"Somebody's on the frequency," Hans declared abruptly. The ARM team had
been settled in for just slightly over an hour, trying to keep plastic
sheets over them to ward off the rain as they attempted to alternate
taking naps. However, in spite of the weather he had kept open the
single-sideband frequency Vance had been using, just in case. Up until
now, it had been a continuous hiss of empty static.
"What the hell . . . ?" Armont pulled back the plastic, wiped the rain
from his eyes, and lifted a questioning eyebrow. Around them the dark
Aegean churned against their granite islet. "Vance's crazy to be on the
radio now. He'd better have a blasted good reason."
"It's not him. It sounds like a woman." Hans had a puzzled look on his
face as he handed Pierre the headset, shielding it haphazardly from the
rain.
"He mentioned something about a woman when we talked yesterday," Spiros
said, snapping out of his morose reverie. "Maybe it's the same one. She
was with him then."
"Well, whatever's going on, I think we all should hear this." Armont
unplugged the headphones from the radio, then turned up the volume, the
better to overcome the rain and roar of surf.
"Sirene, do you read me?" the voice was saying. "Oh, God, please
answer."
"I copy," Spiros said into the microphone. He was as puzzled, and
troubled, by this development as by all the rest. "Who the hell is
this?"
"Thank God," came back the voice. "You can't wait. You've got to come
in now."
"I repeat," Spiros spoke again, "you must identify yourself. Otherwise
I will shut down this frequency."
"They've started a countdown. They plan a launch in less than six
hours. And Mike is gone. I don't even know if he's dead or alive."
Spiros glanced around at the others, wondering what to do. The
frequency was being compromised, but probably it was worth the risk.
His instincts were telling him she was for real.
"Miss, whoever you are, you must identify yourself." He paused a
moment, thinking. Then he asked, "Where is Ulysses?"
"I told you, he's disappeared. He screwed up and destroyed the gantry,
and then he vanished. But I think they've already loaded a bomb in the
payload bay of VX-1."
Spiros clicked off the microphone. "She knows Vance's code name. But
half the Aegean probably knows that by now." He clicked the mike back
on. "I'm giving you one more opportunity to identify yourself, or this
conversation will be terminated."
"I'm Cally Andros, project director for SatCom. I was with Michael
Vance when he talked to somebody in Athens named Dimitri yesterday
morning. And I was with him a couple of hours ago when he was talking
to you. How do you think I knew this frequency? What in hell do I have
to do to convince you people that the assault can't wait? They have a
countdown in progress. I don't know what they plan to do, but there's a
very good chance a bomb is going somewhere."
"I think she's legit," Spiros said, clicking off the microphone again.
"It adds up. Sounds like Mike was trying to shut them down and must
have managed to muck things up. I thought he was better than that. But
this is very bad news."
By now everybody was rousing, intent on the radio conversation. A storm
was coming down, and now the whole plan was about to get revised.
Again. Worse still, the insert would have to be managed without a point
man. Unless . . .
"Dr. Andros," Armont began, "please tell me precisely what happened to
Michael Vance. I want to know if he is still alive, and if so, where he
is."
She told him what she knew, in a way that was repetitive and rambling.
It also was convincing.
"Do you think they can launch in this kind of weather?"
"The storm will probably let up by daybreak. That's how the weather
usually works here. I don't think it's going to be a problem."
"All right," Armont interjected. "Looks like we'd better come in. I
would ask you where you are now, but that might compromise your safety.
I do have one more request, though. Could you stay by the radio and
assist us after insertion, telling us--as best you know--how the hostiles
are deployed? It could be very helpful. And possibly save a lot of
lives."
"Yes, I'll do anything you want me to. But you can't wait
until tomorrow night. If you do, there may not be any point in coming
at all."
"Then stay up on this frequency," Armont said, and nodded to the
others. "You'll be hearing from us."
It was a gamble, taking the word of some anonymous voice on the radio,
but sometimes you had to go with your instincts. As he looked around,
they all agreed.