Moldovan border by less than ten feet. There was no way to gauge where the line would have been on the ground, much less in the air, and he knew that the Moldovan air defense radar couldn’t spot the Flighthawk if it flew right in front of the dish. But Colonel Bastian would know, and the mission tapes would reveal the incursion. And that’s what counted.
The Romanian forces had just boarded their helicopters a few miles to the southeast. Zen could see them on his sitrep or God’s eye-view radar—little bumblebees starting in his direction.
“Force Bravo is en route,” he told Dog.
“Roger that.”
“Any sign of our Russian friends?”
“Negative.”
“Hopefully, they got that out of their system yesterday,”
said Zen. “Or maybe they fired the only missiles they had.”
Northeastern Romania
2130
THE SOLDIERS GAVE STONER AN AK-47 AND FOUR MAGAzine boxes of ammunition. He checked them, then sat on the bench next to Colonel Brasov as the helicopter—an Aerospatiale Puma—skimmed over the ground at treetop level toward Moldova.
The wound in his leg had been a dull, low-level pain, pushed to the back of his consciousness over the past few days. Now the pain spiked, as if provoked by the geography.
292
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
Colonel Brasov clapped him on the back. “We are a few miles from the border, Mr. Stoner,” he said. “Now would be a good time to find out where we are going.”
Stoner glanced at his watch. “It should only be a minute or two.”
Istanbul, Turkey
2130
THERE WAS A FLOOD OF TRAFFIC AHEAD, CARS, BUSES, and people descending from the tourist area along Istiklal Caddessi. Danny, Boston, and Sorina had walked for nearly fifteen minutes without seeing a cab.
“Wait for the trolley, or go across?” asked Boston.
Danny looked at his watch. The trolleys, modern two-car trains, passed every twenty minutes or so.
“It’s time for us to call,” he told Sorina.
“Only from the station,” she insisted.
“Let’s walk across the bridge,” he said.
He took Sorina’s arm, steering her around a cement toad-stool placed to prevent cars from going up on the sidewalk.
During the day, both sides of the bridge would be crowded with fishermen, even during the winter months. At night, though, the entire bridge was relatively empty. A few tourists and a pair of aging lovers stared out at the water from the rails.
Danny hurried along, trying to remember the layout of the streets on the opposite shore. The train station was to their left, a few blocks from the ferries. They could walk, but it would be faster with a cab.
Taxis tended to congregate near the foot of the bridge, where there was a tram stop as well as nearby ferry stations and a large mosque. He saw a short line of taxis across the way, but to get there they’d have to cross a solid wall of cars zooming along the highway.
REVOLUTION
293
A sign indicated an underground passage near the end of the bridge.
“This way,” he said, pointing left and nudging Sorina with him.
The stairs opened into a tunnel lined by shops. The walkway itself had been turned into a bazaar. Dealers hawked a variety of wares from blankets. Everything from baseball caps to 1970s vintage television sets was on sale.
A knot of people appeared before them. Suddenly, Danny found himself in the middle of the swarm, unable to move.
Sorina Viorica slipped from his grasp. Danny edged to the left, following her, but a river of people were descending a set of stairs nearby and the crush separated them. She turned to the left, heading up the stairs; he pushed his way through, momentarily losing her. He became more forceful, shoving to make sure he could get through.
Sorina ran up the stairs. Danny followed, barely able to see her. An elderly woman spun a few steps above him, tumbling into him. He pushed her aside as gently as he could manage, struggling upward.
Sorina was gone.
Danny cursed to himself. He reached the open air and took a step, ready to bolt as soon as he spotted her.
She was sitting on her haunches, leaning against the cement wall of the entrance to his right, breathing hard.
“I can’t take it,” she said, looking up at him. “So many people.”
“Cap?” said Boston, coming up behind him.
“Make the call,” said Danny, holding the phone out to her.
“Go ahead.”
Her face was pale, her lips thin. But she shook her head.
“The station,” she insisted.
“Here’s a taxi!” yelled Boston.
294
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
Northeastern Romania
2144
EVERYONE IN THE HELICOPTER STARED AT STONER, WAITING.
They were hovering near the border, waiting to proceed.
“Where are our targets?” asked Colonel Brasov.
“I’ll find out in a minute,” Stoner told him.
“You said that fifteen minutes ago. I have no time for these games.”
Stoner didn’t reply. There was no sense saying anything until he heard from Sorina.
The colonel turned around to one of his men and began speaking in loud, fast Romanian. Stoner caught a few words, including an expression he’d been told never to use because of its vulgarity.
Had she played him? Or did she simply have second thoughts?
He hoped it was the latter. He didn’t like to think he could be fooled.
But everybody could be fooled. Everybody.
The sat phone rang.
Stoner continued to stare out the front of the helicopter’s windscreen for another second, then reached for the phone.
Istanbul, Turkey
2145
“I’M SORRY WE’RE SO LATE,” DANNY TOLD STONER WHEN
he answered the phone.
“It’s all right.”
Two trains were coming in, pulling head first into the platform. Danny stepped forward, watching Sorina punch the buttons on the automated ticket machine. She’d already bought four tickets; she was trying to make it hard for them to trace her.
REVOLUTION
295
“He’s on the line.” Danny held the phone out to her.
Sorina shook her head and reached into her pocket for a piece of paper.
“You tell me now, ” said Danny.
She gave him the paper.
He took a step toward the light and opened it. They were GPS coordinates in Moldova.
“Stoner, plug these coordinates into your GPS,” said Danny.
Danny read them off. Sorina stood at the machine, buying even more tickets.
A few yards away, Boston eyed the station warily. There were about a dozen people on the platform, young people mostly, going or coming from a night out; it was impossible to say. Two women in traditional Muslim dresses, long scarves covering their heads, stood together near a small patch of bushes where the trains would stop.
Sorina looked down at her tickets, shuffling through them.
“All right, Captain, we have them,” said Stoner. “You can let her go.”
Danny held the phone out toward her.
“You want to say good-bye?” he asked.
She hesitated for just a second before shaking her head.
And with that she turned and ran to the nearby train, reaching it just as the door slapped shut to keep her out. She drew back; the doors opened again and she slipped in. Danny watched it pull from the station.
“Hey, Cap, you know what’s strange?” asked Boston.
“What’s that?” said Danny, without turning around.
“Clock has different times on each side,” said Boston. He pointed to the large disk just overhead. “You’d think they could synchronize it.”
“Yeah,” said Danny, not paying attention as he watched the train disappear around the curve.
296
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
Over northeastern Romania
2150
STONER CHECKED THE COORDINATES AGAINST THE MAP
and satellite photos. The camp to the north was a small farm with a single large barn, an outbuilding, and a few small cottages nearby. Three-quarters of the boundary was formed by a ragged, meandering creek. The last side of the property was marked by a road that ran along the base of a long rift in the hills. The high spot provided a good area for the main landing; a field about a half mile away would allow a smaller group to land and circle around the rear of the property. The trucks, which had already crossed the border and were nearly thirty miles into Moldova, would arrive roughly ten minutes after the helicopters touched down.