With no answer on the radio, Kurt realized the time for warnings had passed, it was time to make a move.

IN THE CENTER OF AQUA-TERRA’S communications room, Zarrina stood with Otero and Matson, listening to Kurt Austin as he tried to warn his friends of the imminent attack.

Otero looked sick. “I thought Jinn said Austin and Zavala were dead?”

“Apparently he spoke too soon,” Zarrina said.

“Where is it coming from?”

“It could be anywhere,” she said, glancing out the window. She saw no boats on the horizon, but she did see the three aircraft approaching. One of them was well out of formation. It all but confirmed the worst of her fears.

“He’s taken over on one of the jets,” she said. “We need to warn Jinn. And we need leverage. Get the woman up here. Now!”

KURT PUSHED THE THROTTLES to full, and the one-hundred-and-ten-foot aircraft surged forward with surprising power.

As it accelerated, a plan formed in Kurt’s mind. He watched the other jets slowing almost to stall speed as they dropped toward the water.

They’d be vulnerable as they flew along the deck, discharging their commandos, and Kurt could force them into the drink like a stock car racer wrecking his competition by putting them into the wall.

The two aircraft ahead were spaced a half mile apart at less than three hundred feet. Kurt and Leilani were closing in rapidly when suddenly Kurt heard shouting in Arabic over COM-1.

Both jets reacted instantly. Their pitch changed from nose down to nose up, and the heat distortion trailing out behind their engines intensified rapidly.

“Damn,” Kurt said. “So much for the element of surprise.”

The jets began to accelerate, but Kurt was barreling down on them rapidly, moving at least a hundred knots faster. He chose the aircraft to the left and headed for it, pointing his nose down like a madman.

Kurt’s aircraft charged like a hawk swooping in for the kill. The other jet was coming up, struggling to climb and pick up speed like a big, slow pigeon.

It grew larger and closer, filling the window and then disappearing from Kurt’s view, flashing under them.

JINN SAT IN THE FLIGHT ENGINEER’S chair in the lead aircraft, shouting instructions to the pilot. The throttles were at full, the aircraft was straining to climb and accelerate.

“Look out! He’s right above you!” Zarrina shouted over the radio.

A wave of thunder and turbulence shook the aircraft. A shadow raced across the windshield, and the captain shoved the stick forward. Smoke, heat and exhaust from Kurt’s engines blasted the cockpit, but the planes did not collide.

Kurt’s pulling up at the last second gave them a few feet of precious space. On the other hand, the pilot’s involuntary flinch and the wake turbulence from the thirty-five-thousand-pound jet roaring past sent them down and to the left, headed for the waves.

“Pull out!” Jinn shouted. “Pull out!”

The pilot rolled the wings level and pulled back on the yoke. The jet skimmed the water, touched it briefly, skipping like a stone, and then climbed skyward once again.

“THEY PULLED OUT,” Leilani said, looking back through the side window. “Somehow, they pulled out.”

Kurt thought of heading around for another run, but he was already lined up on the second plane. Plan A had failed, and with the second aircraft climbing above a thousand feet and accelerating it would have no effect this time. Still, he had to do something.

Kurt used the extra speed he’d carried to outclimb his quarry, gaining altitude faster than the other jet. Once he was above it, he angled toward the other plane and matched its course, closing in from the seven o’clock high position.

For a second he had no clue what he’d do next. But an idea came to him that felt so brilliant, he would have patted himself on the back if he could have.

He looked around the cockpit. Amid the myriad gauges and switches and screens he spotted what he was looking for.

“Grab that handle,” he said, pointing.

Leilani put her hand on a thick metal bar lined with yellow-and-black warning chevrons.

“Get ready to pull it!”

As he closed in on his quarry, the plane began to shake. The slipstream coming off the other jet made him feel like a water-skier crossing a powerboat’s wake. He pulled back and climbed above the turbulence and, after ten seconds, he pushed the nose forward again, knifing toward the other jet as if on a strafing run.

He raced over the top of the jet, higher than he’d been before.

“Now!”

Leilani slammed the yellow-and-black down.

A great whooshing sound swept through the plane, and Kurt felt the nose pitch up and the plane all but leap skyward.

Out behind the aircraft a cloud of gray vapor had appeared, whipping backward, slamming into the second jet. Despite the vaporlike appearance, the central column of the dumped mixture was still together. Twelve thousand pounds of water and microbots hit the cockpit, shattering the windshield and crushing the pilots like a tidal wave.

The rest of the load swept over the aircraft, catching the starboard wing and engine. The turbofan exploded from the impact, compressor blades and other pieces flying outward through the cowling.

The weight of the water hammered the right wing more than the left, forcing it down and back, and the aircraft rolled over and dove seaward. It hit seconds later, cartwheeling across the ocean’s surface. The impact tore the jet apart, sending people, cargo and metal shards in all directions.

Kurt realized he’d just dumped a bunch of Jinn’s bots into the sea, but it was the only weapon he had at his disposal. He circled to the right, spotted the wreckage and immediately began looking for the surviving jet lest he and Leilani suffer a similar fate.

Suddenly, a voice came over the radio. Kurt recognized it as Gamay Trout’s.

GAMAY TROUT SAT at the radioman’s console in Aqua-Terra’s communications room. The cold end of a pistol was pressed against the back of her head.

“Speak to him!” Zarrina’s harsh voice demanded. “Tell him to surrender or I’ll kill you all. Your husband dies first.”

Paul had been forced to lie down on the floor. Matson stood with a foot on the small of Paul’s back. He pointed a Luger-style pistol toward the nape of his neck. Otero stood close by with another gun.

“Speak!”

Gamay grabbed the microphone they’d placed in front of her. She held the transmit switch. “Kurt, this is Gamay. Do you read me?”

It took a few seconds, but Kurt’s voice came through in her headphones.

“Gamay, you’re under attack. Take cover. Have Marchetti activate the robots.”

“Tell him to surrender!” Zarrina ordered.

Gamay glanced out the window. She’d seen one of the jets go down, the other two were climbing and turning, one appearing to be stalking the other, but she had no idea which was which.

Zarrina shoved Gamay’s head forward with the muzzle of the gun. “I won’t ask again.”

Gamay grabbed the microphone but still hesitated.

“Kill him!” Zarrina said to Otero.

“Wait!” Gamay shouted. She pressed and held the transmit switch.

“Kurt, this is Gamay,” she said. “They have us already. They have us in the brig. They’re going to kill us if you don’t land the plane and surrender.”

Silence followed. Gamay stared out the window. One of the planes had stopped maneuvering. She guessed that was Kurt. The other jet was closing in.

She watched for a second and then pressed the switch again. “Look out!” she shouted. “They’re on your—”