Legacy

9

It was only four hours before Sarah, Will, and Jason were due to suit up. Their flight commander was an Air Force colonel by the name of Arthur Kendal, in command not only of the three Event Group personnel, but of the six other men who had been assigned to the backup crew of the Atlas platform, and he was anxious to see if his crew would become a viable part of America’s return to space.

The crew would be lifted into the sky and delivered to the International Space Station by the Space Shuttle Atlantis if their mission became necessary. While they waited at the dinner table where they had been served a steak, Sarah watched one of the three monitors inside the cafeteria. One was on CNN and the others were static views of the launch pads out west at Vandenberg and in Florida at the Cape, where the giant Atlas stood like an ancient monolith, waiting to see if it would be called upon to serve America one last time.

The two Ares systems were ready at Vandenberg in California. Their two crews of ten would be lifted into orbit and delivered to the space station by the shuttles Endeavour and Discovery. All eyes were watching CNN for news out of Washington. For Sarah, Mendenhall, and Ryan, the news had hit particularly hard because they knew the man who had just been shot from the sky and they also knew that the president’s best friend in the entire world was their very own boss, Niles Compton. As they watched, the coverage broke away from the hospital to the CNN news desk in Atlanta.

“This just in. The FBI has issued a statement detailing the arrest warrants for James McCabe, a former U.S. Army Lieutenant colonel, wanted in the questioning of not only the event tonight in Washington, but for the explosions in Berlin, Germany, that claimed 107 lives, and the attack in French Guiana that claimed another thirty. McCabe has been under investigation for several days now and is known to have ties to fundamentalist movements around the world. The FBI has refused to answer questions about how they came to their conclusions about McCabe, stating only that they have substantial evidence of his involvement.”

Sarah studied the picture of McCabe, an ordinary-looking man who appeared to be an accountant and not a former Special Operations officer in the same army in which she was serving. She looked over at Ryan and Mendenhall, who, like herself, had not eaten anything since they sat down.

“I wonder if Jack had something to do with the FBI getting this information.”

Ryan knew none of them had been informed as to what the colonel was up to. They hadn’t heard anything about him or Everett since their arrest in Berlin. He reached out and took Sarah’s hand.

“I wouldn’t be surprised a bit. But for right now, even though it’s a long shot, we better start getting our heads on straight. We’re looking at a shuttle launch in just four hours.”

“I hope those missions out west get a good start, I really don’t care for the idea of all those air miles.” Mendenhall was trying his best to shake out some of the tension in the room.

“ Dark Star 3, it’s time to report to briefing and dress out.”

The mission coordinator nodded his head as ten faces looked up at him standing in the doorway. Each man and woman was left for a moment with their private thoughts about what could possibly be facing them. The spell of silence was broken when mission commander Kendal rose from his chair and looked around the room at his nine people.

“I guess there’s no really good time for speeches. The crash course training we all went through has shown me your capabilities, either in the air or on the lunar surface. You may have noticed I used the terminology indicating we will be a go for launch. All of you from this moment forward should assume we are going. The systems used for all three launches are experimental, and as you know nothing in real life ever plays out like a Hollywood script-there will be failures. Therefore, we will be launching simultaneously with our platform, Dark Star 3. Now, let’s get our game faces on and move out to briefing. Regardless of the fate of our commander in chief, I am informed by Houston that we are a definite go for mission launch.”

Niles Compton was alone with his thoughts. The staff of the Event Group made sure the director was left that way for as long as he wanted. After Niles had issued his report to the FBI and the National Security Agency concerning what they had discovered about the dealings of James McCabe and Samuel Rawlins, Niles had retreated to his office and had not come out for three hours. For the time being he was looking through the very thin file compiled by Europa on the personages of Lieutenant Colonel James McCabe and the Reverend Samuel Rawlins. As much as Niles was worried about the fate of his best friend the president, his mind was still unable to wade through that worry. He was reading everything he could on the activities of the two men suspected of being behind the recent terrorist activity.

Compton reached for a cup of coffee that was an hour old as he wondered about the reasoning behind the delay concerning the questioning of Rawlins. He knew there was no direct evidence of his involvement outside of what Jack had uncovered in Germany and he knew that theory alone wasn’t even a cold gun, much less a smoking one, but still it was certain in Niles’s thinking that it did warrant at least talking to the arrogant bastard. That alone might persuade him to cease whatever illegal activities he had planned. Thus far only McCabe had been listed as a suspect. Niles took a drink of the cold coffee and grimaced, then placed the cup and the file down in frustration over his inability to call and check on the status of the president. His phone buzzed as one of his assistants called from the outer office. Niles swallowed and tried his best to check his nerves, then he reached for the intercom.

“Yes,” he said.

“Sir, Alice Hamilton is on line one.”

“Thank you,” Niles said and picked up the phone. “Alice, is the senator all right?”

“Niles, with all that’s going on right now, it’s thoughtful of you to ask-and, yes, he’s doing as well as can be expected. That’s why I’m calling at such a horrible time. He wanted me to say he was sorry, as I am, about what happened. We know you and the president are close.”

“Thank you, but I wish you wouldn’t worry about me. You have more than enough to occupy your mind right now. Take care of him, I just couldn’t face-” Niles started to say the deaths of two dear friends at one time, but checked himself. “-well, you know.”

“I do, and we will. One thing I want to ask of you before I let you go. I know you have more of a full plate than ever before, especially with the space launch tonight on both coasts, but could you let us know where Jack is?”

“Jack? Why, he’s in Ecuador. I think you know where.”

“That’s what Garrison suspected.”

“Hey, wait a minute, he’s not thinking anything foolish is he? I mean, even using what little strength he has thinking about helping the colonel, well, it’s out of the question. You tell him I said to stop thinking for once in his life and rest.”

“You, more than anyone, know better than that. That would be like telling the current director of the Event Group to stop, slow down, and relax, especially with people he commands standing on dangerous ground or heading into harm’s way.”

For the first time in hours, Niles had to smile. His lips trembled as he placed a hand on his forehead and rubbed. He took the briefest of moments to gather his composure until he found he could trust his voice again.

“Okay, Jack’s with a German commando team in Ecuador. He’s in the process of getting Captain Everett out of jail, and then he will continue his mission to find what Columbus is truly all about.”

“Thank you, dear. Now you go do that magic stuff you always do so well.”

“Listen, Alice, you take care of that-”

Compton found he was speaking to an empty line as Alice had hung up. He placed the phone alongside his head and lowered his eyes to the desktop. He was about to hang the phone up when the intercom buzzed again, making him jump. He wanted to throw the phone across the room.

“Yes,” he said, far louder than he intended to.

“Sir, priority video communication.”

“What?” he said, shocked, as the only priority VIDCOM would come from the president. He slammed the phone down and hit a switch on his desktop. The video monitor slid out of the mahogany top. The screen went from blue to the presidential seal. Niles swallowed and then stood so fast that his chair slid back and slammed into the wall. The next face he saw was bandaged on the left side, and there was a swelling to his jaw and his left eye was blackened and nearly swollen shut-but it was the president of the United States staring at him.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Niles looked away for the briefest of moments. He then smiled and with his eyes welling up he faced his old friend.

“I’m still not sure I’m not seeing a ghost. It looks like you’ve been cruising South Beach after midnight.”

The president laughed and then stopped as suddenly as he started. “Ouch, don’t make me laugh. The doctor says I have a hairline fracture of the jaw.”

