frontier.
Grimaldi resumed the search.
The Forbidden Zone was mined and patrolled. The sand sea around the old crusader fortress was out; it was smooth enough in places to risk a crash landing, but far too treacherous to attempt a takeoff. The craggy heights of the Jebel Kharg were out of the question. And the tortured terrain of wadis, quicksand, mineral beds and barren rock that lay between those inland peaks and the sea was no place to land a plane, even for a pilot as experienced as Grimaldi.
The only way to fly out of Khurabi safely was from the same place they would be going in; the country's one commercial airport, twelve miles outside the capital.
"That's the way it looks to me, too," Bolan had told his buddy. "I just wanted the input of your expert advice." Bolan's alternate plan was already in motion, but Grimaldi's role was still an integral part of the Khurabi mission.
The combat vet judged it was safe enough once more to switch back to autopilot, while he doublechecked his computations to navigate their way into the gulf states' airspace.
"Should have you unloaded in less than an hour," he told Bolan, who had returned to the cockpit. He nodded to the communications equipment.
"Incoming signals..." Bolan slipped the padded earphones on his head, exchanging the constant, muffled roar of the powerful engines for the hollow static of the electronic network. It was Kurtzman, who had accessed himself through safely scrambled channels to update the Executioner.
"I got a few items for you. First, the good news: Steve Hohenadel and his partner have confirmed all arrangements. They can risk one run and one run only. Time and place as you specified."
"Uh-huh," Bolan said. "Okay, so what's the bad news?"
"Intel sources report a box of krytons has possibly reached Khurabi. Now KN22's are sometimes used in the oil exploration business, but they're also the same kind of switches needed to trigger an H-bomb. This get uglier by the moment."
"We never thought it was going to be a picnic."
"Yeah, well, some guy over at N.E.S.T. is beginning to put the same pieces of the puzzle together. And N.E.S.T. has alerted the CIA, the State Department and the team at Rand. Things are starting to move back here... And move they would."
Bolan knew that a N.E.S.T. report would be taken seriously. The guys who made up the Nuclear Emergency Search Team didn't joke about the nightmare scenarios they had to deal with and the powers-that-be knew it, too.
The big question was still whether Bolan could defuse the situation before it became an international flare-up and hit the world headlines in the worst possible way.
Bolan was trying to put out a fire all right; and he could not afford to make a mistake.
"Got a few more close-ups of the target zone since you took off," said the Bear. "Did a head count. I figure Ruark's got maybe forty men there, and they're training a hundred or more local troopers. Of course, I don't know how many others were still inside the castle when these snapshots were taken. Either way, Zayoud has surrounded himself with a small army."
This latest estimate gave Bolan pause for thought. In a way, the more men there were milling around the fortress made it easier for him to infiltrate unchallenged, but it made getting out again even more hazardous. The odds against were mounting.
"Thanks, Bear. We're still going in."
"Never doubted it, Mack. Good luck!"
Bolan shed the headset. He stretched as best he could in the cramped walkway behind the pilot's seat. Glancing down through the aircraft's windshield, he could see the vivid flames of the burn-offs at an oilfield some way inland. Odd patches of brilliant green surrounded the occasional well or irrigation system. Sunlight twinkled on a truck window far below.
"I'll begin the final descent in about three minutes." Grimaldi checked the transmitter. "Better confirm our arrival..."
Bolan sat next to Danny for the landing. There was nothing further for them to
Grimaldi resumed the search.
The Forbidden Zone was mined and patrolled. The sand sea around the old crusader fortress was out; it was smooth enough in places to risk a crash landing, but far too treacherous to attempt a takeoff. The craggy heights of the Jebel Kharg were out of the question. And the tortured terrain of wadis, quicksand, mineral beds and barren rock that lay between those inland peaks and the sea was no place to land a plane, even for a pilot as experienced as Grimaldi.
The only way to fly out of Khurabi safely was from the same place they would be going in; the country's one commercial airport, twelve miles outside the capital.
"That's the way it looks to me, too," Bolan had told his buddy. "I just wanted the input of your expert advice." Bolan's alternate plan was already in motion, but Grimaldi's role was still an integral part of the Khurabi mission.
The combat vet judged it was safe enough once more to switch back to autopilot, while he doublechecked his computations to navigate their way into the gulf states' airspace.
"Should have you unloaded in less than an hour," he told Bolan, who had returned to the cockpit. He nodded to the communications equipment.
"Incoming signals..." Bolan slipped the padded earphones on his head, exchanging the constant, muffled roar of the powerful engines for the hollow static of the electronic network. It was Kurtzman, who had accessed himself through safely scrambled channels to update the Executioner.
"I got a few items for you. First, the good news: Steve Hohenadel and his partner have confirmed all arrangements. They can risk one run and one run only. Time and place as you specified."
"Uh-huh," Bolan said. "Okay, so what's the bad news?"
"Intel sources report a box of krytons has possibly reached Khurabi. Now KN22's are sometimes used in the oil exploration business, but they're also the same kind of switches needed to trigger an H-bomb. This get uglier by the moment."
"We never thought it was going to be a picnic."
"Yeah, well, some guy over at N.E.S.T. is beginning to put the same pieces of the puzzle together. And N.E.S.T. has alerted the CIA, the State Department and the team at Rand. Things are starting to move back here... And move they would."
Bolan knew that a N.E.S.T. report would be taken seriously. The guys who made up the Nuclear Emergency Search Team didn't joke about the nightmare scenarios they had to deal with and the powers-that-be knew it, too.
The big question was still whether Bolan could defuse the situation before it became an international flare-up and hit the world headlines in the worst possible way.
Bolan was trying to put out a fire all right; and he could not afford to make a mistake.
"Got a few more close-ups of the target zone since you took off," said the Bear. "Did a head count. I figure Ruark's got maybe forty men there, and they're training a hundred or more local troopers. Of course, I don't know how many others were still inside the castle when these snapshots were taken. Either way, Zayoud has surrounded himself with a small army."
This latest estimate gave Bolan pause for thought. In a way, the more men there were milling around the fortress made it easier for him to infiltrate unchallenged, but it made getting out again even more hazardous. The odds against were mounting.
"Thanks, Bear. We're still going in."
"Never doubted it, Mack. Good luck!"
Bolan shed the headset. He stretched as best he could in the cramped walkway behind the pilot's seat. Glancing down through the aircraft's windshield, he could see the vivid flames of the burn-offs at an oilfield some way inland. Odd patches of brilliant green surrounded the occasional well or irrigation system. Sunlight twinkled on a truck window far below.
"I'll begin the final descent in about three minutes." Grimaldi checked the transmitter. "Better confirm our arrival..."
Bolan sat next to Danny for the landing. There was nothing further for them to
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