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Page 30

by Mackey Chandler


  Roger was quiet, stunned by the truth of what Josh was saying. He wasn't ready to write off his cabin and his quiet existence in Sitra Falls.

  Manhattan was spread out below them in daylight, as they climbed out at a steep angle. Martee ran the acceleration up to about three G and interference be damned, powered up her radar to take a look around, then killed it.

  "I don’t know how this works," Haim admitted, "There’s no rotor overhead and no engine noise, but Homeland Security is going to have a couple F-35s on our butts before you have gone twenty miles."

  "Really? Then an F-35 must have a performance envelope they have been hiding," Rog assured him, straining a little to talk. "I think they will run out of steam in a vertical climb well before twenty miles and Martee will probably climb past a hundred miles before she worries about adding any lateral motion."

  Haim looked out the view ports, at the darkening sky and said, "Omahgod."

  "What was that you blew in the stairwell?" Rog asked Josh.

  "A four liter bottle of contact adhesive."

  "OK," Haim said voice still shaky, "I know I’m the dim bulb here, but what was the purpose of that?"

  "How would you proceed up a stairway, that was covered with a film that bonds stronger than metal at the slightest touch and is full of tiny slivers of shattered glass?" Josh asked.

  "I’d get sheets and bedspreads from the room and lay them in a path," Roger volunteered.

  "Good thing I didn’t use it to stop someone smart like you."

  Haim had a sudden suspicion. "Rog what were you doing in the bedrooms, when we were leaving and in that engineering panel?

  "I emptied a couple bottles of that good booze we were supplied on the beds and set them on fire. Wouldn’t do much normally because they have a good fire suppression system, but I ripped off the pressure drop sensor and closed the service valve under the flapper," he calmly explained.

  "All the people were evacuated from our floor and the goons in the hall it will just give a decent cremation. Don’t worry, the other floors have active sprinklers and New York has a terrific fire department. I doubt that it will take out more than one floor. It sure does make any investigation and linking it to us much more difficult."

  "How so? You are checked into those rooms."

  "Yes," Roger agreed, "but we will be documented as being in Israel today. There is no way we could be in New York late this afternoon and have a late dinner in Tel Aviv the same day. There’s just no way to do it, unless we hijacked a military hypersonic."

  "We’re going to Israel?"

  "It seemed like a good idea to us. It was our prearranged bug-out plan. I’d like to finish our business with Aaron and see if you folks can be a little more reasonable to deal with than that," hooking his thumb over his shoulder, strained against the Gs, to indicate the whole mess they left behind.

  "Besides, Joshua assures us the State of Israel has certain philosophical limitations, that will work to protect our interests."

  Martee started easing off on the rate of climb.

  "How so?" Haim asked, suspicious. "Israel has much the same interests of any other sovereign state."

  "Yes," Josh agreed, "but it's tied very tightly to the land. Can you imagine Israel establishing extrasolar colonies and people emigrating there with the same feeling and purpose they do to Earthly Israel? Can you see them expanding like Spain or England did and regarding the extended empire as holy land too?"

  "No," Haim agreed. "That’s very perceptive. There will never be that much room, to define far flung outposts as homeland. Even more so for the far flung Jews than the native born. At least not unless the perception changes over many generations. If Israel held Uganda say – no Russian Jew would go there and feel he had come home."

  "Which reminds me," Josh said turning around in his seat and extending his passport to top of the seat, straining against the acceleration. "It would be even better if our passports were stamped yesterday, instead of this morning. Whatever fits with an appropriate flight that has us on the passenger manifest."

  Haim just stared at him with his mouth hanging open and Roger laid his own passport on top.

  "What about Martee?" Haim finally asked, which was as good as saying yes to the whole scheme.

  "That’s another problem you can help us with," Josh explained. "A Canadian document would probably do, I understand you’re pretty good at those, but I’d think it would be advantageous for at least one of us to have an Israeli passport. At least everybody will be sure that it’s quite authentic and reasonable considering all the business we’re going to be doing. "

  "What kind of business is that?" Haim wondered.

