The Death Strain (11 page)

We lay there together a long time, watching darkness come over the land like a slowly descending curtain. Then we rolled our clothes up in a tight pack together and put them atop Carlsbad on the stretcher. Rita's eyes were haunted with sadness every time she looked at him. It was harder for her than for me. All she had was the pain and sorrow for him. I was comforted by my angry determination.

When the night finally came, we slipped into the river again and made our way forward. The trip was free of problems until we reached Yenki. I saw the runway lights of the airfield outside the village. The river bordered one side of the field, and it was now less than an hour before dawn. The field itself was unguarded, I saw, as we pulled the stretcher up onto the bank and got into our clothes.

"Do you think the plane is still here?" Rita asked. "When we didn't arrive yesterday it might have left."

I grinned at her. "Maybe it was never here at all. Anyway, I'm not taking a chance on another
"accident."
You stay here. I'm going to find us an airplane."

The hangars were directly in front of me, lined up along the rear of the field. I ran, crouched over, casting an eye at the first streaks of gray in the sky, to the nearest of the hangars. A side door was open and I slipped through. Three small planes were there. They'd be useless to us; I went to the second hangar. It was a repair shop with parts and pieces of planes scattered around.

The third hangar proved more fruitful. It held an old Russian TU-2 light bomber, piston-engined, a vintage plane. But it was plenty big enough and had the range we needed to make Japan, I climbed into the cockpit for a fast look. Everything seemed to be in order, but I couldn't be sure till I turned her on and I couldn't do that till the last moment.

I went back for Rita and Carlsbad, scouting the edge of the hangars, flattening myself against a wall as a small fuel truck chugged past with two Chinese in khaki jump suits. After it passed, I continued hugging the deep shadows at the walls of the hangars. It was definitely getting light, and fast. I ran the short distance to the edge of the field and Rita rose to meet me. She started to pick up one end of the stretcher when I stopped her.

"Leave it," I said. "It'll slow us down too much." I picked up Carlsbad's limp form and slung him over my shoulder. It wasn't exactly prescribed treatment for patients with brain injury and in a coma but it was the best I could do. With Rita beside me, Wilhelmina in one hand and carrying Carlsbad, I started back for the hangar, once again skirting along the back edges of the big walls.

We made it to hangar three and the old TU-2, all right. I'd just carried Carlsbad into the stripped-down cabin and put him on the floor when I heard the hangar door being opened. Rita was still outside, at the bottom of the movable steps I'd placed alongside the plane. Through the nose window I saw three Chinese mechanics in white coveralls as the main garage door went up. They saw Rita at the same time and went for her. She tried to turn and run, slipped on a circle of grease and went skidding to the concrete floor. The three Chinese had her at once and were yanking her to her feet. I didn't want noise, not yet, anyway. I saw a heavy wrench on the floor of the pilot's cabin, grabbed it and jumped.

I landed atop one of the Chinese, and he went down. As he did, I brought the wrench around in a short arc and clipped the other one alongside, feeling the weight and force of the blow crack hard into his skull. He crumpled where he stood. I was on the floor, atop the first one who was still a little dazed, when the third man leaped at me. I got a knee up and helped him over my head. He landed on his back, started to roll over and got only halfway across when Hugo flashed in my palm and struck deeply into his chest.

But the last one, the one I'd landed on, had come around at least enough to run for it I saw Rita stick out a foot and he went flying. "Nice going," I said as I threw Hugo hard and fast The blade skewered him through the back of the neck and Rita grimaced and turned away. I was retrieving the stiletto when two more men came around the corner of the hangar, stopped short for a second, and then turned and ran. They were off and across the airfield, shouting, and I swore under my breath.

"Get into the plane," I yelled at the girl, and she scrambled. At the far end of the hangar, in one corner, I saw perhaps ten drums of fuel. I drew Wilhelmina. I needed some diversion, anything that would create excitement and cause confusion so all their attention wouldn't be concentrated on us. We were far enough from the drums so that we wouldn't go up with them, not right away, at least.

