Test Pilot's Daughter II: Dead Reckoning (22 page)

“And what happens if the President doesn’t go along?” she asked.

“The Joint Chiefs will take matters in their own hands. We can’t strike without the codes from that black box, and only Gleason has access.”

“He will,” Wallace grimaced and lowered his voice. “Ever heard of water-boarding? We’ll see how long he holds up with his head under water. Believe me, he’ll talk.”

“We don’t have to. We know the general areas and a couple of hundred well placed ICBMs will do the trick. Our enemies will be devastated, and it’ll be a long time before anybody contemplates attacking us again.”

“But what will the world think?” Michael had to swallow his own bile.

“Who gives a shit?”
Wallace screamed.
“Screw the World!
The World’s not about to eat nuclear warheads,
we are!
We’ve got to put a stop to this insanity.”

“I agree,” Christina replied. She really did, and her mind went into high gear.
What if he’s right?
she shivered. Trying to flush the thought, she continued on script. “So let’s cut the crap, sir. How do you suggest I pull free of security and give you a hand?”

“Leave that to me.” He sat up straight and brushed something off his medals. “I’ll dismiss your people and replace them with mine. Then we’ll head straight to a warehouse in south Atlanta.”

Christina turned to Michael and asked, “Are you in?”

“Uh. . .sure, let’s do it.” He lifted his wristwatch to his mouth and said, “Baker-Baker.”

There was a quick flash as the conference door blew open. Agents flew in and grabbed Wallace as he struggled. They forced him to the floor, face against the carpet, and put cuffs on his wrists and ankles. He strained to look up at Christina with a look of panic.

“Sorry General,” she knelt down close to his head. “I had to make a tough call, and I’m going with the President. God, help us all. I can only pray Gleason is right.”

There was a great deal of animation in the super-secret meeting room. Hezbolah, Hamas, Taliban and al-Qaida, all represented a roiling quagmire of terror. The four great Imams of Iran were also present. The odd man out was Vatamir Golastiv, leader of Russia. He sat there like a pimple on the derrière of Islam, the only man without a turban and beard. The Arabs always treated him with suspicion, mostly talking among themselves.

A hush came over the room when Muztata al-Bolani and his right hand man, Jawad al-Masri, entered. It was to be the greatest Jihad of all time, a direct nuclear assault on the enemies of Islam. Millions of Americans and Chinese would perish. Islam would reign supreme over the Judaism and Christianity of the West and the
Buddhism
and Pluralism of the East. The excitement was electric.

Al-Bolani stood at the front of the room, pulled back his shoulders and began to speak, “My friends the time is near. On this great day, Eid Al-Adha, when Solomon showed his faith by preparing to kill his own son, we shall show our faint in Allah with preparation to kill many sons and change the balance of power in the world. Our partnership with Russia will put us above all. In return for our efforts, Mr. Golastiv has agreed that once the dust settles, we will be free to spread Islam through his many areas of influence. We have already made great strides in Europe, Southeast Asia and Africa, and we stand at the precipice of world domination. Allah will be pleased and our place in paradise assured. There is only one small matter that has not gone our way.”

Al-Bolani walked all the way around the room in dramatic fashion as thirty sets of eyes tracked his every move. He stopped behind the al-Qaida leader, Almanar Bahadar. Bahadar sat with a big grin on his face as though he expected a great blessing from his friend. His eyes stopped then shifted nervously with the realization that al-Bolani was standing behind him. The eyes of everyone else in the room peered just above his head. He wouldn’t have long to wait.

“I have a very special gift for my good friend Almanar.” Al-Bolani reached under his wrap and pulled out a large, shiny Arabian weapon, a huge bowed knife, an enduring symbol for a great warrior. There was a collective gasp as he reached around grabbed Bahadar by the head and quickly slit his throat from one ear to the other. The sharp saber cut through his neck like warm butter. Bahadar’s body convulsed grotesquely as blood squirted out both sides like two competing water pistols all over the meeting table. There was a gurgling sound as Bahadar, still alive, looked at the group with wide eyes and tried to protest. His eyes rolled back and his head fell forward in a bloody clump, jerking in rapid succession. In just a few seconds he was quiet and still. Gallons of blood pooled on the table as those sitting nearby scrambled to get out of the way.

“Take your seats!”Al-Bolani commanded in a firm voice. “This is the fate of a traitor. You will take your seats!” He didn’t wait for any comments or questions. “We had that American whore Matthews in our grasp, and Bahadar’s men allowed her to slip away for money. Can you believe brothers of Islam, al-Qaida men, bribed with dirty American money. . .money which made its way into the fat pockets of my friend here? Even worse he allowed our spy in America, the young astronaut lad, to be compromised. This is bad news since we counted on Rhani Hussein to feed us intelligence right up to the time of attack. You can be assured that the young man is no longer in this world. He awaits Bahadar in the depths of hell.”

