“Look, Kurt, those jets are pointed right at the rear wall. If we got the engines started, we could give those guys coming in the back door a warm welcome.”

Austin calmly walked under the plane's fuselage, seemingly oblivious to the steady thumping from the rear of the hangar. He stood in front of the plane, where the wing's thin edge came to a point, his hands on his hips, and gazed up at the cockpit.

“Even if we somehow made it out of the hangar, we'd have no place to go. Maybe I've a got better idea,” he said thoughtfully.

Working with Austin had given Zavala insight into the unorthodox way his partner's mind functioned. He caught Austin's drift instantly. “You're kidding,” he said.

Austin's eyes were deadly serious.

“You said the systems are working. If we can crank up the engines, why waste fuel toasting a few bad guys when we can simply leave them in the dust? Admit it,” he said, catching the gleam in Zavala's eye. “You've been itching to fly this thing.”

“There are a lot of ifs here. The engines may not start, or the fuel could have gone sour,” Zavala said. He listed a few more undesirable possibilities, but from the way the corners of his mouth were turned up in a smile it was clear he was discounting disaster. Austin had tapped into Joe's desire to fly every type of air craft that had ever been built.

“I know it won't be easy. Those trucks over there were probably used to tow the plane outside where it could take off. We won't have that luxury. We're going to have to make a running start.”

“I'd be happy if we could make any kind of start. Those engines haven't been cranked over in fifty years,” Zavala said.

“Just keep thinking about the scene in that Woody Allen movie, where the Volkswagen starts right up after centuries in a cave. Should be a piece of cake.”

Zavala grinned. “This isn't exactly a Volkswagen,” he protested, although it was clear from his excitement that the idea had gone beyond a matter of life and death. It was now a challenge. “First I'll have to see if I can get this old buggy cranked up. We're not going anywhere with those flat tires. We'll have to get air into them.”

“I saw some air hoses, but we don't have much time.”

“We'll start with the two outside tires under the fuselage and the nose wheel. We'll get to the inside tires if we can.”

They quickly uncoiled the air hose and fed the air into the tires. The rattle of the compressor was slightly slower than their heartbeats. Austin stopped pumping air and listened. The pounding had stopped although the back door was still firmly secured. Austin didn't like it. The halt could mean the attackers were preparing to blow the door. He didn't have time to worry. Another horrendous explosion came from the front of the hangar. The blast sent them both sprawling face-first onto the oil-soaked concrete floor. A second rocket had been fired to open up the gap below the first hole. Smoke from burning vegetation hovered near the ceiling.