Read Rainbow Six (1997) for Free Online

hijackers as they did so. The first aboard the aircraft was a RCAF officer with a pistol belt and white lanyard, followed by three men in civilian clothes who had to be cops.
    “You’re Mr. Clark?” the officer asked.
    “That’s right.” John pointed. “There’s your three—suspects, I think the term is.” He smiled tiredly at that. The cops moved to deal with them.
    “Alternate transport is on the way, about an hour out,” the Canadian officer told him.
    “Thank you.” The three moved to collect their carry-on baggage, and in two cases, their wives. Patsy was asleep and had to be awakened. Sandy had gotten back into her book. Two minutes later, all five of them were on the ground, shuffling into one of the RCAF cars. As soon as they pulled away, the aircraft started moving again, taxiing to the civilian terminal so that the passengers could get off and stretch while the 777 was serviced and refueled.
    “How do we get to England?” Ding asked, after getting his wife bedded down in the unused ready room.
    “Your Air Force is sending a VC-20. There will be people at Heathrow to collect your bags. There’s a Colonel Byron coming for your three prisoners,” the senior cop explained.
    “Here are their weapons.” Stanley handed over three airsick bags with the disassembled pistols inside. “Browning M-1935s, military finish. No explosives. They really were bloody amateurs. Basques, I think. They seem to have been after the Spanish ambassador to Washington. His wife was in the seat next to mine. Señora Constanza de Monterosa—the wine family. They bottle the most marvelous clarets and Madeiras. I think you will find that this was an unauthorized operation.”
    “And who exactly are you?” the cop asked. Clark handled it.
    “We can’t answer that. You’re sending the hijackers right back?”
    “Ottawa has instructed us to do that under the Hijacking Treaty. Look, I have to say something to the press.”
    “Tell them that three American law enforcement officers happened to be aboard and helped to subdue the idiots,” John told him.
    “Yeah, that’s close enough,” Chavez agreed with a grin. “First arrest I ever made, John. Damn, I forgot to give them their rights,” he added. He was weary enough to think that enormously funny.
     
     
    They were beyond filthy, the receiving team saw. That was no particular surprise. Neither was the fact that they smelled bad enough to gag a skunk. That would have to wait. The litters were carried off the truck into the building, ten miles west of Binghamton, New York, in the hill country of central New York State. In the clean room, all ten were sprayed in the face from a squeeze bottle much like that used to clean windows. It was done one at a time to all of them, then half were given injections into the arm. Both groups of five got steel bracelets, numbered 1 to 10. Those with even numbers got the injections. The odd-numbered control group did not. With this task done, the ten homeless were carried off to the bunk room to sleep off the wine and the drugs. The truck which had delivered them was already gone, heading west for Illinois and a return to its regular duties. The driver hadn’t even known what he’d done, except to drive.

CHAPTER 1
    MEMO
    The VC-20B flight was somewhat lacking in amenities—the food consisted of sandwiches and an undistinguished wine—but the seats were comfortable and the ride smooth enough that everyone slept until the wheels and flaps came down at RAF Northholt, a military airfield just west of London. As the USAF G-IV taxied to the ramp, John remarked on the age of the buildings.
    “Spitfire base from the Battle of Britain,” Stanley explained, stretching in his seat. “We let private business jets use it as well.”
    “We’ll be back and forth outta here a lot, then,” Ding surmised at once, rubbing his eyes and wishing for coffee. “What time is it?”
    “Just after eight, local—Zulu time, too, isn’t