The door opened, and Hudson emerged looking somber. He put his arm on Jack’s shoulder, and led him back to his seat.
“I’ve just heard what’s happened,” Hudson said. “It’s a world-class screw-up. One agency not talking to the other.” He slid into the chair opposite Jack. “We’ll get this cleared up. You must have really got the Russians pissed. Breaking into Salko’s office, assaulting Spiro Fomin and his assistant.”
Dinara’s stomach lurched, and she looked at Jack, who’d also registered the significance of Hudson’s words. They hadn’t mentioned Spiro Fomin in their debrief to the CIA; it hadn’t seemed relevant. The only other people who knew Spiro Fomin had been assaulted were the Russians. Hudson must have sensed the change in mood and realized his mistake, because his hand whipped beneath the table, and when it came back up, it held a pistol.
“No sudden moves,” he told Jack. “Damn. Never volunteer information. That’s the key to pulling off a good cover, right?”
“Where’s the real CIA jet?” Dinara asked in Russian.
Hudson smiled. “Quarantined in a hangar at the airport,” he replied in English.
Jack glared at the Russian operative. “You hurried us onto the plane, so our escort couldn’t verify your identity.”
“People get sloppy when under pressure,” Hudson replied. “We knew the Americans would try to get you home. Three jets, three airports. It wasn’t much of a challenge to have substitutes waiting at them all. And we’ve kept your people in custody, so Erin Sebold and her fellow plotters at the embassy are in the dark. They don’t know whether your escape was successful.”
Dinara felt the jet bank into a sharp clockwise turn.
“We now know what you know,” Hudson said. “So you will be taken back to Moscow, where you will face justice.”
Dinara felt a wave of panic. The Kremlin had learned exactly what she and Jack knew. Hudson had listened to it all, and she had no doubt all their electronic communications on the plane had been processed through a Russian satellite. They’d neutralized Private. No one would believe anything Justine and Mo-bot said, and Dinara had no doubt Russian intelligence would find a way to take them out permanently. She was under no illusions; she and Jack would be taken back to Moscow, where they would be executed.
Jack must have reached the same conclusion, because he sprang forward. Hudson fired, but the bullet zipped past Jack, who moved sideways, and buried itself in the plush headrest of Jack’s chair.
Jack swatted Hudson’s gun and punched him in the face. Hudson fell out of his seat and, as he tumbled, his hand hit the table and the pistol clattered free. Dinara grabbed Hudson while Jack picked up the pistol. Hudson headbutted her and Dinara lost her grip on him. Hudson sprang toward Jack, who fired, shooting him in the neck. As Hudson fell, choking, the cockpit door opened, revealing the pilot, who held a pistol. Jack shot him twice in the chest, and he fell to the ground.
Dinara and Jack froze, staring at the two men lying dead on the floor. For a moment, the aircraft was still. The only sound was the constant roar of the engines.
Jack snapped out of his daze. “Find out where the FORCE System is located,” he said. “It was mentioned in the Jane’s Defence article. Find out where the activation ceremony is taking place.”
“OK,” Dinara replied.
Jack headed toward the cockpit. “I’m going to turn this plane around, and we’re going to do whatever it takes to stop this thing.”
CHAPTER 101
I’D BEEN TRAINED to fly Sea Knights, and I hadn’t piloted a fixed wing for a long time, but our high-speed satellite connection put the Internet at my fingertips, and with it the sum of human knowledge. A combination of information gleaned from the aircraft’s flight manual and online tutorials enabled me to supplement my general flight skills with a specific understanding of the G650’s controls. Once I’d corrected course, and set the autopilot, I dragged Hudson and the pilot to the rear of the aircraft and put their bodies in the small baggage hold in the tail.
I said a quiet prayer for the men as I shut the door to the compartment. I had killed before, when there’d been no other option, but the taking of a life never got any easier. Hudson and the pilot had been a threat, but they’d been turned into my enemies by circumstance. In another world, we might have talked sport over beers. I harbored no ill will toward the fallen men. They’d done what they thought was necessary. Just like me.
“The FORCE System is run out of Naval Air Station Fallon, Nevada,” Dinara revealed as I returned to the main cabin.
“Bring your computer,” I said, picking up my machine and the satellite phone. “Let’s get set up in the cockpit.”
Dinara grabbed her laptop and followed me through the cabin.
“Fallon,” I remarked as I took the pilot’s seat and Dinara slid into the co-pilot’s chair. “That’s north of Vegas.”
I used my laptop to check the nearest civilian airport and discovered Fallon had a municipal field that was rated for the G650. I thought about attempting to land at NAS Fallon, but an unidentified civilian aircraft approaching a military base would almost certainly be shot down.
“We can land at the local airport,” I told Dinara, “but we’re going to need help.”
I picked up the phone and dialed one of many numbers I knew by heart.
“Private Vegas,” an operator answered.
“This is Jack Morgan,” I said.
“Mr. Morgan—” the operator began, but I cut him off.