Revolution

The Russian fired his air-to-ground missiles—much too far from the pipeline to strike it—then turned hard to the right, trying to pull one of the Romanians by him so he could open fire. The maneuver worked, to an extent— S¸oim Unu started to turn, then realized the trap and broke contact. Before the Russian could take advantage, however, S¸oim Doi closed in for the kill. The canopy exploded and the Russian shot upward; by the time his parachute blossomed, his aircraft had crashed to the ground.

400

DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND

Presidential villa,

near Stulpicani, Romania

0101

GENERAL LOCUSTA FOLDED THE MAP OVER THE HOOD OF

the car. He was losing time; he wanted to be in Bucharest by first light. This needed to be wrapped up. Now.

“What’s this building?” he asked, pointing to a small square on the map.

Major Ozera shook his head. “Abandoned. It’s small.

One of our teams is near there now. The president is not there.”

“He has to be on the mountain somewhere.”

Locusta looked back at the map. He could send swarms of men onto the hill to find Voda, but he doubted they would kill the president.

He would have Voda brought to him, take him into the ruins, then have him killed.

Along with his family, who must be with him.

And the soldiers who found them? He’d have to kill them too.

Was it worth risking complications?

Not yet.

Ozera and his men would have to do a better job.

The general’s attention was distracted by the sound of a helicopter flying nearby.

“I told you I didn’t want the helicopters involved,” Locusta told the major. “Their pilots can’t be trusted.”

“It’s not ours. The sound is different. Louder. Listen.”

Locusta listened more carefully, then pulled out his satellite phone.

“Get me the Dreamland people. General Samson. Immediately.”

REVOLUTION

401

Aboard Dreamland Osprey,

near Stulpicani, Romania

0105

“WE’RE ABOUT FIVE MINUTES AWAY FROM THE TOP OF THE

hill,” the Osprey pilot told Da

Da

“We can search with the infrared cameras,” the pilot told Da

“You sure, with all those trees?” asked Da

“There’s no guarantee. But if they move around—if they want us to see them, we should be able to. I’d say the odds are probably sixty-forty we find them, maybe even higher.”

Da

“We’ll give him another five minutes,” he told the pilot.

“Let’s see what happens.”

Presidential villa,

near Stulpicani, Romania

0107

TO VODA, IT SOUNDED AS IF THE DOGS AND TROOPS WERE

less than ten feet away.

A wind had whipped up, and it blew through the trees like a torrent of water streaking over a high falls. The cold had turned his wife’s nose beet red; Julian’s hands felt like stones in his. Their fear had stopped providing them with energy.

They were at the edge of despair, ready to give up.

402

DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND

Mircea started to rise. Voda practically leaped over Julian to grab her. She opened her mouth; Voda clamped his hand over it.

“Sssshhhh,” he whispered in her ear.

She gave him a look that he had never seen directed at him before, a stare that in his experience she’d used only twice during their relationship. Both times, it was directed toward members of the old regime, men who were her sworn enemy.

“We’ll get through it,” whispered Voda.

She didn’t answer.

The men were louder, closer. Or maybe just the wind was stronger, pushing their voices toward them.

The dogs began to bark wildly. Voda reached for Julian with his other hand, pulling him close. He thought of the pistol—should he take their lives to spare them whatever torture Locusta had in mind?

Killing himself would mean dying a coward’s death. But it would be an act of mercy to spare his son and wife humiliation and suffering.

Julian shivered against his side.

There was no way he could kill his son; simply no way. Not even for the best reasons.

The barking intensified. The dogs were getting closer.

But they were going in the wrong direction! Confused by the shifting wind, they were doubling back over the trail.

Voda barely trusted the senses that told him this. He waited, holding his breath. Finally, his wife shook her head free of his hand.

“You have to call the Americans,” she said. “You have to, so they can find us.”

“Yes,” said Voda. “Come on, we’ll cross over to the other side of the hill while they’re going in the other direction. We have to be quiet.”

He picked up Julian. The boy seemed even heavier than he had earlier.

REVOLUTION

403

“Are you going to call?” Mircea asked.

“I will.”

“I hear a helicopter.”

Voda froze. “Hide!” he said. “Get as low to the ground as you can.”

Aboard B-1B/L Boomer,

over northeastern Romania

0108

GENERAL SAMSON HIT HIS TALK BUTTON.

“Samson.”

“This is General Locusta. You have helicopters in my area.”

“I don’t have helicopters.”

“Don’t lie. I can hear them.”

“We have an Osprey standing by in the area where we are operating,” said Samson, hedging, of course. “It is a search and rescue craft, ready in case one of our planes—or yours—is shot down by the Russians.”

“We believe the criminals have taken prisoners, perhaps the president’s son and wife,” said Locusta. “They may kill them if they get desperate. Tell your helicopter to back off.”

“I can release my aircraft to assist you,” said Samson.

“We do not require your assistance.”

“In that case, I want it on station for an emergency.”

“If your aircraft persists, I’ll shoot it down myself,” said Locusta.

Presidential villa,

near Stulpicani, Romania

0110

THE CLOUDS HAD CLEARED, ALLOWING THE MOON TO SHINE

brightly. Voda saw more of the woods around them, but this 404

DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND

wasn’t a good thing—it meant the men searching for them would have an easier time as well.

He and his wife and son cleared the crest of the hill and started down. There was a bald spot a few yards from the top. As Voda reached it, his footing slipped. Julian fell from his grasp and both father and son tumbled down against the rocks, rolling about five yards before coming to a stop.

Voda’s knee felt as if it had been broken. The pain seized his entire leg, constricted his throat. He felt as if he couldn’t breathe, as if his head had been buried in the dirt.

Julian began to whimper. Voda forced himself over to the boy, pulled his arms around him.

“Alin?” hissed his wife.

“Sssssh. We’re here. I’ll call now.”

Voda pulled out the phone. His hands were trembling.

What if it had broken in the fall? He should have called earlier, no matter the risk.

He pressed the Power button, waiting for it come to life.

If it didn’t work, they’d go down the hill, they’d find a way past the soldiers, they’d walk, they’d crawl all the way back to Bucharest if they had to. They would do whatever they had to do, just to survive.

The phone lit.

Voda tapped the number the ambassador had given him. It was an international number—but it didn’t seem to work.

Voda realized he had not remembered it correctly.