It was a spectacular sight. Over and over again, strings of explosions rippled across the ground as the Wolverine cluster bomb attacks continued. Antiaircraft artillery fire continued, with tracers streaking across the sky like incandescent snakes. Occasionally there was a large secondary explosion as the last of the Wolverine missiles suicide- dived into their last targets. Burning tanks, trucks, and buildings lit the night sky everywhere, like dozens of camp fires. Men were shouting, calling out, screaming and firing in confusion.

“Sixty seconds, Muck,” Briggs radioed.

Patrick glanced to the northwest, following the datalink- generated cues displayed in his electronic visor. The Sky Masters EB-52 was right on time, coming in at medium altitude—now that the Wolverines had destroyed all of the area defenses, it could climb higher to stay away from the surviving optically guided antiaircraft artillery units still operating.

“I am going to destroy your military base, Zuwayy,” Patrick said in his computer-synthesized voice. A microphone was picking up Zuwayy’s voice, broadcasting it via satellite back to Mersa Matruh, where it was instantly translated by computer; Patrick’s voice was similarly translated from English to Arabic the same way. “You will watch it all burn. And then I am going to destroy you.”

“Whoever you are, I have powerful friends, and I have money,” Zuwayy said. “Spare my life, and I’ll pay you. Ten million dollars. A hundred million dollars. You don’t have to kill me. We can make a deal.”

This last statement intrigued Patrick. “Who are your friends?”

“Powerful international arms merchant and black marketers,” Zuwayy said. “Let me go and I’ll tell you everything.”

‘Talk or you die.”

“Thirty seconds, Patrick. You’ve got heavy armored vehicles on their way to you. Best way out is to the east. Move it.”

“Talk!” Patrick shouted. “This is your last chance.”

“He is a Russian,” Zuwayy shouted. “He has access to nuclear weapons, missiles, aircraft, oil, anything you want. Just let me live and it’s all yours.”

It couldn’t be, Patrick thought. It was impossible. The Turks convicted him of murder and crimes against the state. He got the death penalty—and in Turkey, there was no appeal process. He was supposed to have been executed months ago....

“Ten TG, Muck,” Briggs warned him. “Find a place in the shade and hold on.”