Dancing with the Dragon (2002) (46 page)

Scott allowed himself a brief glance at Jackie. "If the seas are rough, the last thing you want to do is ditch a plane in those conditions. You're taking a much bigger risk than landing in the barricade--plus you don't get wet."

"What's the reason for a barricade?"

"If you have a battle-damaged plane or can't get the landing gear or tailhook down--and you can't make it to a divert field, and airborne refueling isn't an option--then the barricade is better than jumping out or dumping your ride in the water."

"Ah, yes," she said with a smile. "There's just one minor difference in our situation--this airplane wasn't designed to fly from carriers."

He deselected the autopilot and made a heading change. "That's why it's so much more interesting."

Jackie shook her head and began computing time and fuel to reach the carrier. Scott hand-flew the airplane low over the mountains, skimming through shallow passes and hugging the high ground.

"What do your numbers say?" he finally asked. "Are we going to make it to the boat?"

She looked at her calculations for a few moments. "We can probably make it about a hundred twenty, maybe a hundred thirty, miles offshore, but that still leaves us short of the carrier by fifteen to twenty miles."

Scott's curiosity was piqued. "You figured from where the carrier was--the coordinates that Hartwell gave you?"

"Yes." She rechecked her numbers. "I figured the carrier's speed at twenty knots--if the seas are rough."

Scott made another minor heading change to fly directly toward Songcheng and the waiting navy fighter planes. The time dragged on as the fuel steadily declined. Trying to ease her anxiety, Jackie recomputed their relative position to the carrier every few minutes. It was clear that the situation wasn't getting any better.

The Learjet was passing close to a mountain peak when one of the Hawkeye's mission-systems operators finally contacted Jackie and Scott.

"Kilo Hotel Zero One, Liberty Bell--how copy?"

Scott turned the volume up on the cockpit speakers and keyed his radio. "Liberty Bell, Kilo Hotel Zero One reads you loud and clear."

"Roger that, squawk three-seven-five-two and ident."

"Thirty-seven, fifty-two, and ident, Kilo Hotel," Scott said. Jackie assigned the code to the transponder, energized it, and hit the identification button.

"There you go," Scott said.

A few seconds passed before the E-2C systems operator made contact with the Lear again. "Kilo Hotel, we have a lock--stop squawk."

"Copy stop squawk, Kilo Hotel."

"Keep truckin'," the Hawkeye operator said. "Your course to Mother looks good for right now."

"Kilo Hotel."

Thirty Miles South of Songcheng, China

A Chinese AWACS, a modified version of the four-engine Russian Ilyushin 11-76, orbited high above the sea near the coastline. Assigned to the 13th Air Division in Hubei Province in south-central China, the aircraft was monitoring the Taiwan Strait and the activities of the Kitty Hawk battle group. The AWACS was also waiting for a flight of four Chinese navy fighter planes to check in.

Equipped with an Israeli-designed Phalcon early warning and airborne control system, the Chinese AWACS had detected the evasive Learjet when the E-2C Hawkeye identified the plane.

Fifteen miles west of the AWACS, four of the Chinese navy's new F-8-II fighters finished refueling from an airborne tanker. The flight leader checked in with the AWACS for a vector to the airplane carrying the American spies.

Based on Hainan Island between the Gulf of Tonkin and the South China Sea, the highly touted planes had been sent to Fuzhou to patrol the Taiwan Strait during the ongoing conflict with the United States.

The message for the Chinese squadron commander and his three talented and experienced pilots was very clear. Whatever it takes, shoot the Learjet down--or ram it--before it reaches safety.

The Learjet

"Kilo Hotel, Liberty Bell." The voice was very tense.

"Kilo Hotel," Scott said.

"Ah . . . you have--I'm seeing multiple bandits at your one o'clock, seventy-five miles and rapidly closing."

Scott and Jackie had a sinking feeling.

"Well, that's just dandy," Scott said to Jackie, and keyed the radio. "What about our fighters--can they engage them?"

