Ahab saw him fully now. Tall and lanky. Silver-gray hair. Weathered face streaked with sweat and grime but marked by intense blue eyes.
Ahab raised his pistol, intending to put those eyes out, but the rifle in the other man’s hands chattered first.
Another spread of shells hit the boat, but this time they ripped into the metal cases. Gobs of contaminated radioactive liquid erupted outward. The fluid doused Ahab and his men. It burned with a cold fire as if some infernal curse were being conjured upon them.
One of the men screamed. Another dove off the boat, hitting the ramp and tumbling into the water below. Ahab focused only on his enemy, pulling the trigger one last time, firing his final bullet as the boat went over the ramp and raced down into the sea.
He never saw the outcome of that shot. The boat had sped downward too quickly. It hit the ocean, nearly throwing him out. Its momentum carried it away from the freighter.
It drifted aft, moving into the thick smoke and deflating slowly. It vanished in the clouds of burning diesel near the stern.
The boat would be found a mile from the freighter, adrift, swamped, and floating on its side; buoyancy provided by two compartments that still contained air. It was discovered empty, the smugglers, the weapons, and the radioactive materials it had once held long since spilled into the sea.
—
Inside the cargo hold, Kurt and Joe took three men prisoner, covered the others’ bodies with tarps, and gave aid to the grievously wounded major. They didn’t dare remove the metallic spear that had punctured his gut, but they cut the ends off and did their best to staunch the bleeding.
The major grunted as they laid him on a makeshift stretcher. “Thank you,” he said. “I would like to see the sun again before I die.”
They carried him toward the open cargo door and placed him on the deck, where he could see the sun through the smoke. Kurt looked him over. “Don’t worry. You’re not going to die from a flesh wound like this.”
The major offered a half smile, then he looked up at the sun and closed his eyes.
Chapter 1
Fifty thousand feet above the Arctic Circle the air temperature was a frigid one hundred nineteen degrees below zero. A heavily modified C-17 transport cut through this bitterly cold air with two F-35 fighters trailing a mile behind. At this temperature, the atmosphere held nothing in the way of moisture and offered crystal clear views of the stars above and the moon, which oddly appeared below the aircraft, as it had just emerged on the far horizon.
Inside the C-17, in a comfortably heated compartment just aft of the cockpit, a group of engineers and technicians sat at various computer consoles watching different systems and analyzing incoming data.
“Target spotted,” a voice announced across the compartment.
Senior test engineer Dan Caldwell looked up from his screen. There wasn’t supposed to be a target for them to shoot at yet. He glanced around to see who’d spoken. He was not surprised to see Ridley Wiles, one of the systems analysts, standing at the window. Ridley was twenty-three, a civilian contractor, and not all that big on discipline. But he understood the laser system they were using like no one else.
“What target are you talking about?” Caldwell asked sharply. “Nothing on my scope.”
“It’s big and round…and allegedly made of cream cheese,” Ridley replied. “We can hit it from here. Then it’s bagels for everyone.”
Groans and mild laughter wafted through the cabin as Ridley stepped back from the window and pointed at the moon.
Caldwell was not amused. “Get in your seat, Ridley. The punishment for failed attempts at humor is washing the plane by hand once we get back to Greenland. No gloves allowed.”
Ridley took his seat and strapped himself in like he was supposed to. Caldwell let it go at that. He didn’t mind the break in tension that a few well-placed groaners could bring on, but it was time to get serious.
The aircraft and laser system they were about to test was known as the EAGL, Enhanced Aerial Gunnery Laser. Caldwell had always wondered why someone hadn’t added another word to the name so they could call it the EAGLE proper, but that was above his pay grade.
The laser in question was the most powerful laser in the world by a wide margin. It was far too heavy to be mounted in a fighter or attack craft. But placed aboard the modified C-17 and lifted to a high altitude, it could do things that would alter the rules of war. Assuming, of course, that it worked as planned.
Time to find out, Caldwell thought.
He pressed the intercom switch and spoke to the captain. “All systems go,” he reported. “Cryogenics functioning at optimal levels. Laser waveguides are tuned. Change course to two-four-zero. We’re entering the firing window now. Test protocol commencing.”
The pilot replied affirmatively, and the big aircraft banked into a turn. For the next few minutes, they would watch their screens and wait, while an extremely powerful radar system mounted below thecraft scanned the ocean’s surface out to the edge of the curvature of the earth.
Several hundred miles away, an American submarine was about to launch an unarmed ballistic missile. It would burst from the surface in a spray of mist and foam, linger for an instant, and then rocket skyward on a pillar of flame.
As it climbed above the horizon, the radar system mounted on the underside of the C-17 would find it, lock on, and track it. Seconds ticked by. Then several tense minutes. They knew roughly when and where the missile would be launched, but to make the test realistic they hadn’t been given the exact data.
Finally, something appeared on the scope. “Target acquired,” a radar technician said. “Altitude three thousand feet and climbing. Range, speed, and acceleration computing now.”
