at Nanning Airfield. The SAM site was just off the far end. Joe tried to put down an insane impulse to touch his wheels down on the Nanning runway.
"Don't you think we ought to shoot at least one touch-and-go?" he asked.
"Can't do it," Ben said. "The active runway's already full."
Joe looked again. Sure enough, a fighter-interceptor was just starting its take-off roll ahead of them.
Joe decided to race him. The ChiCom interceptor was halfway down the runway when Joe brought the Bat across the touchdown point 50 feet high, and Joe figured to pass him at about the three-quarter mark.
The interceptor's nose dipped suddenly and its pilot spun his head around to stare at the Bat; Joe figured he'd just got the word from the tower. The ChiCom pilot resumed his task of taking off as the Bat passed overhead with cameras whirring, but Joe knew it would be too late. The distraction had cost the ChiCom pilot a thousand feet of precious runway and several knots of ground speed.
The Bat photographed the SAM guidance radar from a range of 50 feet. It also photographed the interceptor cartwheeling into the SAM control center seconds later, spewing its flaming fuel over half the site.
"Get all that on tape?" Joe asked when he could catch his breath.
"I hope you realize Peiping will probably issue its 4,673rd 'serious warning' because of that," Ben scolded with mock concern.
"Hope I'm still alive to hear about it," Joe said, still hugging the ground with the Bat.
"Should be duck-soup from here on," Ben said. "Relatively speaking, that is."
Which was true. Meng-Tzu and the new IRBM site were only seven minutes away as the Bat flies and were right on their exit route. They had low-altitude photography of the missiles and startled faces and were out of China before Nanning could scramble another fighter off the ground.
Major Patton, their mission briefer, was waiting to greet them at the Thailand recovery base. Thailand was the West's last firm foothold in Southeast Asia, a festering thorn in the Communists' belly; the Malaysian government remained pro-West, but was weakened almost to the point of collapse after six years of incessant harassment by Communist guerrillas and dissident Chinese.
"What in hell have you two been up to?" Patton asked accusingly as they climbed out. "For about the last ten minutes it's been echoing all over China that somebody bombed Nanning. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
"Now really," Joe chortled. "How could an unarmed reconnaissance plane bomb anybody? We just teased them a little bit, like you said we should."
"They'll simmer down when they piece the story together," Ben predicted. "We got a picture of the culprit that blew up the SAM site. One of their own boys."
"How'd the mission go?" Major Patton asked.
"Routine," Joe lied. "Just like you briefed it."
"Let's see," Ben said, ticking the mission requirements off on his fingers. "We got the AI radar in search and track modes, the SAM radar tracker, its missile guidance telemetry . . . ."
"Wow!" Major Patton interrupted. "How close was it?"
"No sweat," Joe said. "They were after a decoy."
". . . . low level photos of Nanning's runway and the SAM site and its radar," Ben continued, "except it's not there any more."
"A pity," Patton said. "That's the trouble with reconnaissance. No sooner than you get the data, it's obsolete."
"Maybe they'll rebuild," Joe injected.
". . . . and low-level of the IRBM's. It's all right there," Ben finished, pointing at the data capsule which the Bat carried kangaroo-style in its belly. The capsule could be ejected from the air to waiting hands on the ground if necessary, but today it wasn't necessary. With a runway handy, personal delivery is better. Another little trick Joe could do with the capsule was blow it to smithereens by remote push-button control, should it ever fall into the wrong waiting hands.
Patton was pounding Joe and Ben on their shoulders. "The whole ball of wax, by God," he exclaimed happily. "That's wonderful! Great!"
"Easy, easy," Ben protested, "No judo with the kudos, please."
"Yeh, we'd settle for just a couple of medals instead," Joe said.
"And a one-way ticket back home," Ben added.
Patton ceased pounding and scratched his head. "Gee, I'll sure give it some thought. Meanwhile, how about a drink?"
It came to Joe that, right now, a drink was what he needed most of all. Minutes later, they were toasting their success over the Stag Bar at the Officers Club. Major Patton was more subdued now, as if he truly were giving Ben's request some thought.
"Your relief crew didn't show up," he said slowly, swirling his drink.
"That's just dandy," Joe groaned. "Ginger's expecting me back tonight."
"And Nancy me," Ben added. "How come no show?"
"Hey, they aren't lost are they?"
"No, no, nothing like that," Patton reassured him. "Just got a twix from Tokyo. Seems your Lieutenant Rogers has come down with some sort of bug, and the Flight Surgeon's grounded him for two weeks."
Joe snorted. "Probably VD, knowing Jack. Or a bad case of malingeritis, so he can hang around and make love to Sally while the rest of us are out risking our asses."
"I doubt that," Ben chuckled. "You know Sally only has eyes for you, Joe."
"Hold it, hold it," Patton broke in, spreading his arms to silence the two. "If Ginger's your wife, and Nancy's yours, then who the hell is this Sally?"
"Our secretary," Ben said.
"Aha!" Patton smirked. "The plot thickens!"
"Also the daughter of the U.S. Ambassador to Japan," Joe added. "A lovely creature. And, undoubtedly, Jack Rogers' target for tonight."
"Jack's the world's greatest cocksman, according to Jack, but Sally's partial to Joe here."
"Don't I wish," Joe muttered.
"Just wait 'til she hears about that drag race you had with Wun-Hung-Lo. She'll be crawling all over you!"
"And when will that be, with no relief in sight?"
Ben raised his eyebrows. "Good question. Major Patton?"
"Hmm? Oh, oh yes. Well, you can be doubly glad you had a good mission today. I guess we won't be needing the Bat anymore for awhile, so you're free to take it back to Tokyo on schedule. Today, if you like."
"I like," Joe said.
"Mustn't keep the girls waiting," Ben said.
"Nor our new boss, either," Joe added.
"That's right," Ben said, remembering. "Major Pointer and family arrive from the States tomorrow, don't they?"
"Yup.
