peeking in on a project that was not yet completed. He was sure that if he had made this trip two months later, he would have seen a line of SAMs extending through the wilderness of Oklahoma in the south, up through the rugged Dakotas to the Free Canadian border in the north. Once this "missile alley" was complete, Texas —and all that oil —would be in a dangerously isolated position. All the Soviets would have to do is station a few hundred of their new supermissiles — like the 70-mile range SA-12s he spotted —and they could knock down anything flying above the Louisiana-Texas border. The continent would thus be split in two, and easy access between the lifeline markets in Los Angeles and Free Canada would be blocked.
Early the next morning, he ate the last of his food, took off and immediately climbed to 10,000 feet. The minijet was still operating well but the fuel was down to nine gallons. And he still had one more place to go. He would have to catch strong winds at the higher altitude and glide most of the way to his destination.
He headed south, then east. His goal was located somewhere near the Soviet castle. He decided to locate the same ravine where St. Louie's recon guys met their deaths. Since his discovery of the Soviet hidden army, he knew now that anything was possible. Yet he still had to solve the mystery of the horses.
Using the upper air currents, he made it back over 104
the big Soviet main base in less than 14 hours. Along the way he took many high-altitude photos of the Soviet emplacements. It was dark again when he bypassed the Soviet castle, steered clear of the steaming nuke plant, turned east then lowered down to 1000 feet. Now he tried as best he could to pick up the route the doomed patrol traveled.
It was close to midnight when he spotted a piece of terrain that seemed to match the patrol's description of the ravine. He reconnoitered the area for 10
miles around and, not seeing a soul, landed the minijet near the area.
Then he waited. The moon rose. The wind kicked up some dust and blew it across the vast, deserted plain. He walked some distance from the minijet, taking the Uzi with him. He was surprised how bright the stars were shining even through the murk of the Badlands' atmosphere. Somewhere, a surviving coyote called at the moon. At least he thought it was a coyote . . .
That's when he heard the sound of hoofbeats.
105
Chapter Eleven
Hunter froze . . .
Off to the west, five riders, their horses at full gallop, were coming toward him. He quickly undid the safety on the Uzi and checked the magazine. It was full. He retrieved one of his two HE hand grenades, then he slowly crouched down, never once taking his eyes off the approaching horsemen.
He was about 25 feet away from the minijet, but the riders were coming on so fast, he would be spotted instantly if he attempted to get to the aircraft.
And the way the horsemen were riding, their route would carry them right past the vehicle. What would happen then was anyone's guess.
The lead rider was the first to spot the small airplane. He immediately pulled up the reins on his horse and slowed down. His four comrades did the same.
Hunter heard the simultaneous sound of five rifles being cocked. That meant the horsemen weren't just out for a pleasure ride. Whoever they were, these guys meant business.
He strained to make out forms behind the five
107
silhouettes. They appeared to be wearing some kind of armor and metal-visored helmets. And were those swords they were carrying in the belts?
The leader slowly urged his horse toward the minijet. He withdrew his sword and used it to poke at the airplane's deployed wingsail. Hunter watched, barely breathing. If the guy started jabbing and hit the wrong connecting wire or fuel line, then the minijet would be inoperable and Hunter would be stranded.
He had to act. The chances of these horsemen being friendlies was remote. He unslung his powerful belt lantern and switched it on.
Early the next morning, he ate the last of his food, took off and immediately climbed to 10,000 feet. The minijet was still operating well but the fuel was down to nine gallons. And he still had one more place to go. He would have to catch strong winds at the higher altitude and glide most of the way to his destination.
He headed south, then east. His goal was located somewhere near the Soviet castle. He decided to locate the same ravine where St. Louie's recon guys met their deaths. Since his discovery of the Soviet hidden army, he knew now that anything was possible. Yet he still had to solve the mystery of the horses.
Using the upper air currents, he made it back over 104
the big Soviet main base in less than 14 hours. Along the way he took many high-altitude photos of the Soviet emplacements. It was dark again when he bypassed the Soviet castle, steered clear of the steaming nuke plant, turned east then lowered down to 1000 feet. Now he tried as best he could to pick up the route the doomed patrol traveled.
It was close to midnight when he spotted a piece of terrain that seemed to match the patrol's description of the ravine. He reconnoitered the area for 10
miles around and, not seeing a soul, landed the minijet near the area.
Then he waited. The moon rose. The wind kicked up some dust and blew it across the vast, deserted plain. He walked some distance from the minijet, taking the Uzi with him. He was surprised how bright the stars were shining even through the murk of the Badlands' atmosphere. Somewhere, a surviving coyote called at the moon. At least he thought it was a coyote . . .
That's when he heard the sound of hoofbeats.
105
Chapter Eleven
Hunter froze . . .
Off to the west, five riders, their horses at full gallop, were coming toward him. He quickly undid the safety on the Uzi and checked the magazine. It was full. He retrieved one of his two HE hand grenades, then he slowly crouched down, never once taking his eyes off the approaching horsemen.
He was about 25 feet away from the minijet, but the riders were coming on so fast, he would be spotted instantly if he attempted to get to the aircraft.
And the way the horsemen were riding, their route would carry them right past the vehicle. What would happen then was anyone's guess.
The lead rider was the first to spot the small airplane. He immediately pulled up the reins on his horse and slowed down. His four comrades did the same.
Hunter heard the simultaneous sound of five rifles being cocked. That meant the horsemen weren't just out for a pleasure ride. Whoever they were, these guys meant business.
He strained to make out forms behind the five
107
silhouettes. They appeared to be wearing some kind of armor and metal-visored helmets. And were those swords they were carrying in the belts?
The leader slowly urged his horse toward the minijet. He withdrew his sword and used it to poke at the airplane's deployed wingsail. Hunter watched, barely breathing. If the guy started jabbing and hit the wrong connecting wire or fuel line, then the minijet would be inoperable and Hunter would be stranded.
He had to act. The chances of these horsemen being friendlies was remote. He unslung his powerful belt lantern and switched it on.
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