Niles did laugh. “That will undoubtedly make the first lady extremely happy.”

“She is. Now listen, baldy, I haven’t a lot of time. It seems they all want to parade me in front of the hospital window to prove I’m not among the deceased. Collins, is he all right and in Ecuador?”

“Yes, sir, he is on the ground and they’re cooking something up to get Captain Everett. Then they plan on getting into that old mine.”

“It doesn’t look like it will be in time to stop these space shots. We have to go through with this because we can’t allow anything from the surface of the Moon to fall into China’s hands, or at least the current Chinese government. The Western powers need the technology up there. Niles, as a friend, tell me we’re not sending these people off on a mission that’s doomed from the start.”

Niles paused and then looked deeply into the small monitor.

“The best engineers in the world say this mission has a better than seventy percent chance of succeeding. The variables, however, have changed since the planning stages. In case you hadn’t noticed, there are some individuals out there with a different agenda.”

The president touched the side of his head and jaw. “I have come to that realization, ass.”

“I’m positive this maniac that’s been blasting you on his broadcasts is behind all of these assaults on launches. He’s behind the theft of Columbus and the attempt to kill you. He’s not going to stop until we stop him. Arrest the son of a bitch. Maybe this McCabe will see that he’s not going to be paid for his services and stop before he shoots down more good people.”

“Thanks, baldy, I needed to hear it from your mouth. I’ve already instructed the FBI to take him in. Now go relax and see if we can get some people back to the Moon.”

Niles found that all he could do was nod his head. The picture on the screen went back to blue as he removed his glasses. He reached back and retrieved his chair. He sat down hard and placed his hands over his eyes. He sat up and took a deep breath, then made a decision. He would take the president’s advice for once. He stood and walked from the office. His mood had shifted dramatically in the past minute as he strode to the elevator. He called out to his four assistants.

“I’ll be in Las Vegas. I’m going to watch the space launches with Dr. Pollock. I won’t be back tonight. Patch all calls concerning the launch and Colonel Collins through to my cell phone.”

The assistants watched their director leave the office and were glad to see the fire back in his eyes and the confidence back in his gait.

The phone was brought in while the president was being poked and prodded by three different physicians. Two of them he was sure were not even out of medical school yet. He had already made an appearance at the window, closely hemmed in by no fewer than six Secret Service agents, and then had made a sorrowful call to the families of the agents who had lost their lives in the attack, and to the widow of his national security advisor. Now he was about to do something he never thought he would do-make a plea for sanity to the chairman of the People’s Republic of China.

“Mr. Chairman,” the president said once the connection had been made. He looked over at the secretary of state, who was listening in with the official interpreter. The secretary waited for the chairman to speak to verify it was truly he on the phone.

The conversation started out in Chinese and then the interpreter translated. The secretary of state nodded his head-it was indeed the seventy-nine-year-old chairman on the other end.

“Mr. President, it is so very good to hear your voice, and to learn that you are safe. You have the wishes of good health from myself and the people of my nation.”

“Thank you, Mr. Chairman. It is very kind of you to say and to accept my call at this very late hour.”

“Not at all, I was awakened for the spectacular double launch your nation has planned. You can call it a natural curiosity on my part to see if the same evil befalls an American attempt as it has so many others in the past few days.”

The president caught the innuendo, one that in political speak fell just short of an accusation. He chose to move forward instead of arguing with the old chairman.

“Mr. Chairman, I have called to express my sincere desire for a more cooperative approach to what has happened on the surface of the Moon. As you have seen, the attacks on all nations attempting this endeavor have met with a force of unknown assailants that will stop at nothing to see that we all fail.”

The American interpreter voiced the president’s words and then there was a long silence on the other end of the line.

“Mr. President, I see no reason for my nation to be bullied by the West. I am afraid those days are long past. We do not frighten as easily as you may think. Our spacecraft, the Magnificent Dragon, is well on its way. Once the landing has been accomplished, I see no reason why we cannot be cooperative in the findings of the mission. However, I must insist that our mission to the lunar surface not be interfered with by any nation, just as your monopoly of space was ignored by my own for so many years.”

“Speaking man-to-man, Mr. Chairman, I find the situation had started out wrong. I truly wish for-”

The interpreter looked embarrassed as the leader of the People’s Republic cut the president short.

“We have come into intelligence that the West has known about this for quite some time, and throughout the years has refused to share this information and technology with the People’s Republic as well as many other nations. The monopoly of this find in Ecuador has been a well-kept secret for far too long, and now you suggest cooperation between us and your allies? Perhaps if you had come to my predecessors many years ago this situation could have been avoided.”

“I assure you, the find was kept secret by the Nazi regime, and only recently have the facts come to light. The United States and her allies have nothing but respect for-”

Again, the president was cut off.

“Mr. President, I must reiterate how pleased I am that you are safe after your ordeal of this day. I am sure once the scales have been balanced by the heroic astronauts aboard the Magnificent Dragon, we can come to terms with our past on a more equal basis and work for a better future in regard to Case Blue, if that threat is really viable as you claim. Good evening, and may you have very good luck on your launches tonight.”

The secretary of state listened and then looked at the president and shook his head.

“The chairman has hung up, sir.”

“Goddamn it!” The president slammed the phone down and reached for a glass of water, chasing the three doctors away with a warning look. “Get me Johnson Space Center. Conference it with Kennedy, Vandenberg, and the Cape. We go.”

The room was silent as the president swallowed some pain medication. He looked up at the ceiling and came to a decision.

“Get me my pants and jacket. I’m getting out of here.”

“Where to?” the secretary of state asked.

“Home. I want to see my wife and kids.”

James McCabe was waiting outside in the limousine for Laurel Rawlins. Even though the luxury car had windows you couldn’t see through, he felt like every set of eyes that passed the waiting vehicle were peering in at him. The mistake of allowing Jack Collins to live was a haunting reminder that you could not play by any set of rules when doing what he was attempting to do. Now he had been linked to the attacks. After tonight, it was time to disappear. In order to accomplish that he would need the good Reverend’s daughter to assure his financial payoff for a job he deemed completed. Then, after this evening’s festivities, he would make sure Laurel and the Mechanic understood that no one double-crosses James McCabe.

The door finally opened, and even though McCabe knew it to be Laurel, he found it difficult not to react apprehensively because of his new status as the most wanted man alive-even more wanted than Jack Collins. He found it ironic that the plan he had set in motion with Jack had come full circle to bite him in his hindquarters and now they were both on top of the list as far as desperation went.

Laurel slid into the backseat of the large black Lincoln and the driver sped away. She leaned in to kiss McCabe on the cheek and was surprised when he held his hand in the air, blocking the attempt.

“I think we’re well beyond that,” he said, turning to face the side window.

“I know you didn’t approve of the assassination, but-”

McCabe looked back and simply nodded toward the small television embedded in the front seat of the limousine. There the president of the United States was waving to a crowd of reporters from inside of his hospital room. The tape was now four hours old.

“That’s impossible. We had him-”

“Impossible, but nonetheless there he is. And now I have an arrest warrant out for me and your father will be on the run very soon.”

Laurel watched the taped segment of the president and she read the caption that he had already returned to the White House to be with his family. She lowered her head and turned away from the television.

“You will remain with me throughout the evening,” McCabe said. “After my contract is complete, you will accompany me to Ecuador to consummate my ending to this fiasco. Your father will attempt to meet us there.”

