Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 09 (42 page)

High-Technology
Aerospace
Weapons
Center
(HAWC)

A short time later

 
          
“I’ve
alerted the weapons teams, sir,” David Luger shouted as he dashed into the
battle staff area. General Samson and John Long were already there, checking
computerized charts and satellite imagery of the shootdown area, along with
several other staff and operational members from both HAWC and the 111th
Bombardment Wing. 'They’re ready to upload a full hard target penetration load
on every Vampire we got. I’ve got the combat support team putting together an
intel package and attack routing scenario to the shootdown area immediately—
they can have DTECs and flight plans ready to brief in three hours. I've also
called a secure dataconference meeting with ISA to put together a plan of
action.”

 
          
“Wait
a minute. Colonel, just wait one goddamned minute,” Long inteijected angrily.
“You HAWC guys are forgetting— again—that you don’t command the 111th. We don’t
just go launching off into space with bombs and missiles and start shooting
everybody up, especially the Russians. We need authorization, and we need a
warning order and frag order. We need to coordinate our efforts. I’m not going
to start launching Vampires without a plan of action.”

 
          
“There’s
no time for that,” Luger shot back. He went to a nearby computer terminal,
calling up the maintenance status of their aircraft. “We can launch three birds
in about six hours. In the meantime, we can divert Rebecca and Patrick to a
refueling anchor over the
Baltic Sea
.
We can also—”

           
“Hey, Luger, that’s my job,” Long
interjected. “You don’t work for Aces High.”

 
          
“Get
off your ass, Major!” Luger retorted angrily. “Annie is out there on the ground
in goddamned
Russia
! We need to get her out of there
now!”

 
          
“Colonel,
Major, knock it off,
now”
General Terrill Samson cut in. “Everyone
relax—”

 
          
“Relax?
We can’t relax!” Luger exploded. “Do you realize the danger if Annie or Dev
gets captured by the Russians? Do you realize what the Russians do to captured
fliers? Huh?
Do
you?”

           
“Dave, ease off—”

 
          
‘They’ll
twist their minds, empty their brains, use drugs or chemicals or physical or
mental torture to make you reject or deny everything you’ve ever believed.”

 
          
“What
in hell are you blabbering about, Luger?” Long asked. “You been watching too
many spy movies.”

 
          
Terrill
Samson knew what John Long did not—that when David Luger spoke about being
tortured by the Russians, he spoke from personal experience. He put a hand out
toward his chief engineer. “Easy, David, take it easy—”

 
          
“I
will
not
take it easy, sir!” Luger shouted. “You have got to put out an
alert to every intelligence and special operations team within a thousand miles
of that shootdown point—tell them to mount up and get a search-and-rescue
operation started
immediately.”

 
          
Long
shook his head in exasperation. Look at this hotshot HAWC smart-ass going to
pieces, he thought. They’re all a bunch of blubbering candy-asses. “Take a
pill, Colonel—”

 
          
“Shut
up,
Long,” Samson said. “David—”

 
          
“If
you won’t do something now, General,
I will!”

 
          
“Colonel!”
Samson shouted. He finally stopped, but his chest was heaving as if he had just
gone three rounds in a boxing ring.

 
          
Samson
looked at his chief engineer with serious concern. Luger had reported his two
contacts with the Ukrainian bomber forces commander, who happened to have been
one of the test pilots at the same facility where Luger had been held captive
years ago. He’d considered sending him off on leave while the Ukrainians were
at Nellis, to avoid any further complications, but he’d let Luger override him.
He'd seemed just fine. Obviously, those two brief encounters had dredged up a
lot of very bad memories. “Stand at ease! That’s an order!” Samson’s booming
voice finally seemed to shake Luger out of his near- panicked anguish. “We’re
going to help them, Colonel, I promise you. But we need to devise a plan of
action and get approval from
Washington
. Prepare your planes and get weapons
uploaded right away, but I don't want anyone launching. Is that clear?”

 
          
“Yes,
sir,” Luger said. He took a deep breath and wiped cold sweat from his forehead.
Quickly, his tortured mind began to think rationally. “But if the decision is
made to do a rescue, we should brief up the teams and launch as many Vampires
as we can to forward strike locations. If Annie and Dev can evade capture long
enough, we might be able to rescue them, but we need to get ISA units moving
now.
If the Russians capture and then release Annie and Dev right away, we’ll just
come home. But if they don’t, we want to be in a position to nab them before
they get moved all the way back to
Moscow
.”

 
          
“I
said, no one launches without my go-ahead. End of discussion.” To Long, he
said, “I'm preparing for a briefing to the National Security Council staff
right now. I’ll get you clearance as quickly as I can.”

 
          
“Yes,
sir,” Long said.

 
          
“We
are still receiving life signs,” Luger said, checking the satellite
communications server’s readouts on Deverill and Dewey. “Still no voice
contact. The longer they’re on the ground, the better the chances of them
getting caught. General, at least give us clearance to refuel and divert
Furness and McLanahan in the mission backup plane. We can schedule a tanker and
get it turned around in minutes.”

