“But we haven’t gotten the order yet.”
“I want to be in a position to respond if we do. Long-range radars off,” added Breanna, adopting the mission plan. “Prepare to penetrate hostile territory.”
“Roger that.”
“Dreamland Levitow to Hawk Three and Four—we’re changing course and descending. Stay with me.”
324
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
Aboard the Abner Read , in the northern Arabian Sea
0525
STORM FLEW AGAINST THE SIDE OF THE LITTORAL DESTROYER’S
superstructure, slamming back and recoiling onto the deck.
He slid on the gridwork, grappling for a handhold to keep from falling into the sea.
The Abner Read lurched away from the explosion—and then back toward it. Storm’s legs shot over the edge of the flying bridge as his fingers dug into the grating. He got enough of a hold to get to his knees before he lost his grip and slid as the ship bobbed violently, rolling him toward the portal that led back inside to the bridge. He caught the side of the opening with his wrist, slid his hand there for a grip and, finally, with the boat still rocking violently, managed to push his right knee up under him and throw himself inside the ship.
He only got two-thirds of the way in, but it was far enough to grab hold of one of the legs of the instrument console. He clutched it as tightly as he could, squeezing with all of his might. Then he pulled himself upward, smacking his head on the shelf as he did.
“Captain!” yelled one of the men on the bridge. He too was on his knees.
Dazed, Storm struggled to his feet.
“Damage Control, report,” he said. “Damage—”
Storm put his hand to his face; his headset was gone.
One of his men grabbed him, steadying him on his feet. It was Petty Officer Varitok, the Werewolf pilot he’d ordered replaced.
“You all right, Captain?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Get me the backup headset. In my cabin—go.”
Storm went to the holographic display, activating the damage control view. One of the compartments on the starboard side had been breached.
It was too soon to tell how bad the damage was, but al-
END GAME
325
ready the automatic damage control system had cordoned off the area. Even if the compartment was a total loss, the ship would not sink.
His heart pounding in his chest, Storm turned his attention to the helmsman, who was still at his post. “Keep us steady, Helm,” he said. Then he clapped the man on the back. “Damn good job, son. Damn good job.”
“Are you all right, sir?”
“I’m sure I look worse than I feel,” said Storm. He wiped his face again, and discovered that what he’d assumed was seawater was actually blood.
“Captain!” yelled Varitok, returning with the headset.
“Your face. You’re bleeding.”
“It never looked that good to begin with,” said Storm, pulling on the headset. “Eyes—if any other aircraft get within ten miles of us, shoot them down.”
Dw ¯arka Early Warning Radar Platform One 0525
THE GRENADE SEEMED TO FLY IN SLOW MOTION FROM CAPtain Sattari’s launcher, spinning in the direction of a low wall of sandbags. Sattari saw everything that was happening, not merely on the platform, but in the ocean and the world around him: the ships and airplanes charging into war, the missiles that the Indians would fire against the Pakistanis, the Chinese weapons that would retaliate. He saw himself standing at the center of it all.
He turned his attention to the area in front of him. Two men with rifles leaned over the sandbags above. Bullets spewed from their weapons—he could see each one as it flew from the barrel, a dark cylinder coming for him. The Russian-made RPG-7 grenade he’d fired flew toward them, nudging against the top of the uppermost sandbag protecting the enemy’s position. Deflected slightly, it continued over the bag toward an upright grating behind the position.
326
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
The bullets stopped coming toward him. The grenade halted in midair. It was the greatest moment of his life, an instant that filled him with a sensation that went beyond pleasure: an infinite grandeur, a knowledge that he had ful-filled the wish God had for him when he was created.
Then light cracked open the sky, and the world returned to its chaotic tumble. The grenade exploded directly behind the Indian soldiers guarding the station, and the platform jolted with the explosion. Sattari found himself facedown on the metal steps, his breath taken away by the shock. By the time he managed to fill his lungs, the others had run up to the landing and finished the wounded Indians off. Dazed, Sattari followed without completely comprehending what was going on. His men ran past him to set their charges.
“Helicopter!” yelled someone.
The word cleared Sattari’s head.
“Quickly! Set the explosives and back to the Parvanehs,”
he shouted. “Go!”
Aboard the Abner Read , in the northern Arabian Sea
0525
THE ABNER READ ROCKED SO VIOLENTLY THAT STARSHIP WAS
yanked half off his seat. He grabbed the handhold at the side of the station, gripping it as the vessel shuddered from the effects of an explosion somewhere nearby. If he’d been a little sleepy before, he was wide awake now.
Bracing himself against the seat with his legs, Starship let go of the handhold and put his hands back on the Werewolf controls. The aircraft was programmed to drop its speed and glide into a hover when pressure was suddenly removed from the controls; Starship reasserted control gingerly, picking up speed and increasing his altitude as he hunted for the radar rig.
END GAME
327
He saw it three miles away, five degrees south. The platform looked like a squat oil drilling rig with thin derricks jutting from the top. He spotted pinpricks of light as he approached—tracers. A white flash swallowed the gunfire, then blackness returned.
“Action on the radar platform,” he told Eyes. “I have three vessels on the surface, at the north end.”
People were yelling behind him. If Eyes answered, Starship couldn’t hear. He dipped the Werewolf in the direction of the vessels. From two miles off they looked like speedboats or pleasure cruisers very low in the water.
“I think I have the midget submarines,” he told Eyes.
“Werewolf to Tac—I have the submarines in view, north of the tower, on the surface.”
He steadied the aircraft and switched his main view from infrared to light-enhanced mode, which gave a sharper dig-ital photo. He was still too far to get a good shot, and began moving forward slowly, filling the frame with one of the vessels at maximum zoom. He took the photo, creating and storing an image in standard, low resolution .jpg format; then he moved in to get a close-up of what looked to be the sub’s conning tower.
When he backed the zoom off, Starship saw small boats in the water. Before he could figure out if they were leaving or returning, the screen went white at the right side. Starship jammed the Werewolf controls to race away from the explosion, though he knew he was already too late.
NSC Situation Room
1934, 14 January 1998
(0534, 15 January, Karachi)
THINGS RATCHETED UP SO QUICKLY IT SEEMED TO JED THAT A hidden fast forward switch had been thrown. One moment the screens with information from the U.S. intelligence 328
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
agencies were mostly blank or filled with log entries indicating “nothing new.” Then bulletins and updates began scrolling onto the screens in rapid succession.
Jed grabbed the direct line to the NSC Advisor before it finished its first ring; he had paged Freeman via his Black-berry a few minutes before.