“Not much of a bomber’s better than no bomber at all,” said McKenna. “Let’s load her up.”

Southeastern Brunei

Exact location and time unknown

Mack felt his leg starting to go to sleep. He rose, shook it, and then walked back and forth. The man with the pistol paid no attention to him.

What would happen if he just walked away?

He had started toward the door when the man who had brought him here came in, followed by two others whom Mack had not seen before. The men started talking to the man with the pistol excitedly; they seemed to be arguing.

“Say, uh, you mind if I ask some questions?” said Mack finally.

One of the men gave him a disdainful look, then signaled for the others to go outside.

“Don’t leave on my account,” said Mack, watching them go. He sat back down.

“They’re arguing about what to do,” said one of the women near them.

“You speak English?”

One of the other women reached to stop her but she pushed away, defiant. “They said they would kill us and our children if we spoke. They’ve taken the men who were here. They arrived two days ago. They wore white uniforms until today. Now they seem scared.”

“Where did they take the men?” asked Mack.

The woman said nothing, instead looking toward the door.

The two men Mack had seen before came in. They walked to the nearest woman, yanking her up so ferociously her baby slipped from her hands. They pushed her, not letting her bring the child.

“What the hell?” said Mack as they left. “What the hell?” The answer came a few seconds later, with the muffled crack of a pistol fired into a skull at very close range.

Off the coast of Brunei

1720

Jennifer watched the display as LADS Vehicle One tracked the two ships approaching from the north. Both were Malaysian navy vessels, according to their markings and flags. The first appeared to be a Spica-M class attack craft; the computer ID was tentative but Malaysia had several, and it was of roughly the right size.

The second ship, larger and better armed than the first, was clearly the Kalsamana, an Italian-built corvette obtained only a month ago with her sister ship, the Laksamana. The Kalsamana packed Aspide anti-aircraft missiles and Otomat anti-ship missiles, along with a sixty-two-millimeter cannon and a twin forty-millimeter gun.

“Sergeant Garcia, what do you make of this?” Jennifer asked, calling Garcia over to the control station. “These are Malaysian navy ships.”

“Maybe they’re looking for those bastards we took care of the other night,” said Garcia. “They claimed they were rebels who had stolen the ship.”

“Maybe we should send the helicopter up, just to get it off the platform so we don’t call attention to ourselves,” said Jennifer.

“Let me get Sergeant Liu,” said Bison.

Liu and the helicopter pilot came down and took a look at the screen, staring at it as Jennifer explained how she had tracked the two ships.

“The Malaysians are our allies,” said Liu.

“I know,” said Jennifer. “But I don’t trust them at all. I think we should launch the helicopter and lay low.”

“Agreed,” said Liu.

The pilot nodded. “I’ll loop away, then come in from the north, ask them what’s going on.”

“Have you received an update from the base in Malaysia?” asked Liu.

“Colonel Bastian was recovered,” said Jennifer.

Liu nodded. They already knew that Merce Alou and Kick had been killed. The helo kicked up above, and the building shook as it took off.

“Ships are probably nothing,” said Liu.

“Probably,” said Jennifer.

“I’m going back to my lookout post. We’ll take turns eating at 1800”

“Sounds good to me,” said Garcia.

Just as Liu walked out, the LADS system emitted a loud beep. Jennifer looked down at the screen, where a warning flashed:

LAUNCH DETECTED.

“They’ve fired a missile at us!” she yelled, jumping up from her chair.

VII

“ H ANG O N”

Brunei International Airport

1720

THE LARGE RUSSIAN AIRCRAFT LOOKED LIKE AN ANGEL astride the ramp, its wings giant arms that extended over the turf and dirt. Its silver skin gleamed in the low sun, and as he stared at it Sahurah felt himself drawn to the craft, as if beckoned by Allah himself. The throb in his head vanished; the cacophony of the others around him, his assistants and lieutenants with their reports and demands and updates—all faded as he looked at the plane. Truly, God had sent it. Two brothers who were mechanics had come forward from the city to volunteer their knowledge of the aircraft. They had found the fuel tanks nearly filled—the hand of the Lord, obviously. It was the only explanation.

Yayasan and the other pilot would fly the plane. The second man had experience with large jets, including the 737 sitting on the civilian side of the airport. That experience, Yayasan said, would serve him well with the large Russian plane, whose multiple engines and big body made it complicated to fly.

It seemed to Sahurah as he stared at the plane that he could fly it himself. God had sent it for him—to carry him to heaven.

“Commander, the Badger is ready,” said the pilot. “Do we have your permission to take off?”

“I am going with you,” Sahurah told him.

“To survey the city?”

“I am going with you”

“Yes, of course, Commander. Come and let us fly while we have plenty of light.”

Off the coast of Brunei

1722

Jennifer grabbed her laptop as she ran from the small room, following Garcia and trailed by Liu. As they reached the door, the system beeped with another warning—a second missile had been launched at the platform.

The Otomat ship-to-ship missiles fired at the platform carried a 210 kilogram warhead, just under five hundred pounds. Developed by the French and Italians, the missile traveled close to the speed of sound; that gave them roughly two minutes to get off the platform and as far away as possible.

Jennifer turned to climb up to the roof.

“No,” yelled Liu. “He’s going to take on the ships. Come on. We’ll use the boats. This way”

The sergeant pulled her down to the lower deck, and then prodded her toward the ladder. Garcia had reached it already, and with Bison had revved the motor on one of their two Zodiacs. Jennifer jumped into the other, scrambling toward the engine; Liu unlashed it and pushed it away from the dock so fiercely that he fell into the water as the boat bobbed off. By the time he got back aboard Jennifer had the motor working; she revved it and went forward so fast she nearly struck the small dock, veering off at the last second.

“Down, down!” yelled Liu at her as they flew across the waves. Jennifer started to duck but couldn’t see to steer; afraid of running into something she put her head up, steadying herself with one hand against the boat’s neoprene gunwale.

The missiles skimmed over the water on their final approach on the platform. The first soared almost directly over her head. Jennifer spun around in time to see the missile pass between the platform’s piers without hitting anything. The sky burst gray and white behind the steel gridwork; a moment later the sound cracked and the small boat seemed to lift forward with it. Just then Jennifer saw the second missile strike the upper deck, spewing black shards and circles into the air as it exploded. The sound this time pushed her down sideways, all the way to the bottom of the boat.

When Jennifer finally looked back, she saw the deck area on the northern side was blackened and battered. The superstructure leaned sharply to that side. She steered around in a circle, taking the boat toward the other Zodiac, where Bison and Garcia were scanning the horizon with a set of binoculars.