Legacy (39 page)

“Ah, we are here,” Sebastian said. He took hold of his large bag and then paused in front of Charlie. “Now the question is, Herr Doctor, are you prepared for the trouble we are going to run into or are you just along for the ride?”

Charlie’s eyes didn’t waver a moment as he returned the German’s stare.

“Captain Everett is my friend. I respect him, as I do the colonel. I also have several other friends who are nearing a time when they too shall place their lives on the line if we fail to find out who is responsible and what they are hiding. So in essence—yes, I am prepared to give my life for my friends.”

Sebastian handed out his pack to one of his men. Then he looked at Charlie again and nodded his head, not saying anything but making clear that the quirky little professor had given the right answer.

Jack also nodded as he turned and hopped down from the truck.

“Very eloquent, Charles,” Pete said, as he stood in the back of the truck.

“Do you agree?” Charlie asked.

“By all means. Couldn’t have said it better myself. But I wonder about one thing.”

Charlie Ellenshaw stood and followed Pete to the back of the truck. “And that is?”

“Since we are all being brave and, as they say in the military, gung ho, how do we plan on not only breaking Mr. Everett out of jail and taking on the entire Ecuadorian government with fourteen men, but to do all of this in less than twenty-four hours before the U.S. launches the Moon missions?”

Ellenshaw didn’t have an answer, so he just pointed out the back of the truck at the figure of the man standing next to the German. Jack Collins was watching the commandos load into the aircraft.

“I don’t have an answer for you, Pete, except to say, I’ll bet on that man right there.”

ILE DU DIABLE (DEVIL’S ISLAND), EUROPEAN SPACE AGENCY LAUNCH FACILITY, 2 MILES EAST OF KOUROU, FRENCH GUIANA

The three large ships had slipped in unnoticed since most of the French military presence was based on the mainland surrounding the ESA launch facility at Kourou. This is not to say that the French army had not sent out security details in the past three weeks to Devil’s Island to make sure there were no intruders setting up camp at the old prison facilities. They had. The last had been a small ten-man French commando team sent there one hour prior to the final countdown of the two Ariane 7 rockets awaiting launch.

The two Ariane rockets were lined up as neatly as the three ships anchored just inside the main harbor at the ominous old prison. The ten-man team had walked unsuspectingly into far more firepower than they could handle. James McCabe shook his head as he looked at the bodies.

“They should have been far more cautious and less arrogant about their abilities,” he said as he turned toward the Mechanic. “Are the men we are leaving here all understanding of their orders?”

“I have chosen these men personally. They will do their duty to Allah. They are, as you say, understanding of that duty, and are proud to bring down the infidels’ attempt at mocking God. But I am surprised, James, that you find it so easy to send men to their deaths without a moment’s hesitation.”

McCabe looked the bearded Mechanic over. The man had set up the ambush of the French commandos with the expertise of someone who had far more formal training than he realized. During the brief exchange of gunfire, the Mechanic, with his thirty-man team recently flown in from northern Pakistan, had suffered only two dead and one wounded.

“I have been in the killing and sacrifice business for a long time. You should know that I chased you and your people for many months inside Iraq.” McCabe looked at the Mechanic very closely. “You seem to have become more of your old self in the past few days. Are you seeing the light of Allah in your soul once more?” McCabe offered a slight smile.

The tall Mechanic didn’t answer the insulting question. He just stepped away from the bodies of the French soldiers and nodded at his men.

“Take your stations and know that Allah is smiling down upon you this night.”

The Mechanic was present at the demonstration put on by McCabe and the specialists he had working for Rawlins after the mine had been entered for the first time since the German army had vacated the site. One of the abandoned crates they found had contained one of the ancient weapons from the original German excavation. They had spent six months of hard work trying desperately to reverse-engineer the riflelike weapon, only to fail again and again. Then they had discovered the small satchel of meteorites that had been hidden away over 700 million years before. The properties were soon untangled and then the power source of the ore, or meteorite as the Germans had called it, had been discovered. The light weapon had performed magnificently as its bright blue light pierced solid stone, melting a three-inch steel plate. All of this in just a three-minute test. At the three-minute mark the weapon had burned out. But the source of the design’s power had been uncovered and the Mechanic had started having a slow change of heart about the men he was working with. Knowing what his movement could do with that weapon had a profound effect on him. Too bad they had left the weapon inside the mine, as he would have liked to have shown it to some very special people in Iran, Pakistan, and Afghanistan.

