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  "The White House statement said the President had been in discussion with the Premier on the hot line about the problem, and that it had been decided to launch an immediate complaint with the United Nations and demand a Security Council session on this extremely dangerous and outrageous passive aggression by the Soviets.

  "Reaction from other world capitals is also severe. London has branded the Russians warmongers, indicating that the missiles discovered in space are not defensive but purely offensive types, and as such can be considered only as a direct confrontation and aggression on the British nation. They say both economic and social sanctions will be considered against the Soviet Union at the first opportunity.

  "Bonn, Rome, the Vatican, Paris, Stockholm, Mexico City, The Hague and Madrid also have sent messages described by all as 'stern, severe, outraged and serious' to the Soviets. Reaction is still pouring in, and the Soviets have so far said nothing in their own defense. The capture of the orbiter by a former brilliant NASA scientist. Dr. Peter Dunning, was a shock and complete surprise to the U.S. officials as well as the Soviets.

  "Dunning has a history of attempting to downgrade U.S. reliance on offensive missiles and the use of antimissiles for defense instead. He resigned from NASA nearly two years ago, evidently to perfect his own capture system to show the world what the Soviets were actually doing in space."

  The broadcast ended with sports news, and Kitty snapped off the radio. She shook her head. "I still do not believe they are Russian missiles. They could be American rockets just as well, and this special agent Dunning is only claiming they are Russian to make us look bad."

  "But we don't have any orbiting MIRVs in space," Bolan said.

  She nodded. "Of course you do. It has been a poorly kept secret. You cannot hide anything in space. That is how your Dr. Dunning knew something different was up there. We both have MIRVs in space. Yes, Dunning must have used two of the U.S. missiles, oh, probably without permission, but he is doing it all just to make us Russians look bad. My government has made no statement yet, yes? They have not denied the MIRV is theirs until they know exactly what missiles they have or do not have, and how the U.S. captured the missiles and what the purpose of this whole propaganda smear campaign really is. We are cautious."

  Bolan laughed. "But why would Dunning capture one of his own country's missiles?"

  "Strategy. Some devious scheme to make the Soviet Union look bad. You Americans do it all the time. Constant harassment about Jews emigrating from Russia, about our criminal writers whom you want to let loose on the world to spread their lies, about some of our mentally insane you say are political prisoners. Ridiculous. You never let up on us."

  "Kitty. A free press and a free people such as we have in the United States are not directed by government what to say or think. We are free to do as we please. When we see injustice, here at home or overseas, we speak up. When we see a whole people held under a totalitarian police state system, we have an honest concern for the welfare of those millions of people."

  "We will speak no more politics," she sniffed. "We will find Dr. Dunning and get the truth from him." She took the lead up the slope.

  A second later the sound of small-arms and machinegun fire erupted behind them. Bolan dropped to the ground and looked where they had just passed. They had moved apart instinctively. Disperse, don't let one lucky round kill a whole group. It was basic infantry training. He listened. More firing. An occasional sound of a grenade, but he could see no explosive smoke or hear any bullets whipping through the trees.

  A moment later he heard more firing close by. But again no whining lead. He was about to stand, thinking it was a pair of remote-controlled and timed loudspeakers when an M-16 opened up twenty yards just ahead of them. Humming 5.56mm slugs chewed a path through pine needles over Bolan's head.

  He crawled forward to the side of a log and saw that Kitty had found cover behind a tree. A grenade sailed toward them and Bolan judged the distance. It would hit, roll and stay on the far side of the log. It did, exploding with a jarring blast that left his ears rattling.

  Bolan edged up to look over the fallen trunk, but saw no enemy. He crawled to the end of the log fifteen feet away and stood up behind a large tree. This time when he looked around, he saw someone move in the brush. The Executioner watched again and brought up the Ingram. Branches parted and a curious face peered out.

  Japanese.

  Bolan sent a volley of parabellum rounds into the brush, hosing it down with a figure eight.

