Fulcrum: V Plague Book 12 Read Online Free PDF Page B

head.
    “Gulf of California,” he clarified.  “Between Baja and
the main part of Mexico.  About 600 miles long and a hundred or so miles
wide.  That’s sixty thousand square miles.  How the hell are we
supposed to find someone in that?”
    “You heard the last part he said?  Penasco?  Forty
miles southwest.  That’s got to be Puerto Penasco.  Rocky Point if
you’re an American.  It’s only about 80 miles south of the border.”
    I looked around the room for a map but didn’t find
one.  Sam stared at me, doubt on his face.
    “What?”
    “That’s pretty fuckin thin, Major.  How many towns do
you think there are in Mexico that have Penasco in their name?”
    “Got no clue,” I said.  “But, probably a few. 
That just happens to be the one I know of.”
    “He didn’t try to give any coordinates?”
    “That was probably coming,” I said, shaking my head.
    I didn’t blame him for being dubious.  We were a good
distance from Mexico and had nothing more to go on than a broken
transmission.  An idea dawned on me, and I slapped my pants pocket. 
I still had a handheld sat phone.  Jumping to my feet, I headed for the
door.
    “What are you doing?”  Sam asked, getting up and
following.
    “Got a sat phone,” I said over my shoulder.  “Going to
give it a try.  Make sure we don't just have an equipment problem.”
    We hopped in the golf cart, and Sam accelerated away with a
squeal of tires on the smooth concrete.  Several minutes later we had
successfully negotiated the maze of tunnels and emerged into warm
sunshine. 
    Stepping well clear of the cart, I brought the phone out and
powered it on.  It took a long time to boot, then began searching for a
signal.  After nearly five minutes, it was still in search mode.  I
said a couple of choice words and powered it down before shoving it back in my
pocket. 
    “It’s gotta be one of our pilots,” Sam said.  “Had to
eject and came down in the water.”
    “The Admiral said he’s adrift,” I said, trying to remember
the exact words.  “Adrift would mean he’s on a raft.  Right? 
He’d say something different if he was just in the water?”
    Sam nodded, thinking.
    “There're single occupant, inflatable rafts built into the
ejection seats of our fighters,” he finally said.  “And yes, you’re
right.  If a Navy man says adrift , he means a vessel that isn’t
powered.”
    “No doubt about that?”  I asked, turning and checking
the area around us for infected.
    “An old warhorse like the Admiral wouldn’t make that mistake.”
    Sam spoke with certainty, then waved me to the side as he
raised his rifle.  I moved and turned to see a female sprinting towards
us.  He fired a single shot, and she flopped lifelessly to the desert sand.
    “What if he’s in the water?”  I asked, getting a shake
of his head.
    “The Admiral wouldn’t even have called us.  Someone in
the water isn’t going to last very long.”
    “This is Mexico,” I said.  “The water’s warm.”
    He looked at me and shook his head.
    “The season is changing, and the water temp will be
down.  Not cold, but cool enough.  It will just delay
hypothermia.  And, I was at Coronado near San Diego.  That water
ain’t warm.  Trust me.  Maybe a little warmer in the Gulf of
California, but survival time would be in hours, not days.  Besides, if
the water doesn’t get you, the sharks will.”
    “So, we’ve probably got a pilot on a raft, drifting around
the middle of the Sea of Cortez.  And we’ve got a starting point.”
    He nodded but appeared less than enthusiastic.
    “What?”
    “No disrespect, sir, but you’re Army.  You ever tried
to find something the size of a man on a tiny inflatable somewhere in the
ocean?”
    I shook my head.
    “Well, without air support, or at least satellite
observation, it’s damn near impossible.  There're waves, and even little
ones will hide the target from a surface vessel.  You can be thirty yards
away and