McCabe and the Mechanic watched the fire team as they ran into the old ruins of the reception center where prisoners were once processed for their eventual dispersal into the penal colonies on the different islands. McCabe smiled as the hum of a large generator filled the air as the four launchers were uncovered for the first time since they had been off-loaded. The Lavochkin OKB S-75, better known to NATO as the SA-2 Guideline, was a delightful bonus when McCabe and his men broke into the Raytheon Corporation’s storage facility. The Russian-made Guideline was the latest and best version of the venerable surface-to-air missiles commonly known as SAMs. The American company had come into possession of the four weapons during a raid in 2006 on a well-defended warehouse in Taliban-controlled territory in Afghanistan. Once called upon to target B-52s in Vietnam, the Guideline’s new mission would be to bring down two Ariane rockets carrying no fewer than twenty men and women. The weapon would be deadly at the short range required. As the nose cones of the four missiles rose above the shattered wall of the old administration buildings, McCabe was satisfied that the men chosen would do as ordered. He nodded and looked at the Mechanic.

“Shall we get out of here before the fireworks start?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. Then he did a double take as he saw something in the former terrorist’s eyes he didn’t like. He actually looked longingly at the shining white tips of the missiles as they rose into the air, as if he were contemplating staying behind. It didn’t take long to have his suspicion confirmed.

“Perhaps they have not had enough training on when to turn on their radars. I think I should—”

“Get on the helicopter. We have little enough time as it is. They can handle it. You trained them on when to light up their radars.”

The Mechanic looked from the missiles to his employer. The look told McCabe that the Mechanic was starting to have second thoughts about the way in which he was being rewarded for his duties. He realized there would be no virgins awaiting him in heaven upon his death, only scorn and ridicule from the true believers who had preceded him to the afterlife.

The Mechanic turned and boarded the waiting French-built Gazelle helicopter. With one last look at his unfolding plan, McCabe followed.

As soon as he settled into the backseat of the small helicopter, he put on a set of headphones and leaned forward to speak to the pilot.

“Remember, stay only a few feet off the water as we head east. We cannot be picked up on the ESA radar. They have Mirage fighters all over this area.”

The pilot nodded as the twin turbines of the helicopter started their whine.

“Now, get me Los Angeles,” he said, tapping on his microphone in a gesture that said he wanted to use the radio. McCabe only waited for a moment when his party was reached.

“The operation will commence in forty-five minutes,” he said.

Doubtless with sabotage in the air now, precautions would be made.

But then, end runs around precautions were always part of any game of sabotage!

EUROPEAN SPACE AGENCY CONTROL CENTRE, TOULOUSE, FRANCE

Philippe Gardenaux was watching the monitors and the telemetry stations. His control center’s overall responsibility for the mission would take full effect as soon as the two Ariane missions cleared the two launch towers six thousand miles away in French Guiana. Until then he was a nervous bystander, as the ESA’s most ambitious mission to date was only thirty seconds from reality. He had been named over two Germans and one Netherlander for the post of chief of flight operations. As he watched the commencement of the thirty-second countdown in Guiana, he wondered why the cooperation between his agency and the men and women at NASA had suddenly ceased. Even through icy relationships between the United States and other areas of the world, the space programs of both nations had always seemed to be off limits to petty political squabbles. All that had changed, and he suspected it was because of the mineral and the alien weaponry they were going after. He prayed that both nations as well as China would come to their senses.

“… ten, nine, eight, seven, Ariane 1 has main engine start, four, three, two, Ariane 1 has full ignition start of solid fuel boosters, one, we have separation of restraining bolts and the clock is officially running.”

