He propped the window open, stood back and aimed a series of front kicks at the lower corners of the mesh. Three minutes later, the bolts had been dragged right through the wood frame. Lyons forced his way out between the window ledge and the bottom of the screen.
Deborah went over to the window and examined the screen. The kicks had been well placed and had done little damage to the mesh itself. She pulled the screen back into place. Then she put some pennies on the sill and closed the window. Lyons would be able to put his fingers underneath to raise the window again. Deborah had an uneasy feeling, a feeling of doom. She wanted Lyons's tracks covered as well as possible.
She was looking around for something to read when she heard angry voices in the hall. She quickly climbed into a bunk and covered up with her back to the door.
A moment later the door opened.
"For Christ's sake, get out!" Deborah cried without looking around.
Heavy boots crossed the floor and the covers were yanked off the bunk.
"Making love to yourself?" asked James Saint, his voice heavily laced with both an Irish brogue and venomous sarcasm.
"Just trying to get fifteen minutes to myself," Deborah answered. Her voice sounded weary.
"Where's Leggit?"
"How the hell should I know."
Deborah swung around and sat up. Saint stood towering over her. His blue eyes surveyed her coldly as he stood with his hands on his hips.
"Jones said he was in here with you."
Deborah stood up so suddenly she almost knocked Saint off his feet. He had to take a rapid step back to keep his balance.
"Where does this harassment stop?" she yelled. "First, you match me up with the boor in exercise class. Then you send me out for a day on the town with him. Some day! Now you expect me to sleep with the son-of-a-bitch. Go to hell!"
Saint was taken aback by the sudden onslaught. He looked at Deborah as if she had just sprouted horns and a tail. He went once around the room and looked in the washroom, but he found no one. He stopped in front of each of the two windows, but seemed satisfied that they were intact. His circuit of the room brought him back in front of Devine.
"Where's Leggit?" The voice was determined.
Deborah shrugged. "I haven't seen him since he got Jones out of here and let me have his bunk. He and Jones left together."
"What's wrong with your own bunk?"
"The place is full of yappy females."
He slapped her hard enough to rock her on her feet. She bent her knees and went with the blow. Only her karate training enabled her to keep her feet.
"You're lying."
She launched a body blow that hit the hard-muscled stomach with enough force that Saint had to take a step backward. He backed up one more step and produced an American Arms TP-70 from his trouser side pocket. The little .25 caliber automatic stared like death into Deborah's face.
"You do notstrike a superior officer," Saint grated. "You'll be disciplined for this, but first I'm going to find Leggit."
The automatic gestured toward the door. "Out."
"I demand to see Aya Jishin."
"Tough shit, Devine. Jishin just left. I'm in charge. Now move."
"Whereto?"
"The brig. You stay there until we get this thing sorted out."
Deborah turned to hide a shudder. The brig was a cage in the basement. It was used for punishment. A person could neither stand, sit, nor lie straight in the brig. Things were falling apart in a hell of a hurry. She pulled her shoulders straight and marched out of the room.
July 13, 951 hours, Smyrna, Georgia
"Exactly what did Carl say?" Politician asked.
Pol, Gadgets, the Bear and Ti were sitting in front of Brognola's desk at Elwood Electronic Industries. Behind the desk Brognola sat very straight, his forehead creased with worry lines.
"Not much," he answered. "He'd slipped out of the building and was worried about being missed. All he knew was that Jishin let it slip she was leaving for Boston right away. He has a hunch that a raid is imminent in that area."
"We might be able to get military transport and arrive the same time she does, but there's no way to beat her there," Gadgets pointed out.
"No idea how long we have?" Pol probed.
Brognola shook his head.
"Is there anyone left at Stony Man?" Gadgets asked. "If so, they can get to Boston a lot faster than we can."
Brognola nodded. "Phoenix Force's Manning and McCarter are watching the shop. They can be in Boston in a matter of minutes."
"Okay, Manning and McCarter can get to Boston on time, but what's the target?" Gadgets wondered aloud.
Kurtzman spoke for the first time. "I think we can answer that one. Ti and I have been assembling maps of probable targets within striking distance of WAR's main branches. The Boston area has one target that's several times as important as any other in the area — MIT."
"What's so special about the Massachusetts Institute of Technology?" Brognola asked.
"They've assembled some of the most promising younger researchers. A lot of federal funds have gone there recently to back several hush-hush computer projects. And a university is always an easy target. I'd say it's MIT with a ninety-six-percent probability.''
"That's close enough," Brognola decided. He reached for the telephone to call Stony Man. "I just hope we manage things on time. One of you get me Quantico Marine Base on the other line."
12
July 13, 1032 hours, Stony Man Farm, Virginia
The captain was in a cranky mood. He had been off duty and just about to sit down to enjoy a couple of drinks in the officers' mess, when the officer of the day had caught him.
"Jackson. Top-priority flight, on the double."
"Hey, Colonel. I'm not on the duty roster."
"You are now. Jump."
Captain Jackson got the message. He got to the chopper hangar on the double — it was on the double all the way, because Colonel Fulton jogged right beside him.
They came to a stop beside a Sikorsky CH-53E. It was already warming up. The captain reached for the clipboard being held by a mechanic, but Fulton snatched it and scribbled a quick signature without checking it. Jackson was beginning to suspect that the flight was more than routine.
"Where's my crew?" he asked.
"You're the crew," Fulton told him as they boarded. "I'm commanding.''
"But you're duty officer."
"And duty calls."
They warmed up the sixteen-ton helicopter and staggered it into the sky the moment the engines would take it.
"Where's the load, skipper?" Jackson asked. He was beginning to feel the excitement.
"Just outside the Shenandoah Park. There's two passengers for Boston."
"We're taking this gas-guzzling, suicidal monster to ferry two men?"
The colonel was enjoying the captain's discomfort. "It's the fastest thing we've got on the base, and I was told it had to be the quickest merry-go-round we have."
"Who gave that brilliant order?"
"Not allowed to say, but it came from a lot higher than base commander."
The lights around the helipad were strongly directional. Jackson did not spot them until they were directly over them. The colonel brought the chopper back on a much lower level and then down on the pad. The lights went out immediately. Jackson cranked the door and jumped out.
For all he knew he might be in the middle of a meadow. He wondered how grass could be used without showing signs of wear. He bent down and discovered he was standing on Astro Turf.
Two men in camouflage fatigues came jogging up with a war bag in each of their hands. They moved swiftly and easily. Jackson wondered what they could be carrying that would be that bulky, that light and that important.