“Yes, I know. But what’s the connection to Braxton?”
“Aries 13,” said Breanna. “May thirteenth — the day Jennifer Gleason died.”
“Yes,” said Rubeo. “Precisely.”
“How do you have this information on Braxton?” asked Reid.
“My people have been doing research that the Agency should have,” said Rubeo, barely holding back his contempt.
“Are you implying that we’re not doing our job?”
“I’m implying that I’m being put in a bad position here,” said Rubeo, “with implications that my companies have an intelligence leak.”
“We’ve never said that,” countered Reid.
“It’s implied.”
“I don’t think this is the time or place for this discussion,” said Breanna. “We have work to do.”
“I’ve turned over the intelligence my people have obtained—”
“Legally, I hope,” said Reid.
“If you have a problem with me or my companies, our contracts can be revisited,” said Rubeo.
Breanna put her hand on the scientist’s shoulder. She had never seen him quite this agitated before; in fact, she might not have believed it possible for him to show any emotion. But apparently even the hint that he was less than patriotic — which she gathered was his real objection to some of Reid’s remarks — was enough to set him off.
Good for him. Maybe.
“I believe Ms. Stockard is right,” said Reid. “Let’s work through this.”
“Agreed,” said Rubeo, though his tone made clear he was anything but satisfied.
17
Turk hit his ECMs and dished off enough pyrotechnics to mark the Fourth of July. The Chinese missiles exploded in a series of plumes that covered the northwestern sky.
Though south of the explosions, Turk was close enough to be buffeted by the air shocks, but shrugged it off.
The Chinese pilots had turned back north and hit their afterburners. They also decided that they had shot down Turk’s plane with the barrage. You couldn’t blame them, really — after all, it was no longer visible on their radar.
They radioed their “victory” back to their carrier and were promptly ordered to return. Additional planes were on the way to escort the minesweeper and chase the Americans off the reef.
As tempted as Turk was to pursue them and burst their bubble, he had other priorities.
Unfortunately.
“Whiplash Shark, how do you read?” asked Danny over the Whiplash circuit.
“Read you good, Colonel.”
“We’re returning to base.”
“Roger that. Chinese aircraft heading back. There’s another flight on its way to the reef. The Chinese think they shot me down,” Turk added.
“Let them think that. What about the UAV that tangled with the Marines?”
“I’m just about to go check,” said Turk. “I was planning on sending both Sabres to escort you back while I do that.”
“Acknowledged. Good. Listen, Turk, that UAV that attacked the Marines — it’s not a priority right now. We pulled some gear out of the container that the geeks want to look at, and I’m sure they’ll get a lot more information from that. I don’t want you risking yourself, or the planes for that matter.”
“Roger that, Colonel.”
“All right. Let me know if the situation changes.”
Turk gave the instructions to Sabre One, did a quick check on Two, which was already with the Osprey, then pulled up the map to show where the other two Sabres were.
West of him, about to lose their connection to his plane.
What?
“No way,” Turk told the computer.
“Unknown command.”
“Range, Sabre Three and Sabre Four, from Tigershark.”
“Two hundred miles.”
“How are they connected to my command?”
“Connection via Whiplash satellite system, satellite 34G. Connection about to terminate.”
“Maintain connection,” Turk told the computer.
“Connection is automaintained,” replied the computer, meaning that it had no control over it. In theory, at least, it should be very strong; the planes themselves were doing something to cut it.
“Plot course for intercept,” Turk told his flight computer as he put the Tigershark in the general direction of the wayward Sabres. He jammed the throttle, increasing his speed. He couldn’t keep the afterburner on very long, though, as he was already close to bingo.
He put his radar on long scan but found nothing. Turk did a quick calculation; at their present course and speed, he’d catch up in ten minutes.
It was going to be a long ten minutes. The sky in front of him seemed completely empty; not even the enemy UAV was around.
“Connection to Sabres lost,” declared the computer.
“Reset.”
“Command unavailable.”
“Locate Sabre Three and Sabre Four.”
“Aircraft are not responding.”
“Detect them.”
“Aircraft cannot be found.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Unknown command.”
“Someone ought to program you to understand curse words,” said Turk.
ACES
1
Searching the area where he should have met the Sabres left Turk with a strange sense of déjà vu, as if he’d woken up back in Iran. Nothing made sense.
He had the enemy UAV they were following on his infrared scan. It had been flying low, barely inches from the ocean where it was lost in the reflective clutter of the waves, but now he could see it clearly, running two miles ahead at a speed of just under a hundred knots. Turk closed the distance, sure the Sabres would appear in the infrared screen. But they didn’t.
He was about to call Breanna for instructions on what to do with the UAV — he assumed he was to shoot it down — but before he could it abruptly dove into the water.
Marking the spot on his GPS, he resumed his search for the Sabres, using every sensor he had, including his own eyes. But the sky was empty for a hundred miles in every direction.
“Colonel Freah — Whiplash Shark to Leader,” said Turk, clicking the radio. “Colonel Freah, I have a problem that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Go ahead, Shark.”
“I can’t find the Sabres. They’re gone.”
“Say again?”
“The enemy UAV just crashed into the water. I have the location. But the Sabres aren’t here.”
“Did they crash?”
“Negative, as far as I know.” It was certainly a possibility, of course — maybe even a probability. But something was very wrong. Why had they broken the connection? It had happened while they were still flying. Had they been damaged? It didn’t really make sense.
“They just went off the radar screen,” Turk told him. “I thought maybe there was an ECM or something. But then when I got close — there’s just nothing here.”
“Have you talked to the Cube about it?”
“Not yet.”
“Do it.” Before Turk could switch back, Danny added, “What’s your fuel situation?”
“It’s tight,” acknowledged Turk. “Do we have a tanker available?”
“Negative. Negative. Be careful of your reserves.”
“Yeah, roger that.”
The Tigershark’s sensor data as well as its location and vital signs were being pumped back to Whiplash, and Breanna had seen the UAVs disappear from the screen.