Arctic Fire (46 page)

“You’re probably right but I can’t sit by and do
nothing. There’s simply not enough time.” Pike looked out his
canopy at Colonel Madison and gave him a salute. “Keep’em flying,
Colonel.” He said, then tipped his wing over.

“Wait!” Madison ordered.

“Colonel, I told you…” Pike started to
reply.

“Shut up Mr. Pike. Lieutenant Packard, take
Blackjack flight and return to Langley. Mr. Pike, any man willing
to put his life on the line for others and for what he believes in,
no matter how crazy it sounds…well.”

“Form on me.” Packard ordered quietly. The other
two fighters formed on their new lead and when they were ready,
Packard gave each of them a hand signal.

“Follow my pass down and let me know what the
damage result is,” Madison ordered.

“Roger that,” Pike replied, “and thank you
sir.”

Madison lined up his F-15 on the iceberg and
slowly pushed the nose over and watched as the iceberg began to
grow closer. Madison loved being a fighter pilot flying at Mach
plus and there was nothing better than defeating an adversary in
the air, but he also enjoyed the dying art of dive bombing.

The age of smart bombs and laser guided
munitions had all but made extinct the need to actually place the
bomb where you wanted. At 7,000 feet, he hit the after burners and
almost instantly the iceberg zoomed up to greet him. He misjudged
his speed and the sonic boom hit when he was at 4,000 feet, much
higher that he intended. Still, the results were sensational.

Every window on the iceberg shattered as if a
giant foot had stomped on the roof, and like a stunt from a movie,
the glass in Cain’s tower blew out in a spectacular fashion.

Pike followed Madison down in a low-speed,
low-level pass to evaluate if there was any structural damage.
Zooming down the side, he could see several spider veins running
down the length of the hull but nothing that looked very
significant.

“Clear the area Mr. Pike.”

“Blackjack Two, I gave you an order to return to
base.” Madison said.

“Yes sir, but you didn’t say when.”

“Don’t split hairs with me, Lieutenant.”

“You’re going to need all four ships.”

“Lieutenant!”

“Sorry sir, starting our run now. Can’t talk.”
The three fighters were flying line abreast and at Packard’s order,
all three pushed over at the same time, diving straight down on top
of the iceberg. By diving straight down they would be concentrating
the force of the sonic booms directly onto the iceberg for maximum
effect and at the same time, minimizing the effects of the blast on
the surrounding area.

Despite the danger and what was at stake, Pike
felt like he was a spectator at an air show who he had the best
seat in the house. Learning from the Colonel’s experience, he
watched as Lieutenant Packard’s flight waited until the last moment
to use their afterburners. Suddenly, intense blue flames erupted
from the back of all three jets in unison. With a visible burst of
speed, he saw them accelerate downward even faster.

By now, all the pleasure boats that had been
circling the iceberg realized that something was wrong and they
were scattering like cockroaches on a kitchen floor when the lights
turned on.

At an altitude of what Pike guessed to be no
more than seven or eight hundred feet, the sky exploded in a
thunderous boom that he felt even in his cockpit five thousand feet
above. In air show fashion, Packard, who was in the middle, pulled
straight up while the other planes split out to the left and right.
Pike knew they were pushing their planes and themselves to the
limit with that sharp of a pullout.

When the sonic boom hit, it looked like the
Breath of God had smashed into the iceberg. Large chunks of the
roof flew off and Pike could see Cain’s tower swaying back and
forth like a giant tuning fork but other than that, nothing
appeared to be happening and he was beginning to have his doubts
about the success of his plan.

Deeply discouraged, he surveyed the city.
Madison’s prediction was all too accurate. There was so much
shattered glass in the streets, the buildings looked like they were
floating in a calm blue lake of shards.

On one of the closer skyscrapers, there were
windows scattered over the face of the building that didn’t break,
starkly contrasting against the hundreds of others that did, making
the face of the building look like a giant version of the
Wall
Street Journal’s
crossword puzzle.