"Stand by."

Dalton's frustration suddenly flared. "Hey, we're gonna be confetti if we don't have some help--like immediately."

Another voice, calmer and steadier, came over the radio. "Your original escorts are refueling. Two of the BARCAP Hornets are on their way and the Hawk is launching the Alert Five birds as we speak."

"Tell 'em to buster every chance they get!" Scott said, easing the Learjet closer to the terrain. He checked to make sure their exterior lights were off.

"They're in burner," the mission systems operator said, and talked to someone else on another radio. "We suggest that you get down in the grass and try to make yourselves invisible."

"We're workin' on it," Scott said, and looked at Jackie. "The barricade idea looks better all the time."

"Say hallelujah!"

"Kilo Hotel, bandits still at one o'clock," the Hawkeye operator said, checking his scope. "Now sixty miles."

"Where are my heroes?" Scott asked.

"Twelve o'clock, seventy miles--goin' at the speed of heat." Scott keyed the radio. "I just hope the cavalry gets here before we're turned into chop suey."

"Kilo Hotel, our Hornets--your original escorts--have just this moment engaged the Chinese fighters, but two of the Gomers have slipped away to hunt for you."

"What about the other fighters--ours?"

"We have two more Hornets headed toward you and a tanker to support them--just hang in."

"We're running out of time."

"Kilo Hotel, Liberty Bell," a new voice said. "Our fighters should be getting close to you--should be with you in a matter of seconds."

"I hope so."

Andrews Air Force Base, Maryland

While the E-4B National Airborne Operations Center taxied for takeoff, President Macklin, Hartwell Prost, Brett Shannon, and Pete Adair conferred with various people from NORAD, the State Department, the Pentagon, the Joint Data Exchange Center in Moscow, and various civilian and military authorities. General Chalmers was at the Pentagon with the other joint chiefs.

The media outlets were offering a menu of breaking news stories every few minutes. The deadline from Beijing was rapidly approaching. Panicked by the impending disaster, and knowing what had happened in Hawaii and Alaska, millions of Americans were trying to get out of major cities and vacation centers like Honolulu.

Gridlock, worse than any seen before, had set in at U. S. airports, and the crowds were growing at a rate that was alarming. The scene was the same in cities in China. Millions of people were vacating their homes, businesses, and hotels to escape the looming nuclear exchange.

The hotels in Beijing, Shanghai, and many other cities were rapidly emptying. After all the years of the Cold War Era, and then the horrors of nuclear proliferation, the genie was finally out of the bottle and all bets were off.

When the E-4B lifted off from Andrews AFB and climbed into the blue sky, Cord Macklin looked out the window at the unbroken chains of automobiles and then turned to Prost. "The freeways are packed--worse than any rush hour I've ever seen."

"They'll be at a standstill before too long."

The secretary of state placed his phone receiver down and looked at the president. Brett Shannon's puffy eyes were red and sad. "Still no change, Mr. President."

"Keep trying."

Chapter
32.

The Learjet

"Kilo Hotel," the Hawkeye systems operator said in a frantic voice, "break left--break left!"

Scott immediately snapped the jet into a port turn and pulled as many Gs as he felt the well-built airplane could stand.

The moonlight was so bright the Chinese pilots would be able to see the white Lear from quite a distance.

Straining to see behind him, Scott keyed the radio. "Who's on me?"

"You have two bandits on your tail--the Hornets are jumping them!"

"Tell 'em not to take any coffee breaks."

"Copy."

In knife-edge flight and bleeding off airspeed, Dalton unloaded the airplane in the same profile and went negative G for a few seconds, then again pulled hard into the turn. He was hoping the Chinese pilots might see the Learjet drift out of their sight and snap their fighters over when the corporate jet was going the opposite direction.

With his head twisted around, Scott finally saw the camouflaged bandits closing from his eight o'clock. The brilliant moonlight had become Scott's worst enemy. An air-to-air missile flashed close over the top of the Lear and corkscrewed toward the ground.

