"Damn. There's gotta be a way to smoke that rascal out."
"There is, sir."
"I'm listening, major."
"A cold-launch sequence would open the roof doors. We can get the drop on him from above, then halt the sequence before the missile flies."
The silence on the line was thick as grease.
"Do it," said Lightning Bolton.
"I'll need the launch codes," Grimm said, throat clogging.
A rustle of papers came over the line. "Got 'em right here. Somewheres."
"General, I thought-"
"Hold on."
When the general came back, Grimm finished his thought. "I thought the President was the only man supposed to have those codes."
"For the silo-based stuff, sure. But the Commander in Chief doesn't know the MX program is still hanging on. And it's critical he doesn't. Savvy?"
"Understood, General."
"Good. Now, fire up your on-board fax."
THE LAUNCH CODES IN HAND, Major Grimm explained the situation to his launch-control officers.
"We're going to start her up. You men know the drill. We take each step one at a time. When I say abort, you both abort."
"Yes, sir," they said in unison, eyes glassy.
Going to the on-board wall safe, Major Grimm spun the dial and got it open. He took out the matched launch-control keys and with quiet ceremony surrendered them.
The launch-control officers resumed their seats and inserted the keys on command.
"Turn," said Grimm, who was standing in a film of his own cold sweat. He used to have nightmares about this very scenario.
The keys turned.
Grimm jumped out of the car.
The roof doors were already lifting. Side-mounted stabilizers began deploying. Like great feet they dropped to the roadbed and dug in, stabilizing the MLC car against blast and launch recoil.
Simultaneously the gleaming white MX missile lifted into view, driven by gas actuators.
When fully erect, it was pointing toward the great brazen dome of the noonday Nebraska sky.
At a signal from Grimm, the security team began climbing the Hy-Cube access ladders.
It was the most nerve-racking moment of Major Claiborne Grimm's entire life.
Then the angry rattle of the approaching helicopter filled the air, and the nightmare went into overdrive.
"Shoot that damn thing down!" he roared.
Chapter 18
Remo watched the helicopter bubble turn to frost under the storm of bullets, heard the overhead turbines clutch up and knew they were about to crashland.
Every instinct said to bail out. They were low enough. He had a fighting chance to jump clear and maybe come out of it alive.
There were only two problems.
Chiun.
And the precious lapis lazuli steamer trunk balanced on his lap.
Remo's eyes went to the Master of Sinanju.
"Let no harm befall my precious trunk if you value your life," Chiun said.
"Look, we're going to crash."
"Protect my trunk with your dead body if necessary," said Chiun.
"I can't believe you said that."
"And I can't believe you two are jawin' while we're droppin' like helpless stones," Melvis Cupper wailed, clutching his seat.
The rotor cut out completely. It still turned, but not under power.
"Hang on!" yelled the pilot.
"To what-the damn chopper?" said Melvis. "I'm holding on to it. What's it gonna hold on to?"
Air, as it turned out.
The spinning rotor blades went into autorotation mode, acting as a parachute and brake at the same time.
The storm of bullets abated when the soldiers on the ground realized they had bagged the helicopter.
The aircraft landed hard on its runners. Everyone bounced in their seats. In a minute the grounded bird was surrounded by hard-faced soldiers in camo fatigues.
"Out! Out of there now!" a red-faced major was shouting.