“You have to get the remaining technology out of that mine or you can forget about the riches you think you’ve earned.” Laurel reached for her cell phone and opened it.

McCabe took hold of Laurel’s wrist. He twisted it until the phone fell free.

“So you recruited my man to assist you in your stupidity.” McCabe smiled, then grabbed Laurel’s chin and roughly turned her to face him. “Now, my dear, do you know why your assassination attempt failed so miserably?”

Laurel didn’t fight the roughness of McCabe’s touch. She just allowed her eyes to seek out his and remain fixed as the sickening feeling started in the pit of her stomach.

“Your shooters turned on their seeker heads far too early. They could have launched the Stingers and then brought the software online. When the target became illuminated the Air Force would not have been able to react so swiftly.”

“You told them to light up the target, you said-”

“Indeed I did. Do you think killing the president would have had any bearing whatsoever on the plan? It would not. It would have only infuriated the people of this country, which you’ve managed to do anyway. After I’ve covered my tracks in Ecuador, I am finished. With money in hand I will depart forever. I suspect I can take care of all my business down south, tie up loose ends, and be on my way. You, my dear, can go for the technology in the second gallery if you wish. Personally I believe it’s going to be a little hot there in a few hours.” He smiled as he released Laurel’s chin and slapped her across the face. Then he slammed a fist into her cheek and pulled her onto the seat. He held her there, staring at her with hate-filled eyes. “And you and your father are two of those loose ends. I think you can make that call now, only we’ll change the wording somewhat.”

It had only taken Sebastian Krell two hours to return with three of his men to inform Jack that Everett was being held inside a fortress that was covered by an army of police. Collins took the news like a blow to the solar plexus. He sat in the large aircraft and turned away from the German commando and his gathered men. Charles Hindershot Ellenshaw III reached out and patted Jack on the back.

Pete Golding saw for the first time the closeness of Colonel Collins and his second in command, Carl Everett, and felt he had to do something.

“Major Krell, would it be possible to get me video of the building the captain is being held in?” Pete asked.

The German tuned to Pete and shook his head. “Anything is possible, Professor, but what practical good would a video of the police headquarters be?”

Pete stood from his chair and paced the aisle. He placed his hand to his chin. That was when Charlie Ellenshaw saw that Pete was formulating a plan. He had seen it before when Golding worked with him on a few projects with help from Europa, his baby. When Pete went into planning mode, he was a dynamo.

“To start, I need every exit the building has. I also need to know approximately where Captain Everett is located.”

“I can tell you that,” Sebastian said, wondering what the tall and very thin Golding was getting at. “He’s being held in the detention area in the basement. The security for a country like Ecuador is far beyond what it was a few years ago. There’s no rushing the building to break the captain out.”

Pete stopped pacing and looked up at the German. “Rush the building? I’m afraid what I’m thinking is far more ambitious than that.”

“Okay, Pete, what gives?” Jack asked, as he regained a margin of hope.

“If I can do what I think I can with the help of Europa, I can maybe give the captain a window of about five minutes.”

“A five-minute window to do what?” Sebastian asked and looked from Golding to his men. There was a smirk on the commando’s face.

“Why, to allow Mr. Everett the time he needs to walk out of that building.”

Jack smiled and looked back at Sebastian. He returned his gaze to Pete. “Of course. What were we thinking?”

The ten-man team of FBI agents from the Los Angeles field office had waited for twenty minutes. The second team had just raided the palatial residence of the Reverend Samuel Rawlins. The Reverend was not at home, meaning the odds placed him at his office. They had to act before anyone informed the evangelist that the FBI had a warrant for his arrest.

The agent in charge of the team nodded his head and the ten men ran to the glassed-in offices of Faith Ministries with guns drawn, identifying themselves as federal agents. The staff of forty office workers stood as one. Some of the women screamed and others panicked at the abruptness of the raid.

“Everyone down, down, get down!” the lead agent called as he ran the forty paces to the large double doors with gold lettering across them. He placed his shoulder on the polished wood as he hit it on the run. He was covered by three other men as he aimed inside the office. He saw immediately that there was no one there. He cursed and stood, holstering his weapon.

“Check the employees,” he said to the men who had followed him into the office. “Find out where the Reverend has gone.” He stepped around the large ornate desk and saw that the computer was still on. He adjusted the monitor with his wrist, not wanting to place his fingerprints on anything in the office. On the large screen monitor was a live shot of the Vandenberg launch facilities. “Inform Washington that Reverend Rawlins is not here.”

The field agent knew that in one hour all air traffic over Los Angeles and the far west side of California was due to be shut down for security reasons for the double-double launches of the shuttles and the Ares platforms, but to his way of thinking that was far too much time.

“Damn it, contact Washington. I need the commercial and private corridors for Los Angeles shut down an hour early. No planes in or out.”

As his men started calling on radios, the man in charge of the L.A. field office watched the countdown of the Dark Star mission hit the sixty-minute mark. As the clock went to fifty-nine minutes he had a feeling in his gut that the evangelist had this particular CNN broadcast on for a reason, and he also suspected the Reverend was already in flight out of the state. The suspicion that he was in partnership with this Colonel McCabe was slowly being confirmed. He looked at his wristwatch and saw that it was two P.M. Pacific Time.

On the monitor, the view of Vandenberg Air Force Base showed the Combat Air Patrol as the group of four fighter aircraft shot over the launch pads for the final time before the launch.

“Well, at least they have the launches well covered. I don’t think anyone will mess with the Air Force on this one,” his second in command said as he safed his weapon and placed the nine-millimeter into its holster.

The lead agent looked at the man and shook his head.

“Yeah, that’s what worries me.”

“I don’t get you.”

“They had the same Combat Air Patrol over Washington last night and they still attempted to kill the president.”

The two agents were interrupted by a third who walked into the office.

“The director contacted the Pentagon. All air traffic except for military and law enforcement has been shut down from Oregon to Ensenada.”

“This goddamn thing is far too large in scope for the Reverend and this Colonel McCabe-someone is backing them, and it’s not just your regular bunch of terrorists. This has to be an organized military action.”

“Well, preliminary data on the weapons used last night say that the Stingers were definitely from the lot numbers on the manifests of the ones stolen from Raytheon. If they were backed by a government, why go to all the trouble? Why not use that government’s military equipment?”

“I don’t know, but as I said, this is too large in scope for one man, I don’t give a damn how rich he is.”

An hour later, the agent’s worries would be borne out.

In the history of space flight, the world had never seen such a sight as was on display at the spaceport at Vandenberg. Rising like the spires of ancient Egypt were four towering behemoths of the modern age. The space shuttles Endeavour and Discover y, with their liquid fuel tank and double solid rocket boosters, were waiting for their turn at the most historic event in space flight history. The two shuttles were poised to be launched into space after the Ares platforms with the crew capsule and the lunar lander. They would follow only fifteen minutes later, closely tailing the remotely controlled rides of the giant Ares. Then they would meet up at the International Space Station for the linking of the lander and the Dark Star command modules, all safely conducted from the confines of the space station.

At the second site were the Ares V and Ares I launch vehicles, both carrying the Altair Lunar Excursion Modules, designated Thor 1 and Achilles 1. The two cargo-carrying vehicles held not only the landers but also the crew command modules. The total payload minus the weight of the twenty astronauts was estimated to be the largest in space exploration history. If there was to be a failure in the missions, outside of an attack, the complicated delivery would be it. The two rockets sat gleaming in the California sun as their solid rocket motors awaited the command to lift them into space.

