"Well, I'll be damned," he said, hanging up a few moments later. "I knew this was going to be a cluster-fuck, but I think we've just expanded the term." He looked over the Deltas waiting with him. "Would you believe it's back on? Something happened, who knows what. But the sons of bitches are pulling out, and they've threatened to nuke the place if anybody tries to stop them. We're ordered to get in there before anybody can get off the ground, keep them from having the chance. I don't know if we’re going to make it. He grinned. "But I'll tell you one thing. This time we're going to just take the place down once and for all. And the hell with micromanaging from Fort Fuck-up or anywhere."
"Fuckin' A, Sir," Lieutenant Manny Jackson declared, reaching for his flight jacket. "I say we just do a standoff with Hellfire missiles. Take out their damned space vehicles and any choppers they've got. Then they can just stick their nukes up their ass."
"Sorry, Jackson, but that's still our last resort. If we hit the vehicles, there's the risk of nuclear material getting loose. No, what we're going to do is take down their radar power source, the so-called Cyclops, and any choppers they have, which ought to put them out of business. And if that doesn't cause the bastards to throw in the towel, then we'll call in a Tomcat and lay a couple of laser-guided missiles right into those underground bunkers."
Nichols had studied the satellite photo intelligence they had, as well as site plans and blueprints obtained from SatCom's executive offices in Arlington, and he knew exactly where a missile would have the best chance of penetrating Command and Launch Control. There might be some civilian casualties, but they sure as hell wouldn't have the nukes in there. A quick, decisive operation.
"All right," he added in conclusion, "let's rock and roll. And this time there's going to be no recall, I don't care who tries."
"How does it look?" Peretz was asking. He and Bill Bates had just climbed aboard the Sikorsky, cold and gray in the light fog.
Bates had already checked it over from the outside. It was military, and it appeared to be on loan from the Pakistani Air Force, with the markings clumsily painted over. But it appeared to be in pristine shape. Good maintenance.
"Let me see." He walked to the cockpit and looked over the rows of instruments. Nothing obvious seemed amiss. "If there's fuel, it should be able to fly. After all, it got in here from somewhere."