Black wind

and into the hangar, moving quietly behind a large generator mounted next to the wall. Voices suddenly echoed across the empty chamber and the men froze in their tracks.
    Midway down the length of the hangar, a door flew open on the opposite side and the voices fell quiet. Three gaunt-looking men in Sea Launch jumpsuits staggered through the door and into the hangar followed by two armed commandos. Dirk recognized the black commando outfits and the AK-74 assault rifles as those he’d seen on the men who attacked the Deep Endeavor. He and Dahlgren watched as the three men were marched to a fabricated storage room situated near the far end of the hangar. Two additional commandos stood guard over the storage bay and helped to herd the Sea Launch workers inside before closing and locking the door behind them.
    “If we can get to the Sea Launch crew, they’ll know how to stop the launch,” Dirk said in a low voice.
    “Right. We ought to be able to take care of Mutt and Jeff, once their friends leave,” Dahlgren replied, motioning toward the two storage bay guards.
    Creeping to a vantage spot near the transporter erector they waited and watched as the first two commandos chatted with the guards for
    a moment, then left through the side door. Ducking and weaving through an array of electronic test racks and tool bins that lined the sides of the hangar, Dirk and Dahlgren quietly crept closer to the guarded storage bay. Along the way, they passed a rack of tools marked hydraulic engineer. Hesitating for a second, Dirk grabbed a long-handled wooden block mallet while Dahlgren grabbed an oversized box wrench for insurance. Scrambling past the end of the transporter erector they silently darted behind a work platform that sat a hundred feet from the storage room.
    “What now, maestro?” Dahlgren whispered, seeing that there was nothing but open deck between them and the storage bay.
    Dirk crouched against a wheel of the work platform and looked across toward the guards. The two armed commandos were engaged in an animated conversation with each other, paying little attention to the rest of the hangar. He then took a studious look at the platform they had ducked behind. It was a motorized work platform that rose up and down to allow access to the topsides of the thirteen-foot-diameter rocket. Dirk patted his hand on the wheel beside him and threw a crooked grin toward Dahlgren.
    “Jack,” he whispered, “I believe you shall drive in the front door while I waltz in the back door.”
    Seconds later, Dirk quietly made his way down the side of the hangar, careful to move only when the guards showed their backs in his direction. After several short running bursts, he reached the rear of the hangar, where he made his way across the width section undetected. As long as the guards stayed positioned near the front of the storage bay, he could approach from behind without being seen.
    Dahlgren, meanwhile, was left with the more daring part of the offensive. Climbing onto the motorized work platform, Dahlgren grabbed hold of the cabled control box, then lay flat on the platform. A canvas tarp was partially rolled up on one side, which he used to cover himself with. Peering through a crack at the guards, he gently tapped at the raise button on the controls when the guards were
    turned the other way. With barely a whir, the platform rose a half foot. Out of audio range, the two guards were oblivious. Dahlgren waited again until the guards were looking away, then hit the control button again, this time holding it down firmly. The work platform rose quietly like an elevator, its electric motor barely humming. Dahlgren held his breath and waited until the scaffold reached a height of fifteen feet before releasing the button to stop. Peeking down at the guards, Dahlgren could see that the movement had gone undetected. “Now for the fun part,” he muttered to himself. Hitting the drive controls, the entire work platform lurched forward on its four wheels, rolling ahead at a slow crawl. Dahlgren adjusted the drive mechanism to aim the platform directly toward the storage building and two guards, then hunkered down under the canvas tarp and lay still.
    The towering platform crept halfway across the hangar like a robot before one of the guards detected its movement. From under the tarp, Dahlgren heard an excited rush of gibberish in an Asian tongue, but, thankfully, no sound of gunfire followed. A loud cry of “Saw!” screeched through