The city was taking a pounding, but Cain’s
self-proclaimed legacy was still intact. At least with everything
happening, people would be evacuating and would, he hoped, make it
to safety before the iceberg blew up. Pike tried to console himself
with this thought but it offered little comfort.

Pike circled back by the stern, starring down at
the seemingly undamaged chuck of ice when he let out a long, loud
cry of frustration and slammed his fist against the canopy.

“Are you all right Mr. Pike?” Madison asked.

“Sorry, I forgot the radio was on.”

“Yes sir. A little warning next time might save
a few ear drums.”

“It’s just that I’m so damned frustrated right
now. I would have…” Pike stopped in mid-sentence as something
caught his eye. As he was flying down the side of the berg, he saw
a flash of light like a lightning bolt running its entire length.
It took him a moment to realize what it was; a fracture had formed
and was slicing its way through the ice and the sunlight was
reflecting off the edges: his plan was working.

Pike smiled inwardly; had his scream been at
just the right pitch to be the wings of the butterfly that caused
the fissure in the ice? Cain would have loved the irony.

He flew over the bow, just in time to see a
large chunk fall off its port side, leaving a gaping hole. As it
fell away, the towing bridle tumbled with it, yanking out the left
tower support, bending it halfway down. It looked like a hook
dangling out of the mouth of a giant fish.

When the support tower collapsed, it basically
ripped the entire bow section off the iceberg. Flying by, Pike
could look into the huge cavern and see the buried support ships
nestled together, but more importantly, the gaping hope meant that
the gas was escaping, effectively disarming the bomb.

Pike was about to pop the champagne and pat
himself on the back, congratulating himself for having defeated
Cain, when he suddenly stopped.

“What the hell is that?” Madison asked.

Music was coming over their radios, filling
their cockpits with grand operatic music, backing a soprano’s
singing. Pike was busy trying to identify the song when it suddenly
hit him, the fat lady was singing!

“Pull up, pull up, pull up!” he shouted. He
watched as the blue flames erupted from the four fighters as they
shot upward faster than he could ever hope to go. He shoved the
throttle to the stops but his normally responsive bird was
sluggish, still carrying the bulky rocket assembly. The
Yankee
Clipper
banked hard to the right and started to climb.

Pike was at about 2000 feet and pulling away
from the port side of the iceberg when it exploded. The flash of
the explosion was like looking into the sun and he could feel the
searing heat from half a mile away. Blinking away the sunspots, he
looked back and saw flames shooting out of the bow like exhaust
from a jet engine, and it had the same affect.

In disbelief, Pike watched as the giant iceberg
slowly moved into the middle of the harbor, propelled by the
flames. With great satisfaction, he saw Cain’s tower sway, then
topple backwards, crushing what was left of the casino. As odd as
it sounded, he viewed the fall of Cain’s tower as a symbolic fall
of Cain himself.

By now, the entire iceberg was engulfed in
flames. Not only were the buildings burning on top but large
sections of the ice itself. As the blazing iceberg slowly drifted
through the harbor, it reminded him of a funeral pyre. An
appropriate end to Cain’s dream, he thought.

Several cabin-cruiser size chunks of ice had
fallen away and were bobbing in the water, flames burning low, but
steady. Pike looked up and saw a fleet of fireboats come streaming
down the Hudson River to the rescue. Pike smiled, he bet this was
the first time they had ever been dispatched to put out burning
ice.

As he watched, he didn’t feel any sense of
triumph or victory, what he did feel was a sense of relief that it
was finally over. He also unexpectedly felt drained, both mentally
and physically. His body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds and
the simplest of tasks like movement of the stick suddenly took a
great deal of concentration and effort. He wondered if this if how
soldiers felt after a battle? Coming down from the adrenaline high
and crashing back into reality. He felt like he could sleep for a
hundred years. He had always respected the military and the tough
job they had to do, but his respect for them just jumped off the
scale; he knew that some did this on a day to day basis.

“Mr. Pike?” His thoughts were interrupted by the
voice of Colonel Madison.

