Nighthawk (NUMA Files 14)
Page 88
“That’s all we received,” Borozdin replied. “It came in with the Falconer’s identification marks. The message is from him.”
“That, I do not doubt,” Davidov replied. “The man is nothing if not obtuse.”
He stared at the page again. “The numbers are obviously map coordinates,” he said. “But the message . . .”
It read:
Full delivery.
Bring gold. Coins only.
The price has doubled.
Beware, Americans are watching.
RATO.
You have eight hours
“Full delivery,” Borozdin said. “Does he mean the Nighthawk itself?”
“I suspect he does,” Davidov replied.
“That seems doubtful,” Borozdin said. “You yourself said the Americans must have it by now. Their fleet actions confirm it. It’s a money grab, pure and simple. He’ll ambush you and take payment for what he could not deliver.”
Davidov rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’m not so sure,” he said.
“Why is that?”
“RATO,” Davidov said almost to himself. “Rocket-assisted takeoff. It’s a plan we discussed if one of the bombers captured the Nighthawk but was forced to land. A contingency to get it, and the Nighthawk, back
in the air together. If he’s requesting RATO, maybe he has the Nighthawk after all.”
Borozdin shook his head. “Only you still believe in him, my friend.”
“I believe nothing,” Davidov said. “But I must not fail, not now, not after all this. Is the satellite sweep of Ecuador and Peru complete?”
“Nearly.”
“And these coordinates?”
Borozdin looked the numbers over and then moved to a computer terminal and typed them in. “Rudimentary airfield on a high plateau,” he said. “Completed by a Chinese mining company three years ago. Abandoned.”
“Do we have a recent pass?”
Borozdin accessed the satellite scan. “Yes,” he said.
“Bring it up and zoom in.”
Borozdin used the cursor to draw a box around the airfield and tapped ENTER. The resolution changed and the photograph resolved. “No sign of the Nighthawk,” he said.
“What’s that?” Davidov said, pointing to a distorted shape at one end of the airfield.
Borozdin zoomed in once more and shrugged. “Hard to tell.”
Davidov disagreed. “It’s an aircraft. A large delta-wing aircraft, hidden beneath a tarp. That’s Blackjack 2. I have no doubt.”
“If it is, then where are the crew? Why haven’t they contacted us?”