"Ah yes, the Quick Death warhead. I assume you're aware of its potential."
"I am."
"And you want to know what I'm going to do with it."
"The thought had occurred to me."
"As soon as we reach five thousand feet," said Sandecker, "the pilot, Colonel Abe Steiger, and I are going to make a beeline for the sea and drop the son of a bitch as far from shore as our fuel will carry us."
"How far do you reckon?" asked Kemper.
There was a pause as Sandecker consulted with Steiger. "Approximately six hundred miles due east of the Delaware coastline."
"How secure is the projectile?"
"Seems snug enough. Might help if we didn't have to rely on instruments and could enjoy the scenery."
"Come again?"
"The parachute canopy is snagged across our windshield. We can only look straight down."
93
"Can we assist you?" asked Kemper.
"Yes," replied Sandecker. "By notifying all military and commercial flight traffic to stay clear of our path to the sea."
"Consider it done," Kemper said. "I'll also arrange to have a rescue vessel standing by near your estimated splashdown point."
"Negative, Joe. Colonel Steiger and I appreciate the gesture, but it would be a foolish waste of men's lives. You understand."
Kemper did not answer immediately. His eyes took on a look of deep sorrow. Then he said, "Understood. Kemper out."
"Is there no way they can be saved?" Jarvis asked.
Kemper shook his head. "The sad truth is that Admiral Sandecker and Colonel Steiger are committing suicide. When the helicopter runs out of fuel and drops toward the sea, the projectile goes with it. When they both reach one thousand feet, the warhead disperses the Quick Death organism. The rest goes without saying."
"But surely they can cut away the canopy and fly a safe distance before ditching," Jarvis persisted.
"I see Admiral Kemper's point," said Higgins. "The answer is on the viewing screen. The parachute is the helicopter's death shroud. The lines are woven around the base of the rotor and overhang the side opposite the cargo door. Even if the craft were hovering in a stationary position, it would be impossible for a man to climb out on that stream-lined fairing far enough to reach the lines with a knife."
"Could they bail out of the helicopter before it goes down?" Jarvis inquired.
General Sayre shook his head. "Unlike conventional aircraft, whirlybirds do not have automatic control systems. They must be flown manually every second. If the crew were to ditch, the craft would fall on top of them."
"The same principle applies to a midair pickup," said Kemper. "We might snatch one of the men, but not both."
"There is nothing we can do?" There was a faint catch in Jarvis's voice.
The President gazed forlornly at the lacquered tabletop for several moments. At last he said, "Just pray that they carry that vile abhorrence safely past our shores."
"And if they make it?"
"Then we sit helplessly by and watch two brave men die."
The icy water jabbed Pitt back to consciousness. The first minute, eyes blinking back the bright daylight, his mind tried to fathom his condition, to make sense out of why he was floating in a cold, dirty river. Then the pain began to bloom and his head felt like the receiving end of a carpenter's nail.
He felt a vibration in the water, heard a muffled popping sound, and soon a Coast Guard patrol boat slid out of the rising sun and idled in his direction. Two men in wet suits dropped over the side and expertly fitted Pitt into a hoist rig. The signal was given and he was gently hauled on board.