Full Blast. Don Pendleton

are loco,” Encizo said.

      “That’s what it says in my job description. Right next to where it says I’m a clever bugger and prone to being inspired.”

      “Inspire something else then,” Manning suggested.

      “How about conjuring up a pair of South Korean F-16s?”

      They all watched two F-16s burn the air as they streaked in to confront the MiG, which held out for a time before breaking away and heading back toward North Korean territory. The F-16s fell in alongside the An-26 and one of the pilots broke in on McCarter’s com set.

      “Please stay with us, gentlemen, and we will escort you in.”

      “Thanks, mate,” McCarter acknowledged. “I was running out of ideas.”

      The South Korean pilot laughed.

      “From what I saw, you were doing fine. I wasn’t sure whether you really needed us.”

      “Oh, we needed you, pal. Your timing was spot-on. And don’t let anyone tell you different.”

      Stony Man Farm, Virginia

      “BEFORE YOU ASK, we don’t have a damn thing,” Aaron Kurtzman said.

      “Phoenix has dropped off the map. If they’re in North Korean territory, we’re going to be hard-put getting any fix on them.”

      “I’ll save my breath, then,” Hal Brognola said.

      The big Fed crossed the Computer Room to stand in front of the main wall screen as if he were going to receive some kind of cerebral message that would answer his silent questions.

      “All this damn technology and we can’t locate our own people.”

      “How do you think it makes me feel?” Kurtzman growled.

      Brognola turned to look at the man in the wheelchair. He knew Kurtzman had been at his station without a break since the China incident. He had refused to give in, relentlessly working at his keyboard and utilizing every sliver of his computer genius. This time it hadn’t worked. Kurtzman looked tired. It showed in his face, his movements and his responses. The man was only awake through sheer stubbornness.

      “Okay, listen up,” Brognola announced to the entire room. “Being the big boss of this facility, as you are always telling me, gives me certain policy-making rights none of you can refuse to accept.” He waited as his words sank in. “At least you don’t disagree. So I’m making an executive decision here and now.

      “You,” he said, pointing at Kurtzman, “are relieved of your position and won’t get it back until you’ve had at least twelve hours’ sleep. This is nonnegotiable and you aren’t allowed to protest. If you do, that coffeepot goes out the window and we get a new one.”

      “That’s hitting below the belt,” Carmen Delahunt murmured as she glanced across at Barbara Price.

      “I can do worse than that,” Brognola said, throwing a withering glance in Price’s direction, daring her to put up any kind of protest.

      “Hate to think what that might be,” Akira Tokaido said.

      Brognola lowered his eyes to the CD player Tokaido always carried with him.

      “I’d keep quiet,” Huntington Wethers suggested.

      “You still here?” Brognola snapped at Kurtzman.

      Kurtzman held up his hands in surrender. “Just leaving.”

      He spun his wheelchair and made for the door. No one spoke until he had gone.

      “Okay, you know what to do,” Brognola said. “Do it. If Aaron shows his face before his twelve hours are up, call in Buck Greene and have him taken back to his room.”

      “That wasn’t a joke, was it?” Wethers asked.

      “No, I mean every word. Look, I understand how you might feel I’ve overreacted. Give me the benefit of the doubt. I’ve been watching Aaron, and the man is exhausted. If he wasn’t sitting in that chair, he’d fall down. If he works himself into the ground, he’s no good to me or the job.”

      Brognola had attempted to make his decision one that had been based on his concern over Kurtzman’s work. He’d failed. The cyberteam looked beyond his tough words to Brognola’s genuine feelings for Kurtzman.

      “We understand, Hal,” Delahunt said.

      Without another word, the team turned back to their workstations.

      Brognola and Price moved across the room.

      “Military Command in South Korea is on alert for anything they can pick up from over the border,” Price told the big Fed. “The word has come down from the President that we have a team in the north. He’s told Military Command to cooperate with us all the way down the line. I have a contact there. Major Chuck Yosarian.”

      “Let’s hope it’s enough. Anything from Able in Hong Kong?”

      Price shook her head. “Nothing since their last call. It looks as if they’ve come up against hard times. They know as much as we do. David’s team was taken by Kim Yeo and went off the chart.”

      “Damn.” Brognola ran a hand through his hair. “Nothing worse than no contact. Yeah, I know it’s happened before. That doesn’t make it any easier. I hate standing around with my di—” Brognola grinned self-consciously. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to…”

      Price smiled. “Don’t go all coy on me, Hal. I know how you feel.”

      “Any feedback from Gadgets and Jack?”

      “They’re running traces on Gardener, Justin and the CIA guy, Rod McAdam. High-profile individuals like Gardener and Justin aren’t easy to get to without them being aware.”

      “Call coming through for you, Barb,” Delahunt said, holding a phone in her hand.

      Price crossed the room and took the handset. She listened for a moment, then smiled. “That’s great news, Major. We’ll wait for them to contact us. And thanks again.”

      Price replaced the phone.

      “Well?” Brognola asked.

      “Phoenix is being escorted into South Korean territory as we speak. That was Yosarian. Apparently his communication team picked up a radio call coming from an unknown source. Turned out to be Phoenix asking for backup. They were airborne but being threatened by a North Korean MiG. There was a South Korean patrol already in the air on routine patrol. They rendezvoused within minutes and the North Korean backed off.”

      “We need to talk to Phoenix once they’re on the ground,” Brognola said. “Debrief for both sides.”

      “Major Yosarian is setting that up now. He’ll have a secure connection ready as soon as they touch down.”

      “Apparently the South Korean pilots were singing the praises of the pilot in the plane they escorted. Just before they made contact they saw him evade the MiG’s attack. Twice.”

      “David,” Brognola said without a trace of surprise in his voice.

      “Our man McCarter.” Price smiled at the thought of the Briton facing off a well-armed jet fighter. “And I’ll bet he never even broke a sweat.”

      MCCARTER’S CALL came just under two hours later. He didn’t waste time being polite. Just got down to the facts.

      “Henry Lee is dead. But to even the score, so are Kim Yeo and the bloody North Korean who sold Khariza his weapons. The really bad news, and this is going to piss everyone off, is that Sun Yang Ho sent off Khariza’s main cargo just after we arrived. According to Kim Yeo we have three nuclear devices en route to Khariza. Just to add to the problem, we don’t have any ID on the plane or where it’s heading.”

      Price took in a sharp breath, unsure how