“Yes Colonel?”

“A job well done, sir.”

“Thank you, and to your men.”

“Form up on us and we’ll all land at Langley
together.”

Pike drew in a deep breath through his nostrils
then let it out slowly and nodded his head. “There’s nothing I’d
like better sir. Lead the way.”

He had just swung the nose of the
Yankee
Clipper
around and started to climb to join up with the Air
Force fighters when his engine suddenly sputtered. First thing he
did was to check the fuel transfer toggle to see if he’d
accidentally hit it again but he found it in its proper setting.
Instantly he surveyed his instruments and to his horror, his fuel
gage was nearly at zero. How could that be? He hadn’t been flying
long enough to use that much fuel. Did he take shrapnel from the
missile? He shook his head; he didn’t think so, he would have
noticed a leak sooner. Then it hit him. He must have used more fuel
than he’d expected when he was melting a hole through the ice above
the anchor room.

The engine coughed one more time then quit,
filling his canopy with an eerie silence. He quickly leveled out
and frantically started looking for a place to land, but where? He
was still in the middle of a harbor. He was hesitant before about
making a water land because of all the normal harbor traffic but
now it would be impossible because the harbor was choked even more
with rescue vessels and chunks of debris were scattered on the
surface,, bobbing everywhere like land mines, making it impossible
to land.

Panic had not set in yet but he could feel it
banging on his canopy as he scanned for a place to land, but
finding none. It was looking more and more like he would be going
swimming. At least the Coast Guard would be close to fish him out.
If he survived the landing.

“Mr. Pike, what’s the problem?” Madison asked,
seeing the vintage fighter falling away.

“You’re not going to believe this, but I ran out
of fuel.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Wish I were sir.”

“From the frying pan into the fire.” Madison
said.

“That saying does seem rather appropriate,
considering things below.”

“Have you ever done an emergency water landing
before?” He asked.

“No, but I suppose there’s a first time for
everything.” Pike replied, trying to sound more optimistic that he
really was.

He was looking up the Hudson thinking he might
have enough altitude to get away from some of the river traffic
when something caught his eye. Suddenly a thought crossed his mind
and at first it sounded so ridiculous he couldn’t help but chuckle.
But the more he tried to toss the idea out the canopy, the more it
stuck, and the more it started to make sense. It was crazy to be
sure, but then again, this week hadn’t exactly been a normal one
either.

“But I may not have to.” Pike slowly banked the
plane to the left, maintaining as much speed and altitude as he
could to get a better look. He had fallen to 4000 feet and was
gliding at 180 knots.

He was flying dead stick and would have only one
shot at this. He had the altitude but did he have the skill
and
the luck needed for this? This was literally one of
those do or die moments. Pike sat up a little straighter in his
seat and steeled himself.

“Time to put up or shut up, Hot Shot.” Pike
said, smiling to himself. “Time to join the Navy and see the
world.” He nudged the stick forward and picked up a little more
speed.

“You’re not seriously considering doing what I
think you are, are you?” Madison asked, seeing but not believing
what his civilian friend was about to do.

“Well sir, since you don’t have a KC-130s flying
around to top off my tank, I’m afraid I’m going to have to join the
Navy.” Pike was not a very good actor because even to himself his
false bravado sounded pretty lame.

“Good luck Mr. Pike, Godspeed,” was Madison’s
simple reply.

Suddenly Pike felt rejuvenated, alive and ready.
Not from the danger of his idea, though there was plenty of that,
but from the sheer challenge that it offered. He didn’t approach
this with wild abandon like a daredevil just to see if he could do
it. No, he calculated the risks involved and looked at the
different options and pushed himself because he
had
to do
this.

He thought back to an interview he’d heard from
a WWII fighter pilot talking about combat and all the training he
did. The pilot said that training was important to be sure but that
he’d rather be lucky than good. Those were Pike’s sentiments
exactly because he was going to need all the luck he could get he
told himself as he swung the
Yankee Clipper
around and lined
up to land on the deck… of the aircraft carrier.