Part 42 (1/2)

”It's now or never.” He took careful aim on the man holding the launcher. ”I'm going to count to five.”

That was when he heard her say, ”Got it.”

10:04 P.M.

”All right,” Moreau barked, ”fire on three.”

Schindler had just finished fine-adjusting the crosshairs, the rangefinder portion of the complex optical sight. With inflight stability for the rocket provided by tail fins that folded out after launch, the RPG-7 had a 500-meter range against static targets. Though a crosswind could affect the accuracy, tonight, thankfully, there was none. This one couldn't miss, if there wasn't a sudden gust.

He tested the trigger confidently, sights on the open doorway, and hoped Moreau was right when he claimed the concussion grenade would render anybody inside totally incapacitated.

His eyes on the target, he failed to notice a flas.h.i.+ng green light that had just clicked on next to the main antenna up above, atop the mountain. . . .

. . . When jet fighters are launched from carriers, it is standard practice to turn off an aircraft's radars until the planes are airborne, the reason being that the energy in the intense electromagnetic radiation can literally knock a man flat with an invisible wave. Memorable things happened to the eyes and ears. In this case, however, the radar could have no such total effect, since the random clumps of trees down the hill scattered and diffused the energy.

It was, however, one of the most powerful radars on earth. . . .

10:05 P.M.

Vance watched as something hit the men below, something that seemed like a giant, invisible mallet. They stumbled backward, while a grenade rocketed harmlessly into the night sky.

”Congratulations.” He lowered his Uzi. ”I'm impressed. I think our new friends down there are, too. Yep, you made a very definite impression.

Now, how about leaving that thing on long enough for us to get out of here and back up the hill? Maybe just fry the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds for a while.”

”How does eight minutes sound to you?”

”Should be time enough for us to scurry back down the rabbit hole.

Maybe take a moonlight swim in a tunnel.” He was liking her more and more all the time. Not a bad piece of work.

”I'll tell Georges to cut the power in eight,” she said.

Then she added, ”Look, why don't we head for the hotel. You look bushed.”

”You mean go down to the Bates Motel?” I'm being invited to a motel by this woman? He smiled. I must be dreaming.

”We can cut around by the sh.o.r.e. That's probably the last place anybody is going to look for us now.”

”Sounds good.” It did. He was dead tired and hungry. Tomorrow was going to be a long, long day.

”The other reason I want to go down is to try and find Isaac,” she added.

”The half-cracked professor?”