“Samson?”
Dog explained that Samson had taken over as the new commander of Dreamland.
“Admiral Woods directed that they be taken over to the Lincoln.”
“Samson wants them himself.”
“It was an accident, Colonel.”
“I know that. Samson does too.”
“OK.”
Neither man spoke for a moment.
“We’ve found Zen and Breanna,” said Dog finally.
“You found them!” Danny practically yelled.
Colonel Bastian’s voice remained drained as he told Danny what had happened—once more the calm, understated commander.
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“Jesus, that’s great, Colonel. That is damn great. Damn great.”
“It is,” said Dog.
For a moment Danny thought his commander’s voice was going to break. But it didn’t.
“All right,” said Dog, preparing to sign off.
“Colonel, there’s something else,” said Danny.
He told the colonel about seeing the airplane wreckage as the Osprey headed out to sea. The plane, he said, had almost certainly been a civilian aircraft.
“The Osprey pilot had the Lincoln call in a location with the Indian authorities. It was a pretty severe crash; I doubt there were any survivors.”
“I see.”
“The Navy people are investigating. It’s possible one of the Tomcats fired at it, but they think the Indians accidentally shot it down.”
He gave Dog the approximate location.
“Things were pretty heavy up there,” Danny added. “All sorts of stuff was in the air.”
“Thanks for the information,” said Dog. “We’ll make arrangements to get you to Diego Garcia as soon as possible.
Bastian out.”
Diego Garcia
1502
DOG ROCKED HIS SHOULDERS BACK AND FORTH AS HE
walked down the ladder from the MC-17, fatigue riding heavy on each one. He’d managed to talk to one of the doctors on the Lincoln and found out that Jennifer was all right; the doctors believed she’d keep her lower leg, though her knee would have to be reconstructed.
Maybe now he’d be able to keep up with her when they went jogging, he thought.
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Breanna and Zen were aboard the Abner Read, very dehydrated. Breanna had a broken leg, badly bruised ribs, and a concussion—but she was alive, damn it, alive, and that was more than he’d hoped for, much more.
“There you are, Bastian! It’s about time.”
A large black man stepped from the passenger side of a black Jimmy SUV. It was General Samson.
“General, what brings you out to Diego Garcia?”
“I’m taking charge of this operation personally, Bastian.
You’re headed home.”
“Well, that’s good,” said Dog, struggling to keep his anger in check. “Because we’re done. All of the warheads, save one, were recovered. My people have been picked up.”
Clearly flustered, Samson shook his head.
“I’m going to turn in,” said Dog. “I don’t need a lift.
Thanks.”
“Listen to me, Bastian. I know you think you’re untouch-able, but that’s about to change. Your men created an international incident—”
“Which men?” demanded Dog, facing the general. “What incident?”
The general and the colonel stood facing each other on the concrete, both with their hands on their hips. Samson was several inches taller than Dog, and wider. More important, he outranked the lieutenant colonel by a country mile. But they were evenly matched where it counted—in their anger and distaste for each other.
“Your Whiplash people, on the ground, shooting up that house. The UN got ahold of that. I’ve just been on the phone with our ambassador.”
“Those people were trying to deliver a baby and save the mother’s life,” Dog said. “You know that.”
“Whether I know it or not isn’t the point.”
“Then what is the point?” Dog turned and started away, but his anger got the better of him. He pitched around. “You have a lot to learn if you think any man or woman who works for RETRIBUTION
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me, who works for Dreamland, anybody in this command, would kill innocent people deliberately. That’s just total bullshit. And if you’re going to lead these people, you better stand up for them, loud and clear, right now. Loud and clear.”
“Go to bed, Bastian.” Samson jabbed his finger in Dog’s direction. “Get the hell out of my sight.”
“Gladly.”
STARSHIP RAN HIS FINGERS ACROSS THE TOP OF HIS SKULL.
His hair, normally cut tight to his scalp, was nearly two inches high. It felt like a thick brush.
“So what do you think, Starship,” asked Sullivan, the copilot of the Bennett, “are you with us or against us?”
“I don’t know how far you can really push this,” said Starship.
“Man, Englehardt almost got us killed. All of us. Including you. You were in the belly of the plane, you know. Not out there with the Flighthawks.”
Starship looked across the cafeteria table at Rager and Daly, the other members of the Bennett crew. He didn’t know them very well, nor did he really know Sullivan, except to occasionally shoot pool with on a night off.
“I mean, basically, you guys want to call the guy a coward,” Starship told them finally. “I don’t know. I’m not saying he made all the right decisions, but who does? And we had orders—”
“First order is not to get shot down,” said Sullivan. “He ran away from every battle, he didn’t want to use his weapons—”
“He used them,” said Starship. “Listen, you guys haven’t been in combat before. I’ll tell you, you just don’t know how some people are going to react. Bottom line is, he got us home. Flying that plane on two engines—”
“I had something to do with that,” said Sullivan.
“So you do agree, he wasn’t aggressive enough,” said Rager.
Starship shrugged. It was a tough call. There was no doubt Englehardt’s decisions could be questioned, but he’d been in 366
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a no-win situation. Starship knew from his own experience how hard it was to make the right call all the time, and how easy it was to be second- or even third-guessed.
“Look, we were hundreds of miles inside hostile territory, or what turned out to be hostile territory,” he said. “Give the guy a break, huh?”
“He’s against us,” said Sullivan, standing. “Thanks, Starship.”
The others rose.
“This isn’t an us versus them,” said Starship.
“We can’t do anything if you’re not with us,” said Rager.
“It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Listen—”
Sullivan frowned at him, then stalked out. Rager and Daly quickly followed.
THOUGH SORELY TEMPTED TO JUST GO TO BED, DOG INstead walked back to the Dreamland Command trailer to check on the Cheli. He’d just gotten to the door when he heard the Megafortress’s engines in the distance. He watched the aircraft touch down, then went inside.
A young sergeant named Sam Bautista, a Whiplash team member who’d flown in with Samson, was on duty inside.
Bautista jumped to his feet as Dog came in.
“Relax, Sergeant,” said Dog.
“Sorry, Colonel. I thought you were General Samson. He said he was going over to see the base commander, but I thought he came back for something.”
“No, it’s only me,” said Dog, passing through to the secure communications area. He slid into the seat in front of the console and authorized the connection to Dreamland Command.
Major Catsman’s worried face appeared on the screen.
“Good even, Natalie. Or should I say good morning? Can you give me an update?”
Catsman started with things Dog already knew. The warheads were aboard the Poughkeepsie, Zen and Breanna RETRIBUTION
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were aboard the Abner Read. Further analysis of the last warhead site seemed to show that the warhead was gone when the guerrillas arrived, though the imagery was still being examined. The image experts asked to see everything recorded in the area since the EEMWBs had exploded.