I climbed into the plane, hung out the door for a second and emptied Wilhelmina into the fuel drums. I slammed the door shut as they went up with a roar of flame and the old plane shook. As I sat behind the wheel and switched on the engines, I had the frightening thought that if the plane was in for engine repairs, the game was over. It grew more frightening as I pressed the starter switch again and nothing happened.

I pressed a third time and she caught, both engines coughing into a whirring roar. There was no time to wait for them to warm up. I sent the TU-2 moving out of the hangar as the heat of the flames started to peel the paint. A runway loomed directly ahead of me and I went for it. I saw men racing from the main building. Some of those running toward the hangar thought I was merely moving the plane to safety and directed their energies to the fire. Then I saw others move at top speed from the main building carrying rifles. I gunned the old plane, felt her creak and respond, wheels gathering speed on the concrete. The guards fell to their knees and shot. I heard two bullets strike the cabin and whip through.

"Stay low," I yelled back to Rita. I held the old TU-2 steady and lifted up with her as she left the ground. I didn't dare try a fast turn with the engines not even warmed up. I heard a half-dozen more shots slam into the underside of the plane, and then I tried a slow bank. Below, I saw the guards racing back into the main building of the field and I knew they'd be on the radio in seconds. I headed out to sea at once and Rita appeared in the pilot's cabin.

"How's your uncle?" I asked.

"No change," she said. "But we made it."

"Don't count chickens," I said gruffly. "Not yet." I switched on the radio and called the carrier.

"Operation DS calling Carrier Yorkville," I said into the mouthpiece. "Come in Yorkville. This is N3 calling. Come in Yorkville. Over."

Bless their Navy hearts, they picked me up at once, and I heard a voice with a Dixie accent in it.

"We hear you, N3," it said. "What do you want?"

"I'm flying a TU-2 with Chinese Air Force markings, heading south by southeast over the Sea of Japan. I may have unwelcome company. Need escort cover immediately. Repeat, immediately. Do you read me? Over."

"We read you," the voice answered. "One squadron Phantom II jets taking off. Stay on your course. We'll pick you up. Over and out."

"Roger," I said and flipped the transmitter. The morning sun was streaking the sky with red smears and I had the old TU-2 up to her top speed of three hundred and forty-five. She was groaning and shaking and I let her down a little.

"Keep looking out the windows," I said to Rita. "Yell if you see any other airplanes."

"You think they'll send planes after us?" Rita asked. "You still think Chung Li is behind what's happened?"

"I can't shake how I feel," I answered. "I'm sure our grabbing this old bird hasn't filtered up to Chung Li yet. Right now it's only a plane theft."

If Rita had another question, it was cut off by the starboard engine as it coughed once, then twice and died. I worked the choke button frantically and let out my breath as the engine roared back to life, sputtered and then caught again. My fingers were stiff and cramped and I stretched them. Suddenly I heard the roar of engines and Rita was pointing up into the sky. I gazed out the left window and saw them come out of the sun, Phantom IIs, and they wheeled and circled overhead in figure eights. They were a reassuring and comforting sight.

"Why the acrobatics?" Rita asked, and I smiled wryly.

"We go three-fifty an hour, maybe," I said. "They do over fifteen hundred. They're doing the figure eights so they can stay with us."

And they did till we sighted the carrier. If the Chinese Reds had sent planes after us, they only came close enough to take a look and disappear. I set the old TU-2 down on the carrier deck as smoothly as possible which wasn't smooth at all.

The white corridors of Walter Reed Hospital were efficiently impersonal, like those of all hospitals everywhere, with their own kind of comforting reassurance. A Navy jet had flown us to the coast where we'd transferred to another plane which brought us to Washington. Hawk had them all primed for our arrival, and a team of doctors were waiting to whisk Carlsbad up into the vastness of the hospital. A Dr. Hobson gave me instructions.

"We'll have a preliminary opinion for you in a few hours," he said. "Call me if you haven't heard from us by ten."

I took Rita and steered her outside. Night had just descended on Washington. I walked toward a taxi at the curb.

"You'll stay at my place," I said. She gave me a narrowed-eyes look.

"You haven't anywhere else to stay" I reminded her. "Your uncle's house was blown up, remember? I almost went with it."