"The MiGs are on us!" Scott radioed as he looked out the window. He saw the twinkling flashes coming from a MiG-19's 23mm cannons.

Scott sharply pulled the nose up and did a displacement roll, then lowered the nose and proceeded to sideslip the airplane in a near ninety-degree bank. One of the MiG19s slashed past the Learjet so close that Scott and Jackie felt the fighter's wake turbulence.

Dalton neutralized the flight controls and then rolled into a steep. face-sagging 360-degree turn. "What do you have out your side?"

"We have a shooter coming in high from our five o'clock," she said, tightening her seat belt and shoulder straps. "Break right--break hard right!"

Suddenly, 23mm cannon fire ripped through the leading edge of the right wing. Seconds later, another missile shot past the nose of the Lear.

"That was close!" Scott snapped the airplane into knife-edge flight and pulled hard into the attacker. He could clearly see the pilot's helmet when he flashed overhead.

"Reverse!" Jackie said, seeing the MiG pull up in a steep climb. "Reverse and go for energy!"

"Who's flying this airplane?"

Using negative G-forces, he abruptly unloaded the plane, then snapped the Learjet over to the left and pulled into a steep, tight descending turn. Leveling off close to the ground, he began skidding, slipping, and yawing the jet right and left while constantly changing altitude and direction.

"One down and one to go," the Hornet flight leader radioed.

The Chinese wingman fired his last missile at the Learjet. It flew straight into the right engine and exploded with devastating results. Scott and Jackie felt the powerful impact and immediately reacted to the warnings in the cockpit. Jackie was going through the engine-out checklist when Scott caught sight of the F/A-18 Hornets. He saw the telltale wisp of smoke from the air-to-air missile the Hornet flight leader had fired.

"Come on, guys," Scott said, watching the missile track toward the closing F-8-II. The seconds seemed to last forever before the second Chinese fighter exploded in a spectacular fireball and plummeted into a valley, cartwheeling across a narrow dirt road.

"He nailed him--fantastic!" Dalton told the Hawkeye operator, and glanced at Jackie. Drained from visceral emotion and high G-forces, she was temporarily speechless.

"Kilo Hotel," the systems operator said in a calmer voice, "Hornet lead confirms your six is clear--turn on your lights."

"We're eternally grateful," Scott said as the jet's exterior lights highlighted the plane. "Would you be kind enough to ask the Hornet drivers for their drink orders?"

"Will do."

The Hornets coasted up on each side of the Learjet.

"Kilo Hotel, Dambuster One and his sidekick are dedicated tequila drinkers Jose Cuervo."

"Tell them they can each expect a case," Scott said, giving the flight leader a circled-thumb salute.

The Hornet pilot gave Scott a hearty thumbs-up and broke away with his wingman to fall in behind and above the Learjet. They would escort the damaged civilian plane to the carrier.

"Kilo Hotel," the Hawkeye systems operator said, "our team downed one of the other Gomers, but one got away."

"Good shooting. Thanks for everything."

"We do our best."

Jackie went back to the cabin to check the right engine and returned to the cockpit. "The engine is gone."

"Yeah, I know it."

"No, I mean it's gone--not on the airplane--blown completely off."

Scott shook his head in disbelief. "Bombardier Learjet, you folks definitely build a fine airplane."

They remained quiet, watching for the first sign of the East China Sea while their pulse rates slowly returned to normal. After they went feet-wet south of Songcheng, Scott was surprised at how rough the open water was. From his vantage point, the endless troughs and towering waves stretched as far as the eye could see in the moonlight. He studied the angry whitecaps. The foaming crests blew horizontally from the tops of the waves. Trying his best not to show his concern about the sea conditions, he turned to Jackie. "You've been awfully quiet."

"Yeah," she said, and raised an eyebrow. "I'll be a lot more talkative when we're on board the carrier--if we get there." "Don't give up yet."