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"s.h.i.t. s.h.i.t, s.h.i.t, s.h.i.t," he muttered.
He unbuckled himself from his gun chair and hurried back into the main cabin, thinking fast.
Then it hit him.
He keyed his headset radio. "Sky Monster. Take us vertical. As vertical as you can go."
"What? What are you doing?"
"I'll be in the rear hold."
Sky Monster pulled back on the yoke and theHalicarna.s.sus went noseup into the sky.
Climbing, climbing, climbing...
The Interceptor gave chase, zooming upward after it.
Battling the slope, Jack staggered into the rear hold, clipped a safety rope to his belt, and opened the rear loading ramp.
Air rushed into the hold, and beyond the entryway, he saw the Interceptor immediately behind them-beneath them-framed by the deep blue ocean.
It fired.
Sizzlinghot tracer bulletsentered the hold, smacking into the girders all around Jack- sping!sping!sping!-just as he kicked a release lever-the release lever that held his LSV harnessed in place.
The springloaded harness retracted instantly, whipsnapping away, and the light strike vehicle rolled out the back of the plane and fell out into the sky.
Seen from the outside, it must have looked very odd indeed.
The Halicarna.s.sus soaring upward with the J9 behind and below it, when suddenly the LSV-an entire car-came dropping out of the Hali and...
...sailed past the J9, the Chinese fighter banking at the last moment, just getting out of the way.
Its pilot grinned, proud of his reflexes.
Reflexes, however, that weren't fast enough to evade or avoid the second LSV that came tumbling out of the Halicarna.s.sus 's rear hold a moment later!
The second falling LSV smashed squarely into the fighter's nose, causing the whole Interceptor to just drop out of the sky. It plummeted to the ocean, ejecting its pilot a moment before it and the car entered the water with twin gigantic splashes.
High above it, the Halicarna.s.sus righted itself, retracted its rear ramp, and flew off to the northwest, safe and away.
"Huntsman,"Sky Monster's voice came over the intercom."Where to now?"
Standing in the hold, Jack recalled Wizard's message. "WILL MEET YOU AT GREAT TOWER."
He keyed the intercom. "Dubai, Sky Monster. Set a course for Dubai."
BACK AT West's farm, Chinese troops stood guard at every gate.
The two majors, Black Dragon and Rapier, waited formally on the front porch as a helicopter touched down on the dusty turnaround in front of them.
Two figures emerged from the chopper, an older American man shadowed by his bodyguard, a twentysomething US Marine of AsianAmerican extraction.
The older man walked casually up onto the porch, unchecked by any of the guards.
No one dared stop him. They all knew who he was and the considerable power he wielded.
He was a Pentagon player, an American colonel in his late fifties, and he was fit, extremely fit, with a barrel chest and hard blue eyes. His hair was blond but graying, his features weathered and creased. In stance and bearing, he could have pa.s.sed for Jack West twenty years from now.
His Marine bodyguard, ever alert, went by the call sign Switchblade. He looked like a human attack dog.
Black Dragon greeted the senior man with a bow.
"Sir," the Chinese major said. "They have escaped. We brought enormous force and executed our landings perfectly. But they, well, they were-"
"They were prepared," the senior man said. "They were prepared for this eventuality."
He strolled past the two majors and entered the farmhouse.
He ambled slowly through West's abandoned home, taking it in, pausing every so often to examine some trinket closely-a framed photograph on the wall of West with Lily and Zoe at a waterslide park on a shelf a ballet trophy that belonged to Lily. He lingered longest over a photo of the Great Pyramid at Giza.
Black Dragon, Rapier, and the bodyguard, Switchblade, followed him at a discreet distance, waiting patiently for whatever instructions he might have.
The senior man picked up the photo of West, Lily, and Zoe at the waterslide park. The three of them appeared happy, smiling for the camera, grinning in the sunshine.
"Very good, Jack..." the senior man said, staring at the photo. "You got away from me this time. You're still wary enough of the world to have a getaway plan. But you're slipping. You detected us late and you know it."
The senior man gazed at the smiling faces in the photo and his lip curled into a snarl. "Oh, Jack, you've become domesticated. Happy even. Andthat is your weakness. It will be your downfall."
He dropped the photo, let it shatter against the floor, then turned to the two majors: "Black Dragon. Call Colonel Mao. Tell him we have not yet acquired the Firestone. But that need not stop him from advancing at his end. Tell him to commence his interrogation of Professor Epper, with extreme prejudice."
"As you command." Black Dragon bowed and stepped a few yards away to speak into his satphone.
The senior man watched as he did this. After a minute or so, Black Dragon hung up and returned. "Colonel Mao sends his regards and says that he will do as you order."
"Thank you," the senior man said. "Now, if you wouldn't mind, Black Dragon, shoot yourself in the head."
"What!"
"Shoot yourself in the head. Jack West escaped because of your hamfisted a.s.sault. He saw you coming and so got away. I cannot tolerate failure on this mission. You were responsible and so you must pay the ultimate penalty."
Black Dragon stammered. "I...no, I cannot do tha-"
"Rapier," the senior man said.
Quick as a whip, the big man named Rapier drew his pistol and fired it into the Chinese major's temple. Blood sprayed. Black Dragon collapsed to the floor of Jack West's living room, dead.
The senior man hardly even blinked.
He turned away casually. "Thank you, Rapier. Now, call our people at Diego Garcia. Tell them to initiate blanket satellite surveillance of the entire southern hemisphere. Target is an aerial contact, Boeing 747, black with stealth profile. Use all aerial signatures to locate it: transponder, contrail wake, infrared, the lot. Find that plane. And when you do, let me know. I'm eager to reunite Captain West with his Jamaican friend."
