“Now, just a minute. Let’s get this straight,” Colby Greene said, sitting forward. “You weren’t still in Washington when this happened. You couldn’t have been. I don’t care how fast that Rustler is, you couldn’t have got all this organized and crossed the country in the kind of time we’re talking about here.”
Cavan shook his head. “We were already on our way by that time—just about over Nevada?” He looked inquiringly at Mitch, who was tilting his chair back with his feet on the table on the far side of the room.
“We were close to Vegas when we got the report from LAX,” the major confirmed.
Keene looked at Cavan, even more perplexed. “So what are you telling us, Leo? You’d left Washington two hours or whatever before? Without knowing where they were or when they were going to show up? You help yourself to a plane and a bunch of guys, and just decide to go joyriding west with the end of the world going on, just in case something turns up. Is that what you’re telling us?”
The others around the room could do little more than shake their heads at each other, too much out of it all to really follow what was being said.
“Ah, well, it wasn’t really like that, now,” Cavan said.
Alicia raised her eyebrows at Keene, then looked at Cavan. “Maybe you don’t know him so well, even after all these years, Lan,” she said. “You’re being too modest, Leo. I’d say it was pretty much like that, yes.”
“Not at all, not at all. We knew they were heading for LAX. And something had to happen pretty soon after they got there. All we needed was to be in the vicinity and equipped to react quickly.” Cavan looked around the room and appealed as if to a jury. “All right, I took the law into my hands and cut a few corners. So I’ll take the reprimand when it comes, right? But if I’d stopped to try it the proper way, we’d still be in Washington waiting for the right rubber stamps even now. There’s an old piece of Irish philosophy that says contrition is easier than permission. The service doesn’t agree, of course. But I don’t think they’ll be doing too much worrying for a while. As I said, I’ll take the reprimand when it comes.”
Keene leaned back in his seat, managing a thin smile and shaking his head. “Okay, Leo, go on. Then what?”
Cavan was about to reply, when the crashing sound of something large striking the building came from above. The lights flickered, then stabilized again. Several people started or raised their arms protectively. Others exchanged strained looks. Everyone was getting jumpy. Several seconds went by, but apart from the ongoing background of wind gusts thudding and the rattle of sand scouring the walls, nothing further happened. Cavan went on, “We got them on radar as they climbed out from LAX—another nice thing about that machine I borrowed. They headed north, and seemed to rendezvous with another plane that appeared from somewhere inland.”
“Which had to be carrying the Kronians,” Colby completed, nodding in a way that said he could see it all now.
“Exactly. Both of them headed out to sea for a while, and then went into a wide turn that brought them back lined up on Vandenberg. The one carrying the hostages was in the lead, obviously intending to land first. And there was our chance. If we could get in ahead of the second plane and grab the Kronians while they were separated from the Society of Friends, there would be nothing for anybody to bargain over. And the rest you know. . . . We weren’t aware at the time that an orbiter had already been seized, of course. But it worked out all right. Without the hostages to get them a safe passage aboard the Osiris, what could Delmaro and his force inside do with it? I must say, our young lieutenant friend from the Marines couldn’t have timed things better. His move at the gate clinched it. Where is he?” Cavan looked around, but Penalski was not in the room.