璇玑之心刃·冷血悍将-第115部分

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ht　path　rather　like　a　toy　train　around　a　Christmas　tree　while　its　new　owner　ate　breakfast　in　the　kitchen。　In　fact　it　was　being　watched。　A　distant　EC…121　Warning　Star　tracked　…193　by　means　of　a　coded　radar　transponder　located　atop　the　drone‘s　vertical　fin。
‘Keep　going；　baby；‘　a　major　whispered　to　himself；　watching　his　scope。　He　knew　of　the　mission；　how　important　it　was；　and　why　nobody　else　could　be　allowed　to　know。　Next　to　him　was　a　small　segment　from　a　topographical　map。　The　drone　turned　north　at　the　right　place；　dropping　down　to　three　hundred　feet　as　it　found　the　right　valley；　following　a　small　tributary　river。　At　least　the　guys　who　programmed　it　knew　their　stuff；　the　major　thought。
…193　had　burned　a　third　of　its　fuel　by　now　and　was　consuming　the　remaining　amount　very　rapidly　at　low　level；　flying　below　the　crests　of　the　unseen　hills　to　the　left　and　right。　The　programmers　had　done　their　best；　but　there　was　one　chillingly　close　call　when　a　puff　of　wind　forced　it　to　the　right　before　the　autopilot　could　correct；　and　…193　missed　an　unusually　tall　tree　by　a　scant　seventy　feet。　Two　militiamen　were　on　that　crest　and　fired　off　their　rifles　at　it；　and　again　the　rounds　missed。　One　of　them　started　down　the　hill　towards　a　telephone；　but　his　panion　called　for　him　to　stop　as　…193　flew　blindly　on。　By　the　time　a　call　was　made　and　received；　the　enemy　aircraft　would　be　long　gone；　and　besides；　they‘d　done　their　duty　in　shooting　at　it。　He　worried　about　where　their　bullets　had　landed；　but　it　was　too　late　for　that。
Colonel　Robin　Zacharias；　USAF；　was　walking　across　the　dirt　of　what　might　in　other　times　and　circumstances　be　called　a　parade　ground；　but　there　were　no　parades　here。　A　prisoner　for　over　six　months；　he　faced　every　day　as　a　struggle；　contemplating　misery　more　deep　and　dark　than　anything　he‘d　been　able　to　imagine。　Shot　down　on　his　eighty…ninth　mission；　within　sight　of　rotation　home；　a　pletely　successful　mission　brought　to　a　bloody　end　by　nothing　more　significant　than　bad　luck。　Worse；　his　‘bear‘　was　dead。　And　he　was　probably　the　lucky　one；　the　Colonel　thought　as　he　was　led　across　the　pound　by　two　small；　unfriendly　men　with　rifles。　His　arms　were　tied　behind　him；　and　his　ankles　were　hobbled　because　they　were　afraid　of　him　despite　their　guns；　and　even　with　all　that　he　was　also　being　watched　by　men　in　the　guard　towers。　I　must　really　look　scary　to　the　little　bastards；　the　fighter　pilot　told　himself。
Zacharias　didn‘t　feel　very　dangerous。　His　back　was　still　injured　from　the　ejection。　He‘d　hit　the　ground　severely　crippled；　and　his　effort　to　evade　capture　had　been　little　more　than　a　token　gesture；　a　whole　hundred　yards　of　movement　over　a　period　of　five　minutes；　right　into　the　arms　of　the　gun　crew　which　had　shredded　his　aircraft。
