by Allan Burd
“She got a weapon to work.” Blaze said surprised.
“Oh, that’s just fuckin’ great,” Chase said.
“Not now. I’ll explain that later. Anyway, she was trained to react to situations like that one. But after she single-handedly defeated the Ninja, Dupres and some of the other soldiers applauded, and her initial reaction was to applaud back to them.”
“So?” Chase said.
“So, Russian ballerinas will often applaud back to an appreciative audience. It’s their way of saying thank you. They’re one of the few cultures that do that. Rebecca’s extremely graceful on her feet. My guess is that she was a balletomane as a child and the habit became ingrained. When the awkward situation presented itself, Rebecca just reacted in a way that was natural for her. It’s also not a behavior that a spy agency would think of reconditioning.”
“That’s pretty thin,” said Gaines.
“Tells usually are, but there’s more. That was just the tip-off that got me thinking. I saw the hatred in her eyes when you mentioned it was the Japanese that were responsible. It went deeper than just the attack. More like an inborn bigotry. As I’m sure you’re aware of, the Russians and Japanese are longtime enemies. That explained it.
“Also, something else struck me as strange. When she had the alien weapon in her possession, the Japanese asked for an unconditional surrender. We were outgunned, fighting a losing battle, and it sure as hell seemed like a generous alternative to me. Yet Rebecca knew it was a ruse. She knew that once they believed all of us were present and accounted for, they would kill us. So we played possum until Rebecca could get a clear shot. But when she had one, she hesitated. Only when they shot first, killing more of us, did Rebecca act.
“At first I didn’t think much of it. I was so grateful that her plan worked, I never even thought to question her timing. But it was calculated. She was waiting until more soldiers were killed, so she would have less to deal with later. Only when the gun turret pointed in her direction, jeopardizing her own life, did she fire.”
“Are you trying to say she planned the Japanese invasion?” asked Blaze.
“No. What I’m saying is that she took a bad situation and turned it to her advantage. You would think after what just happened, she would want as many soldiers covering the cargo as possible. Instead, she let me take the only working Jeep back here and left everyone else behind except Dupres.”
Gaines wasn’t entirely convinced, but he was being swayed. Over the last two years, his department had experienced security leaks and the only thing they knew for sure was that the Russians were benefiting from them. There was no way Logan would know that. Could Rebecca really have been the mole? However unlikely, it was possible. Her position allowed the necessary access and the ability to avoid detection. She was certainly intelligent enough. But she had proven herself time and time again to be totally trustworthy. “I need more,” said Gaines.
“When I was in the spaceship studying the alien writing, she came to check up on me. When one of the soldiers walked passed her in a relatively narrow corridor, he turned his back to her and she became annoyed. She didn’t vocalize it, but I noticed it nonetheless. None of us would’ve thought anything of that, but in Russia, when two people pass each other in close quarters, like a movie theater, they always face each other. It’s considered taboo to do otherwise.”
“Is that all?” Gaines asked.
“Yes.”
“It’s not good enough.”
“It better be. Right now she’s riding away with a truckload of alien technology and you’re the only one who can give the order to stop her.”
Gaines still refused to believe him. “See if you can understand this. I spent five years working side by side with this woman every day. She’s shown nothing but loyalty and total devotion to her career. She’s my best officer—bar none. Then you come along … and after spending one day with her, you’ve determined that she’s a spy. How do you expect me to believe you?”
Logan paused for a moment. He had hoped to avoid this. It would just create further animosity, but he had no choice but to get personal. “There might be one more thing. Can I talk to you alone?”
Gaines hesitated. Then he nodded his agreement. Together they left the bridge and entered the hallway, stopping at the top of the ramp that led down to the level below.
Logan glanced around briefly, making sure no one was in earshot. “With all due respect, and speaking to you as one guy to another, I think you’re thinking with the wrong head.”
Gaines was taken slightly aback. “Hey!”