She said nothing — and what could she say at this point? At my place I found her a pajama top to wear after she showered. It was an old one, dating back to when I still wore pajamas a long time ago, and it was almost long enough to be a dress. But when Rita curled up on the couch in it, her long, lovely legs stretched out, she was both beguiling and sensual. Ordinarily my mind would have been tuned in on the same wave length as hers, but I was still brooding and worried. I fixed us bourbon old fashioneds, and as she sipped hers she looked over the rim of the glass at me.

"It bothers you, doesn't it?" she commented.

"What does?" I asked.

"Not having all the answers."

I looked at her lovely legs, half hidden under her, white smooth skin traveling up to the beginning roundness of her buttocks and I got up and started toward her. I'd taken three steps when the phone rang, the one I keep in the drawer of the desk, the one whose ring is a command. I turned and took it out of the drawer. Hawk's voice was tired and strained, almost exhausted.

"Get over here to the office," he said. "A call is coming from Chung Li in fifteen minutes. I want you here."

"Fifteen minutes?" I exclaimed. "I don't know if I can make that."

The old boy may have been tired but he was never too tired to be sharp. "You can make it," he said. "That gives you four to get dressed, one to kiss her goodbye and tell her you'll be back, and ten to get here."

The phone went dead and I followed orders. Rita never got a chance to protest or ask questions. Traffic was the thing that delayed me the most and was a few minutes late but I was lucky. The call had also been delayed. Hawk was chewing his cigar furiously as I entered. He shoved a typed message at me. "This came, coded. Our boys decoded it and gave it to me."

I read it quickly. "Will radiophone at 10:15 your time," it read. "Discuss unfortunate occurrence with your agent N3. General Chung Li, Chinese People's Republic."

I'd just shoved it back at Hawk when the phone with the row of little red buttons rang. Hawk took the cigar out of his mouth and tossed it into the wastebasket; his gesture of distaste was not all for the cigar. His voice, when he spoke, was tight, flat, masked; he nodded to me.

"Yes, General, Carter has reported in safely with Dr. Carlsbad. You're relieved at that… Yes… thank you. In fact, he's standing here with me. Perhaps you'd like to speak with him directly. I shall indeed… we are most appreciative."

He handed me the phone, his steel-blue eyes impassive. I heard Chung Li's quiet, controlled tones and could almost see his bland, round face in front of me as I listened.

"I hasten to offer my regrets at that bandit attack upon our lorry," he said. "When your party did not arrive at Yenki later that night, we sent a force out to find out what had happened. When they came upon the lorry with our own two men killed and the remains of the bandits, they reported back to me at once. Naturally, we first assumed you had been taken captive. It was only the next day, after I'd learned about the theft of one of our aircraft at Yenki, that I realized what must have happened. May I ask why you did not go to the airport and ask the officials there to contact me?"

"I didn't think they'd believe my story " I lied.

"It would have been so much simpler," he said. I'll bet it would have been, I agreed silently. He went on, that faint air of deprecation in his smooth voice again. "No matter, you have reached your shores safely with Dr. Carlsbad. That was my main concern. Again, my apologies for not having considered the possibility of an attack. I have a large force making a meticulous search of the area. I shall inform your people as soon as they recover the virus."

"Please do," I said. "And thanks for your concern." I could toss it back as well as he could hand it out. The phone went dead and I hung up. I looked up to see Hawk carefully replacing the receiver of the monitoring phone. His eyes met mine.

"The World Leadership Conference is just two days away," he said. "I need you. I need every man I have. Ill give you another day on Carlsbad. If you can come up with any new things or theories which make sense, I'll listen. Fair enough?"

I grimaced but nodded. It was fair enough, especially at this time. But I knew he had givem me damned little time to come up with anything new.

"Dr. Hobson called," Hawk added. "There's little hope Carlsbad can be brought around. Severe brain damage. But Hobson also said they never know when one of these cases has a moment's flash of normality. Very often they do and then go under once more. Keep hoping and keep checking were his parting words." I nodded and left with a last glance at Hawk. I don't think I'd ever seen his face so tired.