The　abuse　had　begun　there。　Paraded　through　three　separate　villages；　stoned　and　spat　upon；　he‘d　finally　ended　up　here。　Wherever　here　was。　There　were　sea　birds。　Perhaps　he　was　close　to　the　sea；　the　Colonel　speculated。　But　the　memorial　in　Salt　Lake　City；　several　blocks　from　his　boyhood　home；　reminded　him　that　gulls　were　not　merely　creatures　of　the　sea。　In　the　preceding　months　he　had　been　subjected　to　all　sorts　of　physical　abuse；　but　it　had　strangely　slackened　off　in　the　past　few　weeks。　Perhaps　they‘d　bee　tired　of　hurting　him；　Zacharias　told　himself。　And　maybe　there　really　was　a　Santa　Claus；　too；　he　thought；　his　head　looking　down　at　the　dirt。　There　was　little　consolation　to　be　had　here。　There　were　other　prisoners；　but　his　attempts　at　municating　with　them　had　all　failed。　His　cell　had　no　windows。　He‘d　seen　two　faces；　neither　of　which　he　had　recognized。　On　both　occasions　he‘d　started　to　call　out　a　greeting　only　to　be　clubbed　to　the　ground　by　one　of　his　guards。　Both　men　had　seen　him　but　made　no　sound。　In　both　cases　he‘d　seen　a　smile　and　a　nod；　the　best　that　they　could　do。　Both　men　were　of　his　age；　and；　he　supposed；　about　his　rank；　but　that　was　all　he　knew。　What　was　most　frightening　to　a　man　who　had　much　to　be　frightened　about　was　that　this　was　not　what　he　had　been　briefed　to　expect。　It　wasn‘t　the　Hanoi　Hilton；　where　all　the　POWs　were　supposed　to　have　been　congregated。　Beyond　that　he　knew　virtually　nothing；　and　the　unknown　can　be　the　most　frightening　thing　of　all；　especially　to　a　man　accustomed　over　a　period　of　twenty　years　to　being　absolute　master　of　his　fate。　His　only　consolation；　he　thought；　was　that　things　were　as　bad　as　they　could　be。　On　that；　he　was　wrong。
‘Good　morning。　Colonel　Zacharias；‘　a　voice　called　across　the　pound。　He　looked　up　to　see　a　man　taller　than　himself；　Caucasian；　and　wearing　a　uniform　very　different　from　that　of　his　guards。　He　strode　towards　the　prisoner　with　a　smile。　‘Very　different　from　Omaha；　isn‘t　it？‘
That　was　when　he　heard　a　noise；　a　thin　screeching　whine；　approaching　from　the　southwest。　He　turned　on　instinct　…　an　aviator　must　always　look　to　see　an　aircraft；　no　matter　where　he　might　be。　It　appeared　in　an　instant；　before　the　guards　had　a　chance　to　react。
Buffalo　Hunter；　Zacharias　thought；　standing　erect；　turning；　to　watch　it　pass；　staring　at　it；　holding　his　head　up；　seeing　the　black　rectangle　of　the　camera　window；　whispering　a　prayer　that　the　device　was　operating。　When　the　guards　realized　what　he　was　doing；　a　gun　butt　in　the　kidneys　dropped　the　colonel　to　the　ground。　Suppressing　a　curse；　he　tried　to　deal　with　the　pain　as　a　pair　of　boots　came　into　his　restricted　field　of　vision。
‘Do　not　get　overly　excited；‘　the　other　man　said。　‘It‘s　heading　to　Haiphong　to　count　the　ships。　Now；　my　friend；　we　need　to　bee　acquainted。‘
Cody…193　continued　northeast；　holding　a　nearly　constant　speed　and　altitude　as　it　entered　the　dense　air…defense　belt　surrounding　North　Vietnam‘s　only　major　port。　The　cameras　in　the　Buffalo　Hunter　recorded　several　triple…A　batteries；　observation　points；　and　more　than　a　few　people　with　AK…47s；　all　of　whom　made　at　least　a　token　shot　at　the　drone。　The　only　thing　…193　had　going　for　it　was　its　small　size。　Otherwise　it　flew　on　a　straight　and　level　course　while　its　cameras　snapped　away；　recording　the　images　on　2。25…inch　film。　About　the　only　thing　not　shot　at　it　were　surface…to…air　missiles：　…193　was　too　low　for　that。
