Legacy (35 page)

The witnesses to the tragic happening then noticed another streak of light as it plowed through the remains of the first rocket. A second antisatellite missile shot upward and was on track to strike the
Magnificent Dragon
as the first spent stage went flying past the ASAT. As luck and fate would have it, a fortuitous accident occurred. The remaining fuel of the solid propellant rocket boosters was being spent even though the first stage had separated cleanly. As they spun out of control, falling back toward the Earth, a sudden burst of flame shot from the exhaust nozzle of one of the boosters, catching the ASAT as it flew past. The heat was tremendous and burned through the hard plastic nose cone of its seeker head. With molten circuit boards and damaged processing units, the ASAT exploded before its outer casing could be blown free; thus the ball bearing shrapnel was slowed by 50 percent of its normal velocity. The particles shot up and over the second stage, scraping along the aluminum fuselage and then past the third stage where only five of the steel balls penetrated the outer casing into the lunar lander’s protective shell. The rest, over a hundred fragments, hit the crew module, three of them penetrating.

The crewmen reacted fast, even though they had little training in this event, as it had not been foreseen. The three holes threatened to destabilize their environment, and as the second stage fired and separated from the third, the crew managed in spite of the g-forces that threatened to crush them to place three plastic patches against the holes that appeared as if by magic.

The ten-man crew didn’t know what had happened either to them or to the
Glorious March
, but they did know that one of their three computer systems was out along with their radar. The communications module was damaged and they were leaking oxygen.

On the ground, multitudes watched as the third stage of the
Magnificent Dragon
reached lower orbit and kept climbing, barely escaping the death that had caught her sister ship. All at once a thousand voices started shouting out their troubles from the various telemetry stations.

The
Magnificent Dragon
had achieved orbit, but no one knew yet if it could stay there, much less continue on to the Moon.

*   *   *

Sixteen miles away, Tommy Green didn’t know if his crusade had achieved the desired effect as he scrambled to get the F-14 out of North Korean airspace. There were now ten MiG-31s on his tail and he doubted if escape was in his future, but he suspected it had never been in the plans of his employers. He should have been angry, or disappointed, but he knew he had been given the choice, and God had helped make the decision for him.

With no thought of regret or remorse, Thomas Green, former captain in the United States Navy, and a devout follower of Samuel Rawlins, turned the F-14 Tomcat around and headed straight toward his pursuers. He released the clip on his oxygen mask and started saying the Lord’s Prayer as he pointed the Tomcat’s nose at the flight leader and opened fire with his rotary cannon. To his surprise, the barrel started its electrically driven spin, but no twenty-millimeter rounds came out of the rotating barrel. Green smiled and shook his head, not feeling betrayed in the least. After all, he thought, the mission parameters were such that his trail could not lead back to McCabe or Rawlins. Their work was far from complete, while his duty to God was.

Green closed his eyes a split second before six Chinese-made Luoyang PL-12 active-radar-guided missiles slammed into his Tomcat, scattering small pieces over the Sea of Japan.

8

BERLIN, GERMANY

The four men listened to the BBC radio broadcast and heard the news just after midnight in Berlin. None of them could believe the audacity and firepower the unseen forces were bringing to bear. Jack and the others knew now that it had to be McCabe behind what was happening. The memory of the crated weapons systems haunted the men as they sat listening to the report on the loss of life involved in the Chinese incident.

“These nuts are serious,” Everett said, staring out of the windshield at the darkened street beyond.

“It seems to me that all of these governments would be more than ready to stop this foolishness and cooperate now that people are dying for nothing,” Ellenshaw said from the backseat, as he stared without interest at his McDonald’s cheeseburger.

“You’d think,” Jack said, as he adjusted the small dome light. He had begun reading the file the German commando had delivered to him. “You’ll soon learn, Charlie, that once a course of action has been initiated by any government, it’s harder to stop than an avalanche.” Jack stopped talking when he came across a picture captioned “1947—Spandau.” He saw the face he had been looking for. It was a group photo of sixteen American officers lined up in front of the Spandau military prison.

“Here’s our boy,” Jack said, as he slid the photo out of the file and handed it to Everett.

“That’s him, all right, and I’ll be damned if he doesn’t look as familiar as he did before. He’s a lieutenant colonel, I can see that. But I can’t see his shoulder patch. The commanding officer of the prison is listed, but his staff isn’t.”

“Here’s the list of the only seven prisoners ever kept there,” Collins said, passing the list to Carl, who handed the photo to Golding and Ellenshaw in the backseat. “Notice something odd?”

Everett read the list aloud. “Rudolf Hess, life sentence, died 1987. Walther Funk, life sentence, released 16 May 1957. Erich Raeder, life sentence, released 1955. Albert Speer, twenty-year sentence, released 1966. Baldur von Schirach, twenty-year sentence, released 1966. Konstantin von Neurath received a fifteen-year sentence but was released in 1954. Admiral Karl Dönitz served a ten-year term and was released in 1956.” Everett scanned the rest of the original roster and he indeed noticed something. “No mention of our boy Joss Zinsser.”

“Quite an omission, don’t you think?” Jack asked.

“Well, we know he was there. Why would someone erase his name from the list of prisoners?”

“Simply to make what we’re currently attempting that much harder,” Collins answered as he turned back and looked at Pete. “We need Europa.”

“That means returning to the plane, Jack. That could be a little dangerous, at least until your friend clears the way for us.”

“We can’t wait. We need to know who this American lieutenant colonel is.”

“Well, get me to the plane and we’ll take a shot at it,” Pete said, looking over at an excited Ellenshaw, who reached out and lightly elbowed Pete.

“You see what I mean. We’re in danger constantly with these two, and it only gets better.”