“Look, I see the way you look at her and I know you’re involved with her.”
That was wrong and Gaines became hopeful. If Logan was mistaken about this, then perhaps he was wrong about everything. “What makes you say that?”
“It’s obvious. It’s written all over your face. You’re in love with her.”
“No, not that. What makes you think we’re already involved?”
“She’s on the Pill,” stated Logan.
This was good, Gaines thought. That’s two mistakes Logan made. “That’s twice you’re wrong. First off, we aren’t involved. Second of all, I know for a fact that she’s not on the Pill.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“OK,” said Logan, respecting his privacy for the moment.
“What makes you so sure?” Gaines shot back.
“Her eyes blink twelve times more a minute than the average woman. It’s a side effect of the Pill.”
“That must come in handy in negotiations,” Gaines said sarcastically.
“I’m young, single, I travel a lot, and—just like you—I have needs. I meet a lot of women in a lot of different places and as crude as it might sound, speaking once again just one guy to another, it lets me know just who might be a little more willing. I’m also not interested in finding out ten years from now that there’s a little Logan running around who I didn’t know about.”
“So much for safe sex.”
“I’ll tell you this. I can look a woman in the eyes and I’ll know every time if she’s really on the Pill, or if she’s lying to me. And I haven’t been wrong yet. I watched Rebecca enough to know that’s she’s definitely on it. I might be wrong about your being involved with her. That was a logical assumption, although apparently incorrect. But I’m not wrong in that you want to be involved with her, and I’m not wrong about her being on the Pill.”
Gaines thought some more. He knew Rebecca couldn’t have any children. That’s why she chose to concentrate on her career. That’s why she shied away from a relationship. She knew that one day he would want kids, and she once told him it wouldn’t be fair. As positive as Logan had sounded, he couldn’t have been right. There was no reason for Rebecca to be on the Pill … unless she was lying. Unless, not being able to have children was just an excuse for not getting too close to anyone. No. That was crazy.
Logan responded to the silence. “I think we’re getting side-tracked. We can’t afford to. You know, I met Le Buc years ago. He was a good man, taught me a lot. One of the most important lessons was, don’t let your personal feelings get in the way of the facts. Everyone has a hidden side. Every person puts on a mask when they go out in public. The way to know your opponent is to see beneath the mask and your emotions only get in the way of doing that. If he were still alive, he’d tell you the same thing.”
Le Buc had. He used to say that to Gaines all the time. He used to tell him to stop taking everything so personally or he’d never survive. But Gaines could never do that. He always wore his heart on his sleeve. He thought fondly about his lost friend. Then he remembered what he said to him on the plane. Every once in a while she lets a smile escape. Not a happy smile, just a slight rise in her upper lip, like she knows something that no one else does. That’s when he finally realized Logan was right. The secret wasn’t the mission. The secret was her.
“Son of a
bitch.” Gaines shook his head back and forth. “Son of a bitch.”
Logan knew he had gotten through. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
Suddenly, Carlson appeared from the lower deck and trotted up the ramp.
“What’s our transportation status?” Gaines asked. He headed back into the bridge with both men in tow.
“All four of our helicopters are working fine, sir. One more is on its way.”
“Just one. Shit.” Gaines rejoined Blaze and Chase, who were waiting patiently for them on the bridge. “OK, Carlson, I’m leaving you in charge of making sure this ship gets back to base.”
“Yes sir,” Carlson responded proudly.
“But you’re going to have to wait until that chopper arrives. Blaze, you keep him company for the wait.” Suddenly he recalled his suspicions when he left Blaze alone on the bridge last time and inwardly chastised himself for doing it again. “You seem to know this ship inside and out. Make sure it doesn’t do anything funny,” he added, as a clear warning to Blaze. “Chase, you and Logan are going to take one of the transport choppers and fly to Prince Rupert. You weren’t here then, Logan. We received a report that the alien that escaped was spotted there by a local. Colonel Chase will fill you in on the details on the way. He knows these aliens from a past encounter. Make sure he fills you in on that as well. One thing. No killing! Logan, use that talent of yours to communicate with it. Together, you should be able to track it down and bring it in peacefully. Any problems with that?” Gaines directed the question to Chase.