The reasoning for launching the Ares first was simple. If one didn’t make it, the need for one of the aging shuttles to launch would be a moot point, saving the possible failure of that system and the lives of the shuttle crew and its ten male and female passengers.

The engineering of the remote aspect of the launch of the two Ares had done its job. The rendezvous with the space station would be conducted by sophisticated remote systems from the Jet Propulsion Lab in Pasadena, where the most brilliant men and women in that area of expertise had gathered to finalize the rendezvous. The space shuttles, after they had cleared the Vandenberg towers, were then placed under the command of Hugh Evans and his mission control team in Houston. Then, after the connection and linking of the command modules and Lunar Excursion Modules Thor and Achilles, Mission Control would take the twenty men and women the rest of the way to the Moon-and hopefully back again.

Operation Dark Star was minutes away from commencing with its most important aspect-the launch of the Ares I and Ares V vehicles.

Hugh Evans was sitting at his station watching his men and women far below. These were the new youngsters of the space program, the people who would have the honor of launching into space the last shuttle missions NASA would ever orbit. He glanced at the video of the platforms as they sat majestically awaiting launch at Vandenberg. The helicopter view was stunning and he couldn’t help but get goose bumps as the view showed the giant towers of all four platforms. He closed his eyes and gave a small prayer for all involved in the most ambitious program NASA or his country had ever undertaken.

“Hugh, there seems to be a debate about the loading of the liquid hydrogen for the Atlas. The engineers from Canaveral are saying it should be done earlier so they can check for leaks.”

Hugh opened his eyes and looked over at a man he had known for years as the telemetry specialist for propulsion, a position the older man had held since the time of Apollo 11 in 1969. He had been a young man then like himself, a young buck wanting to make his mark in the engineering program at NASA. Now here they were trying to do battle with not only an aging system sitting on launch pad 3-B at the Cape but with the young engineers who didn’t like the way the older men did things. Hugh hit the communications button on his console.

“Who am I speaking to?” he asked into his headset.

“This is Jason Cummings, fueling specialist for Apollo,” the man said from Cape Canaveral.

“Jason, this is Hugh Evans. Do we have a second backup to the Ares launches besides the Apollo?”

“Uh, no sir, we don’t,” the young engineer answered, as Hugh looked over at his old friend and shook his head, wondering when people would look at the obvious before committing themselves to a course of action.

“Then if there are fuel leaks on the Apollo, could you fix them in the time frame we have before the mission would be scrubbed and the failure of Dark Star-which by the way is not an option-would have to be contemplated?”

“You know we couldn’t, sir, but for safety’s sake I suggest-”

“Listen to me very carefully. The safety standards for launches are all well and good, but this is a mission that has to come off. The president believes we have to have people up there and that means that everyone involved with Dark Star has just become expendable, are we clear on that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then we start pumping O and H into the Atlas at the appointed time, and that will be exactly thirty minutes after the Ares vehicles are airborne.” Evans started to slam his hand down on the COM switch, but then he looked over at the older engineer. He smiled. He reached out and flipped the connection off as easily as a light switch.

“Kids,” he said with a large smile. “You would think they were averse to flying by the seat of their pants or something.”

The engineer returned to his station as Hugh finally stood.

“Give me a go no go for launch of Ares I and Ares V. Ares I platform?”

“We have a go, Flight.”

They went down the list of telemetry stations until all but the shuttle’s final go no go questions had been answered. As Hugh looked at the last four command questions on the list, it was the final two that worried him far more than anything else.

“CAPCOM Dark Star 1?” he said, looking down at the console and concentrating on the last two questions on the well-thought-out list.

“CAPCOM, Dark Star 1 -Go-Flight.”

“CAPCOM Dark Star 2 -Go-Flight.”

Hugh looked around once the two grounded astronauts from the old shuttle missions called out their telemetry status and his eyes settled on the floor below, at all of the other telemetry stations and technicians that would see the missions through to the Moon. Then he asked the last question of the men who had nothing to do with the flights except for their very protection.

“ Hammer flight, are you in position and are you a go?” he asked, closing his eyes.

“This is Hammer flight one actual, we are orbiting and in position-we are a go.”

On one of the large monitors there was an aerial view of four F-22 Raptors as they orbited just above Monterey, California. They were in a position to attempt an intercept of any aircraft or missile that threatened the four flights.

“ Ticonderoga, are you mission-capable, over?” Hugh asked.

“This is USS Ticonderoga. We are at station and we are tracking, and we are a go for intercept,” came the reply from the most advanced Aegis missile cruiser in the world.

Hugh nodded his head, never in his life thinking they would need the military in such force for the launching of Americans into space. The world was a different place than it had been only a few weeks before.

“Vandenberg, they’re all yours,” Hugh said as he sat down. “Godspeed, Dark Star.”

The environmental suits had not changed much since the mid-seventies. With the exception of computer readouts, a video screen, a three-backup safety and oxygen system, and the input of a virtual reality display for mapping inside the helmet, Sarah felt like she was Buzz Aldrin.

As the twelve astronauts of the first leg of the Florida end of Dark Star prepared for their transport to pad 1-A, they all had thoughts rolling in their heads. They knew they were backups to the backups, but after what the commander of the mission had said earlier, they had all prepared as though they were the last hope of the nation in getting to the moon. The space shuttle Atlantis was waiting for its crew to board.

As Sarah was helped to her feet in the bulky suit, she looked over at her friends Jason and Will. She smiled as the helmet was placed on her head and she took what would be her last breath of earthbound air for the foreseeable future. She saw Ryan and Mendenhall do the same. As her eyes roamed over the rest of her crew, she settled for watching the always silent men of the 5th Special Forces Group that had been chosen from a larger group of volunteers for the hazardous mission. Unlike Mendenhall, Ryan, and herself, these men had the confident look of people who followed orders and yet were capable of quick thinking and fast reactions in difficult situations. Sarah knew they were just like Jack. She also knew that these men were going into a hostile environment that was just as deadly as any human foe they could ever face.

“Okay, people, give me a thumbs-up when you’re called,” said the ground supervisor and environmental specialist, “STS Atlantis Commander Johnson?”

The commander pointed his thumb in the air.

“STS pilot Walker?”

Sarah watched each man as they went down the line.

She watched the eyes of Will and Ryan as they waited their turn. Their stiffness in their suits made Sarah love them even more as it reminded her of two small boys in oversized suit and ties awaiting their turn at their first day of school.

“Mission specialist Mendenhall?”

Will raised his right thumb into the air almost too fast, but held it steady as he smiled back at Sarah.

“Lunar lander copilot and mission specialist Ryan?” the technician called, shaking his head as Ryan held up not one but both thumbs, and Sarah could have sworn she heard the muffled words, “We’re all going to die.”

“Gentlemen and lady,” the ground specialist said. “The ground crew wishes you luck and prays you have a safe journey.”

As they waited, the circle broke up. Men from the old days of the Apollo program, people who had done the preparation of astronauts in those heady days, swarmed the group of twelve and started shaking their hands and patting them on the back of their oxygen tanks. From the look in their eyes, Sarah could see that each of them would have traded places with anyone of the crew. She felt proud to have been trained by them in their environmental classes and she was happy to have known the men of the old school.

“Crew of Atlantis, crew of Dark Star 3, man the transport, please.”

