Retribution

“You really think you could move?” he asked her.

“I can move, Jeff. It hurts, but I can move. I don’t know if I can stand, though.”

“You’re a gimp like me, huh?”

“You’re not a gimp.”

“I have an idea. Maybe we can meet the Abner Read.”

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359

“I don’t think I can swim.”

“That wasn’t what I had in mind.”

Aboard the Abner Read,

Indian Ocean

0735

“THE RANA FIGURED IT OUT,” SAID EYES. “THEY’RE BACK ON

their original course.”

“How long before they’re in range of the Harpoon?”

“Ten minutes, tops.”

“All right. Stand by.”

“Storm—there is the possibility that they’ll shell the atoll if we open fire,” said Eyes. “There’s not much shelter there.”

“Noted.”

Eyes was right, of course, but what other options did he have? He certainly wasn’t going to let the Indian pick up his people right under his nose.

A full volley of Harpoons would sink the bastard before he had a chance to react.

No, they’d have a launch warning. It would take the Harpoons roughly three minutes to get there; by then the atoll would be obliterated.

“Storm, listen in to the emergency cha

Storm looked down at his belt to get the proper combination of buttons that would allow his com unit to listen in. The broadcast came in, weak and breaking up.

“Hey, Werewolf. We’re looking for some navigational guidance,” said a tired voice. “Wag your tail if you understand what I’m talking about.”

“Eyes, have the Werewolf pilot zoom his video on the beach,” said Storm.

“I think he’s getting into a canoe,” said Eyes.

“I’m going to automated beacon,” said Zen. “So you can home in on me.”

360

DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND

Clever, thought Storm.

“Have the Werewolf lead them south,” he told Eyes. “Get the Harpoons ready—he’s leaving the radio on so the destroyer thinks he’s still on the island. Move, let’s go people!”

shouted Storm. “Let’s show these Air Force people what we’re made of.”

An atoll off the Indian coast

0745

“NOW THEY’RE GETTING IT,” SAID ZEN AS THE WEREWOLF

ducked to the left. “Come on, Bart Simpson. Help me paddle.”

Zen pushed the boy’s small canoe through the shallow water, avoiding the rocks. Brea

“Yeah, come on, guys,” said Zen as the current pushed up against the boat. “We have to go south. Stroke! Come on, Bart Simpson, follow that helicopter.”

BREANNA COULDN’T SEE MUCH FROM WHERE SHE WAS, BUT

she could hear the helicopter. She had no more strength to paddle, and let her arm drag in the water.

Everything hurt so badly. She closed her eyes and remembered the night she’d seen Zen after the accident, the longest night of her life. She’d become a different person that night, though of course at the moment she hadn’t understood.

Who had she become? Someone wiser, more patient.

Not wiser, but definitely more patient.

She’d laughed a lot less since then. Much, much less.

That was a mistake. That was something she had to correct. She should be happy. They had so much.

“OK, baby, time to go.”

Disoriented, Brea

361

Werewolf was hovering somewhere behind her, and the black shadow of the Abner Read loomed about a half mile off.

“What?” Brea

“We’re with the USS Abner Read, ma’am,” said one of the sailors. “You just relax now and enjoy the ride. We all are goin’ to take you home.”

Aboard the USS Poughkeepsie,

Arabian Ocean

0800

WITH THE LAST OF THE NUCLEAR WARHEADS STOWED

aboard the ship, Da

“Bastian.”

“Colonel, it’s Da

“Yes, Da

A small legend in the view screen indicated that no video was available. Da

Somehow that made it harder. Da

“Je

“But she’s OK,” said Dog.

“Yeah. She might have a concussion. Bullet splinter hit her helmet, knocked her out. That and the shock scrambled her head a bit. But she’s OK.”

362

DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND

“What about the mission?”

That was Dog, thought Da

Even if he had to be breaking inside. First Bree, now Je

“We’ve brought the warheads back to the Poughkeepsie,”

Da

“I understand.”

“The prisoner we took insists they didn’t recover the warhead before we got there. Maybe the Pakistanis were there yesterday or the day before.”

“It’s possible. Dreamland Command is already working on some theories with the CIA,” said Dog. “It’s all right. You did a hell of a job. A hell of a job. Where’s Sergeant Liu and the others?”

“They’re getting some rest.”

“We have to arrange for them to go back to Dreamland,”

Dog told him. “General Samson wants to talk to them personally, before anyone else.”

“Samson?”

Dog explained that Samson had taken over as the new commander of Dreamland.

“Admiral Woods directed that they be taken over to the Lincoln.”

“Samson wants them himself.”

“It was an accident, Colonel.”

“I know that. Samson does too.”

“OK.”

Neither man spoke for a moment.

“We’ve found Zen and Brea

“You found them!” Da

Colonel Bastian’s voice remained drained as he told Da

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363

“Jesus, that’s great, Colonel. That is damn great. Damn great.”

“It is,” said Dog.

For a moment Da

“All right,” said Dog, preparing to sign off.

“Colonel, there’s something else,” said Da

He told the colonel about seeing the airplane wreckage as the Osprey headed out to sea. The plane, he said, had almost certainly been a civilian aircraft.

“The Osprey pilot had the Lincoln call in a location with the Indian authorities. It was a pretty severe crash; I doubt there were any survivors.”

“I see.”

“The Navy people are investigating. It’s possible one of the Tomcats fired at it, but they think the Indians accidentally shot it down.”

He gave Dog the approximate location.

“Things were pretty heavy up there,” Da

“Thanks for the information,” said Dog. “We’ll make arrangements to get you to Diego Garcia as soon as possible.