Balance of Power: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

air-search?”
    “We don’t think so. We’re checking on that right now with the ship’s owners. It’s a really fancy new ship. The owners are pissed . But we think they had only surface-search radars—some air capability—but mostly for surface ships and navigation.”
    “So they probably won’t see us coming.”
    Bradford shook his head. “ Probably not,” he said a hint of caution in his voice.
    “Admiral aware of all this?” Caskey asked.
    Bradford frowned. “No, MC. I thought I’d just run this show on my own. Cancel the flight schedule, order the ship west, fly sorties.”
    “Sorry,” Caskey said, feeling stupid. Caskey knew the admiral well. Admiral Ray Billings. “Steam.” His former commanding officer when they were on the Nimitz in the Jolly Rogers.
    “I’ve got to see the admiral right now, in fact. Any more stupid questions?” Bradford asked. He scanned them once, then turned and walked out of CVIC.
    “I wonder what they want,” said Wayne Berry, the Commanding Officer of VF-11, the other F-14 squadron.
    “Notoriety. Always the same thing. Publicize some cause that’s important to them,” said Drunk. He looked up as if a new thought was struggling to get out. “Who decided it was okay to be a terrorist anyway? That it was like being a soldier?”
    “Nobody’s ever said that,” said Caskey.
    “But look at us,” Drunk said. “Nobody’s outraged, nobody’s flaming mad, nobody’s running up the bullshit flag.” He looked around, then went on, not caring whether he had any support. “It’s like we’ve accepted terrorism as part of the scenery. We’re not upset by it anymore.”
    “I don’t think that’s fair,” Caskey said, squinting. “It’s just that we’ve seen it for so long we’re accustomed to it.”
    “That’s exactly my point. We shouldn’t ever get accustomed to it,” Drunk said as he stood up and walked out of CVIC.

    Two of the men in Ford coveralls took Franklin’s arms and dragged him across the deck. The blood ran down his face and neck, soaking his shirt. Bonham tried to control his anger, both at the terrorists and at himself. He was responsible. He had failed to take adequate security measures. He had failed to take any security measures and hadn’t done anything to stop the attack. If anyone deserved to die it was him, not Franklin.
    Washington looked at the rest of the crew and pointed to Jenkins. “He unwise to use radio,” he said with cold look in his eyes. “Understand?” he asked. The crew watched sickly as the two terrorists pulled Franklin up over the railing. His body tumbled over the side of the ship and plunged into the ocean below.
    “All go back to places,” Washington ordered. He spoke to his men, then again to the crew. “One man willgo with each of you. If you stupid, they shoot you. Go,” he said with authority. “No talking. Go.”
    The crew dispersed, slowly, afraid to make a mistake. No one wanted to test the rule against talking. They walked off to their stations, each followed closely by a terrorist with a gun and a blue bag.

    The two F-14B tomcats streaked westward. The S-3s had been scouring the area for over an hour, but couldn’t pick the Pacific Flyer out of the dozens of surface ships. Messer had plotted its last-known position, charted a circle that described the maximum distance the ship could have traveled since the transmission, and started at the outer limits of that circle. The S-3 had reported the southeastern quadrant clear.
    “See anything, Messer?” Caskey asked over the ICS, the internal communication system.
    “There are ships all over the place. I don’t know how we’re supposed to pick out one.”
    “Supposed to be a big ship, or sort of big anyway,” Caskey reminded him.
    “Well, they all look pretty much the same on the radar,” Messer replied.
    “Choose one, and let’s go look,” Caskey said, scanning the horizon.
    “Roger that. Come left to 280. There’s one about…twenty