Tai’s glee turned to shock when he saw a piece of the Tomcat, a service panel or chunk of wing, come hurtling back at him. It looked as big as a hangar door, and if it got sucked into the greedy intake of one of his AL-35s…
He broke off hard, cursing the fates, yet certain that it didn’t matter, the Tomcat was dead anyway….
Lobo was ten seconds from closing on Hot Rock and his pursuers when she glanced over her shoulder and saw something stunning: Somehow, in only the last half minute, circumstances there had reversed themselves. The bogey was hurtling past Bird Dog’s F-14, which was itself dropping in a messy half turn, its aspect loose and wobbly. Pieces of metal were floating up off it.
“Shit!” Lobo cried, making her decision instantly. Hot Rock was still being hunted by the other two bogeys, but at least his goddamned plane was intact. She knew where her services were required.
Yanking her Tomcat into a hard left turn, she reversed direction and started to climb out. To her relief, Bird Dog’s plane had steadied and was now flying along straight and level, about five hundred feet above her. To her left, the Flanker was also turning, but for some reason he didn’t appear to be in much of a hurry. Perhaps his plane was also damaged.
“Bird Dog!” she cried over the radio. “You okay?”
“Hydraulic damage; can’t turn right. Took some hits. Think Catwoman’s hurt. Am I in one piece here?”
“I’ll know in a second. Coming up on your six.”
She glanced to her left again. The bogey had completed its turn, far out over the ocean. Lobo realized why and shouted, “Bird Dog! Break! Break!”
He did so instantly, dipping hard left, evidently the only direction he could go, the perfect direction. Lobo blasted straight over his Tomcat, holding steady on course.
“Incoming!” Handyman cried. Lobo glanced back just long enough to see an incandescent white dot swooping toward her.
Then she did the only thing left to do.
Tai was shocked to see his missile take out the wrong aircraft — then he was delighted, because the victim was the Tomcat he’d intended to destroy in the first place. The fool had flown right into the line of fire, and presented the heat-seeker with a better home in which to nest.
Afterimages of the explosion floated in his vision. Evening was deepening toward night. A night he would remember for a long —
His gaze, automatically conducting its scan of instruments, halted on the radar screen. Four new returns had appeared, approaching from the east. Four more American fighters, fresh and fully loaded with fuel and weapons, versus his SU-37 and the two planes wasting their energy on the other Tomcat. Even if the odds were evened up, the Americans had more fuel and weapons.
The radar showed nothing coming in from his own country. Anger swelled up inside him, darkening his vision before he pushed it back. Some of his officers were weaklings and cowards, no doubt about that. But there were others who had vision, and will. They would prevail.
Tai spoke briskly into his radio. The time had come to break off and return home, wait until they had numerical superiority. Return, rest, and prepare to fight another day. Prepare to push the arrogant Americans back out of Asia, and destroy their ill-gotten power. It was inevitable.
For as Sun Tzu taught, Of the four seasons, none lasts forever….
EIGHT
When Tombstone walked into his house, he was greeted by a sharp-planed face not unlike his own. “Uncle Thomas,” he said, pleased.
His uncle held out his hand, and they shook. “This isn’t a social visit, Matthew, sorry to say. Joyce and I were just discussing some business. It involves you, too.”
Tombstone peered around the corner into the sitting room. Tomboy looked back at him, her expression grim, yet there was something else shining in her eyes. The kind of fierce excitement he recognized from any number of combat sorties.
“Uh-oh,” Tombstone said. “What is this?”
“They’re sending me to China,” she said. “To Jefferson.”
Tombstone turned toward his uncle. “What for?”
“Better sit down, Matthew.” Thomas Magruder led him into the room and sat him next to his wife, then took a chair opposite. The admiral, the most powerful man in the navy, was wearing civilian clothes. All at once Tombstone realized he hadn’t seen his uncle’s car in the driveway, or even on the street. This visit was incognito.
“What is it?” he demanded.
“Things are heating up over in Hong Kong,” his uncle said. “Early this morning our time, an American Air Force jet used for NOAA research was shot down outside Hong Kong. Jefferson got involved again; this time there was a real tangle. We lost some, Matthew.”
“Who?” Tombstone asked.
“Chris Hanson, Randall Carpenter, Benjamin Rogers.”
Tombstone had steeled himself, and was surprised — and guiltily relieved — that only one name was familiar. Still, that one name rocked him. “God, not Lobo.”
“She’s MIA. Carpenter is KIA; Rogers is presumed KIA. One Tomcat down, and one Hornet. That’s all I have right now.”
Tombstone was faintly aware of Tomboy sliding her arm through his. “What’s our response? From Washington?”
His uncle hesitated. “As you know, dealing with the PRC requires exceptional delicacy. Nobody wants to start a world war.”
Tombstone snorted.
“Nobody here wants to start a world war,” his uncle amended, face hard. “And the Chinese absolutely deny responsibility for the shoot-down, just as they did for the Lady of Leisure massacre. Frankly, that’s got me a little puzzled. It’s not like them to deny the things they do; they typically just make transparent excuses or refuse to discuss it at all.”
Tombstone shook his head. “Batman must be livid.”
“Of course. But he’ll do what’s right, just as you would if you were in his place. And right now, that means waiting. When the North Koreans shot down a civilian airliner, it didn’t lead to war, and this shouldn’t either.”
“What’s the Air Force’s position on it?”
“What else? They wish they’d had the chance to tangle with the Flankers, instead of us. But their wings are tied in that part of the world.” His uncle paused. “Speaking of the Air Force, what else have they found out about your little UAV?”
Tombstone’s eyebrows rose. He looked from his uncle to Tomboy, then back. “You know?”
“I was fully briefed on the background before I came up here. Just finished briefing your wife. We’re all on the same page now.”
“Not exactly,” Tombstone said, and described what the DARPA kid had discovered about the bogey’s nation of origin. Then he took a deep breath and added, “But here’s the trick: It was loaded with electronics from one of Uncle Phil’s companies.”
His uncle blinked, then shook his head. “Don’t be thinking ‘treason,’ Tombstone. The PRC has been buying up technology for years. American, Japanese, you name it; if they want it, they simply buy it. It’s perfectly legitimate.”
“Legitimate?”
“Good for business,” his uncle said expressionlessly. “Good for international relations. It’s not like anyone’s letting them buy weapons, after all.”
“Just the means to make them.”
Thomas Magruder sighed. “As far as Phil’s concerned, the odds are he didn’t even know who the end buyer was, far less what the components were going to be used for. No man in the world was more committed to democracy and free enterprise than he was.”