Dawn had arrived, though the mantle of light fog was still adding a
hazy texture to the air. The sun-up had a freshness that reminded Vance
of the previous morning, the first glimmerings of daybreak. Now,
though, visibility was hampered by the residual moisture in the air,
just enough to give the world a pristine sheen. What would the morning
look like, Vance wondered, if a nuclear device exploded at Souda Bay on
nearby Crete? It was a possibility difficult to imagine, but the
results were not.
Bates began spooling up the power, and slowly the blue-and-white
striped Agusta Mark II started lifting off the pad. Fortunately it had
been prepped the previous day and was ready to fly.
"This is going to be dicey, Mike," Bates yelled back from the cockpit,
his voice just audible above the roar of the engines. "I don't know how
exactly you expect to manage this."
"I don't know either," Vance yelled in reply. "Try and see if you can
hover just above the payload bay. Very gently."
Cally was helping him circle the insulated wire about his waist, then
his crotch, making a kind of seat. Finally he handed her the free end
and shouted, "Here, can you secure this around something?"
"Around what?" she yelled back.
"Anything that looks sturdy. And then hang onto it."
"Ever done this before?" She had found a steel stmt by the door. "I
haven't."
"Are you kidding! That makes us equally experienced."
"Well, remember one thing--the downdraft from the main rotor is going to
buffet you like crazy. Be prepared."
"Right." He was already trying mental games to avoid vertigo. The
closest thing he could think of was looking out the windows of a tall
building, and even that scared him. He liked working close to the
ground. Very close.
As Bates guided the Agusta quickly down toward the launch pad and the
vehicles, visibility was no more than a quarter of a mile. And since he
had not bothered switching on the radar, he was totally unaware of the
two Apache AH-64s now approaching from the south at 180 mph. It was a
mistake.