“Which reminds me,” Blaine began, “while the whole country lies in the communication dark, what stops the Russians from blasting the hell out of us?”
“Very simply, the fact that missile defenses have received a different kind of Krayman Chip,” Terrell explained somberly. “Love for America was where this plot started and that same love prevented carrying out anything that would place the United States in a vulnerable position. NORAD, SAC, and all missile silos will continue to function, obviously under statuses of increased alert.”
“Dolorman seems to have thought of everything,” Sandy said softly.
“Maybe not,” Terrell said, and turned all his attention to McCracken. “We learned of your involvement through a source in Krayman security when your death was originally ordered. He was one of the men on the team that captured you in Newport.”
“The one who saved my life in Atlanta … and at the fronton.”
“We would have preferred to have picked you up there, but circumstances, of course, made that impossible. You see, Mr. McCracken, by then we had come to the conclusion that we needed you.”
“Somehow I don’t think I’m going to like this. …”
“I know your file, Blaine,” Terrell said, a bit uncomfortable using his first name. “I know about your somewhat checkered past. I know about McCrackenballs and all that goes with it. But I also know that you’re an expert in infiltration. It was your specialty in Vietnam, as I recall.”
“And after.”
“Good, because it’s needed now. COM-U-TECH’s killer satellite can be disabled only one way: by destroying the computer that controls it. This computer happens to be located on an island off the coast of Maine, also owned by Krayman, and protected by a formidable series of natural defenses.”
“Don’t tell me, let me guess.” Blaine stroked his chin dramatically. “You want me to get onto this island and pull the plug.”
Terrell nodded slowly. “I’m afraid so. The entire base of operations for Omega is centered there. But knock out the computer, and the satellite never turns the machines off, so the paralysis we’ve spoken of won’t have a chance to take hold.”
Blaine settled back. “Sounds simple enough. We get ourselves a plane, a few bombs, and knock the hell out of the island.”
“It’s not that simple,” Terrell interrupted. “It’s not enough to just take the island out. Believe me, we’ve considered that plenty of times ourselves. We wouldn’t need you for that. The problem is there’s still Sahhan’s troops to consider. The satellite’s destruction will not stop them from claiming thousands of lives, many of the designated victims being crucial to governing the country. Sahhan’s people are just as fanatical as he is. They’ve probably whipped themselves into a frenzy by now. There’s no telling what they might do, how many people they might kill for no reason. Tonight.”
Blaine thought quickly. “Then there must be some sort of abort signal for the troops in the event a change in plans.”
Terrell’s face showed frustration for the first time. “Of course. But there’s a complication.”
“Connected with the island in Maine no doubt,” Blaine said knowingly.
“Indeed. The abort signal is also programmed into the computer controlling the killer satellite. So destroying the island will also destroy our only chance of recalling Sahhan’s troops.”
“Is there any way we can duplicate the signal?”
Terrell shook his head. “Impossible. The abort signal will be a temporary activation of Omega’s effect on telecommunications between seven and eight P.M. tonight eastern standard time. If the radios or televisions Sahhan’s men are tuned to go dead for a five-second period during that time, they will know their Christmas Eve revolution is temporarily off.”
“So let me get this straight,” said Blaine, putting things together for himself as he spoke. “I have to get into this island headquarters, make sure the computer broadcasts the abort signal, and then destroy it. No problem. Piece of cake.”
“There’s more,” Terrell added tentatively. “We’ll need a printout of all Krayman Industries’ agents in place so we can give them to the proper authorities once Omega is exposed.”
“Just put it on my bill. …”
“You’ll have help, Blaine — every man here today, including myself.”
“You’re not a soldier, Terrell, and it’s gonna take some awfully good ones to pull this thing off.”
“Some of the others are soldiers. And damn good ones too.”
Blaine nodded. “Tell me about this island.”
“It’s called Horse Neck because of its irregular shape. The coastline is jagged, a natural defense that makes night approach virtually suicidal.”
“And we’ll be going in at night, right?”
“There’s no other way, believe me.” Terrell began probing through his pockets. “Let me show you a map. …”
Something caught Blaine’s ear, a familiar sound that set his heart beating faster. Overhead a mechanical whine grew gradually into a roar.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.
“What’s wrong? What is it?” Sandy asked.
McCracken swung toward Terrell. “We’ve got to get out of here! Come on, hurry!”
Terrell rose but didn’t move. “What are—”
“Planes, Terrell, coming in fast and probably ready to blow us to fuckin’ hell. They’re—”
The rest of Blaine’s words were drowned out. Fucking jet fighters!
He was trying to scream a warning when the first blast shook the building. Splinters of window glass exploded inward, becoming deadly projectiles. Instinctively, Blaine dove on top of Sandy, because she was closest to him and took her to the floor.
The glass sheared Terrell’s body like a hundred knives, mostly above the waist. His head was held in place only by a few sinews of stray skin. His body shook and writhed horribly.
More blasts came, every second it seemed, and the screams of dying men were all that could be heard through the blasts and the jets’ roar. More rubble showered down as Blaine left Sandy pinned to the floor and crawled over to Terrell’s corpse. He grasped a large piece of paper folded into quarters from the dead man’s pocket. The upper portion was bloodied, but the paper, Terrell’s map of Horse Neck Island, was still whole.
Away from him Sandy was starting to rise, gasping, fighting for a scream. Blaine lunged and tackled her. He brought her back down hard and covered her mouth with his hand to block out her sobs. More bits of the ceiling covered them, the entire structure collapsing a section at a time.
“Listen to me,” Blaine said into her ear. “Keep quiet and keep down. It’s our only chance to get out of this. Do you understand me?”
Sandy made no motion to indicate that she did. Instead, she kept squirming.
“Listen!” he commanded, and tightened his grip on her. “If they land at all, it won’t be for long. The won’t check all the buildings. They won’t be sure how many people were supposed to be here, so we’ve got a chance. If you want to live, don’t make a sound or a move. Keep struggling and I’ll kill you myself!”
Sandy stopped squirming. She looked into McCracken’s eyes and saw he was as scared as she was, while more of the ceiling crumbled above them.
En route to the airport the limousine made its last stop — Francis Dolorman’s home. It was seven A.M. sharp on Christmas Eve morning. The chauffeur gathered his bags and stowed them in the trunk while Dolorman climbed gingerly into the back. Verasco and Wells were already inside.
“Their base was located in central Arkansas,” Wells reported. “It’s been leveled.”
“Splendid,” Dolorman said, suppressing a grimace of pain. “And what of the man in Sahhan’s office who bore an uncanny resemblance to Blaine McCracken?”