"I copy," Nichols said into his mike. "When did the chopper lift off?"
"The AWACS picked it up at . . . just after 0730 hours," came the voice from the Kennedy. It was General Max Austin. "The bastards are bugging out."
"So what do we do now? Try and intercept them?"
"We're taking care of that from here. Fixed-wing. First, though, we've got to figure out if there really are hostages aboard, like they claim. But don't worry about it. There's nowhere they can hide. Your mission is still the same. Secure the facility. There could still be some of them left, so just interdict anything that tries to egress."
"That's a confirm. If it moves, it fucking dies."
[Chapter Nineteen]
Dawn had arrived, though the mantle of light fog was still adding a hazy texture to the air. The sun-up had a freshness that reminded Vance of the previous morning, the first glimmerings of daybreak. Now, though, visibility was hampered by the residual moisture in the air, just enough to give the world a pristine sheen. What would the morning look like, Vance wondered, if a nuclear device exploded at Souda Bay on nearby Crete? It was a possibility difficult to imagine, but the results were not.
Bates began spooling up the power, and slowly the blue-and-white striped Agusta Mark II started lifting off the pad. Fortunately it had been prepped the previous day and was ready to fly.