by Dale Brown
And he was about to get one.
“I wonder if I could talk to you, Mr. President,” he said as the others started to leave the cabinet room.
“As a matter of fact, I’d like to talk to you, young Jed,” said Martindale. “In my study.”
Freeman gave Jed a warning glance, but Jed ignored it.
He’d made up his mind, and for better or worse, he was going to do the right thing.
That was all you could do in the end—the right thing as you saw it. Then face the consequences.
“So is it true that you told Balboa to get bent?” said the President as he sank into his leather chair.
“Um …”
Martindale laughed. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Jed.
You surprise me every day.”
“I wrote a letter, sir.”
Jed reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his resignation. Martindale smiled at the envelope but didn’t open it.
Instead he reached into his desk and took out a copy of the Sunday Daily News.
“Tell me about this photo,” said the President. “It looks like a real work of art.”
“It is,” said Jed, and he explained what had happened.
“You don’t know the entire story, I imagine,” said Martindale when Jed finished. “You know how the photo came to be on the disk—it was in your folder with the others—but I’ll bet you’re wondering why just the Daily News printed it.”
“I am.”
“Ambassador Ford would like very much to be the Secretary of State.”
“I don’t get it.”
“You gave the disk to one of Ford’s assistants. He printed it out, and noticed the photo that hadn’t been part of the presentation. He took it to the ambassador, who decided to give his friends at the News an exclusive. A favor that he can call in later.”
“Really?”
“That’s his version. And I don’t lie—about that.” Martindale folded his arms. “Why were Hartman and Balboa together in the Situation Room yesterday?”
“I was wondering that myself.”
“Admiral Balboa and the majority in the Senate are best friends. Which doesn’t make them my enemy.” Martindale smiled. “But I suppose it doesn’t make them my friends, does it?”
“But Secretary Hartman?”
“Depending on whose story you believe, he’s trying to keep tabs on the enemy or he’s cultivating the other side because he wants to position himself for a primary.”
“Which is it?”
“I’m not sure, Jed. Both, probably. This is Washington. I suspect that the story line Mr. Hartman was hoping for was that we played by the rules and actually achieved something important. A storyline I can’t argue with. Especially since it worked. In this case, anyway.”
Martindale reached to his desk and took out a cigarette lighter. Jed watched as he burned the letter. “I really can’t afford to lose you, son.”
“But—”
“Ambassador Ford made it clear to his friends at the News that the picture was classified and that giving it out was a mistake.”
“That’s not the truth.”
“Actually, it is the truth, it’s just not the whole truth,” said Martindale. “If you can’t live with it, then yes, you can resign. And if you want to go public and tell everyone what you did, I can’t stop you and I won’t. But I wish you wouldn’t. I don’t think you should. I don’t think it was particularly smart of you to fiddle around with those photos, but … Well, let’s say we all make mistakes.” Martindale smiled, brushing the two curls of gray hair from his fore-head. “I wish yours were the sort of mistakes I made when I was your age, let me tell you.”
Jed thought that was supposed to be a compliment, but wasn’t quite sure.
“Take a couple of days off, Jed, you deserve them.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And never, ever turn your laptop over to anyone,” said the President. He reached beneath the desk and pulled it up.
“Never. Not even the President. Not in Washington.”
Aboard the Abner Read,
Gulf of Aden
12 November 1997
0800
STORM MADE IT OUT TO THE DECK AS THE OSPREY approached. The tug had tied up next to them, but the Abner Read was in no danger of sinking. Six brave men had died in the section of the ship that flooded after the missile hit; at least one gave his life so the others aboard could live.
Jennifer Gleason stood near the landing area, waiting for the Osprey to land.
“I have to say, I misjudged you,” Storm told her. “You did a hell of a job for us. Sure you don’t have any Navy blood in you?”
She flicked her short hair with her hand. “Afraid not.” Storm suddenly felt awkward and tongue-tied. He grabbed her hand. “I hope to see you again.” She shrugged. “Maybe. Good luck.”
And then she was gone.