“All right,” Chase nodded his approval. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m taking the Jeep. I’m going after Rebecca alone.”
68
“How’d you do that, anyway?” Dupres asked, trying to strike up a conversation. The ride was long, the bumps were jostling, and he was getting bored. Although, he thought, boredom was safer than action.
“I cut off an alien’s thumb and used it to trigger the weapon. Figured it was coded by either fingerprint or DNA,”
she answered matter-of-factly.
“The beauty and savvy of the White Queen,” complimented Dupres.
“Who?”
“Er …” He was too embarrassed to explain that the White Queen was a comic book character. “Never mind. So what’s our ETA?”
“If everything proceeds according to schedule, 0300.”
They both squinted their eyes as a light shone through the windshield. A truck, up about a quarter mile ahead of them, was signaling with its headlights. Then the road went dark, their eyes less adjusted to the blackness than they were a moment before.
“What was that?” Dupres asked, his left hand still shielding his eyes as he tried to make out exactly what was ahead.
Rebecca applied pressure to the brake, slowing the truck, and grabbed the pistol which lay next to her on the seat. “I don’t know, but I don’t like it.”
“Me either,” said Dupres, removing his weapon from his belt. He noticed Rebecca reduced their speed considerably as they approached the origin of the light. In their headlights, he saw another truck waiting on the side of the road by an off ramp. Standing next to its passenger side door was a rather large man. Trouble, he thought. Definitely trouble. He gripped his weapon tighter and checked the clip when he noticed Rebecca brought the vehicle to a complete halt. “Why are we stopping?” he asked, his eyes focused intently on the large man.
Rebecca pointed her gun at Dupres. “Because this is where I get off.”
Then, without hesitation, she shot Dupres in the head, watching without emotion as his brains splattered the side window and his body slumped forward into the dashboard.
END GAME
69
PACIFIC OCEAN
A ship’s radar is vital to its survival. As the ship’s eyes it is essential to detect incoming anti-ship missiles and aircraft as early as possible, to enable the proper countermeasures to be taken. The greatest problem however, is that the range of a radar system is limited by the height the curved antenna can be mounted on the ship and the weight and size of the face as to ensure its accuracy.
An approaching aircraft poses a particular problem because at normal frequencies in calm conditions, the aircraft’s image can be reflected back off the sea surface and confuse the radar, causing large errors in calculating speed and range. To overcome this, a much higher frequency in the millimetric waveband is used to provide accurate tracking. This method, integrated with an electro-optical or television sighting device, proves very reliable.
Aboard the Tsunami, the OPS-24 developed by Mitsubishi Electric Corporation handles the task. Equipped with D-band transmitter/receiver modules, consisting of silicon hybrid integrated circuit technology and discrete transistors which feed small groups of antenna elements, the radar can track at least 200 targets simultaneously with almost perfect accuracy while continuing to provide surveillance. Even flying close to the sea surface, there is nary a way to escape the OPS-24’s mechanical eyes.
Lynx knew all this from his many briefings as an officer in the Canadian Royal Air Force. Today, none of it mattered. He flew directly towards the Tsunami high and fast. He wanted them to see him coming.
Yakui sat in his small comfortable seat so perfectly straight his impeccably bright uniform showed nary a crease as he diligently watched the radar. When the blip appeared on the hazy green radar screen, moving rapidly towards the center, he swiftly checked the IFF transponder signal that identified it as foe. Without a trace of nervousness, he reported his sighting. “Commander, we have an unidentified intruder closing in on us.”
Hirigashi, the Senior Watch Officer, stood up from his post and approached him. “Is it from the Canadian ship that’s been watching us?” he asked.
