Then, land!
And across the land they flew, over city and farm, a mighty horde of roaring planes all in straightaway pursuit of a single aircraft.
"Chute, Narina?" asked Vinson as Washington came into view.
"Never have," she said in a frightened voice.
"We'll never be able to land," he told her.
"I know. I'll—try."
He laughed sourly. "Just jump and let the chute do the rest," he told her. "Nothing to try."
"You'll follow?"
"Once you're clear," he nodded.
She nodded and left. Minutes later Vinson felt the plane buck ever so slightly, and looking behind he saw the billow of white furl forth and crack into full bloom. Then he connected the auto-pilot and aimed the aircraft at the river. He raced back and dove from the open bomb bay into the open sky.