions to deliver the message to General Dempsey.” He was mostly talking to himself. “All right, once we’ve returned, either Henry or Rodriguez will come by with the message.”
“What’s it gonna say?” Wilbur asked, although the doubtful expression on his face made it clear he didn’t expect to be told.
“I wish I could tell you,” John said apologetically. “But with Phoenix on the loose, we can’t take any chances. Until we can figure the traitor is, we’ll be making quite a bit of use out of these birds of yours.”
“Then you’ll need to post guards near them cages,” Wilbur said.
John nodded. The old man was right. If Phoenix was on the lookout for targets of opportunity, cutting off their communication with the outside world would be a major setback.
Although John couldn’t divulge the details to Wilbur, the message they’d eventually send to General Dempsey would detail the success or failure of the mission to Y-12. The former would hopefully signal a green light to begin preparations for a large-scale counterattack. The latter would likely mean that John was dead.
Moss arrived a moment later driving an old, beat-up golf cart. He pulled to a stop and nodded at Wilbur. “Hate to break up your fun, boss, but they’re ready for you.”
He was referring to the team going to Y-12 and the plane that would get them there. John climbed on board the golf cart, not entirely able to squash that sinking feeling that he might never return.
Chapter 2
Cutting through the back roads, which weren’t nearly so cluttered with debris, they arrived in the center of town within minutes. There they met up with Jerry Fowler, Reese and the armed escort that would bring them to Scott Municipal Airport. Located a couple miles southwest of town, the airport was well within Oneida’s zone of control and because of its short runway had largely been ignored by the Chinese during their failed attempt to overrun the town. Still, in spite of its good luck, the airport hadn’t gone completely unscathed. At one point during the battle, a shell had landed near the hangar, destroying two small planes and damaging another. But the decades-old four-seat Cessna 172 Skyhawk designated to fly them south to Oak Ridge was undamaged.
“Aren’t you gonna say goodbye to Diane and Emma?” Moss asked, still sporting the woodland fatigues and multicolored mohawk he’d worn during the battle. He hadn’t changed in days, and by the odor wafting off of him, he hadn’t washed either.
“The only thing it’ll do is worry them more,” John replied. His gear was waiting for him at the rendezvous point and he began to put it on. “When she asks where I am, you tell her I’ve gone away on business.”
“Oh, yeah,” Moss cackled. “She’s gonna love that. In case you’ve forgotten, she and I aren’t on the best terms right now.”
Dimples formed as he gave his head of security a wink. “I thought you were a glutton for punishment, Moss? Besides, it’ll be a good opportunity to work on your diplomacy skills. You do intend to be mayor someday, don’t you?”
“I don’t intend to live that long.”
Once he was geared up, John went to greet Jerry and Reese. Jerry was decked out in a green aviator’s jumpsuit, his belly showing prominently. He looked nervous and rightly so. When they’d first met, Jerry had survived a vicious assault in the Home Depot where he’d been tied to a shower and left for dead. From there he’d been thrust into probably the most intense urban combat John had seen since his days in Iraq. So much for bad luck.
Reese stood casually beside him, puffing on a Chinese cigarette he’d likely taken off a dead Commie soldier. John waved his hand in front of his face. “Put that thing out before we all die of cancer.”
Smiling, Reese complied, stubbing it out with the toe of his boot. Slung over his back was a new gift he’d received from General Brooks—a Barrett M82 .50 caliber sniper rifle—and hanging from a two-point sling was an M4.
Reese motioned with the assault rifle. “She belonged to Captain Bishop,” he said solemnly. “After he got chewed up by that Commie AA gun, I figured I’d bring her along and see if I couldn’t win him a little payback.”
“Quick in and quick out,” John told the sniper. “I don’t need to tell you the best missions are the ones where you never fire a shot.”
“That may be,” Reese replied. “But they sure aren’t the most gratifying.”
This kind of talk was making Jerry look about as white as a sheet. John was quick to change the subject. “You have everything you need, Jerry?”
Jerry nodded. His beard had crumbs in it.
“You eat this morning?” John asked.
“A little,” Jerry said, glancing down at his belly self-consciously.
“Well, just make sure you keep it down when we’re in the air.” John glanced around. “Speaking of air, where’s the pilot?”
“At the airport, getting the plane ready,” Reese told him as he pulled out another cigarette and clamped it between his teeth. He was barely done when he caught the change in John’s expression. “Don’t worry, Colonel. I won’t light it up. I’m saving it that for when we get back.”
If they ever got back, John thought, but didn’t say.
They’d briefed the mission late into the previous night, going over every eventuality and working in fail-safes and redundancies at every turn. When embarking on a mission, it wasn’t good enough to have a single plan. You needed options for when things inevitably went wrong. General Dempsey had assured them that once they reached Oak Ridge soldiers from the 3rd Infantry Division as well as scientists from the research facility would greet them. After that it was a question of rigging the warhead to a balloon and sending it high into the atmosphere.
And with that they clambered into the Humvees and headed for the airport. Despite the short distance, two Bradley Fighting Vehicles were assigned to escort them. John peered out at Moss from the passenger window as they pulled away, watching his head of security standing at attention.
Chapter 3
When they arrived minutes later, John exited the Humvee to the sound of distant gunfire.
“Sounds like a skirmish north of town,” Reese said.
Ever since the recent Chinese push into the area, small skirmishes had been going on along most of the perimeter as the Communists looked for weak spots. At least that was what the Chinese wanted them to think. The truth was the bulk of their forces had moved east as part of the buildup against the American position along the Appalachian Mountains. What had been left behind was intended to keep the units defending Oneida contained. A reality which was going to make the pilot’s job a tricky one.
John spotted the pilot by the plane, tinkering with the engine. But it was the paint job on the aircraft that really caught his attention. A red stripe and Communist star ran along the fuselage. It had been redone to look like something from the Chinese Air Force. The hope was any foreign troops would hesitate a few precious seconds before firing. General Dempsey had also been informed so they weren’t shot down by the American soldiers protecting Oak Ridge.