Diego Garcia
1200
“I THINK THAT’S IT FOR NOW,” SAID DOG, WRAPPING UP THE postmission brief. “We’ll stand down for the next twenty-four hours, take a little breather, relax. One thing I have to mention—there are a number of difficult situations in Asia.
We may not be going directly home.” He looked around the small conference table in the Command trailer. He’d expected disappointment—but all he saw was fatigue.
“All right, then, I think that wraps it up,” he told them.
“Wait, Colonel, I had one thing I wanted to discuss.”
“What is it, Mack?”
“Naming the Megafortresses. You put me in charge of that, remember?”
“This is not the time to play the name game,” said Zen.
“I have an idea that I think everyone will agree with,” said Mack. “Even Zen.”
“Right,” muttered Zen, just loud enough for everyone to hear.
Dog looked at Mack. He was glad the pilot could walk again—but still, he wished Mack didn’t always have to be Mack.
“So? Want to hear it?” asked Mack.
“Come on, I’m starving,” said Breanna.
“Medal of Honor winners,” said Mack. “We name the air -
planes after Air Force Medal of Honor winners.” Dog looked around the room. The other officers were speechless. It was an historic moment.
“I think it’s a great idea Mack,” said Dog. “There’s only one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“You thought of it.”
“I still don’t get it.”
Everyone else started to laugh.
“Dismissed,” said Dog.
STARSHIP FOUND HIS WAY BACK TO THE CHAPEL AFTER LUNCH.
The minister wasn’t there, but the door was unlocked. He took a step inside. A Bible sat on a chair a few feet away.
Was it wrong to steal a Bible?
Starship hesitated, then took the book.
“LISTEN, I OWE YOU AN APOLOGY. YOU WERE RIGHT AND I GOT mad at you. For getting on Mack’s case. I was being a jerk. You were right,” Zen told Breanna, pushing the wheelchair along the path. “I got way out of line.”
“I don’t know,” said Bree. “Everybody’s saying how you made him walk again.”
“No, you were right. He didn’t walk because of me. He would have walked sooner or later.”
“Maybe he needed a kick in the butt from you to get going.”
“Oh, he needs a kick in the butt. Definitely. But I was out of line. I’ve always been mad at him—it was when I got mad at you that I realized I was out of control.”
Should he tell her that he had almost hit her? He wanted to—but he couldn’t. It was too terrible.
“I know it sucks,” she said, coming over. Her fingers on his neck tickled his whole body—or what still worked on his body.
Yeah, he thought. It sucks. Every day. That’s the way it is.
THAT NIGHT, ZEN LAY IN BED FOR MORE THAN AN HOUR AFTER Breanna had fallen asleep. A wind whipped up and a light rain tapped at the window; whether
it was the sounds or the memory of the mission the day before or just too much coffee that afternoon, he couldn’t sleep. He got up and made his way over to the Dreamland Command trailer, hoping to find a card game. But the Whiplash troopers had only just returned from Africa, and the only person there was Sergeant Liu. Things were so slow, he was practicing his tae kwon do while standing watch.
Liu let Zen use the computer tie-in to check his e-mail.
As it happened, he had only one item. It was from Dr. Martha Geraldo, a psychiatrist who had led the Nerve Center project, an experiment that used brain waves to help control aircraft. Zen had been one of the subjects—and almost gone insane from the drugs and experimental procedures.
ZEN:
I KNOW SOMEONE WHO’S WORKING ON A PROJECT AT A RE-SEARCH HOSPITAL IN NEW YORK. IT INVOLVES NERVE CELL REGENERATION. IT’S VERY—IT’S OUT ON THE EDGE. BUT WHAT THEY THINK THEY COULD DO, OR WHAT THEY WANT TO DO EVENTUALLY, IS RE-GENERATE SPINAL CORDS. MAKE PEOPLE WALK AGAIN. THEY NEED A CANDIDATE.
Zen wheeled back from the display.
When he leaned back to write a response, his fingers trembled so badly that he had to stop twice, though all he wrote was a simple sentence:
WHAT’S THE PHONE NUMBER?
THE MEN AND WOMEN
WHO TURN HIGH-TECH
WAR GAMES INTO
BREATHTAKING REALITY
AT DREAMLAND
Lieutenant Colonel Tecumseh “Dog” Bastian: The master of Dreamland, his “bark” and “bite” have won him many powerful Pentagon friends … and enemies.