As the group lined up to leave the prep building, Sarah paused a moment and looked at Will and Ryan.

“Don’t say it,” Will said. “I wish the colonel and the captain were here too. I would feel safer about having our asses lit on fire and shot off to God-knows-what fate if they were. But-”

“They aren’t here,” Sarah finished for her friend.

The three Event Group lieutenants smiled and Ryan gestured for Sarah to take the lead toward the end of the twelve-man group.

“Ladies first.”

Hugh Evans stood as the ten-second countdown for Dark Star 1 commenced. He closed his eyes for five of those seconds, thinking about Stan Nathan, the man who had been ruthlessly murdered in his own driveway just a week earlier. He opened his eyes and saw the giant Ares V. Then he looked at Ares I in the next monitor. Both platforms were brimming with the mechanics who would send Americans back to the Moon. In the distance he could see Discovery and Endeavour as they waited like NFL lineman itching to get into the game. The Dark Star mission was about to commence.

“Six, five, we have main engine start, four, three, two, one, we have solid booster start.”

Evans watched as the tremendous burst of gases erupted from the giant vent port of the launcher. Through all the trial and error of the now reliable system, Evans still cringed every time an Ares erupted into flame. As he watched he saw the tower stabilizers fall free of the 308-foot-tall Ares I, the lighter of the two systems. The main engine thrust sent a solid plume of white hot gases free of the platform as Ares I started to lift away against the forces of Earth’s gravity. Hugh clenched his fist and pounded on his console as the smaller of the two rockets started to accelerate from zero to eight hundred feet a second.

“ Dark Star 1 has cleared the tower, Houston. She’s all yours!” came the voice from the controller at Vandenberg.

Evans didn’t have to say anything to his people as the engineers started calling out their status and it began appearing across their screens. Hugh Evans calmed himself with some difficulty and then found he was scanning the blue skies around the Ares as it lifted into the sky.

“Stay away, you sons of bitches,” he mumbled, expecting at any minute a radar blip that would tell him that the launch was under attack.

Ares I kept climbing, as if daring anyone or anything to interfere with her. She rose majestically, as though propelled by the sheer faith of every man, woman, and child watching. The chase cameras watched the roll of the large Ares as she pointed her nose cone in the right direction for orbit. Then they all cringed as the first stage separated from the second.

Down below, the engineer and representative of Alliant Techsystems, the first stage manufacturer, jumped from his station and threw his fist in the air.

“Yeah!” he yelled. “Was that a perfect performance or what?”

Hugh Evans, instead of telling the man to take his seat, had to smile. How can you reprimand someone whose company had done exactly what you wanted it to do?

As the second stage engines ignited, there was a calm but solid release of tension. Hugh knew that Dark Star 1 was on the way with lander and orbiter to meet its crew at the International Space Station.

All eyes that were not involved with the telemetry of Dark Star 1 turned toward launch pad 6-A as the larger, two-booster systems of the Ares V commenced its ten-second countdown. Hugh winced as the main engines of the giant Ares burst to life, straining at the arms that held her at bay. Then the solid boosters ignited. Evans again closed his eyes as the Ares V started its climb.

“Houston, the clock is running.” Then, a moment later, “ Dark Star 2 has cleared the tower. Okay, Texas, she’s all yours!”

Again, technicians stood and urged the much larger Dark Star 2 into the sky. She rolled and then started hitting her stride. The plume of exhaust gases could be seen as far away as Los Angeles as she reached altitude, and the million sets of eyes on her watching from the city of San Francisco were glued to the amazing sight as more than a dozen of the old and young pumped their fists in an attempt to get the Ares V into its element.

Hugh and his two teams were watching the first stage fall free of the Ares V when he realized that both remote systems were free of earth’s gravity. Hugh sat and calmly informed everyone that they had work to do to get the platforms where they needed to be for rendezvous with the space station. He smiled when he realized how crowded the sky was going to be in just a few more minutes.

While Jack, Sebastian, and Pete Golding worked on the plan to get Captain Everett out of jail, Charlie Ellenshaw, the two Air Force pilots, and the nine German commandos watched the live launches from California. Charlie stepped into the 727’s communications station and nodded his head at Jack, indicating that the two Ares rockets and their payloads had achieved orbit. Collins nodded his head only slightly.

They had been on the ground for three hours. They had a close call when Ecuadorian customs officials came to check out the United States Air Force jet and its personnel, but Europa’s forged flight plan and emergency layover due to a faulty relay held up nicely, which was not to say that the empty electronics cabinet didn’t get a little cramped down in the avionics compartment for Collins, Golding, and Ellenshaw as they hid from the officials.

“Europa has successfully infiltrated the seventh precinct headquarters, home of not only the Ecuadorian chief of all security forces but also the chief prosecutor’s offices. Their computer systems are all tied together. Ecuador is lagging behind somewhat in their prison system and they still do everything by written order. Only the jail in the basement of the building has a closed-loop computer system and it’s only linked to the prosecutor’s offices above, not to the chief of their security forces. So we can order Captain Everett out of his cell and no one will be the wiser.”

“What does that give us?” Sebastian asked.

“Sir, our baby can do many things, but to physically break someone out of jail is not one of them. At some point you and the colonel are going to have to get your hands dirty. I can order the captain to be moved from the cell area to the prosecutor’s office five floors above. At some point, probably in the basement or the fifth-floor office of the prosecutor, you two will have to lie in wait and… what do you spooky guys say? Oh, yes-bag him. All of this without alerting the large security force inside the building while you’re doing so. I would suggest you do it at this point.”

Jack leaned over and saw where Pete was pointing. He turned from Europa’s blueprint of the headquarters building to face Pete Golding.

“You’ve lost it, Pete. In case you don’t know where your finger is resting, that’s the police officers’ shower and locker room. You know there would more than likely be people called cops inside?”

“I’m banking on it. Europa can order the systems controlling the plumbing in the building to shut down, leaving the officers’ locker room the only viable place for a prisoner to shower before being brought into the prosecutor’s office.” Golding saw the look Collins and Sebastian were giving him. “Look, it’s the only loophole Europa could come up with. Oh, hell, I’ll let her explain it.” Pete reached out and hit the switch that controlled the supercomputer’s voice synthesizer. “Explain your plan to the colonel and major, Europa.”

“Yes, Dr. Golding,” came the Marilyn Monroe-ish voice from the speaker. Sebastian looked at Jack and Collins rolled his eyes in return. “Two Quito police department uniforms have been secured for you at Authority Clothing, located two blocks west of the station, and may be picked up using your standard police IDs supplied by Dr. Golding. You will then proceed directly to the fifth floor of police headquarters. At that time a command will be sent from the prosecutor’s office using the auspices of the Europa system. In that order will be a request from the prosecutor to see prisoner 1962900. The order will include a physical examination for any weapons said prisoner may have secured during his brief stay in his cell. That order will include that the prisoner shower before being brought to the head prosecutor’s office. Once the prisoner is inside the shower and locker room, clandestine elements of the mission will secure the prisoner and abscond with his person through emergency exit 29-b, shown on the monitor. Probability is seventy to thirty against success.”

“What the hell?” Sebastian asked, looking from the monitor to Jack, who shrugged.

“I guess that’s the best she can do,” Jack said as he slapped Pete on the back. “You want to get us some IDs, Doc?”

