The Storm (NUMA Files 10)

“I agree,” she said. “We must warn them.”

Kurt continued to flick through frequencies until he’d set 122.85 in the display window. “This is the one.”

He listened for a second, heard nothing and then pressed the transmit switch. “Aqua-Terra, this is Kurt Austin. How do you read?”

Nothing.

As Kurt spoke, he kept his eyes on the descending transports. They seemed blissfully unaware.

“Aqua-Terra, come in.”

“Try another frequency.”

“No. This is the one.” He pressed transmit again. “Aqua-Terra, do you copy? This is Kurt Austin. You’re about to come under attack. Prepare to repel boarders.”

He let go of the switch.

“Why don’t they answer?” she asked.

Kurt could think of a number of reasons, the most sinister of which had to do with the impostor in their midst. She might have disabled the radio or done something worse.

The two aircraft were now dropping below two thousand feet. They’d be on the deck in a minute, probably discharging their boats using the LAPES parachutes. From the dimensions of the cargo hold he figured each plane might carry up to seventy commandos, but not with the boats and the equipment on board too. Thirty would be the max. That still meant sixty commandos against Marchetti’s crew of twenty, plus Paul and Gamay. With the robots deactivated, they didn’t stand a chance.

With no answer on the radio, Kurt realized the time for warnings had passed, it was time to make a move.

IN THE CENTER OF AQUA-TERRA’S communications room, Zarrina stood with Otero and Matson, listening to Kurt Austin as he tried to warn his friends of the imminent attack.

Otero looked sick. “I thought Jinn said Austin and Zavala were dead?”

“Apparently he spoke too soon,” Zarrina said.

“Where is it coming from?”

“It could be anywhere,” she said, glancing out the

window. She saw no boats on the horizon, but she did see the three aircraft approaching. One of them was well out of formation. It all but confirmed the worst of her fears.

“He’s taken over on one of the jets,” she said. “We need to warn Jinn. And we need leverage. Get the woman up here. Now!”

KURT PUSHED THE THROTTLES to full, and the one-hundred-and-ten-foot aircraft surged forward with surprising power.

As it accelerated, a plan formed in Kurt’s mind. He watched the other jets slowing almost to stall speed as they dropped toward the water.

They’d be vulnerable as they flew along the deck, discharging their commandos, and Kurt could force them into the drink like a stock car racer wrecking his competition by putting them into the wall.

The two aircraft ahead were spaced a half mile apart at less than three hundred feet. Kurt and Leilani were closing in rapidly when suddenly Kurt heard shouting in Arabic over COM-1.

Both jets reacted instantly. Their pitch changed from nose down to nose up, and the heat distortion trailing out behind their engines intensified rapidly.

“Damn,” Kurt said. “So much for the element of surprise.”

The jets began to accelerate, but Kurt was barreling down on them rapidly, moving at least a hundred knots faster. He chose the aircraft to the left and headed for it, pointing his nose down like a madman.

Kurt’s aircraft charged like a hawk swooping in for the kill. The other jet was coming up, struggling to climb and pick up speed like a big, slow pigeon.

It grew larger and closer, filling the window and then disappearing from Kurt’s view, flashing under them.

JINN SAT IN THE FLIGHT ENGINEER’S chair in the lead aircraft, shouting instructions to the pilot. The throttles were at full, the aircraft was straining to climb and accelerate.