"Uh-uh, they're good ol' Americans," Harley replied.

He moved back to the group. **Now, here's what we're gonna do. .. ."

Twenty-five minutes later, Harley Reno stepped out onto the street and began to walk nonchalantly up to the group of guards stationed ahead.

"Hey," one of the men called, unslinging his AK-47 when he saw Harley approaching, and aiming it at him. "Who goes 180.

there?" the man called as the rest of the guards gathered around him, also aiming their guns at Harley.

"It's Harley Reno," Harley called, holding his hands out in plain sight so the men could see he was unarmed.

The guard who'd called out turned to the man next to him. "Who the h.e.l.l is Harley Reno?" he asked.

The other man shrugged. "d.a.m.ned if I know," he answered, "but it looks like he's dressed the same as us, all in black cammies."

When Harley got to within fifteen feet of the blockade, the head guard said, "All right, that's far enough, mister. What the h.e.l.l do you want?"

Harley stood there, grinning at the men. "h.e.l.l, the boss sent me to check up on you guys and to make sure you're not sleeping on the job."

The men looked at each other, then back at Harley. "I don't recognize you, mister, and I'm d.a.m.ned sure I never heard the name Harley Reno before."

Harley shrugged. "I'm not accountable for your memory, or lack thereof,"

he said evenly.

"Okay, Reno," the guard said belligerently, "if the boss sent you, what's the pa.s.sword?"

Harley smiled slowly. "The pa.s.sword is, drop your weapons and put your hands up, or . . ."

The man laughed. "Or what?"

Coop and the other members of the team appeared from the darkness alongside both sides of the road, surrounding the men, their Uzis held at waist level and ready to fire.

"Or we'll blow the s.h.i.t outta you," Coop said in a low hard voice.

"Holy s.h.i.t!" one of the guards exclaimed as they all dropped their weapons. "Where did you come from?"

"Get down on the ground and put your hands behind you!" Harley commanded in a loud voice as Anna handed him his Uzi, which she'd carried for him.

181181.

The guards all scrambled to lie on their faces and put their hands behind them.

While the rest of the team kept them covered, Beth went along and fastened their hands together and feet together with plastic tie-wraps like cops used to secure prisoners.

Harley stood over the men. "I'm not going to gag you guys, 'cause it'd be a waste of time." He glanced around at the vast open s.p.a.ces around them. "You can yell your heads off out here and no one will hear you."

"But what's gonna happen to us?" one of the guards whined.

"Depends on who finds you first," Coop said nastily. "If it's one of your men, you'll probably just get a tongue-lashing. However, if it's one of the Arabs, they'll probably cut your b.a.l.l.s off for being captured."

"Oh, Jesus," one of the men cried softly.

"Uh-uh, wrong G.o.d," Jersey said. "Better pray to Allah, he's the boss of your new friends."

Minutes later, the team had divided up and were driving the two HumVees toward the main terminal of the airport.

Just before arriving at the terminal, the lead vehicle veered off toward the control tower a few hundred yards in the distance.

The second vehicle kept moving straight toward the terminal, with the team keeping their heads bent down so their faces wouldn't show through the windows.

Harley Reno, Anna, Beth, and Corrie were in the car heading to the control tower. As it pulled up next to the entrance, a man walked out of the door, his AK-47 still slung over his shoulder.

"Hey, guys," he called, a grin splitting his face, "what're you doin'

here? It's not time for relief yet."

Harley opened the door and aimed his Uzi at the man's 182.

midsection. In a quiet voice, he called, "Come on over here and act natural, or I'll cut you in half."

The man's face fell and he moved slowly toward the Hum-Vee, his eyes darting back and forth and sweat appearing on his forehead.

Harley noticed the signs of nervousness and stress. "I sure hope you're not thinking of trying to warn your friends, mister," he said. " 'Cause I'd surely hate to kill you."

The guard's eyes fixed on Harley's and he knew he meant what he said.

"All right," he croaked through a dry throat.

When he got up next to the car, Harley asked, "Can your friends insidesee us out here?"

"No, this is the blind side of the building. That's why I was stationed at the door."

"How many men in there with you?" Anna asked.

"Four guards, two air traffic controllers," the man answered shortly.

"What's your name?" Beth asked as she stepped out of the car and put plastic ties on the man's hands behind his back.

"Jim Short," he answered.

Beth bent and hooked his ankles together, and then stood and put a gag in his mouth. "Well, Jim," she said as she laid him in the back seat of the HumVee, "you be a good little boy, and you'll come out of this alive and well. Otherwise, I'll have to slit your throat from ear to ear."

They could all hear Jim swallow as he nodded his head vigorously up and down.

"Follow me," Harley said as he opened the back door to the tower and started up the steps, his Uzi cradled in his hands.

Just before they got to the top, a voice called, "Hey, what's goin' on down there?"

"It's me. Jim," Harley said. "They sent some grub over from the terminal."

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183.

"What's wrong with your voice?" the man above called, and stepped to the head of the stairs.

When he saw Harley and the women, he shouted and grabbed at the AK-47 slung over his shoulder.