Gardenaux watched at the tremendous power of Ariane 1 scrambled the picture momentarily. He and others switched their view to another monitor that showed the start of the launch from a half mile away. He saw the giant rocket start to lift free of the Earth and start its climb to the sky with its fifty-ton payload and ten astronauts. He watched as the Ariane cleared the top of the tower.

“… two, we have booster start for Ariane 2,” the announcement said from Guiana. “The clock is running.”

Gardenaux moved his eyes over to another large monitor and saw the second mission to the Moon start gloriously from pad 3-b in Guiana. Another fantastic eruption of fuel and gases erupted from the tower structure as Ariane 2 started to rise into the sky as though it were chasing Ariane 1 to see which craft could achieve orbit first.

Gardenaux and every European citizen watching the launch clenched their fists and silently or vociferously cheered as the two giant rockets were fully free of the space port.

“Yes, go baby, go!” Gardenaux pushed the two missions into the black South American sky with just his willpower. Then, as suddenly as the euphoria began it came crashing down as the first missiles were seen rising into that same dark sky as they started their run for the two Ariane mission platforms.

“No, no, no, no!” Gardenaux said, as he stepped out from behind his telemetry station.

“We are a go for roll maneuver on Ariane 1,” came the announcement from Guiana.

“They don’t even realize what’s happening!” the French flight controller shouted.

EUROPEAN SPACE AGENCY LAUNCH FACILITY, KOUROU, FRENCH GUIANA

The military aspect of the two
Ariane
missions reacted far faster than the scientific end. Four orbiting Mirage IIIs of the French air force streaked into the air a mile back from the first Ariane. The second four were trying desperately to chase Ariane 1 as it streaked to the ten-mile mark in altitude and was gaining fast. They saw the white fire of exhaust from the four SAM as they chased down the heavy beasts of the Ariane 7 like a lion against a wildebeest. The SAMs were locked on target and were relentless as they matched and then surpassed the speed of the French-made systems.

The first Mirage flared its wings as it passed between the first SAM and Ariane 2. The SAM tried to ignore the new radar flash in its seeker head but saw the French-built fighter as an obstacle and tried to swerve to the left as the Mirage placed itself between the climbing Ariane 7 and the SAM. It worked. The SAM clipped the wing of the Mirage and that was enough to send it tumbling thirty feet off course before its damaged brain told the missile to detonate. The Mirage and missile exploded at almost the same time as the second SAM targeted on the Ariane rushed through the falling debris.

The world watched as it merged with the twin set of six solid rocket boosters that encircled the base of the first stage. The SAM exploded only five feet from the outer casing of the solid fuel cells of the boosters, ripping into the thin aluminum and cardboard that lined the interior of the solid propellant boosters. The resulting explosions ripped into the first stage that carried the liquid fuel cells for the main engines of the Ariane 7, detonating the mix as it joined the combustion chambers for the engines. The resulting cataclysm sent the explosive shock wave up and into the second stage, where the fuel tanks were also ignited, and then that explosion in hit the third stage, the one carrying the lunar lander.

The Ariane 7 came apart in a gas cloud as bright as the sun. The power of the blast was felt as far away as San Francisco. Windows shook and pictures fell from walls. The detonation rocked the very sky as the crew capsule carrying the ten men and women evaporated. They never had a chance as the capsule separated from the third stage and was sent hurtling far out into the Pacific Ocean.

The third and fourth SAMs were having a far more difficult time catching their prey. Two Mirage fighters intercepted the third SAM with a heat-seeking missile, a snap shot that connected solidly with the Russian-made SAM, ripping it apart like a large piece of paper. That didn’t matter in the end as the fourth SAM found its mark. It wasn’t a hit at all, really. It was just a bee sting as the range of the SAM gave out. Sensing its low fuel state and the distance to the target, the SAM exploded fifty feet from the exhaust plume of Ariane 1. The outer casing and not the warhead is what struck all six of the solid rocket boosters, igniting fire plumes from the front, back, and sides of the large solid fuel cells.