“Already printed and scanned for the security system inside the building.” Pete turned and looked at Collins and then Sebastian. “It really is all she could come up with, Colonel. If not for this plan, you would have to storm the building, and with the elements of Interpol inside with over seventy on-duty officers that would be disastrous.”

“I didn’t say a word,” Jack said as he looked over at the German. “Look, why don’t you sit this one out. I can go it alone.”

Sebastian looked hurt.

“Are you kidding, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Besides, if we pull this off I want you to introduce me to this Europa woman. Deal?”

Jack had a very hard time keeping a straight face, but he managed, as did Golding.

“Deal,” was all he said.

“Colonel,” Charlie said, as he poked his head into the communications shack. “ Discovery and Endeavour are off. They will achieve orbit in just two minutes.”

Everyone could see the relief in Jack’s face as the realization that the arrest warrants for McCabe and Rawlins probably staved off another attack.

Mission Control had just been handed off Discovery and Endeavour from Vandenberg. They watched and cheered on the Endeavour, the last of the two launches, just as the solid rocket boosters separated from the large centerline external fuel tank. Endeavour climbed, going to full throttle to reach the unforgiving void of space.

Hugh Evans couldn’t remember a more glitch-free launch in his career, much less of four vehicles at almost the same time. The maniacs that put this plan into motion had his respect. The quirky little man who had come up with the outrageous scheme should be the first in line for congratulations. Even the silent boys over at DARPA, who had provided input on splicing all the experimental systems into one mission, had done a job for which they would always be remembered.

“ Endeavour, this is Houston, you have a clean RSB sep, and are clear for low orbit insertion,” CAPCOM said as the blurry, out-of-range image showed the solid rocket boosters falling free of the Endeavour and the twelve astronauts she carried. Some were in her command deck, the others in a small pod that had been loaded into her cargo hold. Evans knew that as soon as Discovery and Endeavour made their low altitude orbit, both shuttles would open their cargo doors to cool off not only the bay itself but the pod carrying the four astronauts that couldn’t fit into the current design of the flight module. For the first time men had been sent aloft in the cargo hold of a space shuttle and the environment capsule had performed magnificently. This design idea had come straight from the drafting boards of DARPA and had worked to perfection.

Jet Propulsion Lab in Pasadena was reporting that the remote systems onboard Dark Star 1 and Dark Star 2 were functioning at nominal levels. They were now prepared for the command modules to separate from the holds containing the two Altair landers for eventual hookups to both capsules. Then they would remotely rendezvous with the International Space Station for crew pickup. That was when the Moon mission would truly begin.

The small airfield had been constructed in three days with the aid of Iranian engineers. With all evidence of the landing strip designed to disappear in a matter of hours, the plan was to launch the aircraft and then vanish into the mountainous terrain surrounding the small village.

The pilot, an old-time Iranian who had received his training decades before under the regime of the Shah, was ready for a mission that would finally prove his worthiness to the Ayatollah Rahabi and the fanatical president of that country. This would make him a martyr of the state and allow his family the privileges they had for so long been denied since the pilot had fallen from grace when the Shah abdicated so many years before. As he watched the American on the small monitor, he felt shame at what he had to do for the sake of his family. As the ground crew was given the go order, he lowered his head and said a prayer for forgiveness for the evil deed he was about to perpetrate in the name of God and country-even for the sake of his family, the deed may still prove to be too much for his soul.

He nodded his head and the cockpit of the Tomcat-an aircraft left over from the days of the Shah, started to close.

As the F-14 began its rollout from the makeshift cloth hangar, the full Moon struck him as a brilliant reminder of the old days of flying patrol under the Shah. The pilot could feel the weight of the two weapons as they hung from the innermost hard-line points just off the hydraulically controlled wings. The rest of the F-14 had been stripped of anything that would hinder his flight into Kazakhstan. Even the oxygen system had been cut down by 90 percent, and there was no defensive weaponry in the venerable old naval aircraft-even the twenty-millimeter cannon had been removed. In fact, the weight of the two ASATs was double the normal flight load of the Tomcat and there was still some doubt as to whether the aircraft could even gain the altitude needed for launch. The new seeker heads installed by the Iranian military would detect the low-orbiting targets, but it still remained to be seen if the Tomcat could get to the launch point at 65,000 feet. The Tomcat was not designed for the ASM-135 ASAT. It was always launched from the F-15 Eagle and the change had been designed by the best Iranian aerospace people they had.

The Tomcat reached the apron of the hard, earthen-packed runway and was waiting for the go from the radar station thirty-five miles away. The station was monitoring the path of the American shuttles Endeavour and Discovery as they readied to cross over Russian territory on their way to the rendezvous with the International Space Station.

The secret partner of the ayatollah had been working diligently on the plan for the past ten years and the Reverend had come through by supplying the necessary equipment to the one man who could help bring not only America to its knees but the rest of the world’s powers as well. It wasn’t this man who was in partnership with Iran; it was his apprentice. After the assault on the shuttles, when no one would be capable of getting the mineral or technology from the surface of the Moon, Iran would take control of the one source left in the universe: the mines in Ecuador.

The Tomcat received the vectoring, precise coordinates, and altitude for the launch of the American-built ASATs, then the pilot was given clearance for takeoff. The most complicated interception in history was about to be attempted and, with luck, God’s wrath against the Americans would be complete.

The Tomcat’s aging GE turbofans lit off at full afterburner as the old airframe tore down the dirt strip. The lumbering fighter held firmly to the ground as the weight of the two ASATs clung to her underbelly. Finally, when it looked as though the pilot would slam Iran’s hopes and dreams into the side of the mountain pass, the ground crew watched the tires lift free of the Earth.

The F-14 flew low over the Caspian Sea. As the pilot executed a northerly turn, the red light on his nav-board flashed bright red. The signal was given for the intercept of Discovery first and then Endeavour.

The pilot said a silent prayer and pushed the throttle to full afterburner, pulling the stick straight back into his stomach. The old fighter fought gravity with all his strength as the Tomcat scratched its way into the dark skies over Kazakhstan.

Normally, the missiles could have been launched at 37,000 feet for any low orbit target such as a communications satellite, but since the shuttles were flying at a higher orbit, they would have to be launched at an incredible 65,000 feet.

The pilot was feeling the effects of the g-forces as the jet fought for its target altitude. The airframe, after so many years of neglect, started shaking and the pilot knew then that it was going to be sorely taxed. As he fought through the 42,000-foot mark, his threat detector announced that he would soon have company. Four MiG 31s were in high-speed pursuit of the venerable Tomcat.

The pilot watched his altimeter roll through its paces. A green warning light flashed as he passed through the 60,000-foot range. He calmly moved his thumb over the selector switch just as the electronic tone in his headphones started making a warbling sound, indicating that his fighter was being painted by enemy radar. Then the tone changed as the MiGs gained weapons lock on the Tomcat. A second later they launched their air-to-air missiles.

The Iranian pilot knew the Russian attack would come too late to stop the launch. He switched the selector over to missiles and the tracking radar in the Tomcat’s nose sprang to life with targeting data relayed from the Iranian ground stations. The ayatollah’s scientists had successfully intercepted NASA’s downrange telemetry signal, which emanated from their radar stations in Kuwait. This gave the seeker heads in the ASATs a perfect vector for the attack. As the pilot watched the relayed information from the ground station, he saw the first blip of the American target aircraft, the Discovery. As he reached altitude, the first ASM-135 ASAT was launched automatically. The loss of weight made the F-14 slide to one side as the ASAT left the rail along the right side of the fuselage. Then, a second later, the second ASM-135 ASAT left its rail, its engine flaring to life as the first stage lit off, nearly blinding the Iranian pilot.

