"Maloney, Mack - Wingman 02 - The Circle War UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Maloney Mack)

He recognized the mountain just ahead of him as the one that formed the southern edge of the valley's border. Just beyond it was where he had spotted the Russian planes. He checked his instruments a final time, and increased his throttle slightly. The F-16

responded and pulled a little ahead of the A-7s. The trio of T-38s were slightly behind and the A-lOs brought up the rear. Hunter would be the first over the target Чif any SAMs were coming up, they'd be aimed at him. He gave a thumbs-up signal over his head for the A-7 pilots to see. Then he bore down over the mountain and prepared to unleash his bombs on the Russian base . . .

But there was nothing there.

He streaked down the mountain valley only to find that where he had seen the Soviet jets less than two hours before was now nothing more than a snowswept landscape. The jets, the huts, the antenna, the radarЧeverything was gone. He quickly re-checked his coordinates; he knew this was the place. But where the hell were the Russians?

The other pilots came over the mountain and shared the same surprise. Quickly, each pulled up and threw their arming switches to the Off position. Soon the eight planes were flying in formation once again. While the others orbited above, Hunter streaked low through the valley. He couldn't even see so much as an oil spot to indicate the Russian base had been there a few hours ago. He put the F-16 on its tail and climbed to join the others.

Hunter was the first to break radio silence. "Sorry, guys," he said with the puzzlement much evidenced in his voice. "I guess we're shooting at ghosts again."

"That's okay, major," one of the A-7 pilots, a guy named Mick, radioed back. "Alaska's pretty this.time of year."

"Well, you guys enjoy the scenery on the way back," Hunter said, checking his fuel. "I'm going to

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look around a little more."

"Gonna need help, Major?" It was Max, one of the A-10 pilots.

"Thanks, Max," Hunter replied. "But I'll go this one alone. Go buy yourselves a round of drinks and put it on my tab."

"Aye-aye, sir," Mick radioed back. "Good luck."

With that, the seven attack jets turned southward and streaked off. Alone again, Hunter began searching ...

The conference room at the PAAC base headquarters was filled to capacity. More than 60 pilots plus base support personnel were squeezed into a room that was built to hold 50 people, tops. Around the round conference table Чits top strewn with empty and full coffee cups, wrappers from sandwiches and countless liquor and beer bottles Чsat the principal officers of the Air Corps. The atmosphere was tumultuous as the pilots talked among themselves. Finally, the man they had been waiting forЧGeneral Dave Jones, commander of the Pacific American Air Corps Чstrode into the room. The assembled men snapped to attention as one, and barraged their commanding officer with an orgy of salutes.

The general, small, craggy faced and wiry, instinctively returned the salute. These guys are real pros, he thought. The PAAC had done away with all but the most barebone rules and regulations between the ranks, yet Hunter and his guys never failed to catch the old USAF officer in him.

"Sit down, gentlemen," Jones said, walking over to shake hands with a few of the officers within reach.

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"Relax ..."

Hunter, standing at the head of the conference table and in front of a large video screen, greeted Jones. For Hunter, seeing Jones was like seeing a ghost. The man was the identical twin brother of the deceased hero, General Seth Jones ЧHunter's one-time commanding officer and mentor. Seth Jones had died bravely in the opening rounds of the Mid-Ak coup in the Northeast. Before he died, he told Hunter and the other ZAP pilots to head west and join up with his brother Dave. Eventually, they did.

"Good flight up, sir?" Hunter asked him. Jones's HQ and the main base for PAAC was located at the old Naval Air Station in San Diego.

"Sure, no problem," Jones said, taking off his trademark baseball cap and undoing his leather flight jacket. "Any coffee or whiskey left?"

"Both," Hunter said, retrieving a bottle from the table while another pilot handed a mug of coffee to the general. Jones splashed a healthy slug of whiskey into the coffee cup and took a gulp. "Okay. It's good to see everyone. As you all know, I've been out of touch for a while. Without going into detail, we've got a secret project working and I was locked up in a laboratory Ч me and a bunch of eggheads Чfor several weeks. Now I hear there's been somse strange stuff happening. So what the hell is going on up here, Hawk?"

Hunter looked around at the soldiers in the room and especially at those seated around the table. This was the first council of war called since the new PAAC base was established at Coos Bay, Oregon. Anyone who was anyone at the base was on hand. At

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