The Omega Command Read Online Free Page A

windows reveal heavy wiring and what appears to be plastique. But without visual inspection there is no way to be sure.”
    “And the positions of the hijackers?”
    “The bastards are clever. One is always seated among the passengers, presumably holding the trigger for the explosives.”
    “Then a raid is out of the question,” Marchaut said with his eyes on Daniels, who had hesitated before lifting up the phone. “And so, I’m afraid, is acceding to their demands.”
    Daniels stepped forward, closer to Marchaut. The others in the room, French police and airport officials, surrounded them in a ring.
    “Then our only alternative is to play a waiting game,” the American said. “That would have been my suggestion anyway. It’s worked before and I don’t buy the explosives bit at all.”
    “Yes,” Marchaut added, “once the deadline passes, the advantage shifts to us. Perhaps there is a way to use this request for food to our advantage. …”
    “The hijackers won’t eat it,” came an American voice from outside the circle. “The passengers are their biggest worry, not you clowns. You know, feed the prey before you slaughter them. Keep them full and happy.”
    The fifteen or so men and women gathered in the emergency operations center turned toward a tall athletic-looking man with dark hair and perfectly groomed black beard highlighted by a slight speckling of gray. His skin was tanned and rough, that of a man accustomed to the outdoors and quite comfortable in it. A bent nose and a scar running through his right eyebrow marred an otherwise ruggedly handsome face. His piercing eyes were almost black.
    “Oh, no,” muttered Daniels.
    “You know this man?” Marchaut asked, taken aback.
    “Unfortunately.” Then, to the stranger, “McCracken, what in hell are you doing here?”
    “All the movies were sold out, so I had to seek my entertainment elsewhere,” Blaine McCracken said. “I’m not disappointed. You people really know how to put on a show. Really give a guy his money’s worth.”
    “Get out of here this instant!” Marchaut ordered.
    “Intermission already?”
    Marchaut started forward. McCracken’s eyes froze him.
    “Do as he says, Blaine,” Daniels advised.
    “And miss the finale? Not on your life, Tommy my boy.” He moved forward just a step. “You guys should really listen to yourselves. It’s a scream, let me tell you.”
    “Who is this man?” a now uncertain Marchaut asked Daniels.
    “He works in the CIA equivalent of the mail room over here.”
    “Then what—”
    “I’ll tell you what, Marchaut,” McCracken said abruptly, and the Frenchman reeled at mention of his name. “You assholes are talking about waiting the terrorists out, going beyond the deadline, and all you’re going to get for it is a planeload of hamburger. And in case you guys didn’t know it, there are forty seats in tourist being taken up by kids from a junior high in Fort Lee, New Jersey. Tell you what else, Marchaut, take a good look at the leader Bote’s file. He’s a walking psycho ward. He’s been trying to get himself killed in a blaze of glory for years. This is right up his alley, always was, right back to the time I met up with him in Chad.”
    Confused, Marchaut swung toward Daniels. “I thought you said he worked in the … mail room.”
    “I’m a man of many hats,” Blaine told him. “And the one I’ve got on right now tells me these terrorists want to blow the plane up. Allah must be running a special on martyrdom this week. Their demands can’t possibly be met. If you know that, don’t you think they do?”
    Daniels stormed forward, eye to eye with McCracken. “You’re finished, Blaine. No more second chances, no more token appointments. Maybe they’ll send you home in a box.”
    “Get this man out of here!” Marchaut screamed in French to a pair of uniformed policemen who grasped McCracken at the elbows.
    “As long as you’re ordering boxes,” Blaine said, allowing