按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
ing a radar…guided Modoc missile。 He automatically went through the procedure in his mind； hoping it would get no further than a mental event。
〃Anything yet？〃 he asked his radar observer； a gum…chewing lieutenant named Regis Murphy。
〃Still out of range；〃 replied Murphy。 〃The last update from the space center in Colorado puts her altitude at twenty…six miles； speed approximately six thousand and slowing。 She should reach our sector in five minutes； forty seconds； at a speed of twelve hundred。〃
Hollyman turned and scanned the black sky behind； spotting the faint exhaust glow of the two aircraft following his tail。 〃Do you copy； Fox Two？〃
〃Roger； Fox Leader。〃
〃Fox Three？〃
〃We copy。〃
A cloud of oppression seemed to fill Hollyman's cockpit。 None of this was right。 He hadn't dedicated his life to defending his country； hadn't spent years in intensive training； simply to blast an unarmed aircraft carrying innocent scientists out of the air。 Something was horribly wrong。
〃Colorado Control； this is Fox Leader。〃
〃Go ahead； Fox Leader。〃
〃I request permission to terminate exercise； over。〃
There was a long pause。 Then 〃Major Hollyman； this is General Allan Post。 Do you read me？〃
So this was the egghead general； Hollyman mused。 〃Yes； General； I read you。〃
〃This is not an exercise。 I repeat； this is not an exercise。〃
Hollyman did not mince words。 〃Do you realize what you're asking me to do； sir？〃
〃I'm not asking； Major。 I'm giving you a direct order to bring down the Gettysburg before she lands in Cuba。〃
There had been no time for a full briefing when Hollyman was ordered to scramble his flight into the air。 He was stunned and bewildered at Post's sudden revelation。 〃Forgive me for asking； General； but are you acting by higher mand？ Over。〃
〃Is a directive straight from your mander in Chief in the White House good enough for you？〃
〃Yes； sir；〃 he said slowly。 〃I guess it is。〃
God； Hollyman thought despairingly； there was no getting around it。
〃Altitude twenty…two miles； nine minutes to touchdown。〃 Burkhart was reading off the instruments for Jurgens。 〃We've got lights off to our right。〃
〃What's going down； Houston？〃 asked Jurgens； his face set in a frown。 〃Where in hell are you putting us？〃
〃Stay cool；〃 replied the impassive voice of Flight Director Foley。 〃You're lined up just fine。 Just sit tight and we'll bring you in。〃
〃Radar and navigation indicators say we're touching down in the middle of Cuba。 Please cross…check。〃
〃No need； Gettysburg； you're on final approach。〃
〃Houston； I'm not getting through to you。 I repeat； where are you setting us down？〃
There was no reply。
〃Listen to me；〃 said Jurgens in near desperation。 〃I'm going to full manual。〃
〃Negative； Dave。 Remain in auto。 All systems are mitted to the landing site。〃
Jurgens clenched his fists in futility。 〃Why？〃 he demanded。 〃Why are you doing this？〃
There was no reply。
Jurgens looked over at Burkhart。 〃Move the speed brakes back to zero percent。 We're going on TAEM。* I want to keep this ship in the air as long as I can until we get some straight answers。〃
…
*Terminal…area energy management； a process for conserving speed and altitude。
〃You're only prolonging the inevitable by a couple of minutes；〃 said Burkhart。
〃We can't just sit here and accept this。〃
〃It's out of our hands；〃 Burkhart replied miserably。 〃We've no place else to go。〃
The real Merv Foley sat at a console in the Houston control center in helpless rage。 His face； the color of chalk； showed an expression of incredulity。 He pounded a fist against the edge of the console。
〃We're losing them；〃 he muttered hopelessly。
Irwin Mitchell of the 〃inner core〃 stood directly behind him。 〃Our munications people are doing the best they can to get through。〃
〃Too damned late！〃 Foley burst out。 〃They're on final approach。〃 He turned and grabbed Mitchell by the arm。 〃For Christ's sake； Irv； beg the President to let them land。 Give the shuttle to the Russians； let them take whatever they can get out of it。 But in the name of God don't let those men die。〃
Mitchell stared up dully at the data display screens。 〃Better this way；〃 he said； his voice vague。
〃The moon colonists those are your people。 After all they've achieved； the years of struggling just to stay alive in a murderous environment； you can't simply write them off this close to home。〃
〃You don't know those men。 They'd never allow the results of their efforts to be given away to a hostile government。 If I was up there and Eli Steinmetz was down here； he wouldn't hesitate to blow the Gettysburg to ashes。〃
Foley looked at Mitchell for a long moment。 Then he turned away and buried his head in his hands； stricken with grief。
Jessie lifted her head and gazed at Pitt； the coffee…brown eyes misted； teardrops rolling past the bruises on her cheeks。 She was shuddering now； shuddering from the death around her and immense relief。 Pitt unashamedly embraced her； saying nothing； and gently removed the gun from her hand。 Then he released her； quickly cut Giordino's bonds； gave Gunn a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder； and stepped up to the huge wall map。
He rapped his knuckles against it； gauging the thickness。 Then he moved back and lashed out with his foot at the center of the Indian Ocean。 The hidden panel gave way； swung on its hinges； and smashed against the wall。
〃I'll be back；〃 he said； and disappeared into a passageway。
The interior was well lit and carpeted。 He rushed incautiously； the gun held out in front of him。 The passage was air…conditioned and cool； but the sweat was flowing through his pores more heavily than ever before。 He rubbed a sleeve over his forehead； blocking his view for a brief moment； and almost died。
At that exact moment he reached a cross passage； and like a scene from an old Mack Sennett silent movie he collided with two guards who were walking around the corner。
Pitt crashed through them； knocking them to the sides； then whirled and dropped to the floor。 The advantage of surprise was on his side。 The guards hadn't expected to meet a foe so close to General Velikov's study。 Pitt did。 The automatic in his hand spat four times before the startled guards had a chance to trigger their rifles。 He leaped to his feet while they were still falling。
For two seconds； perhaps three it seemed an hour he stared at the inert figures； curiously unaffected by their death but stunned that it all happened so fast。 Mentally and emotionally he was exhausted； physically he felt reasonably fit。 He sucked in deep lungfuls of air until his mind struggled through the haze； and he turned it to figuring which passage ran toward the electronic center of the pound。
The side passages had concrete floors； so he stuck with the one with the carpet and forged ahead。 He had run only fifty feet when his brain cells finally came back on line and he cursed his sluggishness for not thinking to snatch one of the guard's rifles。 He pulled out the clip of the automatic。 It was empty； only one shell