Ethan's Gang : Unholy War : Book I

Chapter 19 - Madness on Sand's Point

12:26 PM, Queens, New York

In the basement of the War-E-Oar Puppy, George Earl Oar was sitting in his armchair, watching a tape of Deathwish 6 : Showdown at K-Mart, in which Charles Bronson was shooting dozens of people in slow motion while walking across the parking lot of a K-Mart store.  Mister oar sipped at a diet cola as he relaxed in his dimly lit chamber.  In a little over half an hour, it would be time for him to go upstairs and begin preparing for the day's business.  He would put money in change machines, flip switches, turn on lights, power up various systems, make sure his employees showed up.  By the time the doors were opened, he would be in his business office near the front part of the place, sitting behind his three-inch-thick cashier's window, perhaps eating a sandwich.  That was the normal routine.  But tonight was not going to be normal.  He just didn't know it yet.

12:28 PM, Oklahoma City

     Winston Crabfreak tore down the road in his battered van, leaving the city limits, grimacing.  He was still in pain from being repeatedly stomped by Lukas earlier in the day, and his arm was still bleeding from where the boy had sliced it with a big knife.  But the wretched, skinny, big-eared barefoot teenager would not escape.  Winston had the brat's stolen Lincoln on his long-range surveillance monitor.  According to the digital range-finder, the fleeing car was 1.9 miles ahead on the road.

     Had Winston been in command of his wits, he might have wondered why the numerous police cars he'd seen on his trip through the big city had failed to pull him or Lukas over.  They were certainly driving fast enough to merit such attention.  But as it was, Winston was too preoccupied to notice such things.  He activated his secret radio and said "This is Winston Crabfreak, calling Omar McBeckbar.  Come in please."

     The response was immediate.

     "I copy, Winston.  The Airplane should be reaching your location in around twelve minutes, repeat, twelve minutes.  We are decreasing our altitude in preparation for the operation.  Can you confirm the target's location and heading, please?"

     Winston gurgled, then said "The rotten brat's still on I-40, around 2 miles ahead of me.  I've just left the city limits of Oklahoma City, heading East.  How are you going to pick us up?"

     High above and to the West in the supersonic transport plane, Omar McBeckbar radioed back "Close with the target vehicle.  Get as close to him as you can.  It doesn't matter if he sees you now.  We're almost there.  We are going to fly overhead at minimum altitude and pick up the brat's car and your van with a giant magnet."

     "W-what!?" Winston blurted.

     "Relax," Omar said, "Mister Dienex assures me the technology is sound.  The magnet has a maximum lift strength of twelve-thousand pounds, and the airplane itself can carry just slightly more than that in additional weight without crashing.  We will open a hatch in the plane and pull you to safety, sedate the prisoner, then drop the vehicles and return to New York.  Nothing to worry about."

     "So you say." Winston grumbled acidly, signing off.  It was an idiotic plan in his estimation, like something out of a James Bond movie, but if that was the best they could come up with, he'd just have to deal with it and hope the lurch of being snatched from the road by a huge flying magnet didn't kill him.

     Onboard The Airplane, Omar turned to the pilot.  "Dienex, are you sure this is going to work?  To me, it simply sounds retarded."

     "Hush!" Dienex hissed, "I'm trying to decrease our altitude in a gentle, non-suspicious manner! But-- of course it will work.  It's also our only option.  We can't LAND on the interstate, and this isn't a helicopter so we cannot hover, either.  We will fly down the highway at an altitude of 15 feet, at a velocity of 200 miles per hour.  When we come within 10 feet of the vehicles, we will activate the magnet.  Obviously, the computer will handle this chore, the timing aspect.  You see, if we turn on the magnet too soon, we will undoubtedly pick up other vehicles besides the ones we want.  If we accidentally latched onto a big truck, or a bulldozer, or anything else weighing more than 12,000 pounds, we would instantly be dragged out of the sky and blown to pieces against the highway.  Timing is everything."