As the hand slipped away, her eyes flew open and she leaped out of her seat—only to find that the guard was still sitting against the rear bulkhead. The copilot was shaking her awake.

“Ma’am, we have some kind of an alert at Travis.”

She blinked, momentarily confused. “What? Where are we?”

“On approach. We’ve been ordered into a pattern.”

What was this? What was he saying here? “You’re telling me there’s a delay? What kind of a delay?”

“Travis is on alert. We’re waved off until further notice.”

Now she was fully awake. “No. That’s out. That order is countermanded.”

“Ma’am—”

“Land the damn plane! And my chopper needs to be ready.” Her plan was to do a recce over Big Basin by helicopter, then have them put her down at San Jose airport. She had a car rented and would drive the thirty-two miles from there to Willoughby.

“We could land at a civilian airport.”

“San Jose?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do it. And find out what the hell’s going on at Travis.”

This was going to be inconvenient and was going to slow her down. She’d ordered the armory at Travis to provide her with an appropriate sidearm and informed the commandant that she would need a variety of cameras. Now she would be unarmed, and unless she could buy a camera in San Jose, she’d need to find the remains of Mark’s unit and hope they had retained their equipment. They hadn’t answered the satphone. Of course not, Mark had probably had it on his person when he was killed. But didn’t they have a backup? Maybe not Linda Hicks and Pete Richardson. The second-in-command had the backup comm, and he’d died in the first attack of the hybrids.

Luck would need to get her back to Travis before sunset, and if the storm abated, face-to-face with the chairman of the National Security Council by three or four in the morning, Washington time.

The copilot came back. His face reflected concern, but also amusement.

“There’s a scramble up on an unidentified aircraft reported over San Francisco.”

With a sick lurch of her stomach, she recalled the radio program.

“Put me down in San Francisco.”

He blinked. His expression did not change. “They’re locked down.”

“Oakland?”

“It’s open.”

“Then Oakland. And if you can, charter me a chopper. I’ll deal with the billing when I get there.”

He got up and went silently back to the cockpit. She slid across to the window seat, tightened her seat belt, and stared out into the empty sky.

Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE CITY BY THE BAY