As the two ASATs sped on their way, the F-14 turned to meet the oncoming threat of the Russian MiGs and the six missiles heading toward him. Instead of zigzagging to make his fighter hard to detect on the seeker heads of the missiles, the pilot closed his eyes and flew straight on, the g-forces of the dive shaking the overtaxed airframe of the old Grumman. He felt as well as heard a loud snap as one of the streamlined wings lost a restraining bolt along the right fuselage. The pilot smiled as he realized the jet was starting to come apart. The dive was so steep and he was traveling so fast that the g-forces were tearing the aluminum away from the structure. The forces were giving the old pilot tunnel vision as his brain was denied life-giving blood.

The pilot didn’t think about his martyrdom. He thought of the family that would now have everything they needed to survive in today’s Iran, a land he no longer knew. Then, at that precise moment, the first of six air-to-air missiles detonated in the falling Tomcat’s path, sending shrapnel out to meet the disintegrating jet.

A few moments later, the only things left in the sky were orbiting Russian fighters and the falling remains of the F-14.

Discovery was leading the way, followed three hundred miles behind by Endeavour. The two shuttles had just opened their cargo doors to cool the interior bay from the massive heat buildup caused by the launch. The crew was starting to settle into the routine of space flight. The mission commander was in the process of explaining to the military personnel how they would proceed once they met up with the International Space Station. He was assuring them that all they needed do was check their small amount of weaponry and stand by for the ride of their lives.

“ Discovery, Houston, stand by for an emergency OHM burn. Get your people strapped in for evasive maneuvers.”

The shuttle pilot didn’t stop to ask why. He practically flew to the pilot’s side of the spacecraft and prepared to fire his maneuvering jets. He just needed to know which ones and where he would be going.

“ Discovery, this is Houston. You have an attack heading your way. We believe it to be an ASAT of unknown origin. We are now waiting for the exact targeting data before we move you out of the way. Do you copy, Discovery?”

“Everyone strap in, get the cargo doors closed, and prepare for maneuvering.”

Hugh Evans stood and shouted, knowing at the same moment that no matter what they did, the shuttles would be successfully targeted.

“Get them out of the way!”

With the technicians watching the merging of two ASATs and the two shuttles, they all felt helpless as the ASATs’ first stages separated.

“Flight, we have a direct feed of long-range enhanced photog from the ISS.”

“Put it on!” Evans said loudly.

As the main view screen on the control room floor switched views, everyone immediately picked out the Discovery as she flew in what looked like an upside-down attitude over the blue world below. They also saw the streaking second stage of the first ASM-135 ASAT as it merged with the shuttle. They watched in horror as the warhead struck the cabin between the crew area and the cargo bay. The impact sheared the cabin free of the rest of the shuttle and then they watched as the cabin came apart, sending pieces of composite material and humanity out into space. The harshness of the hit sent electrical currents through to the OHM’s maneuvering jets and fuel line. They all erupted at the same moment. The silence of the detonation took every man and woman by surprise, the shock of what they were seeing quickly becoming overwhelming. The explosion became a burst of silent energy as it expanded outward.

“ISS, this is Houston Flight. Give us the track of Endeavour! ” he said more loudly than he intended.

As the camera shifted to the International Space Station, they saw the second explosion enveloping Endeavour. This time the ASAT struck the aft OHM’s jets and the fuel tanks housed there. The crew cabin and the newly designed pod for the cargo bay were gone. The wings of Endeavour were separated from the shuttle’s main body and were floating free of the debris field.

Hugh Evans sat hard into his chair. He had just witnessed the death of two space shuttles and their crews. The twenty men and women of Dark Star were gone in a flash of energy that would haunt everyone who witnessed the tragedy for the remainder of their lives.

Many technicians were still doing their jobs as they tried to trace the attack from its origins. Evans knew he had to get things as far back on track as he could.

“CAPCOM, do we have anything?”

The astronaut manning the crew communications systems tried to raise anyone from the two shuttles. He knew it was official procedure, but he had a hard time swallowing as he tried to get the words out.

“ Discovery, Endeavour, this is Houston. Do you copy, over,” he said as he kept his head low. “ Discovery, Endeavour, this is Houston. Do you copy, over. Any Dark Star element, do you copy?”

Hugh Evans turned away and looked at the monitor on the far left. The giant Atlas stood poised on the pad as fuel started to flow into her tanks. Evans knew he had to make the call that could possibly send more men and women to their deaths.

“Ground, get the Cape on the horn and advise Kennedy to start the prelaunch countdown for Dark Star 3. We are now a go!”

Major Krell and Collins had secured the uniforms with the forged documents, even managing to send the bill to the president of Ecuador.

Sebastian had learned one thing about black operations from Collins-make a plan, and then stick to it until that plan ceases to be effective. He wasn’t surprised when Jack lowered the blue saucer cap as low onto his brow as he could and stepped right into the arms of the largest police force on the Pacific coast of South America. What was amazing to Major Krell was that Jack never hesitated a moment. Sebastian had no choice but to admire the man and follow him in.

The station was crowded and that was to their advantage. The entrance was full of policemen going on duty, and those coming off. The two officers wore an insignia on their collars that announced they were from the second police barracks south of the city, so their being unfamiliar to most should cause little trouble-they hoped.

Jack immediately spied the stairs. The two men had to assume that Europa’s falsified orders from the prosecutor’s office had gone through as planned. If not, they would be caught waiting just outside a room where several dozen off-duty officers would soon be naked, taking their after-shift showers. That might be a little hard to explain.

As Collins gained the fifth-floor landing he paused at the door. He could hear the sound of men talking, laughing, and fooling around. He looked back at the German major and grimaced as he grabbed the door handle. He opened the door. He and Krell stepped into the hallway just opposite the shower room.

The double doors were propped wide open and Jack could see the entire row of lockers and behind them the showers. He nodded to signal to Sebastian that he should take the right side of the door while Jack took the left. As they moved into place a group of policemen came from what looked like a briefing room down the hall behind the German. They stopped in their tracks and all five seemed to be staring right at Collins and Krell. Jack tried to avoid eye contact with the men as they all continued to stare.

“Asesinos estadounidenses,” one of the men said pointing.

Sebastian turned and was about to say something to the men when Jack reached out and took his arm. He turned him to face behind where Jack was standing. He had recognized the words the man had spoken-Murdering Americans.

The footsteps behind them made them both turn and that was when they saw Captain Carl Everett escorted by two men. He was handcuffed and, to the captain’s credit, he didn’t bat an eye when he saw Jack and Krell in the strange uniforms. He stepped past both Jack and Sebastian as he was led into the showers. The five policemen stopped talking and went on their way, even going as far as to nod their greeting to the American and the German.

“Pestilente gringo,” Jack said and they all laughed as they hit the stairwell.

As Everett was unceremoniously shoved into the locker area, he called back with a semi-loud voice, knowing that Jack and Sebastian were the only ones who would understand what he said.

“I heard that,” he said using a melodious tone to the words.

“What did you say?” Sebastian asked, wondering why Jack would take a chance at saying anything at all.

“I called him a stinking white man.”

“Oh,” Krell said, not understanding the colonel’s humor in the least.