“Negative, this one is approaching from the main land.”
“What is the latest word from the Ninjas?”
“No word, sir. Our last radio contact with them was thirty minutes ago.” This was normal, as the Ninjas required radio silence to achieve maximum stealth potential. However, the aircraft approaching them not being identified as a Ninja was worrisome.
“I’ll alert the Captain at once.”
Lynx wanted them to know who it was who sent them to their graves. More importantly, he wanted to be close. They wouldn’t dare fire first again. They would be unsure of his intentions.
And he would extend them the same courtesy they showed him.
Captain Tanaku had just got word of the approaching F-18 over the comm-link. It was all he needed to hear to know his mission had failed. Inwardly, he was grateful. He believed all along that the attack against Canada was unwarranted and potentially disastrous for his country. He wished he’d been strong enough, independent enough, to refuse it. He should have refused it, he thought, and taken his chances at his court martial trial back in Japan. It would have been more honorable. But he did not, and now he would pay the price for his disgraceful actions.
But why did the Canadians only send one fighter?
He walked to the bridge to watch the radar screens. The other Canadian fighters from the aircraft carrier had not changed their positions and the Canadian jet heading towards them was closing fast. But it still hadn’t done anything. Perhaps he was not attacking. Perhaps he was just sending a message. Tanaku ordered his men to standby. He wanted no more innocent blood on his hands.
When Lynx was within two miles, he armed his AIM-9 Sidewinder and locked it on target. “This one’s for you, Hound,” he said, as he pushed the red button firing the missile. Normally, he would use his advanced Hughes aircraft radar that allowed him launch-and-leave capability, designed so fighters could fire and get out of harm’s way as quickly as possible. Instead, Lynx followed his missile directly to its target.
Captain Tanaku did not want this fight and would have gladly accepted his own death to avoid it, but he could not let the men under his command be punished for his failings. That would be an even greater disgrace. H
e ordered his fighters, consisting solely of American aircraft F-15J’s, F-4EJ’s, and the new FS-X’s, to take off. His men instantly scrambled to their planes.
Only one F-4EJ managed to takeoff before Lynx’s missile hit the deck. The other fighter jets, filled to the rim with fuel, exploded violently. Many of the soldiers were propelled overboard as the shock wave lifted them off the deck with bone shattering force. Metal shrapnel violently dispersed by the blast, pierced their uniforms and lacerated their bodies, killing them long before they impacted with the unforgiving icy cold sea. Any unfortunate soul still within the impact radius fell one second later to the searing flames that swept through the area.
Captain Tanaku watched helplessly from his view on the bridge. The glass shielding, far enough away from the blast, held under the diminishing force waves. He quickly returned his focus to the OPS-24 radar screen. The previously unthreatening Canadian fighter squad from the nearby air craft carrier had simultaneously all took flight and were now headed directly for them. His eyes narrowed and his heavy heart sank as he watched two blips turn to four, four turn to eight, and eight become sixteen. His men didn’t stand a chance.
Lynx saw the Japanese fighter take off as he flew in lower. He ignored it. His goal was an up-close look at the faces of the men who ordered his friend’s death. Let the other fighters backing him up choose it out to see who would take down the lone jet.
He pushed the throttle forward and closed in quickly avoiding the steady gunfire headed his way. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt no fear. Maybe, with his friend’s death, he just didn’t care anymore. Or maybe, by defeating an unbeatable foe, the Ninja, he had stared death in the face and found it wanting. Either way, he felt invincible.
He buzzed the bridge of the aircraft carrier without being hit by a single round. Its weakened windows shattered under the assaulting sonic waves generated by his fly-by. Just before the lights went out from the earsplitting assault, Lynx saw the face of his enemy, Captain Tanaku, and the look of defeat in his eyes. He held the picture of it in his mind and savored it. He climbed higher and arched his F-18 around for another attack, knowing just where to aim his final shots.