‘Go；　baby；　go！‘　the　Major　said；　two　hundred　miles　away。　Outside；　the　four　piston　engines　of　the　Warning　Star　were　straining　to　maintain　the　altitude　necessary　for　him　to　watch　the　drone‘s　progress。　His　eyes　were　locked　on　the　flat　glass　screen；　following　the　binking　blip　of　the　radar　transponder。　Other　controllers　monitored　the　location　of　other　American　aircraft　also　visiting　the　enemy　country；　in　constant　munication　with　RED　CROWN；　the　Navy　ship　that　managed　air　operations　from　the　seaward　side。　‘Turn　east；　baby　…　now！‘
Right　on　schedule；　Cody…193　banked　hard　to　the　right；　ing　a　touch　lower　and　screaming　over　the　Haiphong　docks　at　500　knots；　a　hundred　tracer　rounds　in　its　wake。　Longshoremen　and　sailors　from　various　ships　looked　up　in　curiosity　and　irritation；　and　not　a　little　fear　for　all　the　steel　flying　in　the　sky　over　their　heads。
‘Yes！‘　the　Major　shouted；　loudly　enough　that　the　sergeant…controller　to　his　left　looked　up　in　irritation。　You　were　supposed　to　keep　things　quiet　here。　He　keyed　his　mike　to　speak　to　RED　CROWN。　‘Cody…one…niner…three　is　bingo。‘
‘Roger；　copy　bingo　on　one…niner…three；‘　the　acknowledgment　came　back。　It　was　a　false　use　of　the　‘bingo‘　code　word；　which　ordinarily　meant　an　aircraft　with　a　low　fuel　state；　but　it　was　a　term　so　monly　used　that　it　made　a　more　than　adequate　disguise。　The　Navy　enlisted　man　on　the　other　end　of　the　circuit　then　told　an　orbiting　helicopter　crew　to　wake　up。
The　drone　cleared　the　coast　right　on　schedule；　keeping　low　for　a　few　more　miles　before　going　into　its　final　climb；　down　to　its　last　hundred　pounds　of　fuel　as　it　reached　its　pre…programmed　point　thirty　miles　offshore　and　began　circling。　Now　another　transponder　came　on；　one　tuned　to　the　search　radars　of　US　Navy　picket　ships。　One　of　these；　the　destroyer　Henry　B。　Wilson；　took　note　of　the　expected　target　at　the　expected　time　and　place。　Her　missile　technicians　used　the　opportunity　to　run　a　practice　intercept　problem；　but　had　to　switch　off　their　illumination　radars　after　a　few　seconds。　It　made　the　airedales　nervous。
Circling　at　five　thousand　feet；　Cody…193　finally　ran　out　of　fuel　and　became　a　glider。　When　the　airspeed　fell　to　the　right　number；　explosive　bolts　blew　a　hatch　cover　off　the　top；　deploying　a　parachute。　The　Navy　helicopter　was　already　on　station；　and　the　white　‘chute　made　for　a　fine　target。　The　drone‘s　weight　was　a　scant　fifteen　hundred　pounds　now；　barely　that　of　eight　men。　Wind　and　visibility　cooperated　this　day。　The　‘chute　was　snagged　on　their　first　attempt；　and　the　helicopter　turned　at　once；　heading　for　the　carrier　USS　Constellation；　where　the　drone　was　carefully　lowered　into　a　cradle；　ending　its　sixty…second　bat　mission。　Before　the　helicopter　could　find　its　own　spot　on　the　flight　deck；　a　technician　was　already　unfastening　the　cover　plate　on　the　photo　partment　and　yanking　the　heavy　film　cassette　from　its　slot。　He　took　it　below　at　once；　and　handed　it　over　to　another　technician　in　the　ship‘s　elaborate　photo　lab。　Processing　required　a　brief　six　minutes；　and　the　still…damp　film　was　wiped　clean　and　handed　over　yet　again　to　an　intelligence　officer。　I