  He heard Kitty fire her chatter gun just after he did, apparently at a different target. There was no more movement in the brush. To the left Bolan heard a scream of pain. He looked and saw Kitty standing behind a tree.

  She motioned for him to cover her as she moved forward, and before he could tell her not to, she slid around the pine and ran.

  He turned the Ingram and sent spaced single shots into the general area in front of Kitty until his magazine ran dry. He jammed in a new one and fired 3-round bursts into the potential enemy positions.

  Her weapon chattered again, then all was silent. A few minutes later she appeared where he had fired at the Oriental face and waved him forward.

  He thought she was crazy to take chances like that. He ran up and found another dead flattop.

  "One more over there," she said. "Looks like they have been dug in here for some time. Candy wrappers, cigarettes, even portable two-way radios. Now somebody knows we are here and moving up the hill."

  Bolan picked up one of the small radios and listened, but there was no transmission.

  "That other firing we heard..." Kitty began.

  "Probably loudspeakers, but we don't have time to find out."

  They moved forward again, off the trail, through the brush, working their way toward the top of the small valley. The land slanted up, and now there was no semblance of a trail.

  Bolan noted there was no more thin copper wire. He had never known how many were fake and how many real, but the threat had kept him channeled in one direction.

  They broke through a fringe of brush and ponderosa and found themselves at the top of the valley on a small ridge. Beyond it was another timbered ridge and then a higher one and behind that still a higher one. To their right they could see the rise of the tallest point around, which Bolan had seen marked Horse Knoll on the map.

  "We've been had," Bolan said, lowering the Ingram. "We've been conned into taking the route they wanted us to. This was a damn false lead to burn up time. Now we've got to get back down to that other fork in the road. That had to be the real one and this the sucker lead. We better get moving."

  "The mighty American agent goofed," Kitty said.

  They both moved across the finger ridge and worked down the other side, hoping to run into the forestry road. They could save half a mile of brush crashing. Time was running out. He dared not think what Dr. Dunning would do with the remaining twenty-two warheads of which he now had total control.

  12

  Bolan and Kitty worked downslope through the trees and the light brush for half an hour, but did not come to the road. Suddenly it was dusk, with full darkness only minutes away.

  "There's no sense in continuing. We won't find the road in the dark," Bolan said. "We should get some sleep and move out very early in the morning."

  "Good, I could get lost in here. Every tree looks just like the last one."

  Bolan located a thick stand of scrub cedar and crashed through until he found a clearing. He scooped moss from some downed logs and placed it over pine boughs for a bed.

  Kitty approached him and put her hand on his shoulder.

  "Mack, there is one thing we should get taken care of so it won't hurt our operation."

  "What's that?"

  "This male-female thing. Sex. It bothers me — does it not affect you?"

  "Of course — you're a beautiful lady.''

  "So why do we not take care of it right now?" She reached out and kissed his lips. Her arms came aro
und him tightly. Then she led him to the moss-and-pine-bough bed and sat down. Kitty unbuttoned her blouse and reached up for him.

  "Mack, we are not enemies now, not on the opposite sides. We are working together. We can forget personal angers."

  Bolan knew she was partly right. They both had to live for the moment because the next one might never come. He sat beside her, leaned over and kissed her soft mouth and they lay down gently. She slipped off her blouse and they were in each other's arms, each meeting the needs of the other.

  Darkness closed around them but they hardly noticed as they made love softly and eagerly, leaving their politics behind, forgetting their own private hells and trying only to satisfy the desires of the other.

  Much later, fatigue overtook them and lulled by the forest stillness, they mellowed into sleep.

  * * *

  At the same time on the high slope of Horse Knoll, Dr. Peter Dunning was hard at work.

  "Watch that cycle, Sam! Tell me when we're on cycle again and in perfect electrical production."

  Dunning fiddled with his control board, made certain of his tracking procedures and that he was on target. Emotion surged through him and he smiled.