Captain Breanna Bastian Stockard: A woman in a man’s Top Gun world, she will stay on the attack and keep her cool when the fighting spins out of control.
Captain Harold “Storm” Gale, USN: Commander of Xray Pop, a cutting-edge naval squadron, his “shoot first” attitude puts him on a dangerous collision course with Washington and Dog Bastian.
Captain Danny Freah: War hero and potential future political star, Dreamland needs his bravery and his brilliance more than ever before.
Jed Barclay: Barely old enough to shave—a science “whiz kid” and deputy to the National Security Advisor—he is Dreamland’s link to the President and will be called upon to take the ultimate risk in the midst of crisis.
Major Mack “Knife” Smith: An ace with more MiG kills than any flier since Vietnam, he was taken out of the game by a terrorist in Brunei … but nothing will keep him out of the fight.
About the Author
DALE BROWN a former U.S. Air Force captain, is the author of fifteen previous bestsellers. Brown lives in Nevada, where he can often be found in the skies, piloting his own plane. Jim DeFelice’s recent techno-thrillers include Brother’s Keeper (2000) and Havana Strike (1997). Jim has also written more than a dozen works of fiction and nonfiction for young people. He lives with his wife and son in upstate New York, and can be contacted by E-mail at [email protected].
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RAVES
FOR THE NOVELS OF
NEW YORK TIMES
BESTSELLING AUTHOR
DALE BROWN
“The best military writer in the country today.”
Clive Cussler
“Brown puts us in the cockpits of wonderful
machines and gives us quite a ride… . [His] flying
sequences are terrific. Authentic and gripping,
they will have you breathing a bit heavily.”
New York Times Book Review
“The talk makes Brown’s novels authentic.
What makes them riveting is the rapid pace
and headline urgency of his plots.”
San Francisco Chronicle
“[His] richness of detail will appeal to the many
readers taken with military weaponry, air combat,
and the Byzantine secrets of military command.”
Chicago Tribune
“One of the premier writers [of] techno-thrillers.”
Virginian-Pilot
“Dale Brown is a superb storyteller.”
W.E.B. Griffin
“Dale Brown has an uncanny talent
for putting his millions of fans into the middle of his
action stories … His knowledge of world politics and
possible military alliances is stunning …
He writes about weapons beyond a
mere mortal’s imagination.”
Tulsa World
“Nobody … does it better than Brown.”
Kirkus Reviews
“Brown is a master …
bringing life to his characters
with a few deft strokes.”
Publishers Weekly
“Brown can spin a suspenseful yarn.”
Richmond Times
“Brown [writes] consistent page-turners.”
Booklist
Also in the Dreamland Series
Dale Brown’s Dreamland
(with Jim DeFelice)
Dale Brown’s Dreamland: Nerve Center
(with Jim DeFelice)
Dale Brown’s Dreamland: Razor’s Edge
(with Jim DeFelice)
Dale Brown’s Dreamland: Strike Zone
(with Jim DeFelice)
Titles by Dale Brown
Plan of Attack
Wings of Fire
Warrior Class
Battle Born
The Tin Man
Fatal Terrain
Shadows of Steel
Storming Heaven
Chains of Command
Night of the Hawk
Sky Masters
Hammerheads
Day of the Cheetah
Silver Tower
Flight of the Old Dog
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND: Satan’s Tail. Copyright (c) 2005 by Air Battle Force, Inc. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of PerfectBoundTM.
PerfectBoundTM and the PerfectBoundTM logo are trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.
Adobe Acrobat eBook Reader July 2005 ISBN 0-06-087990-4
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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Table of Contents
Prelude: Lost Comrades
I Gimp Boy
II Xray Pop
III Territorial Waters
IV My Way or No Way
V Invaders
VI Paradise
VII Friends and Enemies
VIII Bloodthirst
IX The Glory of God
X Conspiracy Theories
THE MEN AND WOMEN
About the Author
RAVES
Also in the Dreamland Series
Copyright
About the Publisher