Golding gave Ellenshaw a look and a brief smile that never touched any other part of his face. He nodded and looked out of his window as Captain Everett started the car. He saw Charlie Ellenshaw’s face reflected in the glass and noted that the rumors about crazy Charlie were accurate—he was indeed crazy.

*   *   *

An hour later Jack stood next to the main gate at Tempelhof International Airport as Everett, Golding, and Ellenshaw watched from the shadows. The private portion of the airport was guarded by what appeared to be military personnel and Collins knew the security situation had changed since the attack in Berlin the day before, necessitating the change in airport status. Jack hissed through his teeth as he realized that, without the use of deadly force against the soldiers, there would be no entering from that area. He turned and ducked back into the shadows of a hangar that lined the fenced-in area.

“Forget about the gate,” he said as he approached Everett and the others.

“How about this?” Everett asked, lightly tapping an aluminum building that housed a private aviation company.

Collins looked it over but saw that there was no window or door access on this side of the secured area.

“Not unless we have a blow torch or hacksaw.”

“I’m sure the owner would be very put out if you damaged his building,” a voice said from the darkness.

Jack relaxed when he recognized Sebastian Krell, who eased out of the shadows of the building next door.

“Damn, you’re getting better at that,” Collins said.

“I had a good teacher.” Krell removed the dark mask and shook Jack’s hand. He nodded at the others. “Those are my men at the gate. I told the airport security department we would be running a drill for the next three hours, so I suggest that since you’re an hour late you board your aircraft and get the hell out of Berlin before one of my brethren in law enforcement blows your ass back to the States.”

Collins slapped Krell on the shoulder. “Hang out awhile until we get airborne?”

“That was the plan.” Sebastian looked at all four men. “Now look, you have an authorized aircraft next to your own. We’re running a check on it at this time, and we can’t just board it, so we don’t know who it belongs to.”

“Why do you mention that?” Everett asked as he felt for the comfort of the nine-millimeter under his shirt.

“Because, Captain Everett, the aircraft’s pilot, like your own, never left the plane after landing two days ago. We can’t get a view inside and I neglected to bring our heat-sensing equipment.”

“Okay, at least you’re giving us a start,” Jack said. “Shall we?” he asked the others as he turned for the gate.

“We will cover your team from the tarmac, staying out of sight.” Sebastian took Jack’s hand and they shook, then Collins went toward the gate.
“Auf Wiedersehen
, old friend.”

As the commando team, camouflaged in airport security garb, waved them inside the gate, Jack also felt for his nine-millimeter.

“Pete, Charlie, if anything happens, get the hell out of here and run back to where we left Sebastian.”

“But—” Charlie started to say.

“But nothing, get the hell back,” Everett answered for Jack.

“All right, but under protest,” Ellenshaw said.

As they found the tarmac and the silhouette of their aircraft, Jack slowed and allowed his senses to take hold. He saw the neighboring plane and its darkened interior. Then his eyes switched to their own aircraft. He saw the cockpit cabin lights on but no movement. He figured the plane’s Air Force personnel were in the back asleep. They had been ordered to stay put for three days while the ground team was in the city. A six-day supply of food had been stored onboard because Jack had known they might be traveling to more than one continent on this investigation. When he didn’t feel any eyes on him other than those of Sebastian and his nine men, Collins waved Everett up the portable stairs. He saw Carl tap on the door with the flat of his hand.

Ellenshaw and Golding were nervously looking around them, even scanning the high control tower a mile and a half distant.

The door opened and Jack relaxed when he saw the United States Air Force captain looking sleepy-eyed and surprised to see Carl.

“Okay, guys, up the stairs, quickly,” Jack said, as he continued to study the white-painted aircraft next to their own. As he did he saw one of the window blinds raise about six inches and then lower again. Collins hurriedly took the steps two at a time and then closed and secured the large door. “Captain, warm this thing up and preflight us for London for now.”

The sleepy pilot shook his copilot and engineer awake and then turned to Collins and the others, who had shocked them with their bruised and dirty bodies.

“It’ll take us thirty minutes, Colonel, and that’s rushing it. Without filing the flight plan in person, we’re breaking about six hundred different rules.”

“We have a friend who will get us clearance. Just get her done, Captain. We don’t have much time. In case you didn’t notice, we’re wanted for mass murder.”

The captain turned and with his copilot and engineer entered the cockpit.

Jack ran a hand through his hair and gestured to Everett. “Carl, keep your eye on our mysterious friend next door.”

“Aye,” he said, as he went to the emergency door behind the cockpit and looked out into the darkness.

“Doc, you and—”

Pete and Ellenshaw had already disappeared into the communications area of the plane, and Golding was already connected to and giving orders to Europa. They had completed the uplink to the secure computer system. Jack went to join them. The lights flickered as the pilot switched over to internal systems. The copilot left the plane to disconnect the ground power source, leaving the door behind him ajar. While the door was not secured, Jack pulled his nine-millimeter and kept it at his side.

“Europa, scan the selected photo from Spandau Prison, Germany, year 1947. The object of investigation is the lieutenant colonel second from the right in the front row of officers.”

Jack watched Pete insert the photo from the file into the scanner. His eyes went to the large monitor placed on the aircraft’s wall.

“Scanning,” Europa said, in her ever-present sexy voice. “Dr. Golding,” she replied almost immediately, “there is no record of this lieutenant colonel in the archival accounts at Spandau Prison in the time frame given.”

“Damn!” Pete said, as he looked at the blowup of the photo on the screen.

“Europa, can you scan the uniform of the officer in question and find out if there are any identifying insignia or shoulder patches?” Jack asked, leaning closer to the monitor. “In particular, the lapel area of the jacket.”