Al-Bolani looked over at Golastiv whose face was painted with horror and disgust.
Those Russians think we’re Barbarians,
he mused. Had he not desperately needed the man, he would have gladly cut his throat too. He walked over and stood behind him.

“You are a great leader for Islam,” said al-Masri aloud, as usual, kissing his boss’s ass. All the other men in the room nodded in mutual admiration and conciliation. No one was prepared to challenge him. Al-Masri continued, “Praise be to Allah and his swift judgment.”

Al- Bolani calmly walked back to the front of the room and took control of the meeting. “Praise be to Allah. All preparations are coming to completion and in only ten days our great arrows will fly all the way to American and Chinese soil. We will catch the Infidels by complete surprise and mushroom clouds will rise over the worst dens of evil. Many sinners will find justice from the sweet sword of Islam. We believe the coward, Gleason, will buckle under the pressure of defeat and the weight of our great oil reserves. Presiding over devastation, he will have no choice but to agree to our terms. Islam will be taught in every American school and, in a matter of time, Allah will rule the world. Many new mosques will be built and our people will come to power. I want you all to go home and be in continuous prayer that our Jihad will be successful, in the name of Allah.”

“In the name of Allah,” the collective reply.

“Now you will all come here the day before the American holiday, Christmas. We will fly on my plane to Somalia. It will be a great celebration as we watch the news of CBN from our bunker there. Praise be to Allah.”

“Praise be to Allah!”

The men all rose up from their chairs. All but one, that is. Bahadar was going nowhere.

Chapter Fourteen

It was Wednesday evening, ten days before an un-numbered, Top Secret shuttle launch. The mission? Nuclear war!

All was quiet in their secret lair. Christina was feeling much better but quite bored. Starting Monday morning, she was scheduled for four days of intensive training on every aspect of the military DROID. She knew all the navigation systems but was unfamiliar with the weapons. Although she understood the physics, it was hard to believe. The very idea of an explosive sandbag taking out an ICBM was almost funny. She scratched her head and tried to wrap her brain around it,
Space junk and re-entry, a deadly combination.

Michael and Billy were in the other room playing chess while Heather and Christina enjoyed a final glass of red wine before bedtime. Christina was fidgety and worried. She put down her book and looked her friend in the eyes.

“But don’t you remember the Three Amigos, all the great times we had? Remember the pact we made at your folk’s place in the Keys? God we were so young and carefree.”

“Of course I remember, but I don’t dwell on the past, too much bad Karma back there. Sure, we had some good times, but that day. . .the day Jessica was killed. . .it still haunts me. When that guy staked me out on the beach. . .I’ll never get that out of my nightmares. I’ll be in the nursing home one day screaming the strangest things. No, no, I try not to think about Jessica.”

“Well, I don’t want to sound maudlin, but I think we need to consider something quite sobering,” Christina lowered her voice. “A couple of weeks from now, the whole world could be a mess. If any of those missiles get through, we’ll be forced to retaliate. And if we launch MIRVs against Russia, they’ll let ‘em go too. It’s not a pretty thought, but there’s a decent chance. . . well, it could be the end.”

“First thing? Let’s see, I’d get my nails done, yeah that’s it, hairdo, massage, pedicure, the works. I’d want to go out lookin’ good. Then I’d go to Saks and run up my credit card.”

“But think about it, Heather, between the two of us we have more money than we could ever spend. Forty million is a lot of dough. Maybe it’s time to loosen up a bit and let the boys know.”

Heather nodded in agreement. “Well, I don’t see why not. Funny, I don’t think about the money much. I just take out a hundred thousand a year to pay my bills.”

“I’ve got an idea. We should do something big in the next few days, something really big. One last hoorah, so to speak. I think we should tap our accounts and purchase the best three days money can buy. At the same time, I want to go down and pay our respects to the one responsible for the loot.”

“That island?
Yikes!
Are you nuts? I thought you never wanted to see that hell-hole again. Remember Jessica isn’t the only ghost hanging around there. Those pirates are there too.” Heather shuddered. “That place is haunted for sure.”

“I’ve got it!” Christina shouted. “Let’s get out our checkbooks and spend some real moolah. Tomorrow we get on the phone and make arrangements. Okay, you go to the spa and do some shopping while I get everything arranged.”