Collins turned when he saw Everett being told to get out of his yellow jumpsuit. The steam from the showers wasn’t what Collins would have preferred, but it would have to do. He stepped inside the locker room. The unsuspecting guards had their attention on Everett as he soaped down. Jack was almost hesitant, but knew he could afford to give these two guards a chance. He tapped the first guard on the shoulder just as he pulled the man’s holstered Smith amp; Wesson Police Special. Sebastian, knowing the drill, was quick to follow.

“Lo siento, pero este hombre se va,” Jack said, as he gestured for the two guards to follow him into the break room across the way. Sebastian took his cue and escorted the men, while Collins opened several lockers until he found what he was looking for, an extra-large police uniform that would fit Carl.

Sebastian came back a moment later and Jack eyed him. “What did you do with our friends?” he asked, worrying that Krell was too calm.

“They’re locked up in the pantry.” Sebastian looked into the shower and then back at Collins. “I have to learn Spanish. What did you say that time when you took the guards?”

“I said that I’m sorry, but this man is leaving.”

Again Sebastian was impressed by the simple way Collins had of handling an awkward situation.

Jack winked and then walked into the shower room.

“Hey, swabby, it’s time to trip the light fantastic.”

Everett turned and caught the clothes Jack tossed him.

“How long were you standing there watching me shower before you said something?” Everett asked as he quickly dried himself.

“Long enough to know I’ll be happy with Sarah for a very long time,” Collins answered.

“Liar, you know you liked what you saw.”

Europa’s escape plan fell apart the moment they hit the stairwell leading to the first-floor exit they had planned to use. Not knowing where all of the police officers were inside the station had been Europa’s major difficulty in devising the planned escape. As it turned out, it was the fraternization of a male Quito police officer and his female partner that sent the plan spiraling in a direction they hadn’t counted on.

As they went down the third-floor stairwell, the couple was hidden away under the staircase. Jack saw them just as they passed. Everett was recognized immediately and while Sebastian reacted quickly by grabbing the male officer, the uniformed woman slipped past and was through the third-floor doorway before anyone could stop her.

“Damn!” Sebastian said as he held the frightened officer in his powerful grip. “ ”I think this is bad, Jack.” He looked at the smaller police officer as if he were contemplating the man’s fate.

“Well, let him go. We can’t kill him for liking his partner too much,” Collins said and removed the Smith amp; Wesson revolver and pointed it at the officer. “Vamanos,” Jack said as he waved the gun at the policeman, who took the hint and shook free of the much larger Sebastian before he ran for the door.

Collins didn’t hesitate as he turned and continued down the stairs with Sebastian and Everett close behind. They hadn’t made it to the first floor when the warning bells started inside the building, and just as the three men reached the door Collins heard the loud “clack” as the doors locked automatically. Jack came skidding to a stop.

“Jack, I really don’t want to finish that shower.”

“Can’t blame you. Sebastian, I hope you brought that little item with you.”

The German was already pulling out the quarter-pound charge of C-4. He tore off a small bundle and wadded the claylike material into a ball. Then he slapped it against the door and the lock, just to the right of the push bar. He pulled his own revolver and gestured for Jack and Carl to take cover under the stairs.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said, as he placed his large frame half in and half out of the stairwell. He aimed and then pulled the trigger. The bullet struck the C-4, which detonated, producing a loud bang that almost deafened them. The door flew off its considerable hinges and Sebastian was the first one through, followed by the two Americans.

“Think you used enough there?” Jack said, running past Sebastian and into the long alley to the rear of the station.

“I thought it was adequate,” Krell said. Everett gave the German a stern look.

The three men ran down the alley, shedding police jackets as they went. They heard the sirens and the pounding of feet behind them as the alley started to fill with policemen. Bullets began flying, echoing off the brick walls.

They reached the end of the alley and had the choice to go right or left. Jack chose right, as it would lead them north, where traffic in the city was heavier. He figured if they failed to escape it would be harder for the police to shoot them in the midst of a crowd. But he realized that he had been wrong before when judging police reactions.

As they made the turn onto the main street, one round narrowly missed Everett as he skidded around the corner. Just as he made the turn behind the German, he glanced to his left and saw that the street on that end was full of screeching police vehicles.

“We’ve had it, Jack,” he called out loudly from the end of the three-man line.

As they neared the street, Jack’s hopes of escape faded. An Audi patrol car skidded to a halt, blocking their path. As Collins stopped, wanting to turn and see if there was something he’d missed, the rear window of the police cruiser lowered and a skinny arm started waving them forward. All three men were caught off guard, as this was not the reception they had expected. Jack reacted first by running in that direction, soon followed by Everett and then Sebastian. As Collins neared the car, the rear door was thrown open and he jumped into the lap of someone who grunted as his weight collided with him. Everett soon followed and Sebastian after that. The patrol car burned rubber just as the side window shattered from a bullet. Then they heard several loud clunking noises as the trunk was struck.

“Jesus, those guys are serious,” Everett said as he tried to push Sebastian off him.

“Jack, if you don’t mind, your head is about to break one of my ribs, and I only have so many of them,” announced a familiar voice.

Collins looked up and could not believe what he was seeing. Scrunched up against the door of the car was none other than Senator Garrison Lee. As his eyes widened he sat up quickly and looked up front at the driver. She was small and could barely see over the steering wheel. The woman turned sharply onto the broad avenue.

“Where to, Jack?” Alice Hamilton asked, as she fought to control the car. They skidded around the corner.

“What are you two doing here?” Jack asked. He slid in between the open Plexiglas enclosure and into the front passenger seat. He just stared at Alice, unable to form any more words.

“Well, I can pull over and give you the long version of what that old man back there is thinking, or I can give you the short version on our way to wherever we need to be. Which will it be?” she asked as she threw the car around another corner.

“The short version on the way out of the city-that way,” Jack said, pointing to a side street.

Jack momentarily allowed the tension in his body to ease. He turned and looked at Lee. He could see that the senator was in a lot of pain as he popped two small tablets into his mouth. Then the old man looked at Jack with his one good eye.

“Don’t look at me like that, Colonel. I’m not dead yet.”

“No? The last time I saw you, you were well on your way. Now what in the hell are you doing here?”

Lee seemed to relax as he leaned forward and looked at Sebastian, who was busy looking out the window as police sirens wailed from every direction.

“Who is this?” Lee asked, getting the German’s attention.

“I am Major Sebastian Krell, here under orders of my chancellor.”

“Senator Lee, this is the man responsible for getting me out of Germany. He’s German Special Forces,” Jack explained.

They were all tossed to the left as Alice threw the car around another corner to avoid a passing police car.

“Damn, woman, I’d like to spend the time I have left getting to that godforsaken mine and finding out what this is all about,” Lee said, grimacing in pain.

“Shut up, old man. I’m not talking to you at the moment.”

Sebastian threw Jack a look and pursed his lips as if he was going to whistle. He turned away, knowing that the old woman in the front seat was truly angry and probably wouldn’t understand his surprised demeanor.

“Don’t mind her. She’s in a little bit of a snit because she thought I was just going to go out like an old fool, lying in bed so she can have final control over me after all these years.”

“I told you to be quiet,” Alice said as she turned onto a road with houses lining both sides.

“I can see this is going to be a fun ride,” Everett said, turning to face the front windshield.

“I don’t really care to hear anything from you or Jack either.”

Alice floored the police cruiser and the car shot off.