  "Well, way beyond diamonds and precious metals and bio-tech we haven’t even talked about. I think being the first nation on Earth to manufacture starships and unlimited cheap power should be worth a little subterfuge and cooperation on your part. I have a basic list written up for you of what we can offer and what we expect in return," Josh said, extending the letter to Haim. There is of course some room to negotiate."

  Just then Martee eased off her acceleration and Haim looked out the port.

  The horizon had a distinct curve against the black sky and the passports came floating up off the seat.

  "I’ll see what I can do."

  * * *

  Ehud was schmoozing with his new buddies in Homeland Security. When they outlined how they would be raiding the people he had set them onto, he begged to go along and observe. They wouldn’t risk taking him in the door in the initial action, but made him stay in the van with their driver.

  The fellow was dressed like his teammates except he had a black baseball cap on. They would call down when they had the floor secured and Ehud could come up and see the end of the bust. When they lost radio contact with the team he urged the driver to go up with him and see what was wrong. He was getting antsy.

  "I have orders to sit right here and guard the van," the man informed him. "This is New York City, not some hayseed town. This truck would sit unmolested at the curb, about as long as a new Corvette with the top down and keys in the ignition. If I run up there and the natives steal a whole van full of heavy weapons and com gear the Captain will have my butt. And if they ran into something they couldn’t handle no way I want to run up there and see what it is up close and personal anyway."

  Ehud jerked his door open, angry with the cowardly fool and ran in, ignoring the yell from the driver to wait for their call. Other than an upset-looking clerk at the front desk nothing looked out of order in the lobby.

  There was a hotel security man standing in front of the call panel at the elevator, in his burgundy blazer with the hotel crest embroidered on the breast pocket. The door was open and no alarm sounding, so he had the fireman’s key set to hold it.

  He got out his wallet and made a show of opening it. "I’m with Customs," he said as he got close. He held the wallet down waist high, so the fellow had to look down at it. He whipped his right elbow up and smashed the fellow right across the nose, driving him back up and bouncing his head off the wall.

  He grabbed a handful of fancy blazer and stepped on the guy’s right foot to pin it for a pivot point, giving a good yank. A quick step to the left took him out of the way and into the elevator as the man fell flat on his face. He hadn’t even started to get up, before Ehud had the key turned to run and the doors slid shut.

  When he stepped off the elevator he could see all the bodies together down the hall. Even at this distance the motionless loose sprawl told him they were dead. The hall stank of blood and cordite and was visibly hazy. He whipped his phone out to call and report which way the criminals had fled. They hadn’t used the elevator so they must have taken the stairs. He left both elevators locked open on the top floor behind him.

  He burst through the door into the stairwell. It was nineteen floors down and one floor up. There was no sound of people on the stairs. He’d go up one flight to the roof quickly and then be able to confirm they w
ere headed down. He'd need some help to block the bottom and clear the downside floor by floor. He didn’t have the man’s number in the truck, but he could still call 911 and get someone here once he knew which way they ran. There was a weird chemical smell in the stairwell.

  He took the stairs two at a time and the first couple stairs his feet make a sound like Velcro ripping. Then he took a third step and stumbled, almost pitching over when his foot ripped out of his shoe and left it stuck to the tread. His sock stuck to the stair above with his next step and little spears of glass pierced his foot. Ehud rocked off balance in pain, one foot stuck below and one above.

  He grabbed the rail for balance – cell phone flying over the railing and bouncing away down the stairwell. He carefully pulled his right foot above out of the sock.

  Standing on one foot, gripping the rail he wiped the bottom of his bare foot with his left hand, but there was no glass stuck in it. The glass was firmly glued to the stairs. He slipped the bare foot back in the safety of his shoe.