  The second shoe was about to drop on the world. The second surprise for everyone, and especially for NASA. He had been amused by the scathing comments the U.S. had made about the Russian MIRVs. That really took guts! Maybe they did not remember what he knew. He shunted it all aside when Sam called out that he had cycle.

  Dr. Dunning tracked the orbiter again to be sure, then punched into the computer instructions to send the five thousand commands rocketing through space toward the hardware high overhead. The commands were all variables of the code words needed to gain access to the computer on board the orbiter. On this one he was more familiar with the codes, and so created fewer with the aid of the computer.

  He triggered the transmission, sat back and waited. In less than a minute the screen in front of him lighted up with a visual response. He had contact. Now to capture and then change the code words. He was the proud new owner of a second missile. But this one was the property of NASA and the United States of America!

  He punched out messages and commands, gave an illogical command-access code to the on-board computer, making it impossible for NASA to retain control of the space vehicle. He ordered it to respond only to his commands. He did not interfere with the orbit or the regular informational transmissions of the MIRV.

  Then he sat back and grinned. He laced his fingers together behind his head and told Sam about the capture. The man merely nodded. He was a cold one.

  They kept the power up. Another public broadcast for him was coming soon. He checked his watch. Slightly after 8:00 p.m. Mountain time. That would make it 10:00 p.m. in Washington, D.C.

  He adjusted his dials and controls, and beamed his signal at the World Wide Communications satellite in geosynchronous parking orbit 22,000 miles over Chicago. He overrode certain controls and sent directions to the satellite, which broke in on regular programs and broadcast on all three tv networks his audio. With his modemlike device he could surge-transmit, send ten minutes of dialogue to the satellite in eight to ten seconds. The satellite would then rebroadcast it. Such a surge made it almost impossible to catch and trace the source of the transmission.

  His talk had been recorded and computer-processed, and now when he was sure he had the right combination of signals, he pressed the Send button, and his words shot through space to the communications satellite.

  Three minutes later, at 7:14 p.m. Pacific time and 10:14 Eastern time, the three networks turned into an audio forum for Dr. Dunning. The sound came over strongly, but the picture remained the same. The one hundred million Americans listening to tv at that moment heard Dr. Dunning make history.

  "My fellow Americans, I want to take this opportunity to tell you of a new development in the world of space. As you know, yesterday I captured a Russian MIRV orbiter Armageddon, filled with twenty-four death-dealing hydrogen warheads. Tonight I have just captured another missile. However this one is owned by and was put into orbit secretly by the United States. It grieves me to have to tell you this. It hurts me that our government would do something like this, an act they called 'infamous' and 'beastly' when the Russians' orbiters were made known.

  "Our officials at NASA and the White House will tell you we were 'forced' to put up the MIRVs because we knew the Russians had them in place. It is impossible to hide anything in orbit. It's up there for anyone's radar to detect and evaluate. For almost three years now we and the Russians have had the MIRVs orbiting over our living rooms. This was with the full knowledge and approval of our Congress. It is time to stop this dangerous situation and to get the missiles down.

  "The solution is simple. I am holding the world hostage with my remaining hydrogen-bomb-tipped missiles. I will continue to hold you hostage until the Soviet Union and the United States destroy all the remaining MIRVs in orbit around the earth or disassemble them. Yes, the U.S. also had twelve of these vehicles in orbit.

  "The U.S. and Russia may work out between them how this is to be done, but the best solution is to have one complete MIRV on each side fired into a sun orbit. Then when radar shows that one MIRV has been fired from each side, the second two are fired, and so on until all are in sun orbit where they will eventually fall into the sun and explode with no damage to the universe.

  "Expensive? Misguided defensive-offensive weapons always are expensive. And both sides will lose, but on the other hand the world will gain a more stable peace, and the dangers of an accidental hydrogen holocaust will be greatly reduced. I am giving the great powers twelve hours to accept my terms. If they do not, both the U.S. and Russia will suffer a terrible, unspeakable tragedy.

