Braxton logged out of the computer and got up from the workstation. Opening the hatchway to the deck, he was surprised by how muggy the night air was — the computer room was kept at a constant sixty-seven degrees.
“We’ll rendezvous at Point North as planned,” he told Fortine, who’d come over from the cargo vessel to wait for the next step.
“Do you need help?”
Braxton shook his head. “No, we’re more secure by keeping a low profile. Talbot and I can handle it,” he said, nodding at the sturdy seaman who was standing near the rope to the launch below. “We’ll meet you as planned. It shouldn’t take very long.”
5
The Whiplash mobile command center had arrived and been set up by the time Danny Freah returned to Tanjung Manis Airport. The self-contained trailer, delivered via MC-17, had an array of high-tech gear, but perhaps the most critical piece of equipment was a fully automated coffee machine that ground whole beans and brewed a cup of coffee at the touch of a button. Danny had two cups as soon as he got back from the reef.
The coffee wasn’t much of a luxury, but it was the only one he permitted himself as he reviewed the mission with Turk, who landed shortly after he did.
Ray Rubeo’s assessment that the Sabres had been the aim of the plot all along did little to assuage Turk’s guilt over losing the aircraft. The fact that the scientist believed there was little Turk could have done to prevent their theft had no effect either. He watched the videos glumly, and gave monosyllabic answers to Danny’s complicated questions on tactics and the aircraft flight characteristics. Rubeo wasn’t sure when the aircraft were taken over and was hoping that Turk could help narrow the area. But instead of analyzing the situation, Turk seemed only capable of berating himself.
“Look, you had nothing to do with it,” Danny told him finally. “But the more you blame yourself, the more it keeps you from doing your job now. We have to figure out where to look for the aircraft. And then we have to get them back. And that’s what we’re going to do.”
“Yeah.”
Danny watched Turk examine the flight map. He was still young, still a kid, and yet he’d been through so much — even before Iran.
“Come on, lighten up, Turk,” Danny told him. “Believe me, if Ray Rubeo says you had nothing to do with it, you didn’t.”
“Yeah…”
“He’s not exactly Mr. Personality, but there’s nothing about those systems he doesn’t know. If he says you’re not responsible, you’re not. Breanna doesn’t think you were, Reid doesn’t, and I sure as hell don’t. Get your head back in the game.”
“Yes, sir.”
Turk rewound the map of the incident, struggling to accept what Danny had said. He was right about Rubeo — the scientist didn’t mince words for anyone, or make excuses, even for himself.
So, back in the game.
What the hell happened out there?
He played the tape over, watching the positioning of the different aircraft and guessing what they were doing. He compared it to what he would have done, and to the literally hundreds of exercises he had with the Sabres.
“I think I know where it happened,” he told Danny. “They should have nailed the target on this maneuver here. See how they crisscross? That’s not programmed, and it doesn’t make sense. So it’s right where they closed for the attack.”
Turk reached for the keyboard and brought up a sitrep screen showing the positions of all three aircraft about sixty seconds before the moment he was focused on.
“See this maneuver here?” he told Danny. “That’s purely spur of the moment — they’re not preprogrammed to do that. They’re talking to each other, and the move makes a lot of sense. The enemy UAV dives. That is preprogrammed. He pretends to be getting speed, hoping they fly by him. But they’re working together, and they won’t do that.”
“And they’re not under the enemy’s control yet?”
“No, because look — here they make their move and get two bursts off and then stop firing. Because they lose the target. Except they shouldn’t,” added Turk, reexamining the encounter. He brought up the gun camera view from Sabre Three. “He should still be firing there… I wonder if it has to do with the weapons radar being on.”
“How?” asked Danny.
Turk shrugged.
“Let’s see what Rubeo thinks,” said Danny.
As usual, Turk was baffled by his interaction with Rubeo. The scientist stared straight into the camera above his video screen as Turk told him what he’d realized. Rubeo didn’t even blink.
Breanna was sitting to his right. Turk could see her shoulder in the corner of the frame. Part of him wanted to talk to her directly, to say something like, See? I’m more valuable than you thought. What would you have done if they killed me like you wanted?
Another part of him thought that would be pathetically juvenile. Besides, he was winning just by being here.
He caught her face as she rose. It looked white, drawn — Turk, surprised by how old and pained she appeared, stopped speaking.
She glanced at the camera, then quickly turned away. What was she thinking?
Remorse, maybe?
If she apologized to him now, in front of all these people, would he accept it?
“The attack radar mode was switched on only at that point?” asked Rubeo.
“Yeah,” he said. “They don’t use it until they’re close because the other aircraft can home in on it more easily.”
“It may have masked the command transmission,” said Rubeo. “Or initiated it.”
“Yeah,” agreed Turk, struggling to get his mind back on the subject. “It may have had something to do with the weapons radar going into targeting mode.”
“So you theorize that the returns from the radar are actually instructions,” said Rubeo.
“Um, I don’t theorize anything.”
“Possible.” The scientist began talking about wavelengths and transmissions and data feeds. Quickly lost in the technical discussion, Turk glanced over at Danny Freah, who shrugged. It was hard to stop Rubeo once he started explaining something.
“I’ll spare you the actual technicalities,” said Rubeo finally. “Your insight does track with some of our thinking. The question of more immediate import is where they went next.”
“They had enough fuel for five hundred miles,” said Turk. “They could reach Vietnam, or eastern Malaysia.”
“Or any of a dozen places in between,” said Danny.
“The best theory is this archipelago,” said Rubeo. He brought up an island group three hundred miles north, near Vietnam. “The Navy will be starting the search of the area at daybreak.”
“I think that’s too far,” said Turk.
“You just said they had fuel for five hundred miles,” said Rubeo. “And your estimate is a little short. Besides, this is the only place with airfields that we’re not monitoring.”