Retribution by Dale Brown

Author:Dale Brown [Brown, Dale & Defelice, Jim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Suspense, Romance, Action & Adventure, Terrorism, Espionage, War & Military, Spy Stories, Nuclear Weapons, Proving Grounds - Nevada, nevada, United States - Weapons Systems, Air pilots; Military
ISBN: 9780060889463
Publisher: Harper
Published: 2007-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

“STINGER MISSILE!” SAID SULLIVAN, PRACTICALLY SHRIEKING over the interphone.

“Flares,” said Dog. “Prepare for evasive maneuvers.”

Dog had dealt with shoulder-fired missiles dozens of times before, but even he felt his heart begin to race as the decoys showered behind the Megafortress.

The FIM-92 Stinger shoulder-launched missile was designed as an easy-to-use, no-hassle-to-maintain antiaircraft weapon that could be fired by soldiers in the field with minimal training. There were several variants, but this was almost certainly an original FIM-92A model, the type given to mujahideen rebels in Afghanistan to use against the Russians there, and then later sold to terror groups around the world.

Once launched, the missile homed in on the heat source its nose sensor had locked onto, flying over the speed of sound and able to climb to about three miles. At 2.2 pounds, its explosive warhead was relatively small, but nonetheless deadly. The fuse worked only on impact, which made the use of decoys less effective. On the other hand, it also meant that the weapon had to actually strike something to go off.

The Megafortress’s four turbojets were sexy targets for the missile’s seeker, red hot magnets that pulled it onward. The Bennett’s altitude was its one advantage; while the airplane was almost directly over the man who had fired the missile, the aircraft had been at 10,000 feet, the very edge of the Stinger’s lethal envelope. Dog mashed the throttle, knowing he’d need every ounce of power to get away. As the decoys bloomed behind him, he twisted sharply, taking roughly five g’s and trying to cut as close to 180 degrees as possible.

The turn and flares made it hard for the Stinger to sniff its target, and by the time the Stinger realized it had to turn, it was too late. The rocket propellant in its slender chassis spent, the missile tumbled back to the ground.

“Starship, you see who fired at us?”

“Got a glimpse, Colonel.”

“They Chinese troops?”

“Negative. Look like guerrillas, some sort of irregulars. Dressed, you know, kind of like natives, farmers or something.”

“Pretty clear they’re not farmers,” snapped Dog.

“Maybe they’re growing missiles,” said Sullivan.

The rest of the crew laughed—more to release tension than because the joke was funny. But it was a good sign, Dog thought; they were starting to get used to dealing with combat.

It wasn’t, however, a time to relax.

“Two Sukhoi-27s, early models, flying straight for us,” said Rager, summarizing the situation for Dog. “Two hundred nautical miles from us. From the northeast. Chinese. They’re subsonic, 500 knots, 23,000 feet. Behind them there are two helicopters, 10,000 feet. Type ID’d as Harbin Z-5 Hound. Troop carriers.”

“Flighthawk leader, do you have the exact location of the warhead?” Dog asked Starship.

“Negative, Colonel. Looks like it’s in a lake. I haven’t confirmed it’s there.”

“Get on with Dreamland Command. See if the scientists can pin it down.”

“Roger that.”

The territory they were flying over was Indian but heavily populated by Muslims, and there were a variety of separatist groups active in the area. Some were suspected to be allied with Islamic terrorists, and even those that weren’t would find a ready market for a nuclear warhead.

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