  "Now, the threat. I hold the big stick. I could wipe out both Moscow and Washington if I chose. Instead, I have a similar threat to hand to the rulers of both nations. If the agreement is not made within twelve hours to begin simultaneous destruction of all MIRVs now in orbit, and agreement is not made to put no more in space, one city in America and one city in Russia of ten thousand persons will be targeted by a single hydrogen warhead from its own nation and obliterated from the face of the earth.

  "Then, when the horror of the twenty thousand deaths hits the consciences of the world, there will be a total uproar and the big powers will be forced by economic boycotts, social and political action and moral suasion to destroy the horrendous weapons both now illegally have in orbit.

  "Mr. President, you should contact me through the normal radio network. I will be listening for your reply.

  "The decision is in your hands. Destroy your MIRVs or sacrifice twenty thousand lives, and then wait for my next ultimatum, which will be more terrible, more destructive and will cost many, many more lives."

  The broadcast continued for the ten minutes as Dunning gave his reasons for demanding that the world begin to pull back from the use and the threat of use of such devastating weapons. He showed how defensive measures were more practical, less costly and more effective. When the talk ended it was repeated three more times, blocking out all commercial network tv for forty minutes.

  The whole world was immediately alerted. An emergency meeting of the President and his top advisors was called within five minutes after the ultimatum was given. NASA refused public comment. A press conference was promised by the President within "a few hours." Speculation ran wild all over the radio and TV talk shows and newscasts.

  * * *

  On the mountain in Arizona, Bolan awoke. Something stirred him. Kitty lay beside him, still asleep. He reached for the small radio they had listened to and turned it on. The all-news station came in softly but clear. It was 2:30 a.m.

  There was only one story on the air that night. The station alternated playing a tape of the tv audio by Dr. Dunning and getting various experts from around the country to comment on the threat. Bolan turned the set off and thought it through.

  Dunning had the world
by the balls. There was no alternative. The great powers would feel so pressured by world opinion that they would bow to his demands. He would win his war without firing a shot!

  For a moment Bolan thought of abandoning his search for Dr. Dunning. If he could have his twelve hours, Dr. Dunning very well could rid the world of this orbiting disaster. He had no selfish motive. He was dealing strictly from a superior ethical-moral-antiwar basis. Bolan thought of slipping away from the Russian and moving up the mountain alone. He doubted she would share his views about the correctness of what Dr. Dunning was trying to do. She would hear about the ultimatum as soon as she woke up and turned on the radio.

  Bolan made up his mind what to do, then lay down on the moss-and-pine mattress and drifted quickly to sleep.

  The Executioner awoke again at five-thirty. A few faint streaks of light penetrated the forest. Kitty sat up at once, buttoned her blouse and pulled on her jeans and boots. Then she turned on the radio. There was still only one big news story.

  "Listen to this!" she said.

  When she understood the substance of the story, she stood and shouldered her weapon.

  "Come on, we must hurry. We need to get up there just as fast as we can now to stop this terrorist. He has the whole world as hostage and he keeps making those crazy demands." She stopped and turned. "Or maybe you don't think they are so strange."

  "Did you know about the MIRVs in orbit?" he asked.

  "I suspected. I knew we had the technology and hardware to do it, and I thought it was a great strategy, only not to be kept a secret. What power!"

  "I didn't know any of them were up there. I figured it was possible, but not that it was done. This had to be the best kept U.S. secret since the atomic bomb work."

  "But you did not answer my question. You don't seem outraged about Dr. Dunning's plans."

  "Frankly, I think it's a good idea. I don't like fighting science. Give me a man in a foxhole and we both have the same chance. These missiles swinging down on me from orbit with zero early warning... I'm just old-fashioned enough not to like it. If I could choose, I would go along with Dr. Dunning."