The government leadership had just been shaken up as well. Maybe there was life left in them after all.

But Kharon was not really interested in the direction of the war; he was looking for Rubeo.

He delved into the Russian intelligence bulletins, searching out information. The name didn’t jump out. Nor were there details about the UAV incident. The Russians seemed not to care about it—at least not tactically.

That made sense. It had little impact on anything the Russian special ops troops would be involved in.

One odd thing stood out—the government had fired antiair missiles overnight in the same area where the Sabre UAVs had operated. They had claimed they shot down two aircraft, but NATO had not acknowledged any losses.

A coincidence?

Kharon went back to the satellite imagery, examining the grids linked to the summary.

He spotted two large pickups parked well off the road behind a ridge of sand and rock. There were tents nearby.

He zoomed to the trucks. They were large American vehicles, unlike the small Japanese models common in the region.

Rubeo?

It had to be.

Damn, he thought. Right under my nose.

5

Sicily

“Looks like Dreamland isn’t the superhero he’s cracked up to be,” said Paulson when Turk walked into the squadron’s ready room.

“What the hell does that mean?” snapped Turk.

“It means what it means.”

“That’s enough,” said Ginella. She was at the front of the room, poring over a paper map.

“Excuse me,” said Paulson. “I didn’t mean to insult teacher’s pet.”

“Knock it off, John.” Ginella went to the coffeepot at the side of the room, walking between the two men. She poured herself a cup, even though the coffee was clearly cold. Everyone else took a seat.

They went through the squadron debrief mechanically. All of the squadron’s pilots and a lot of the enlisted personnel, including Beast and the others who were still suffering from the flu, came in to hear what had happened.

Turk had always felt a bit like an outsider, but it was worse now, much worse. No one said anything, but he felt that they were all blaming him for Grizzly being shot down.

What could he say?

It wasn’t his fault. But that sounded lame. Better to keep quiet.

He played the scene over and over in his head, trying to re-create what had happened. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t see a missile, or any weapon for that matter—nor a shadow that looked like one.

The bastards had hidden it somehow.

“Grizzly will be back tomorrow,” announced Ginella. “I spoke to him right after I landed. He claims he’s going to steal a helicopter off the Italians if they don’t let him go. I’m sure they will send him back—it sounds like he’s eating them out of house and home.”

The others began applauding. Somehow, that just made Turk feel worse. He slipped out the door, heading in the direction of his car.

He was already in the lot when his phone began to vibrate. Dreading talking to Ginella or anyone else, he hesitated before pulling it out.

It wasn’t a call. It was his calendar, reminding him of the appointment he’d made to play soccer with the kids.

Dead tired, all he wanted to do was pour himself into the car and go home to the hotel. He walked to the car, unlocked it, and got in.

His key was almost in the ignition when he pulled it back, deciding he just couldn’t blow off the kids. Ten minutes of running around—even twenty—weren’t going to make him that much more tired than he was.

Hell, maybe he’d just call a taxi anyway. Get a ride to the hotel, grab a few beers and collapse.

Turk walked over to the day care center, where the children were just coming out for their recreation break. The boys’ shouts cheered him up, and for the next half hour he forgot how tired he was, how depressed he was, how out of sorts he’d been. He laughed and joked with the children, lost in the game. When he was done, he told them he would be back, though this time he was smart enough not to make an exact appointment.

Turk went to the fence, preparing to hop over. Li was standing there, a big grin on her face.

“Playing soccer again?” she said.

“Uh, they’re playing. I’m more of a spectator.”

“You seemed to be holding your own.”

“Thanks.” He put one foot in the chain links, then lifted the other over the top bar. Tired but determined not to fall on his face in front of her, he lifted his body over, sliding down slowly.

“I’m sorry about what happened with Grizzly,” said Li.

“Yeah.”

In an instant his spirits sagged. Not only did his fatigue return, but he felt depressed and defensive.

“I heard Paulson talking,” Li told him. “He was out of line. Everyone knows you did what you could.”

“I guess everybody thinks I screwed up. That I missed the missile.”

“No one thinks that,” said Li. “We all know you would have done everything you could.”

“I was—I flew right over that group, a couple of times,” said Turk. “I was close to them—there was no weapon there. I was close enough to see that they were kids, you know? Older than these guys”—he gestured toward the children in the yard—“but still kids. And there wasn’t a gun. Let alone a rocket launcher.”

If he’d been in the Tigershark, the aircraft’s AI sections would have ID’ed the weapon for him.

Maybe he’d grown lazy, relying on the machine to do his job.

“I really didn’t see anything,” he said.

Li’s eyes seemed to have grown larger.

With disbelief, he thought.

“I gotta go,” he said, turning in the direction of his car.

“Hey. Wait. Captain—” Li trotted after him.

“People are pissed because I took their slot, I guess,” said Turk. “I’m sorry—if I thought those kids were a threat, believe me, I would have shot at them. With or with permission.”

“You would have shot at children? Even with a launcher?”

Turk pressed his lips together. The truth was, he would have a hard time doing that, even with permission.

But if he’d seen a missile launcher, if he’d seen something capable of taking down a plane, he would have done it. Definitely. To protect a fellow pilot.

“I just . . . didn’t see anything.”

“You have kids?” Li asked.

“I’m not married.”

“You don’t have to be married to have kids,” she said.

“Duh,” he said sarcastically.

She frowned and started to turn away.

“Hey, no, I’m sorry.” Turk reached out for her arm. She drew back, but stopped. “I didn’t mean—I’m just—I’m tired and I guess— I’m just tired.”

“I know.” She nodded.

“This, and the village before. I had nothing to do with that. I—I shot down those planes. Nobody thinks about that.”

“I think they do, Turk. I think you should lighten up on yourself.”

She had an incredibly beautiful face.

“You want to get a drink or something?” he asked. “My car’s in the lot. We can go and—”

“I’m on duty,” she told him. “I was just taking a break to see what the day care center needed.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe later. You look like you could use some sleep.”

“Yeah. OK. Later.” He took a step toward the car.

“What time?” she asked.

“Time?”

“What time do you want to meet?”

“How’s dinner?”

“Dinner would be nice.”

“Can you get to my hotel? The restaurant there’s pretty nice. Or we could go into Catania. It’s a nice little city. They look like they got a couple of restaurants and things.”

“Oh, Catania would be great. I haven’t been there yet. But how do we get there?”

“I can borrow a car,” said Turk. “There’s a bunch allotted to the personnel at the hotel, and there’s always one or two open at night.”