Whiplash

He fell forward under her weight. His grenade sailed across the pressed dirt apron area, bouncing off the small hand truck of equipment and rebounding directly against the base of the rocket.

Where it exploded, igniting the fuel in the long hose nearby.

BANI ABERHADJI HEARD THE SOUND OF AN EAGLE PASSING nearby, its spread wings pushing the air away in a rush. He hadn’t heard that sound since he was a boy, hunting in the mountains with his father. Those had been glorious days, days he hadn’t treasured until his father died, stolen from him by the Shah in one of his sweeps against dissidents.

There were no eagles here. The sound was the noise a weapon made, a shell or a grenade or a rocket, passing nearby.

Bani Aberhadji looked up. As he did, everything around him turned red and hot.

It was an eagle, he thought. And then he thought no more.

HERA EMPTIED HER RIFLE, FIRING BLINDLY INTO THE FIREBALL and the billowing black smoke. Flames surrounded the missile, leaping up its sides.

“The tank underground,” she said.

Da

“No, across the field,” she said. “The tank will be under the shed.”

They started to run. Thick smoke choked Da

“Run!” yelled Hera.

The ground rumbled, then ripped apart, throwing them forward. Da

He lay on the ground for an eternity. His lungs no longer worked. His diaphragm, his stomach muscles—everything felt paralyzed. Even his heart seemed to have stopped beating.

But they weren’t going to launch that missile. He’d done it.

Five minutes passed. Another eternity.

Hera lay on her side. Her knee had banged so hard against the ground it felt numb.

“Da

“I’m here.”

“I screwed up my knee, I think.”

Slowly, Da

“You all right?” he asked, recognizing her fear.

“Yeah, I’m okay. It just got whacked.”

“Let me see.”

“No, I’m okay,” she insisted. She took a few steps. Hobbling, then gradually willing the pain away. “Just twisted it.”

Da

The shock wave from the last explosion had blown most of the fire out. The missile had toppled, breaking into three different parts. The warhead was black and bent, but still intact.

Eight bodies lay scattered around it, all burned so badly it was difficult to tell that they were human. Two other men were lying at the edge of the runway about thirty yards away. One was severely burned, dying even as Da

Hera cut his shirt off and used it to tie his hands and feet. Da

They could move it. It wasn’t very big, two hundred pounds at most.

Less, maybe. Easy to move.

Too easy, Da

He and Hera were almost out of ammunition. If the Iranians got here before Delta and the task force did, the nuke would be theirs practically for the taking.

79

North of Tehran

SOME SIXTY MILES TO THE SOUTHWEST, NURI AND FLASH had gassed up the car and were heading for the sea, traveling as fast as Nuri dared. They were a bit over three hours from the resort town where Da

Tarid lay passed out in the back. Flash had stopped the bleeding and cleaned the wound in his leg. He’d lost a good amount of blood, but the injury didn’t look life-threatening. Flash had given him three hits of morphine from their first aid kit, enough to keep him slumbering for at least a few hours.

They hadn’t bothered to tie his hands. Nuri figured it was worth the risk; it would be hard to explain if they were stopped.

Tarid’s Guard ID was in Nuri’s pocket. It would be useful, if they were stopped.

Not that he intended to stop.

Flash reached over to the radio and turned it on. Europop music blared from the speaker. Flash jiggled the volume down, then began sca

Nuri slammed his hand to stop it, but it moved on.

“Get that back,” he told Flash.

Flash hit the button. The radio went forward, but the same program was playing on several stations at once.

“What’s he saying?” asked Flash.

“The president is a

“Not good.”

“Not for us, no.”

The Voice told Nuri that Da

“Da

There was no response.

“We’re going to the rendezvous point. We’ll meet you there,” he said. “You hearing me?”

Still no answer.

“Problem?” asked Flash.

“I don’t know. He may just be too busy to open the communications cha

“Think they need help?”

Nuri glanced back at Tarid. His lips were moving but he made no sound.

“We’re not in much of a position to help them if they do,” Nuri told Flash. “Hopefully they don’t.”

80

Northern Iran

DANNY DIDN’T REALIZE THE WIRES TO THE MY-PID CONTROL unit had been severed until he tried to use it to contact Brea

He had to use Hera’s satellite phone to tell Brea

“The warhead is still intact,” he told her. “Should be easy to move—the assembly is scorched, but in one piece. I tore off some of the circuitry, just in case.”

“I just spoke to Nuri,” Brea

“Yeah, copy that.”

“Do you want him to meet you?”

“He’s probably better off getting out as soon as he can,” said Da

“Da

“I’m fine, Bree. See you in a few hours.”

He ended the transmission.

MEANWHILE, HERA HAD GONE BACK TO BRING THE CAR TO the field. At first she walked slowly, flexing her knee. Then, feeling cold, she started to trot and finally to run. Her knee was a little shaky, but okay. The exercise calmed her body, the slow trickle of sweat a balm for the tension that had seized her.

The confrontation at the missile had happened incredibly fast. It belonged to the moment between the flashes of a very fast camera, lost in a sequence that began with her firing the gun and ended with her looking up into Da