Matthew Reilly - Scarecrow

'Just go to GPS co-ordinates 28743.05—4104.55,' Book said. 'That's where it'll be.'

The pilot adjusted his dials, flew by his GPS locator.

Book checked the launch list on his hand-held computer for the hundredth time. After he had spoken with Schofield earlier, he and Scott Moseley had calculated the GPS locations of the last two Kormoran tanker-launchers:

After that, he and Moseley had then plotted all the boats on a map of the world:

The sum of it all?

In addition to the three tankers set to fire their nuclear-tipped missiles on America, England, France and Germany, there were two extra Kormoran ships out there: one in the Arabian Sea, ready to fire on both India and Pakistan, and another in the Taiwan Straits, aiming cloned Taep'o-Dong ICBMs at Beijing and Hong Kong.

'Jesus H. Christ. . .' Book whispered.

He shook himself out of it, hit his satellite mike.

'Fairfax? You there? How you doing out West?'

PACIFIC OCEAN,

TWO MILES OFF SAN FRANCISCO BAY

0825 HOURS LOCAL TIME

(1125 HOURS E.S.T USA)

Dave Fairfax sat in a Super Stallion of his own, flanked by his own Marine Recon team, his right foot shaking incessantly—a nervous gesture that betrayed his rather extreme fear.

He wore a helmet that was too big and a bulletproof vest that

was even bigger, and he held in his lap a real-time satellite uplink unit. He felt very small compared to the Marines all around him.

At the moment, his Super Stallion was powering low over the waves of the Pacific, heading toward—

A lone supertanker lying silently at anchor off the San Francisco coast.

'Hi, Book,' Fairfax yelled into his newly-acquired throat-mike. 'We have our tanker, and she's a big one, all right. She's exactly where she should be; her position matches the GPS co-ordinates you gave me. Tanker identified as the MV Jewel, registered in Norfolk, Virginia, to the Atlantic Shipping Company, a deep subsidiary of Axon Corporation.'

Fairfax's foot kept shaking. He wished it would stop.

'Oh, and I got that Mersenne prime for you,' he said. 'God, man, Mersennes are very cool mathematics. There are only thirty-nine that we know of, but some of those are, like, two million digits long. They're a very rare kind of prime number. You get them by applying a strict formula: Mersenne Prime = 2 P-1, where "p" is a prime number, but where the answer is also prime. Three is the first Mersenne Prime because 2 2-l = 3, and both 2 and 3 are prime. So they start small, but end up very big. The sixth Mersenne is 131071. It's based on the prime number, 17. That is, 2 I7-1 = 131071, which is also prime—'

'So the answer is 131071,' Book said.

'Uh, yes,' Fairfax said.

Til pass that on to the Scarecrow," Book said. 'Thanks, David.

Out:

The signal went dead.

Fairfax scowled at his treacherous foot.

'Goes with the job, Mister Fairfax,' the Marine leader, Trent, said, nodding at Fairfax's foot. 'But if the Scarecrow trusts you to do this, then you must be up to the challenge.'

'I'm glad he thinks I'm up for it,' Fairfax muttered.

The Super Stallion roared toward the tanker.

ENGLISH CHANNEL, NORTH OF CHERBOURG,

FRANCE

26 OCTOBER,1725 HOURS LOCAL TIME

(1125 HOURS E.S.TUSA)

The Black Raven shot like a bullet through the rain-driven sky, searchlights blazing, zooming high over a constellation of supertanker lights on the English Channel.

While Rufus, Mother and Knight searched the sea for their target, Schofield was talking on the radio with Book II.

'Okay, I'm sending it all through now,' Book's voice said.

Schofield's Palm Pilot pinged: it now had Book's plots of all the Kormoran ships on it. Schofield's eyes widened at the location names: the Arabian Sea, the Taiwan Straits . . .

'And Fairfax figured out the sixth Mersenne for you,' Book said. 'It's 131071:

'131071 . . .'Schofield wrote it down on his hand. 'Thanks, Book. Tell David I'll be in touch with him shortly. Scarecrow, out.'

He switched channels, patched in to the US Embassy in London. 'Mr Moseley. What's the word on our submarines?'

'I've got good news and bad news,' Scott Moseley's voice said.

'Give me the good news.'

'The good news is we have Los Angeles-class attack subs in both the Arabian Sea and the Taiwan Straits—close enough to take out the launch boats at those locations.'

'And the bad news.'

Moseley said, 'The bad news is the other three launch boats: the ones in New York, San Francisco and the English Channel. They're going to fire too soon. We don't have any 688s close enough to get to any of those launch vessels in time. Book and Fairfax are going to have to go in and disarm them in situ, on board.'

'Okay,' Schofield said.

'Found it!' Rufus pointed to a supertanker rolling at anchor in the raging sea, its deck illuminated by powerful floodlights—just

another gigantic supertanker nestled in amongst all the others waiting off the French coast. 'Transponder signal identifies it as the MV Talbot and its location matches the GPS location perfectly.'

'Good work, Rufus,' Schofield said. 'Mr Moseley, thanks for your help. Now I have to get to work.'

Schofield turned to Knight and Mother. 'We take the launch tankers in the order that they'll fire. This one first. Then we hightail it out of here and disarm the others by remote from a safe location. Good for you?'

'Good for me,' Knight said.

'Fuckin' dandy,' Mother said.

'Hold on, people,' Schofield said, his face deadly. 'We're going in.'

ENGLISH CHANNEL 1730 HOURS LOCAL TIME(1130 HOURS IN NEW YORK)

The Black Raven swooped in low over the supertanker's main deck, cutting across the beams of the ship's floodlights.

Rain fell all around it—slanting, stinging rain.

Forks of lightning slashed the sky.

Then the bomb bay on the Raven opened and three figures rap-pelled down from it: Schofield, Knight and Mother.

They were all fully armed—MP-7s, Glock pistols, Remington shotguns—thanks to the Raven's onboard arsenal. Schofield and Mother even wore two spare utility vests that Knight kept for himself aboard the Raven.

The three of them landed on the superlong foredeck of the Talbot, in front of its control tower, while above them the Black Raven peeled away into the rainy sky.

And not a moment too soon.

For no sooner were Schofield and the others on the deck than the entire area around them exploded with bullet sparks from a pair of snipers firing from the control tower.

NEW YORK BAY EAST COAST, USA

At the exact same time on the other side of the Atlantic, Book II and his team of Marines were storming their supertanker—the Ambrose —in New York Bay.

Like Schofield, they rode ziplines from their chopper down to the tanker's elongated foredeck.

Like Schofield, they entered under fire.

Unlike Schofield, however, they didn't have the advantage of darkness and pouring rain. It was 11:30 a.m. on this side of the world. Broad daylight.

The two snipers waiting for them inside the bridge of the Ambrose opened fire before Book's men had reached the bottom of their ropes.

Two Marines fell immediately. Dead.

Book hit the deck hard, landing with a heavy thump, returned fire.

SAN FRANCISCO WEST COAST, USA

It was the same on the West Coast.

Fairfax's team stormed their supertanker—the Jewel —under heavy sniper fire from its control tower.