By the Rivers of Babylon Read Online Free PDF Page A

flew combat missions anymore, and he hoped, and almost believed, that after the Conference there would be none that would have to he flown again. Ever.
    The kettle whistled and Laskov stared at it. Richardson got up and shut it off. “Well?”
    Laskov shrugged. “We have to be careful who we give that kind of information to.”
    Richardson walked quickly up to Laskov. He was white and almost trembling. “What? What the hell do you mean? Look, I’ve got reports to make. I’ve got to coordinate our carrier fleet in the Med. Since when have you kept anything from us? If you’re insinuating that there’s a leak . . .”
    Laskov wasn’t prepared for Richardson’s outburst. They had always bantered prior to getting to the point. It was part of the game. The reaction to what Laskov thought was a joke was inappropriate. He decided that Richardson was tense, as everyone else would probably be today. “Take it easy, Colonel.” He stared hard at the young man.
    The mention of his rank seemed to snap him out of it. Richardson smiled and sat down. “Sorry, General.”
    “All right.” Laskov got up and picked up the telephone with a scrambler attached to it. He dialed The Citadel, Israeli Air Force Headquarters. “Patch me into the E-2D,” he said.
    Richardson waited. The E-2D Hawkeye was the newest of Grumman’s flying radar craft. The sophisticated electronic systems on board could detect, track, and classify potential belligerents or friendlies on land, sea, and air at distances and with an accuracy never before possible. Its collected information was fed into a computer bank and transmitted via data link back
to Strike Force Control, Civilian Air Traffic Control, and Search and Rescue units. It also had electronic deception capabilities. Israel had three of them and one was airborne at all times. Richardson watched as Laskov listened.
    Laskov replaced the phone.
    “They see anything?” Richardson asked.
    “Foxbats. Four of them. Probably Egyptian. Just maneuvers, I suspect. Also a Mandrake recon in the stratosphere. Probably Russian.”
    Richardson nodded.
    They discussed the technical data as Laskov made two cups of passable coffee. The water stopped running in the bathroom.
    Richardson blew steam off the cup. “You using your 14’s for escort?”
    “Of course.” The Grumman F-14 Tomcat was the best fighter craft in the world. But so was the Mig-25 Foxbat. It depended on who was flying each craft. It was that close. Laskov had a squadron of twelve Tomcats that had cost Israel eighteen million dollars apiece. They were sitting, at that moment, on the military end of Lod Airport.
    “You going up, too?”
    “Of course.”
    “Why don’t you leave that to the younger men?”
    “Why don’t you go fuck yourself?”
    Richardson laughed. “You have a good command of American idiom.”
    “Thank you.”
    “How far are you going with them?”
    “Until we run out to the edge of our range.” He walked to the window and looked into the dawn. “With no bombs or air-to-ground stuff, and on a day like this, we should be able to do a thousand klicks out and then back again. That should take them out of the range of the Land of Islam, in case anyone has any crazy ideas today.”
    “Not out of range of Libya, Tunisia, Morocco, and Algeria. Look, you can land at our base in Sicily if you want to stay with them that far. Or, we can get a bunch of KAGD’s to refuel you in flight, if you want.”
    Laskov looked away from Richardson and smiled. The Americans were all right except when they were getting panicky about trying to keep the peace at any cost. “They’re not going all the way over the Med. The Concordes are going to file a
last-minute flight-plan change that will take them up the boot of Italy. We’ve gotten them special clearance to fly supersonic over Italy and France. We’ll break with them east of Sicily. I’ll give you the coordinates and your carrier 14’s can pick them up if you want. But I don’t