Mack plotted a course toward the area where he thought their airfield was. But as he started to pursue, the ground controller relayed a request from the police for assistance at Badas, a small city in the south-central portion of the country. They claimed they were under attack by helicopters.
“Not on our screen,” said Deci.
Nonetheless, Mack felt obligated to check it out at close range. They overflew Badas, taking a pass below a thousand feet. Whether that had any effect or not, the police reported that the attackers had fled.
A few minutes later, another request came from the authorities in Muara, north of the capital. Mack directed his second flight of Dragonflies into the area, orbiting with the Megafortress overhead. But even the low-flying A-37Bs couldn’t be of much help as the situation unfolded; two terrorists were holed up in a residential area at the eastern end of the city. After a thirty-minute gun battle, the men immolated themselves, destroying the shanty they had holed up in as well as the two on either side.
With the Sukhois gone for the moment and no fresh helicopter attacks — real or bogus — reported, Mack decided to take the opportunity to refuel the Megafortress and give the crew a rest. He also wanted to see if he could come up with some air-to-air missiles for the aircraft, and needed to check on the Dragonfly pilots.
Mack had Jalan land; the copilot came in a little fast, but the vast runway gave him plenty of margin for error. All in all, the crew had performed pretty well, and Mack made sure to give them attaboys as they shut down. He unsnapped his restraints and went down to the runway, planning to change and then shoot over to the tactical center at the tower.
Prince bin Awg’s car was sitting in front of the hangar. Mack walked over to the car, but instead of the prince he found a staff member from the central defense ministry.
“Prince bin Awg needs to see you right away,” said the man. “I’ll be right with him once I get out of these duds and check with my people,” said Mack.
“The prince’s orders were to bring you directly to town”
“Yeah, very good,” said Mack, starting to walk away.
The aide got out of the car. He was about six-two, with shoulders that looked like they could bounce a cement truck. “The prince gave his orders,” said the man.
“No shit,” said Mack, annoyed. “Have a seat, asshole, I’ll be right with you”
Two of Mack’s security people came out from the hangar. Maybe because of that, the aide stayed back by the car. Meanwhile, Mack went into the life-support shop, a small area at the side used for maintaining and changing into flight gear. The two women in charge of the shop began clucking at Mack as soon as he walked in.
“One at a time,” said Mack. He had trouble with their accents when they weren’t excited.
“Miss McKenna under arrest,” blurted one of the women. “They took her away.”
“What?”
The women explained that six soldiers had come to the gate demanding to see McKenna soon after she landed; mindful of his orders, the security team had denied them access — and then been threatened with being shot. McKenna was called over and apparently agreed to go with the men.
“Why are you saying she was arrested?” asked Mack.
“They said that.”
“The whole world’s gone mad,” said Mack. He left his flight suit on but took a moment to make sure his pistol was loaded. Brown, his maintenance officer, appeared near the doorway.
“Minister, we have difficulties—”
“Can the minister crap and spit it out, Brown,” said Mack. “What’s up?”
“We — our fuel is gone.”
“Send the trucks over to the civilian side of the airport and take what we need,” said Mack.
“But—”
“Give them a chit or whatever paperwork you want. Get the fuel.”
“Yes, sir, Minister.”
“What’s our weapons situation?”
Brown stuttered but managed to report that they had four five-hundred-pound bombs and exactly two dozen smaller 250-pounders, along with some rockets and flares.
“What happened to our request for Sidewinders and AMRAAMs?” Mack asked.
“You made it only last week, Minister.”
“We need those weapons now. Why did they take McKenna?”
“Commodore McKenna? Who took her?” Brown’s face blanched.
“Look, Brown, here’s the situation. Whether the sultan likes it or not, whether Brunei likes it or not, some serious assholes have decided to shoot up the country. I think Malaysia’s helping them. We’re going to need everything and anything we can get our hands on.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Look, if you’re not up to this, you tell me now, because I’m relying on you here,” said Mack. “I need that Megafortress ready to fly as soon as possible. The same with the Dragonflies. Can you do it?”
Brown nodded. “Yes, Minister.”
“They’re trying to take over your country, Brown. I’m telling you. That’s what this is about. We’re not going to let them, right?”
Finally, he’d struck the nerve.
“No, Minister,” said Brown, his face flushing with anger now. “No, we will not.”
“Damn straight, Jack.”
“Damn straight, Jack,” repeated Brown.
Mack almost smiled. Two members of his security team were standing near the aircraft.
“Yo!” he called to them. “Get over here”
The two men, neither older than nineteen, double-timed across the concrete.
“You locked and loaded?” Mack asked.
The men looked at each other.
“Jesus, even I know you look at the gun for the answer, not each other, damn it!”
The two men snapped to, holding their rifles at the ready.
“That’s what we want. Come on,” said Mack. “Let’s go see the prince.”
Chapter 30
Every fifth weekend, Danny Freah took a turn in the rotation as the duty officer in the Dreamland command center, an important though not exciting responsibility. Not that it was particularly onerous. It entailed staying on base from 4 P.M. Friday afternoon until 8 A.M. the following Monday. He had to periodically check in with the command center, which was a high-tech situation room linked to similar facilities at the various military commands, the Pentagon, and the White House. It also had high-speed satellite links to deployed Dreamland units.
Danny generally spent his time catching up on his official reading and, nearly as important, his sleep, sacking out in one of the small “ready rooms” located off the corridor of the center. The rooms were more like mini-dorm rooms; each had a bunk bed, a small television that had cable TV access, and a computer loaded up with games. Because they were located in a subbasement away from any machinery, the rooms were dark and quiet, and in Danny’s opinion by far the best places to catch real rest on the base.
Assuming no one woke you up.
“Sir!” shouted a voice somewhere in the blackness beyond his dreams. “Sir!”
“Boston, is that you?”
“Sir! An alert from Washington, D.C.”
Danny started to curse and roll out from under the blanket. As he did, the lights snapped on. The room was not locked and the standing orders called for the officer to be awakened personally.
“Center is requesting your presence,” said Boston, much louder than Danny thought necessary.
“Yeah, I’m coming, Sergeant. Relax.”
Danny stood up and pulled on his shirt. He slept in his pants, belt and all; he figured it was easier and saved potential embarrassment when the night people were women, which was occasionally the case.
Danny walked out to the command center, hoping whoever was on duty there had a full pot of coffee going. Unfortunately, that was not the case. He went over to the main communications console, typed in his password, and squinted into the retina scanner. The machine hesitated for a second, and Danny wondered if his fatigue might confuse it.