Chapter 34

Two hours stretched to four, and then to eight. At the high latitudes where they were flying, the sun soon dipped to the horizon and slowly sank out of sight.

When Cliff Baker had announced that their plane had been taken over by the World Liberation Movement, Stoner had thought of the chances of talking to him, persuading him to let them fly to Moscow as originally planned. But Baker was either aware of Stoner's abilities or just naturally cautious. After his cryptic announcement he locked himself in the flight deck with the plane's pilot and copilot.

Stoner turned his chair toward An Linh. She looked stunned.

"He's not dead," Stoner said to her.

"I never thought I'd see him again," she said, her voice hollow with shock.

"Apparently he's escaped from Vanguard. Perhaps the World Liberation Movement freed him."

"Escaped from Vanguard?" Jo asked. "What do you mean?"

Markov demanded, "Who is this man? How can he hijack a Soviet airplane? Where is he taking us?"

For several hours they talked back and forth, Stoner and An Linh taking turns telling their stories to Jo and Markov.

"I had no idea that Everett . . ." Jo stopped herself, her face suddenly twisted with anguish. Stoner could see she was fighting to hold back tears of frustrated rage.

"Nobody's blaming you for any of this," he said gently.

She shook her head. "My God, I thought I knew what was going on in Vanguard, but I've been nothing but a figurehead! Just a stupid little girl, playing at being the corporation president!"

"You are far from being stupid," Markov said. "This man Nillson must be as devious as a snake."

"He's frightening," An Linn agreed. "Terrifying."

"Nillson isn't our problem at the moment," said Stoner. "We appear to be the unwilling guests of the World Liberation Movement. I wonder where they're taking us?"

"And why?" Markov added.

"That's obvious," Jo replied. "They want you, Keith. The rest of us are extraneous."

"Do you mean expendable?" asked Markov.

Jo shrugged, and the four of them lapsed into silence.

The plane landed once, at an airstrip that seemed empty and abandoned, dust blown, in the kind of dry, brown, barren country that reminded Stoner of Tyuratam, in the Kazakh S.S.R. A pair of fuel trucks rolled up to their plane, and a team of coveralled men quickly, efficiently connected hoses to the fuel tanks in the plane's belly.

"They're not going to let us out here," Stoner said.

Markov, leaning across him to stare out at the refueling operation, muttered, "Kazakhs, or I'll swallow my beard. They're in on this."

"Where are we?" Jo asked.

"Halfway to Tibet," said Markov, "from the looks of things out there."

Within minutes they were airborne again. A dreary silence filled the plane's cabin. The steward who had first served them drinks brought out trays of hot dinners. Stoner saw that the others ate listlessly, picking at the precooked food. It was bland and hardly recognizable, but it felt warm and good to Stoner.

As the sun set and the engines droned on with no sign of their ultimate destination, one by one the others drifted off to sleep. Stoner sat up, though, and stared out at the dark night sky. Far off in the distance he could see the pale flickerings of the Northern Lights, and he remembered those wildly hectic weeks when the alien starship had announced its pres-

ence by making the skies dance all across the Earth, night after night after night.

We're heading east, Stoner told himself. To China? I doubt that we can get that far without another refueling. Whoever this World Liberation Movement is, they have things very neatly arranged. An abandoned military airstrip has a refueling team waiting for us. The plane deviates from its scheduled course and there are no problems with ground controllers. We're crossing vast stretches of Soviet airspace and there hasn't been a single interceptor buzzing us.

He thought of the radar operators, air traffic controllers, fuel depot managers, truck drivers, and hundreds of other people who must be part of this hijacking operation. Stoner felt impressed. This World Liberation Movement has organization and discipline. And money. You can't pull off an operation like this without lots of bribes, no matter how much confusion and turmoil is racking the Soviet Union. They've had to pay off lots of people, and that takes large amounts of cash.

Leaning back in the leather-covered reclining chair, Stoner realized that the WLM's operations in Africa required huge sums of money as well. Money to purchase arms, money to buy food, money to bribe politicians and customs inspectors. Mao Tse-tung said that power comes out of the barrel of a gun. But you have to have money to buy the gun. It even takes a certain amount of money to steal a gun.

The plane droned on, and when dawn lit the sky at last, Stoner saw vast and rugged ranges of mountains stretching out below. Peaks of rock straining up toward them, pitiless winds blowing the snow from the crags in long streamers of glistening white. Ice choking the ravines between the mountains, glaring in the morning sun, where fog and icy clouds did not hide the rocky landscape.

Jo awoke, stretching and yawning, got up and headed for the toilet at the rear of the plane. She came back a few minutes later and smiled at Stoner.

"I've got a month's supply of clothes in the cargo hold, but I can't get at them."

He gave the glittering, silvery dress an admiring look. "You're fine," he said.

