The system was fast. It came up with the possibilities in less than a minute. The highways and inter- states turned red as if flooding with arterial blood.
There were three probabilities.
Washington, D.C.
New York City.
Or a less important third option, possibly even in Ohio.
The dilemma for Harold Smith was to identify the target and interdict the threat before the first nuclear strike on U.S. soil threw the West into collision with the Muslim world.
The President of the United State ordered Air National Guard F-16 Flying Falcons of the 180th Bomber Group scrambled out of Toledo, Ohio.
The aircraft launched, formed up into a screaming V and flew low cover down the Ohio Turnpike and back, ready to strike if ordered.
Harold Smith told the President, "We cannot destroy it by conventional means. The risk of nuclear fallout is too great.''
"Well, I can't just let it crash into any damn thing it wants to. This is worse than the mail crisis."
"This the mail crisis," Smith reminded. "It has escalated."
The President's voice turned low and urgent. "I can't not take action, Smith. You know that."
"I need more time."
"How can I help?"
"I require instant updates on the Fist's progress."
"Last reports are it's skirting Lake Erie. You don't suppose it intends to vaporize the entire lake, do you?"
"That is impossible. I still cannot accept that they have a nuclear device on board."
"Your people said it was radioactive."
"Radioactive is not nuclear," said Smith.
The blue contact line light began blinking, and Smith excused himself.
"Remo, where are you?" he asked.
"About a mile behind the thing, or south of Dallas, Texas—depending on whether you want to believe my eyes or the satellite navigation system in this new rental car," Remo said wearily.
"You have a navigational computer in your car?"
"When it works."
"Remo, can you remove it and attach it to the Fist of Allah?"
"Can you tell me what to look for?"
"Yes."
"Gladly," said Remo.
," said Yusef Gamal as his control wheel turned before him and the crescent- emblazoned nose of the Fist of Allah ate white line.
"What is it now?" Jihad growled as he managed his wheel.
"I have to make water.''
"Why did you not go before we left?"
Pennsylvania border. That meant ground zero was not in Ohio. That reduced the pool of target options. The only question was where they would go when the Ohio Turnpike petered out.
?" Jihad Jones asked Yusef Gamal.
"I am consulting the map."
"I forbid this. I am custodian of the sacred map."
"You are pilot-martyr right now. The map therefore reverts to the martyr-navigator."
"I am navigator."
"When I have the wheel again, yes," said Yusef.
"I forbid you to look at the target. It is Especially to a Jew such as yourself."
"I will agree not to look at the target if you stop calling me a Jew."
Jihad Jones was silent a long, fuming moment. "Very well," he snapped. "I will no longer denounce you as a Jew."
"Good."
"Gamal Mahour."
"You cannot call me Camel Nose, either."
"You did not stipulate this."
"I think we should take Route 6," said Yusef, changing the subject.