  Then he tried to lift his hand from the rail. He struggled so hard he almost fell over backwards and over correcting went forward instead. His right hand was still firmly on the rail so he pivoted from that point as he fell and threw an arm up to protect himself.

  His forearm made solid, painful contact with the stairs and he was jammed face first in the corner at the bottom of the rail, his left arm glued under him and his right arm extended above and behind him at an excruciating angle. His knees were jammed in the hard edge of a step and his heels were pulled out of the shoes behind him. He froze, thinking what he should do for the first time instead of just reacting

  If he pulled his feet out of the shoes he could straighten his legs out. But if he did so all his weight would he hanging from his arms. At least he could hold himself upright now against his shoes. He’d just have to stay like this for a little while and the driver would be calling for backup pretty quick. It was going to be humiliating being rescued from such a stupid trap, but there was no help for it now. All he had to do was be a little patient.

  That’s when he first smelled the smoke.

  Chapter 23

  Haim tried to convince them to let him arrange safe passage. He could call ahead on the radio and have the way cleared with no problem.

  "All the layers of antiaircraft defenses and ballistic missile shields are suicide to attempt to penetrate," he assured them. "They have Arrow and THAAD batteries. They’ve advanced Patriots, fourth generation Standards and ordinary SAMS, Iron Dome and fighters manned and robotic, even close in rotary guns and lasers for point defense." He argued his case with particular vigor, because if they got shot down then Mrs. Sheer’s favorite son was going down with them.

  "Palmachim is right on the coast," he suggested. "They are used to having all sorts of strange aircraft in and out. The whole area is a no-fly zone at times when they are having tests, so nobody would be surprised. I’m sure I can even get them to escort us in with fighters if you want. They can lock everything down and clear an apron and a hanger so nobody will see this craft. Your secret will be safe."

  "You don’t get it," Roger explained to him like he was a little kid. "We trust you, but are still a long way from trusting your government. If we just quietly fly in and land at your government base our secret will be safe – for them. Who is to say we will ever be allowed in sight of our ship again? Where is the safety for us? They can throw us in a cell and never let us see the light of day again," he explained.

  "You saw back in New York our own government was going to come in the door shooting and that was over a few diamonds. They didn’t know we really had something valuable. The only reason Ono is alive is because he had a good bulletproof vest and he threatened them with bad press. Otherwise if they had their way, all of us, including you, Mr. Trusting, would be laying on a slab right now with a tag on our toes."

  "I’d like to think my government is a bit more principled than that," Haim insisted.

  "Haim, don’t talk foolishness," Josh told him. "You’re not sitting at a conference table trading lies with diplomats that children wouldn’t believe. How many people are sitting in cells on the say-so of police or soldiers, who went to a judge and said, ‘We know this fellow is a bad guy, but he’s so careful we just can’t prove it. Trust us, we have to take him off the street for the public safety.’ And he’s gone?"

  "Yes, you are talking about administrative arrest," Haim admitted and had the decency to look embarrassed.

  "A fancy name for a knock in the night," Josh accused. "And then you know what makes it worse?" he asked, but he was looking at Roger and Martee not Haim. "If they can’t resolve it and charge the person, they just keep renewing the papers with the judge as long as needed. No trial, no way to clear their name. Just an open-ended sentence that everyone pretends could end in theory even though there is no hope." He looked at Haim to deny it, but Haim was looking at the deck.

  "No Haim. We get public assurances we have a business partnership with contracts, patents, articles in the trade magazines and a chance for people in the various industries and the public to know all three of us and what we sell, before we will ever think of all three of us attending a meeting behind closed doors, with people who could make us disappear."

  "After you make the initial contact and present the letter in your pocket, I will be happy to help negotiate and maybe one of the others occasionally too, but one of us will always be off somewhere you don’t know. Maybe not even on this world, so your wonderful network of spies can’t track them down and snatch all of us at the same instant."

  "Sometimes you have no choice but to trust somebody. You are only three people," Haim protested. "What in the world do you think Roger alone could do if a sovereign state did snatch you other two and refused to release you?"