"And what about you," Jo asked, sitting down again. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay. Curious about where they're taking us."

"Not afraid?"

He made a small shrug. "Not yet."

"I guess as long as we're in the air we're all right. It's when we land that the trouble will start."

"I'll protect you, Jo."

"And Kirill?"

"Yes, of course."

"And her?"

"Her, too," he said.

Jo lapsed into a tight-lipped silence.

"There's nothing between us," he told her. "She's been on the run, trying to get away from your charming husband. I've been sort of a big brother to her."

"She loves you."

He felt himself smile. "How do you know that?"

"It's obvious."

"She thinks she does, yes. She also thought she was in love with this guy Baker, the one who seems to be in charge of this hijacking."

Jo said nothing.

"Are you still angry with her?" Stoner asked.

For a moment she did not reply. Then, "No, I suppose not. But I don't trust her."

It was Stoner's turn for silence. He searched Jo's dark eyes and saw such a turmoil of emotions in them that he could not fathom her intentions.

Markov woke slowly, snuffling and gargling like an old man. He is an old man, Stoner reminded himself. His snorts and coughs awoke An Linh, who seemed startled. Her eyes flew open, her hands gripped the armrests of her chair. Then she remembered where she was and, with a deep intake of breath, regained her composure.

The steward came out from the flight deck again, smiling politely. Stoner realized that he was young, probably not much more than twenty. Not very tall, either, but well built; he had the grace of a trained gymnast.

"We will land soon," he announced in studied English. "I will prepare breakfast for you."

"Where?" Jo demanded.

Markov echoed, "Yes, exactly where are we going to land?"

The steward kept the smile on his face. "Truly, I do not know. It is not necessary for me to know."

"You're a Russian," Markov said in his native language. "How can you allow this outrage to take place?"

"I am a Latvian, Academician Markov. Despite nearly a century of being ruled by our Bigger Brothers, we Letts have never accepted the idea that Russians are our natural masters."

The steward went back to the galley. Markov gave an exaggerated shrug of helplessness.

As they ate their cold breakfasts, Stoner could feel the plane being readied for landing. The engines throttled back, the wings slid forward. By the time the steward collected their emptied trays, the plane had noticeably lost altitude. Jagged rocky peaks loomed on both sides now. Stoner and the others saw glittering fields of snow gliding past. The air was bumpy down among the mountains. The plane slewed and jounced badly.

Flaps down. Wheels down. Stoner glanced at his friends. They all had their seat belts tightly fastened. An Linh was gripping the armrests of her chair with white-knuckled intensity. Markov was pasty-faced with'fright, staring at the rocks hurtling past, seemingly only a few feet from the windows. Jo seemed more relaxed, her head thrown back against the seat rest, her eyes straight ahead, fixed on the metal bulkhead at the front of the cabin.

There was nothing but snowy ground beneath them, coming up fast. Then the plane leveled off and seemed to coast. Suddenly Stoner saw the dark asphalt of a runway beneath them, and the plane banged down hard, bounced, then settled onto its wheels and rolled along, the engines suddenly roaring mightily with reversed thrust. Without warning they plunged into darkness. The glaring bright snowscape outside the windows disappeared like an electric lamp being snapped off, and they were rushing down a tunnel, the thunder of the engines magnified into a hideous echoing bellow.

An airport built into the side of a mountain, Stoner told himself. I'll bet they have snowplows outside already busy blowing snow back onto the landing strip so no one can see it from the air.

The plane slowed, and a glow of light brightened the windows. By the time they had stopped, Stoner could see a vast cavern lit by strings of lamps high overhead. A team of

technicians stood outside, most of them Orientals, dressed in nondescript coveralls. Six carried handguns strapped to their hips.

"Wherever we are," Markov said loudly, trying to cover the quaver in his voice, "we're here."

The door to the flight deck opened, and Cliff Baker ducked through. "Sorry to have put you through such a tedious long flight," he said, grinning slightly. "Welcome to Altai Base."

"What is Altai Base?" Markov demanded.

"Why have you brought us here?" asked Jo. "How long do you intend to keep us?"

Instead of answering, Baker strode down the aisle and went to the hatch. He yanked at the lever control, and the hatch swung open.

"End of the line," he said. "Everybody out."

Stoner unbuckled his seat belt and got to his feet. The others did the same. They shuffled slowly, reluctantly, to the hatch.

An Linn was in the lead. As she came up to the hatch, Baker gave her a crooked grin.

"What's the matter, pet? Not happy to see me?"

"I thought you were dead, Cliff," she said, her voice low and trembling. "I thought they had killed you."

"They almost did." He nodded toward Jo. "Her hubby damned near did kill me. Made me wish I was dead, for a while there. But don't you worry, love. I'm all right now, And I'm going to get back at them. All of them. Starting with her."