Page 128 of Clive Cussler Ghost Soldier

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Lieutenant Commander Xu studied the two F-35s on his helmet-mounted display system, the same kind of device that provided American pilots three-hundred-sixty-degree views around their aircraft.

So far, the Americans had responded exactly as expected and now that he and Gao had initiated radar lock, the Americans would soon respond in kind.

His team wouldn’t give them that opportunity.

“Initiate,” Xu ordered over his secured comms.

The two backseat weapons officers took charge.

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Just as Joslin was about to confirm his six targets, four of the tangos peeled off—and disappeared.

What happened?

Joslin thought his systems had glitched. He keyed his mic.

“Wizard, this is Hawkeye. I’ve lost four contacts.”

Stallabrass responded. “Same on our end. The tangos must have some new electronic countermeasures.”

“I still show two on my radar. Locking now.” He tapped his touchscreen display, arming two long-range AIM-120 missiles and selecting his two targets. McGhee did the same.

“Will keep you advised, Hawkeye.” Stallabrass keyed off.

Joslin and McGhee rode the rail for another thirty seconds, seeing what the Chinese planes might be up to.

Stallabrass crackled on his comms.

“Hawkeye, this is Wizard. Base reports anti-radiation seekers have been activated, source unknown.”

What were these cowboys doing?Not only were he and McGhee in the crosshairs, but so were the radar sites on the island. The first strike in an attack is always aimed at air defenses. This was definitely a hostile move.

“Hawkeye, heads-up,” Stallabrass said. “Anti-ship missile signatures have now been detected. All tangos are now considered hostiles.”

Joslin fought the urge to swear. Until now, the Chinese hadn’t targeted ships. These guys were getting serious.

The question was,How serious?

A couple of rogue pilots out to make a name for themselves could be looking for a gunfight. And right now, that’s what it felt like.

But it could be just another test to reveal American defensive tactics in preparation for an actual war.

Joslin’s eyes scanned his helmet display. They were closing in on the Chinese jets at a combined speed of Mach 1.8. Their AIM-120s were still locked on their targets, and the Chinese jets still had them targeted. A Mexican standoff at supersonic speed.

Time was running out.

Joslin’s brain made calculations his advanced avionics suite could not. The longer he waited to fire, the more he put McGhee and everyone else on the island at risk.

But if he pulled the trigger, he just might start World War III.

If the Chicoms really were hostile, why hadn’t they fired? That was easy. The closer they got, the better the odds of hitting their targets. Every moment that passed made death and destruction all the more likely.

And where were those other four tangos?

Joslin checked his digital clock. Two minutes until they reached the Chinese targets.