  "Did you see how we handled betrayal in New York?" Roger asked.

  "Yes, I know you are not afraid to kill. But the State of Israel has had to let hostages be killed and accepted retaliation would follow for its acts and policies for decades. They aren’t scared of what you can do after Hamas," he sneered.

  "Maybe they should be," Roger explained to him. "Do you imagine that any starship is not a terrible weapon just by its very nature? They are used to playing tit for tat, back and forth, with trash like Hamas. Don't forget I've played that game. You might make them think about what happens, if you try and fail to betray somebody who doesn't leave you anything to 'tat' with after the first round. I might just make a new Gulf of Israel, from the Mediterranean halfway to the Golan Heights."

  "The splatter wouldn’t do Jordan and Syria a hell of a lot of good and the tsunami would tear the crap out of the rest of the Eastern Med, but the whole Middle East has never done a whole lot to endear themselves to me anyway. Good riddance, no few would say." Inwardly he wondered if he really had the nerve to do it.

  Haim looked outside at the Earth and thought about it a little.

  "Just envision a flash for an instant to tell you that you really screwed up this time before you are steam," Roger explained. "No buddy, I like you, honest I do. You took personal risk to do what was right by us. But if you think my friends will not be coming back to me safe and sound, because of your other people, better to let us just drop you off and we’ll leave. They would be better off never to have met us if you think they will do us dirty. Maybe we can deal with the Swiss instead. They always seemed level-headed to me."

  "I did military service too," Haim told him. "Cushy service I admit, but frankly your experience damaged you. There has to be some proportion to your actions. You don’t kill millions to avenge two."

  "That’s pretty much what my shrink told me," Roger agreed. "Except she said a thousand to avenge a dozen. She really didn’t want to sign off for me to go back to civilian life. After the fire that dropped on me and my unit, I called a counter-fire barrage that walked across the village where the mujahedeen had set up their mortars."

  "Were they innoce
nts? Not to me. They let the suckers set up tubes in their market square to kill us. They made the mistake of not being more afraid of me. But I’m really easy to deal with if you remember I’m nuts. I still haven’t got to the stage I want to kill just for the fun of it. I’m real sorry if that makes you like me less buddy. I’ll still treat you honorably even if we’re not friends, you understand?"

  "I think I do actually. But it’s too much to absorb. You’re probably going to get us killed trying to enter anyway, so I won’t have to worry about it."

  "Such small confidence you have in me," Martee protested. "I'll show you some flying," she promised.

  "This started when I played "Top Gun III" for her," Josh explained. "She never used to be like this."

  "Even if you descend well off the coast they may shoot missiles at you," Haim warned. "They worry a high altitude nuke even a hundred miles off shore would do terrible damage from the EMP.

  "We’re coming down over Cyprus," Josh informed him. "Not only is that far enough north, but I doubt Israel will casually fire at something over such a vital neighbor’s territory."

  "Cyprus? And what possible advantage is that?"

  * * *

  Haim was a nervous wreck from the low-level flight. Jerking up and down, especially down, as they were descending from the mountains, swerving wildly this way and that in the dark and flying sometimes under treetop level with nothing but moonlight to see.

  Twice they ducked into groves of trees or a gully, while flights of fighter aircraft wove a pattern in the sky above. It was obvious opposing forces were jockeying for advantage.

  Their exhausts were very visible and several times they made wild maneuvers throwing out trails of flares. Yet they never saw a missile climb to them or the fireball of an aircraft being destroyed.

  "You came down almost on the buffer zone, the Green Line, between Greek and Turkish Cyprus," Haim complained. "Whoever saw you on radar would assume you belonged to the other side. This is the most anyone has stirred them up in years. They've probably both overflown each others’ territory and they’ll be weeks arguing who was to blame for what. I just hope nobody was trigger happy and shot some poor fool down tonight for no reason."

 

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