"Yes, sir." Rapier hurried outside.
"Switchblade," the senior man said to his bodyguard. "A moment alone, please."
With a deferential nod, the young AsianAmerican Marine left the room.
Alone now in the living room of West's farmhouse, the senior man pulled out his own sat phone and dialed a number: "Sir. It's Wolf. They have the Firestone, and they're running."
AS ALL THIS was going on in Australia, other things were happening around the world: In Dubai, a middleaged American cargo pilot staying overnight in the Gulf city was being brutally strangled in his hotel room.
He struggled against his three attackers, gasping and thrashing, but to no avail.
When he was dead, one of his attackers keyed a cell phone. "The pilot is prepared."
A voice responded:"West is en route. We'll keep watching him, and tell you when to proceed."
The dead pilot's name was Earl McShane, from Fort Worth, Texas, a cargo hauler for the TransAtlantic Air Freight company. He was not a particularly noteworthy individual: perhaps the biggest thing he'd done in his life was after 9/11, when he had written to his local newspaper denouncing "the dirty Muslims that done this" and demanding revenge.
At the same time, in rural Ireland-County Kerry, to be exact-a crack force of twelve men in black were advancing stealthily on an isolated farmhouse.
Within seven minutes it was all over.
They had achieved their goal.
All six of the guards at the farmhouse had been liquidated, and in the attackers' midst as they left the darkened farmhouse was a small boy named Alexander, aged eleven.
As for theHalicarna.s.sus, it shot across the Indian Ocean, heading for the Persian Gulf.
But it didn't fly there directly. It took a circuitous route that included an overnight stop at a deserted airfield in Sri Lanka, just in case the Chinese had antic.i.p.ated their escape route.
It meant that they approached Dubai in darkness, late in the evening of December 2.
Inside the Halicarna.s.sus, all was quiet and still. Only a few lights were on. The two kids were asleep in the bunkroom of the plane, Zoe had nodded off on a couch in the main cabin, and Sky Monster was up in the c.o.c.kpit, staring out at the stars, his face illuminated by the instrument dials.
In a study at the rear of the plane, however, one light was on.
The light in Jack West's office.
Ever since they had taken off from Sri Lanka-the first time he had truly felt out of reach-Jack had been reading intently from the black folder he had grabbed just before leaving his farm: an old leather binder crammed with notes, clippings, diagrams, and photocopies.
This was Wizard's "black book," the one Wizard had instructed Jack to take.
And as he read it, Jack's eyes grew wide with wonder. "Oh my G.o.d, Wizard. Why didn't you tell me? Oh. My. G.o.d..."
BURJ AL ARAB TOWER.
DUBAI, UNITED ARAB EMIRATES.
DECEMBER 2, 2007, 2330 HOURS.
THE BURJ AL ARABis one of the most spectacular buildings in the world.
Shaped like a gigantic spinnaker, it is stunning in almost every respect. Eightyone stories tall, it houses the world's only sevenstar hotel. On its eightieth floor, jutting out from beneath a revolving restaurant, is a huge helipad practically designed for photo opportunities: Tiger Woods once hit golf b.a.l.l.s from it Andre Aga.s.si and Roger Federer once played tennis on it.
It is the most recognized structure of the most modern Arab nation on Earth, the United Arab Emirates.
A great tower, some would say.
The great tower, Wizard would say.
Soon after their arrival in Dubai-theHali had landed at a military air base-West and his group were flown by helicopter to the Burj al Arab, where they were accommodated in no less than the Presidential Suite, a vast and plush expanse of bedrooms, sitting rooms, and lounge rooms that took up the entire seventyninth floor.
This royal treatment was not unwarranted. The Emirates had been a partner in West's initial adventure with the Golden Capstone, an adventure that had seen a coalition of small nations take on-and prevail against-the might of the United States and Europe.
One of the most heroic members of West's team on that mission had been the second son of one of the Emirates' most senior sheiks, Sheik Anzar al Abbas.
West, Zoe, Sky Monster, and most of all, Lily, were always welcome in Dubai.
Alby, needless to say, was impressed. "Whoa..." he said, gazing out the windows at the stunning view.
Lily just shrugged. She'd stayed here before. "I get dibs on the double bed!" she yelled, racing into a bedroom.
The doorbell rang, despite the fact it was almost midnight.
West opened the door to reveal- -Sheik Anzar al Abbas and his entourage.
With his great beard, round belly, deeply etched olive skin, and dressed in a traditional desert robe and headscarf, the regal old sheik could have stepped straight out ofLawrence of Arabia.
"The hour is late and Captain Jack West Jr. arrives in haste," Abbas said in his deep voice.
"I sense trouble."
West nodded grimly. "Thank you once again for your hospitality, Lord Sheik. Please, come inside."
Abbas entered, his robe flowing, followed by his six attendants. "My son, Zahir, sends his regards. He is currently working as a senior instructor at our special forces training facility in the desert, teaching our best fighters many of the strategies you taught him. He begged me to inform you that he is on his way at all possible speed."
West walked with the sheik. "I fear the circ.u.mstances are grave, far graver than ever before. Where once we banded together to fight against the desires of selfish men, now, if Wizard's research is correct, we face a far more sinister threat. Wizard hasn't arrived here yet, but I imagine he'll enlighten us further when he gets here."
Abbas's eyes flickered. "You do not know?"
"Know what?"
"What has happened to Max Epper, the Wizard."
Jack froze. "What's happened?"
"We picked it up from Chinese satellite radio chatter last night. Wizard was arrested twentyfour hours ago by Chinese forces not far from the Three Gorges Dam. I fear he won't be coming here anytime soon."