The shadow of the huge parachute was falling over the helicopter when Steiger flipped the craft on its starboard side. The violent maneuver sent the pointed bow of the Minerva knifing between the shroud lines. Orange silk collapsed and covered the windshield, blotting out the sun. Three of the lines caught and wrapped around the rotor shaft before the tired old material gave way and shredded. The rest entwined around the fuselage and jerked the Minerva to a near stop as they tautened and took up the strain of the heavy projectile.

266 VIXEN 03p>

“Two seconds,” Sandecker rasped through clenched teeth.

The Minerva was being pulled downward by the weight of the shell. Steiger returned the craft to an upright position with the pitch-control column, yanked the throttles back against their stops, and pulled up on the collective-pitch lever in a blur of hand movements.

The twin engines struggled under the load. Sandecker had stopped

•ť counting. Time had run out. The altimeter needle was quivering at one

thousand feet. Sandecker leaned out an open window and stared past the

flapping silk at the warhead dangling beneath the fuselage, expecting to

see an explosion.

The Minerva’s rotor blades slapped the air, causing a thumping sound that could be heard for miles above the sea of enthralled faces turned to the sky. Parachute, projectile, and helicopter hung together, suspended. Sandecker darted his attention back to the altimeter. It hadn’t budged. A sheen of sweat glistened on his brow.

Ten seconds passed, which to Sandecker seemed ten years. Steiger, absorbed in his task, battled the controls. The admiral could do little but sit there. It was the first time he could remember feeling totally useless.

“Lift, damn you, lift,” Steiger said, pleading with the Minerva.

Sandecker watched the altimeter as though mesmerized. It seemed to him the needle made a fractional tic above the one-thousand-foot mark. Was it wishful thinking, or had the instrument really registered an upward reading? Then, slowly, almost infinitesimally, the needle appeared to move. ť

“Climbing,” he reported. His voice had a tremor in it.

Steiger did not answer.

The rate of ascent began to increase. Sandecker remained quiet until he was sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on his brain. There was no more cause for uncertainty. The needle was slowly sweeping past the next indication.

66

The relief of the men in the emergency executive offices was impossible to describe. If polled, they would have unanimously agreed they had never seen any sight half so wonderful in their lives. Even dour General Higgins was grinning the widest grin on record. The suffocating cloud of doom had been suddenly swept away, and they began cheering as the

‘v •• ” The Iowa 267p>

Minerva dragged its deadly cargo toward a safe altitude.

The President sagged in his chair and allowed himself the pleasure of lighting a cigar. He nodded down the table at Jarvis through a haze of smoke.

“It would appear, Dale, that you are clairvoyant.”