“What’s going on?”
“An attack on the Karachi port oil terminal. Big attack—has to be sabotage. My bet is that submarine we were looking for wasn’t Pakistani at all.”
“Stand by, Danny.”
The Osprey drew parallel to the conflagration, then veered away, the fire and secondary explosions so intense that the pilot feared for his aircraft.
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DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
“Danny, we’re going to swing Levitow over that way to use its radar to search for periscopes,” said Dog. “In the meantime, search the immediate area for small boats, anything that might be used by a spec-op team to get away. You know the drill. And if you see any survivors who need help—”
“Yeah, we’re on that, Colonel,” Danny told him, moving forward to confer with the pilots.
Aboard the Levitow ,
over the northern Arabian Sea
0317
“COMING TO NEW COURSE,” BREANNA TOLD STEWART. “WE
should be within visual range of the terminal in less than five minutes.”
“Roger that,” said Stewart.
Breanna heard a tremble in her copilot’s voice. There wasn’t much she could do about it now, so she ignored it, quickly checking the panels on the configurable “dashboard” in front of her.
“Piranha to Levitow,” said Ensign English over the interphone. “Captain, I’ve put the Piranha into a circle pattern around our last buoy. The Chinese submarine is twenty miles from the buoy. At most, we have an hour before we’ll lose contact.”
“Roger that, Piranha. Thanks, Gloria. That vessel did not launch or have any contact with the one we’ve been trailing?”
“Affirmative. We would have heard it. These are two un-related boats.”
The radar warning receiver began buzzing. Without waiting for her copilot, Breanna hit a preset to display the threat panel at her station. One of the Chinese escort vessels had activated the targeting radar for its antiaircraft batteries.
END GAME
189
They were outside its effective range, though of course that might not keep them from firing.
“Jan—ECMS,” said Breanna, deciding not to take any chances.
“ECMS, yes. Communication on the guard frequency,”
added the copilot. “All aircraft are being warned to stay away from the Chinese fleet or be shot down.”
“How far away?”
“Not specific. Pakistanis are declaring an emergency—they’re saying the same thing.”
“To us?”
“Um, not specifically.”
“J-13s heading our way,” broke in the airborne radar operator.
“All right, everyone, let’s take this step by step,” Breanna told her crew. “We’re proceeding on course to look for a possible submarine. Be prepared for evasive maneuvers. We will defend ourselves if necessary.”
“Indian aircraft are approaching Chinese task force at a high rate of speed!” said the radar operator, shouting now.
“Two J-13s going to meet them. They’re gunning for each other, Bree.”
The radar warning receiver lit up with a new threat—a Pakistani antiaircraft battery northeast of Karachi was trying to get a fix on them. The missiles associated with the radar were American Hawks, early generation antiaircraft weapons still potent against low and medium altitude aircraft out to about twenty-five miles. The weapons’
aim could be disrupted with a specific ECM program stored in the Megafortress’s computer; they represented a low threat. Even so, the sky was starting to get a bit crowded.
“Jan, see if you can get word to the PAF that we’re a friendly. Broadcast an alert—see if you can make contact with one of their patrols.”
“F-16s scrambling in our direction,” answered Stewart.
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DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
Crowded indeed. “Surface radar—Smitty, you have any periscopes yet?”
“Looking, Captain.”
“J-13s are goosing their jets,” said Stewart. “They’ll be within range to fire their missiles in zero-one minutes.”
Aboard the Wisconsin , over the western Arabian Sea
0317
“INDIAN AND CHINESE PLANES ARE MIXING IT UP, COLONEL,”
said T-Bone. “This is going to get ugly fast.”
Dog hit the preset to connect with the Abner Read. “Eyes, this is Bastian. The Indian and Chinese aircraft are firing at each other. There may be an attack under way against that Chinese carrier.”
Storm came on the line. “Get your aircraft out of there,”
he told Dog. “Stay just close enough to get radar pictures of what’s going on if you can. But if there’s any doubt—”
“The contact we had earlier must have been some sort of special operations craft that dropped off commandos,” Dog continued. “If you want us to look for it—”
“Pull back, Bastian. For your own good. I don’t want any casualties. They’re not worth it.”
“Roger that,” Dog told him.
Aboard the Levitow,
over the western Arabian Sea
0318
MACK CONTINUED TO CLIMB, PULLING THE FLIGHTHAWK FIVE
thousand feet over the Megafortress’s tail. The Flighthawk’s threat panel showed that the two J-13s were armed with Chinese versions of the radar-guided AMRAAMski. He’d make his attack as the first plane closed to nineteen miles; if he END GAME
191
played it right, he would be able to jerk back and take a quick shot at the other, which was riding about a quarter mile behind and to the east. And if he played it wrong, Breanna would still have some space to take evasive action.
Played it wrong?
He had to admit it was a possibility.
“Hawk Three, we’re under orders to break contact with the Chinese and Indian forces,” said Breanna. “We’re breaking off the search.”
“Repeat?”
“I’m changing course and going north, Mack. Stay with me.”
“Don’t worry about these guys,” Mack told her. “I’ll dust them.”
“Negative, Mack,” said Breanna. “Stay with me!”
Aboard the Abner Read , in the northern Arabian Sea
0318
“CAN WE SEND ONE OF THOSE FLIGHTHAWKS CLOSE ENOUGH
to the Chinese fleet to get infrared images?” asked Eyes.
“This an intelligence bonanza. If these idiots are stupid enough to fight each other, we might as well benefit.”
Storm thought that was an excellent idea—except that as Bastian was fond of pointing out, the Flighthawks had to stay close to the Megafortresses, and they had to stay a good distance away from the Chinese or risk getting shot down.
But he had an asset that could get as close as he wanted it to. Best of all, he didn’t have to deal with Bastian’s people to get it done.
Or maybe more accurately, the person who he had to talk to no longer belonged to Bastian.
“Eyes, get the second Werewolf airborne. I’m going to talk to Airforce personally,” Storm added, flipping into the communications channel. “Starship? You hear me?”
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DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
“Yes, Captain.”
“Listen carefully, Airforce. Take Werewolf One and head toward the Indian task force. I want pictures of that carrier and everything it does. Get Two airborne and hustle it over toward the Chinese. Same thing there.”
“That’s going to leave us naked.”
“Do I have to explain every single detail of what I’m thinking to you, son?”
“Yes, sir. I mean no. Werewolf One en route.”
Aboard Whiplash Osprey,
near the Karachi oil terminal
0320
“HEY, CAP, IS THAT A WAKE DOWN THERE? SOME SORT OF
wave?” said Boston, pointing out the window.
Danny went to the left side of the aircraft and peered out at the water about twelve feet below.
“I’m not sure what you’re looking at, Boston.”
“Let’s get lower. Can we get lower?”