Jack Ryan 10 - Rainbow Six Read Online Free PDF Page A

religious complications typical of most “missions,” as they were traditionally called. Those who declined the offer were given blankets, used ones donated by corporate employees who were home sleeping or watching TV at the moment-participation in the program was voluntary for the staff as well-but still warm, and waterproofed. Some of the homeless preferred to stay out, deeming it to be some sort of freedom. More did not. Even habitual drunkards liked beds and showers. Presently there were ten of them in the van, and that was all it could hold for this trip. They were helped aboard, sat down, and seat-belted into their places for safety purposes.
    None of them knew that this was the fifth of the four vans operating in lower Manhattan, though they found out something was a little different as soon as it started moving. The attendant leaned back from the front seat and handed out bottles of Gallo burgundy, an inexpensive california red, but a better wine than they were used to drinking, and to which something had been added.
    By the time they reached their destination, all were asleep or at least stuporous. Those who were able to move were helped from one truck into the back of another, strapped down in their litter beds, and allowed to fail asleep. The rest were carried and strapped down by two pairs of men. With that task done, the first van was driven off to be cleaned out-they used steam to make sure that whatever residue might be left was sterilized and blasted out of the van. The second truck headed uptown on the West Side Highway, caught the curling ramp for the George Washington Bridge, and crossed the Hudson River. From there it headed north through the northeast corner of Jersey, then back into New York State.
    It turned out that Colonel William Lytle Byron was already in the air in a USAF KC-10 on a course track allost identical to, and only an hour behind, the United 77. It altered course northward for Gander as well. The former P-3 base had to wake up a few personnel to handle the inbound jumbos, but that was the least of it.
    The three failed hijackers were blindfolded, hog-tied, and laid on the floor just forward of the front row of firstclass seats, which John, Ding, and Alistair appropriated. Coffee was served, and the other passengers kept away from that part of the aircraft.
    “I rather admire the Ethiopians' approach to situations like this,” Stanley observed. He was sipping tea.
    “What's that?” Chavez asked tiredly.
    “Some years ago they had a hijacking attempt on their national flag carrier. There happened to be security chap aboard, and they got control of the situation. Then they strapped their charges in first-class seats, wrapped towels around their necks to protect the upholstery, and cut their throats, right there on the aircraft. And you know-”
    “Gotten,” Ding observed. Nobody had messed with that airline since. “Simple, but effective.”
    “Quite.” He set his cup down. “I hope this sort of thing doesn't happen too often.”
    The three officers looked out the windows to see the runway lights just before the 777 thumped down at RCAF Gander. There was a muted series of cheers and a smattering of applause from aft. The airliner slowed and then taxied off to the military facilities, where it stopped- The front-right door was opened, and a scissorslift truck moved to it, slowly and carefully.
    John, Ding, and Alistair unsnapped their seat belts and moved toward the door, keeping an eye on the three hijackers as they did so. The first aboard the aircraft was a RCAF officer with a pistol belt and white lanyard, followed by three men in civilian clothes who had to be cops.
    “You're Mr. Clark?” the officer asked.
    “That's right.” John pointed. “There's your three suspects, I think the term is.” He smiled tiredly at that. The cops moved to deal with them.
    “Alternate transport is on the way, about an hour out,” the Canadian officer told him.
    “Thank you.” The three