 
          
“Request
denied,” Samson said. “Furness and McLanahan follow their original recovery
routing back here—no alterations unless I get approval from the White House.
That is all. Major, you’re with me. We should be getting a videoconference call
from the White House any minute.” Luger was left with nothing to do, so he got
ready to depart.

           
“Colonel, are you going to be okay?”
Samson asked just before Luger reached the door.

 
          
“I’ll
be all right, sir,” he responded evenly.

 
          
“I
would like you to assist in preparing available Vampire aircraft for weapons
upload and launch in case we’re given the go-ahead,” Samson said. “John will be
working with me here to get ready for the NSC brief. I’m sure it would be a big
help to have you and Major Cheshire in the maintenance area supervising
things.”

           
John Long said nothing, but nodded.

 
          
“I’ll
be over there if you need me, sir,” Luger said.

 
          
“And
David? Advise General McLanahan and Colonel Furness on what’s happened.” He
paused, staring at Luger as if punctuating his next order: “I want them to
continue on their recovery track. Under no circumstances are they permitted to
try a rescue mission without prior authorization. Is that understood?”

 
          
“Yes,
sir. I’ll advise them.”

 
          
“They
can contact me directly via satellite if they have any other information, or if
they have recommendations, but I want them to head on back otherwise,” Samson
said again. For some reason, he felt a strong need to repeat his orders to
Luger. “No heroics. I don’t want to lose any more aircraft over
Russia
.”

 
          
“Understood,
sir.”

 
          
David
Luger went over to the maintenance hangar complex and briefed the chief
maintenance officer, the chief civilian engineer, and the NCO in charge, on
what was happening, but he was wise enough to let them do their thing without
hovering around them. Besides, he was too angry and frustrated—at Samson, at
Long, at himself—to think and organize effectively.

 
          
His
mind drifted away to his friend and lover, on the ground in
Russia
. He activated his subcutaneous satellite
transceiver and spoke: “Dewey, this is Luger.... Heels, this is David—can you
hear me? Please answer, Annie. Can you hear me?” His voice choked as he thought
of her lying on the ground half a world away, and he too far away to help her.
“Annie, answer me, please . .. answer me, goddammit. ..”

 
          
No
reply.

 
          
He
understood General Samson’s order. Sampson wanted to be sure Patrick
returned—meaning, he fully expected Patrick to turn around and fly cover for
Annie and Dev. Luger knew what could happen if he disobeyed him—but also knew
that Patrick McLanahan was Annie’s best hope to avoid capture. Samson could
have contacted McLanahan himself via the satellite transceiver and directly
issued the order to him. He was purposely vague about it. Did he want Patrick
to fly cover—or was he passing the responsibility to his second-incommand?

 
          
Again,
Luger activated the worldwide satellite transceiver: “Luger to McLanahan.”

 
          
“Go
ahead. Dave.”

 
          
“We’ve
got a situation. Mack,” Luger said, and he ran it down for him.

 
          
“Come
to a heading of one-two-five,
right now,
” Patrick said urgently. His
mouth was dry, and his fingers shook as they flew across the large supercockpit
touchscreen display. “Heading back to our due-regard point. Steering is good.
Take it." The due-regard point was a special point in a flight plan where
flights were “dropped” or “accepted,” without any air traffic control agencies
knowing or responsible for where the flight went—they were used primarily by
classified military flights. They were currently over southern
Norway
, well out of range of any ground radar
sites, but they still used satellite communications and GPS to call in their
position to transoceanic air traffic controllers. “I’ll call Oslo Transoceanic
and get a clearance.”

 
          
“Clearance?
What in hell are you talking about?” Rebecca Furness asked. She had to paddle
off the autopilot to prevent the EB-1C Vampire bomber from automatically
following the new steering command Patrick had given. “We’re not turning around
and flying hundreds of miles back through Russian airspace. Are you nuts?”

 
          
“Rebecca,
one of our planes just got shot down—one of your planes, a point you made very
clear to me the other day,” Patrick said. “Two of your crew members are
on
the ground in
Russia
.
If they get captured, it’ll be an enormous security breach for the
United States
. It’ll be the military classified
information discovery coup of the decade!” He scanned his flight information.
“I can have us over the shootdown point in less than two hours. I’ll download
Annie and Dev’s position from the satellite server, and Dave will upload the
updated tactical order of battle to us, so we can—”

 
          
“Hold
on. General,” Rebecca said. “Why didn’t General Samson or someone from the
Pentagon call us?”

 
          
“They’re
probably deciding exactly what to do,” Patrick replied. “Terrill won't be in
charge—it’ll be someone at USAFE, or it might be turned over to the Director of
Central Intelligence or Defense Intelligence Agency. It might take them hours
just to decide who the hell is in charge. By that time, we can be over the
shootdown point and helping Annie and Dev. If the Intelligence Support Agency
or U.S. Special Operations Command launches a rescue sortie out of
Turkey
, they can be over the shootdown spot at the
same time we arrive, and we can cover them. Let’s go, Rebecca!”