“They’re adding all kinds of bells-and-whistles to our birds. I guess they’ve forgotten we’re supposed to be rescue. They tried to redesignate us as SH-53’s, but we nearly revolted. If they wanted stealth capability, they should have bought some more B-2’s and left us alone. But that’s politics for you.” He scanned flight line. “As soon as Lieutenant Nederman gets out here, we’ll be ready to blast off.”
McGriffin leaned forward in his seat. “Sorry about the short notice. I’m trying to hit most of the units on base while I still have some free time.”
“S’all right. Have you been up yet?”
“Not here. I have a private pilot’s license, but haven’t gotten a chance to check out a plane. In fact, that sounds like a good idea. I’d appreciate you showing me around the whole base.”
“Good. We’ll give you the VIP tour then. Just sit back and enjoy.”
A young lieutenant climbed on board, interrupting Manny. Manny shot a glance over his shoulder. “You ready, Bill?” Manny didn’t wait for McGriffin’s answer. Flicking on his mike, he gave a thumbs-up to the master sergeant in the rear of the craft. The flight engineer flipped on the helicopter’s auxiliary power unit; a whine split the air. Manny turned; he had a twinkle in his eye. “Let me know if you get airsick.”
McGriffin snorted. Me? Airsick in a helicopter? He was going to like this guy.
The ocean was two miles away, but Harding could hear the deep sound of waves crashing against the craggy coastline. Humidity permeated the air. The dirt landing strip ran past the Cessna, stretching out until it ended in a jumble of boulders. The sky was cloudless, and the blueness was so deep it reminded Harding of the flight down here when he looked out the window and saw the Sea of Cortez stretching out below. Miles above any pollution, when he looked up he had felt as if he could see the stars.
It was a wild jumble of sunshine, desert rocks, shimmering heat, and ocean. Baja was an untamed paradise.
Harding stood by the single-engine airplane that had flown him from Orange County’s John Wayne Airport. A helicopter and two small planes were secured at the opposite end of the runway. A large four-engine plane, painted solid black, sat fifty yards away. It was a military transport, but it bore no identifying markings. Harding couldn’t place the model, but it looked like a C-130.
To his left stood a mock-up of an Alpha Base storage bunker. Tin siding substituted for concrete walls, but the effect was the same: it presented a monolithic fortress to conquer.
A set of four fences ran on the other side of the bunker. The facility was not to scale, but it gave the terrorists something to practice with.
They were alone, the nearest people tens of miles away. Do’brainese guards ensured their privacy, driving back approaching fishermen and enterprising four-wheelers coming down from the north.
Standing in front of Harding, General Ashtah looked resplendent in his Do’brainese uniform: gold piping, flashy ribbons, jaunty cap. Harding snorted; the general also looked like a tin soldier. Old and wheezing, the officer acted as if he were in the midst of his last hurrah.
A group of fifty men lounged behind the general, eating assorted fruits and laughing quietly among themselves. They sprawled over rusting jeeps. A few managed to find some shade under the aircraft’s wing. For the most part they seemed content to rest instead of work. A few pointed comments drifted from the group.
One man stood apart from the others. Erect and impeccably dressed in a creased khaki uniform, the man appeared to be the real leader of the group; he carried himself differently from the Do’brainese general who now had Harding’s attention.
Harding recalled the Do’brai connection that had brought him here: in a daring attempt to kidnap the President of the U.S. and force America’s hand for supporting Third World demands, Do’brai had lost face when the kidnapping had failed. And failed spectacularly. An American rescue mission had not only brought back the President, but had also brought back the Do’brainese general responsible for planning the coup.
No wonder these guys want revenge, Harding thought. And they couldn’t have picked anyone better than me to pull this together.
Harding smiled and said, “General Ashtah, my associate, Vikki Osborrn, has been instrumental in our effort to gain entry into Alpha Base. She has gained the confidence of one of the guards, and he has brought her into his circle of friends.”
General Ashtah removed his cap and wiped at his brow with a handkerchief. He smiled crookedly and spoke excellent English. “Yes, Vikki is playing a very important role.”
“This is not a game, General.”
“No, it is not. But nevertheless, I wanted your personal assurance that this operation will not fail.”
“It won’t. There is too much at stake.”
“Ah, yes,” said General Ashtah slowly. He swiped at his brow. “And if something goes wrong—”
“I said it won’t,” interrupted Harding.
“It always does,” said Ashtah gently. He put his cap back on and motioned with his hand. “Here, let us walk and enjoy the view.”
Harding and Ashtah walked abreast of each other. The general strolled with his hands in his pockets. They walked away from the crude runway toward a field of boulders.
Once out of range of the men, General Ashtah toed a rock. “Have you ever been to the Baja peninsula, Dr. Harding?”
“No.”
The general bent over and picked up the rock. He turned it over in his hand. “It is a beautiful place. Sunny, desolate — it is almost like my home of Do’brai, except for this humidity.” He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped at his brow. “The Mexican government has given us permission to use this little spot with no strings attached.”
Harding looked impatient. “What’s your point?”
The general eyed a boulder and tossed his rock at it. The stone missed, then careened off another boulder. He wiped his hands and turned back to Harding. “My homeland was invaded by an American force not long ago. The event was not publicized, but we lost a great deal of face that day — as well as one of our generals.”
Ashtah waved his arm at the collection of men. “When I turn over Colonel Renault and his men to you, we are making a commitment to bring the U.S. to its knees for what it did to us. We could not do this without your help — and you cannot proceed without ours. It places us in a very vulnerable situation, Dr. Harding. If we are discovered, we may be invaded again, and this time, the Americans may not leave … ” His voice trailed off.
Harding brushed away tiny beads of perspiration forming on his brow. “My country is committing a crime against humanity, stockpiling these nuclear weapons. Anything I can do to prevent the United States from having them is well worth my life.”
“Your life may depend on it, Dr. Harding.”
“I realize that.”
“And so may the life of this Vikki Osborrn.”
Harding hesitated. “Vikki is not aware of Do’brai’s involvement in this operation. The only reason she is participating in the raid is to increase security at Alpha Base, to show how easy it is to steal a nuke, and perhaps to have the U.S. reduce its number of nuclear weapons. She believes this is purely a NUFA-backed operation. She is very idealistic …”
General Ashtah raised an eyebrow. “I do not want idealism to get in the way of practicality.”
Harding set his mouth. “She may be idealistic, but she is critical to the plan. On the other hand, no one is expendable. So if she gets in the way …” He shrugged.