第4节

his is the first time we've had an airborne PI."

'That's all right,' replied Anderssen. 'I don't mind if you bend him

a little. Just don't bring him back looking like a diced meat dinner,

okay?"

'Blue One, Roger, Out,' said Harmer.

You stroppy bastard, thought Anderssen. One of these days I'm gonna

roast your balls and feed 'em to you one slice at a time...

The sky-hooks Harmer had referred to were grappling irons and lines

that could be fired 250 feet into the air by compressed air rams that

looked like small infantry mortars. They had been designed for scaling

sheer rock faces but, apart from a few test firings, had not been put

to any practical use. This, thought Harmer, could be the moment. And

if it worked, it would be difficult for that grey-haired, hard-assed

bitch in the watch-tower to avoid giving him full marks for

ingenuity.

Harmer had positioned his two pairs of sky-hooks to the east and west

of the way-station bunker. If the ragged blue sky-ship kept on the

same course, he had to pass on one side or the other. That would be

the time to nail him. Two sky-hooks placed twenty feet apart would be

fired towards the ship as it approached, would pass over its wings

then, as the ship flew on and the line ran out, the hooks would bite

and then - el cruncho.

The airborne intruder drifted steadily lower, circled the perimeter

defences at five hundred feet then, seemingly undisturbed by the eight

six-barrelled gun turrets that were tracking him, dived down towards

the north face of the watch-tower. As he neared the crouching linemen,

he came lower still, putting him within range of the sky-hooks.

Lieutenant Harmer could see the pilot quite clearly.

His ship might be homemade but he was dressed in the standard red,

brown and black camoullaged fatigues worn by all Trail-Blazers on

overground sorties - like those of Harmer and the linemen around him.

The blue-winged craft veered to the west of the tower. Keep coming

sucker, thought Harmer exultantly. This is where you get yours! He

used his helmet radio to alert the two linemen manning the sky-hooks on

that side of the bunker. They aimed the slim mortar barrels holding

the grappling irons up at the oncoming plane and fired within a split

second of each other. There was an explosive whoosh as the barbed

hooks soared skywards then an angry whipping sound as their lines,

arranged alongside in open containers, uncoiled with the speed of

striking cobras.

The intruder took immediate evasive action. As the two lines snaked

upwards on parallel courses, he stood his craft on its right wingtip,

side-slipped neatly between them and banked tightly round the

watchtower.

Harmer bellowed into his chin mike. 'Brennan!

Powers! Aim your lines to cross over! Take him as he comes around

your side!" Once again, the intruder evaded the soaring lines. He

pulled up into a stall, dropped a wing to turn back on his tail then

ttew a tight circle around the ropes at the narrowest point of the

'X'.

Despite his anger at being outfaced, Harmer was impressed. It was a

great piece of flying - especially without a motor. 'Okay, you flashy

sonofabitch,' he muttered grudgingly to himself. 'So far so good. But

the wind's dyin', and the sun's going down - which means that soon,

there'll be nothing keeping you up there. So enjoy it while you can,

friend, cos I'm gonna be there when you touch down and I swear you are

gonna get the shit kicked out of your ass all the way back to

Pueblo."

The intruder banked around the watch-tower. He was now down to about a

hundred feet. Harmer saw that the dark visor of the red and white

wingman's helmet had been raised revealing a tanned face. He was

unable to discern its individual features or whether it displayed any

aggressive intent. The owner of the face waved to the armed men spread

out in pairs below, then pulled something out of his breast pocket and

threw it out to his right.

Two smallish dark objects tied closely together and attached to a

fluttering blue streamer curved out of the sky and plummeted

earthwards.

Harmer's trigger finger itched unbearably as the blue-winged ship

passed silently overhead. He swore under his breath then barked into

the mike mounted inside the chin guard of his helmet. 'Hold your