Harley let go with a short burst from the Uzi and blew the man back out of sight.

Anna brushed past Harley, running full speed up the stairs and dove headfirst through the doorway.

A burst of AK-47 fire splintered the wall over her head as she rolled and let go with her Uzi.

She emptied her thirty-round clip in a matter of seconds, filling the small control tower room with the smell of gunpowder and cordite and blood and excrement.

By the time Harley and the others got up the stairs, Anna was on her feet, telling the air traffic controllers not to worry, they were in no danger.

Harley stepped into the room and looked around. Four men, dressed all in black, were scattered around the room, all as dead as they could be."Jesus," he whispered softly, looking at Anna. "Remind me never to p.i.s.s you off."

She grinned at him. "Yeah, you wouldn't want to do that, Harley."

Hammer and Coop and Jersey, in the second HumVee, pulled up to the front door of the terminal.

Two men walked out of the door, holding their automatic rifles in their hands but not pointed at the car.

"Hey, what's goin' on?" the lead man asked. "Is there any trouble?"

"Yeah," Hammer growled as he stuck his Uzi out the window. "And it's all yours."

As the second man started to raise his weapon, Jersey stepped out of the HumVee and moved her right arm in a lightning-quick movement.

184.

The man gasped, dropping his rifle and grabbing at the hilt of Jersey's K-Bar a.s.sault knife, which was sticking out of his throat.

He dropped to his knees, gurgled a couple of times, and then fell forward onto his face.

The other guard, his eyes wide with fright, quickly dropped his rifle and held up his hands.

"How many of you inside?" Hammer asked while Coop covered the door with his Uzi.

Suddenly, a man appeared behind the huge plate-gla.s.s window of the terminal. When he saw what was going on, he aimed his AK-47 and fired right through the window.

At the distinctive sound of the Kalashnikov firing, Coop whirled and let go with his Uzi on full automatic.

The plate-gla.s.s window shattered and Hammer was spun around, hit by one of the slugs from inside the terminal.

The man behind the window was flung backward with his arms outstretched by the blast from Coop's Uzi.

Jersey unlimbered her Uzi and ran and jumped through the shattered window, yelling and firing as she went.

Two men went down in front of her, their machine guns not even fired.

Coop was scant yards behind her, flicking out his empty magazine and replacing it with another as he ran.

Inside, three men were behind a concession stand counter, firing over it at Coop and Jersey, driving them to the floor as slugs pinged off the tile floors all around them.

As they squatted behind a row of chairs, Coop glanced at Jersey. "What now?" he asked. "They've got us pinned down here."They ducked as they heard a loud thumping sound behind them. When they glanced back, they saw Hammer standing in the doorway. His left arm hung useless at his side and he was holding the M-79 grenade launcher in his right arm, firing one-handed.

185.

185.

"Hit the deck!" he yelled at Coop and Jersey, and they did so forthwith.

A tremendous explosion rocked the terminal's main room, and the concession stand disappeared in a brilliant flash of light and flame and smoke.

Candy bars, gum packages, and parts of bodies rained down on Jersey and Coop for several seconds.

A figure emerged, walking toward them from a cloud of black smoke. It was Hammer, still holding the M-79 Big Thumper in his right hand.

"That should be all of them," he said in a shaky voice, and then he collapsed onto the floor, a scarlet stain spreading out from his left shoulder.

"Jesus," Jersey said, running to his side. "He's bleeding like a stuck pig."

Coop knelt next to the big man and jerked a compression bandage from the pack on his back, slapping it into place over the hole in Hammer's deltoiil muscle.

186.

Mustafa Kareem entered the office the FFA man John Waters had provided for Abdullah El Farrar and Osama bin Araman to use to coordinate the eastern phase of the attack against the United States.

El Farrar and Araman were leaning over a table with a large-scale map of the U.S. spread out upon it. Farrar looked up and nodded his head in greeting to his second in command.

"Come join us, Mustafa," Farrar said. "We are busily puzzling over the response of the United States to our invasion, or more accurately, the lack of a response."

Araman frowned. "I've told you, Abdullah," he said, "the infidels are decadent and have no stomach for war when it is pressed on their home sh.o.r.es. That is why they have not counterattacked in force."

Farrar shook his head, his face puzzled. "No, Osama, I do not agree. I am a student of history and I well remember the j.a.panese general's strong warnings against the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941. He said, do not attack the Americans, for you will awaken a sleeping giant."

"Bah," Araman scoffed. "That was many years ago, when the United States was a strong nation. Now they are divided into the U.S. and this SUSA on their southern borders."

He leaned over, picked up a tiny cup of Turkish coffee,187 187.

and took a sip, wincing a little at the bitterness. "It is my feeling that all of the citizens with b.a.l.l.s moved south and left only sheep in the north, waiting to be sheared," Araman said, his voice dripping with scorn.

Farrar stared at him, his eyes doubtful. "You may be right about the leaders of the country, my friend," he said slowly and evenly, "but I still wonder at the total lack of response to our provocations."