Steiger’s fears were justified. Pitt was indeed pitching forward on an uncontrollable course, high above the main deck, where he’d planned to land. Narrowly missing an empty five-inch-gun turret, he came to the end of his arc. It was now or never. He made his decision and hit the quick-release buckle and dropped clear of the harness.

From the doorway of the helicopter Sandecker’s eyes strained in the early-morning gloom, his insides knotted, his breath halted, as Pitt’s huddled figure fell behind the forward superstructure and vanished. Then the Iowa was gone, too, as Steiger snapped the helicopter into a steep angle, the rotor blades biting the air, dipping over the forested

The Iowa 239p>

shore and out of sight. As soon as the craft leveled, Sandecker released his safety strap and made his way back into the cockpit.

“Is he away?” Steiger asked anxiously.

“Yes, he’s down,” answered Sandecker.

“In one piece?”

“We can but hope,” Sandecker said, so quietly that Steiger hardly heard him above the roar of the engine. “That’s all any of us has left.”

59

Fawkes was not overly concerned with the helicopter so long as it continued on its way. He did not see a human form drop out of the twilight, as his attention was directed to the boat that was approaching downriver at high speed. There was no doubt in his mind that it was a welcoming committee, courtesy of the United States government. He spoke into a microphone.

“Mr. Shaba.”

“Sir?” Shaba’s voice crackled back.

“Please see to it the machine-gun crews man their stations and prepare to repel boarders.” Repel boarders. My God, Fawkes thought. When was the last time a captain of a capital ship gave that command?

“Is this a drill, sir?”

“No, Mr. Shaba, this is no drill. I fear American extremists who support the enemies of our country may attempt to take the ship. You will instruct your men to fire at any person, vessel, or aircraft that endangers the welfare of this ship and her crew. Your men may begin by driving off a terrorist boat that is approaching from the west.”

“Aye, Captain.” The radio could not hide the excitement in Shaba’s voice.

Fawkes felt a growing urge to order his unsuspecting crew off the Iowa, but he could not bring himself to admit he was murdering sixty-eight innocent men, men who had been deceived into believing they were serving a country that treated them little better than cattle. Fawkes had a method of casting off any cold tentacles of guilt. He forced an image of a burned-out farm and the charred bodies of his wife and children into his mind and his resolve for the task at hand quickly hardened.

240 VIXEN 03p>

He picked up the mike again. “Main battery.”

“Main battery ready, Captain.”