Age of Shiva (The Pantheon Series) Read Online Free PDF Page A

there’s been a launch. Couple of PAF Mirages have been scrambled and are heading on a course to intercept. We’re altering our approach vector but there’s not a lot we can do to avoid them, to be honest, if it’s us they’re after. I’ll keep you updated.”
    “Shit,” I said. “What does that mean? Mirages as in fighter jets?”
    “I wouldn’t worry about it,” Aanandi said. “This has happened before. The Pakistan Air Force likes to keep tabs on us. They’re exceptionally inquisitive. They know the Garuda isn’t some commercial flight, and its suborbital trajectory puzzles them and concerns them. They’re paranoid about anything that comes near their borders and isn’t following a standard flight path through established air corridors.”
    “But they won’t shoot at us or anything, surely.”
    “Hard to predict. Try not to think about it.”
    “Too damn late.”
    “We’ll be fine. It isn’t the first time.” She patted my hand. I would have been reassured, had her palm not been hot and slightly moist. Aanandi herself was not as calm as she wished me to be.
    The next few minutes were gnawing anxious agony. I peered into the blackness outside, searching for the telltale flash of aircraft navigation lights, perhaps an afterburner glow. I spotted a flicker in the far distance, but Aanandi reckoned it was just a jumbo bound for Karachi.
    I gave a little jump when the captain next spoke over the intercom.
    “We’ve definitely picked up a tail,” he said. “Eleven miles behind and closing fast. Likely the intention is to spook us, in which case the best plan is not to act spooked. They’ve no real reason to attack. It’ll probably just be a flyby, to let us know they’re watching, rattle our nerves. I’ve hailed base anyway and informed them of the situation. Let’s see what those fellas can do about it, eh?”
    Up until that moment I had had our pilot pegged as an American, but his pronunciation of “about” – aboot – suggested he must in fact be Canadian. Somehow, irrationally, this was a reason to be hopeful. I couldn’t see a Canadian acting rashly or foolishly and endangering our lives. Canadians were safe and sensible and never took risks. I clung to the stereotype like a shipwrecked sailor to a lifebelt. Our captain would get us safely to the ground without a hitch, purely because he came from a country famed for its boringness. Talk about clutching at straws.
    Less than a minute later, the sleek, hunched silhouette of a fighter jet drew alongside the Garuda , at a distance of, I estimated, a quarter of a mile.
    Another joined it, on the other side of us.
    Both Mirages kept pace, matching the Garuda ’s gradual rate of descent. Their lights strobed busily, hypnotically, illuminating the contours of their wings and the ugly payloads that hung beneath.
    I glanced at Aanandi.
    She smiled.
    “It’s going to be all right, Zak. Trust me.”
    I wished I knew her well enough to believe her.
    Then the Mirages withdrew, pulling back, out of sight.
    Returning to base , I thought, mission accomplished .
    Relief flooded me like chilled champagne.
    “Ahem,” said the captain. “Hate to say this, folks, but it’s not looking good. Couldn’t raise either of the PAF pilots on the radio. Hailing them, but they’re flat-out refusing to respond. And now they seem to be lining up behind us in formation so as to...”
    “To what?” I asked, not that he could hear. I wasn’t anywhere near the intercom button.
    “Yeah, ah, seems like we now have a semi-active radar target lock on us,” the captain said. “They’re carrying Sidewinders, so... Better hang on back there, eh? This might get bumpy.”
     
    1 Once, when I went to New York for a week of publisher meetings, I deliberately didn’t tidy away a half-smoked spliff, just left it sitting in an ashtray so that Mrs Deakins could have something to confirm her worst fears. You have to throw a dog a bone every so often, don’t you?

 

    5.