The Screaming Eagles (22 page)

The hum of the propeller was soothing. The plane vibrated gently. Above him the sky was bluer than he could ever remember. It was a good day to die, a beautiful way to die. He felt the power of flight, the enormous strength of an eagle. Like the eagle, he was omnipotent, powerful, lord of the skies, circling his helpless prey. He loved his country, his mission, and his family. He even loved each and every one of the people in the 747, for their dying was necessary for the plan to succeed. He felt his heart bursting with pride and love and he was unafraid. It was as if he, not the Cessna, was flying, soaring mightily, harnessing wind currents, master of all he could see. Allah must feel like this, he thought.

With a turn of my wrist, I can either kill 500 people or spare them. This is power, what unbelievable power, just the turn of a wrist.

“Today Allah you have given me that power in my hands. For a few fleeting minutes you are allowing me to experience your mighty power. Your humble servant thanks you again and again. Thank you Oh Great One. United Global 747 you are one hundred times bigger than I am, but you are in my grasp. You can try to run but I will catch you for I am your angel of life or your angel of death, only I have that choice.”

Through a break in the clouds, he saw the Jumbo. It was on its final approach. He altered his course slightly to the left. Both he and his quarry were now in the precise places that Colonel Khadi had planned. He looked at the stopwatch. He had less than sixty seconds to live.

Shouting above the noise of the propellers, he yelled, “Insha-Allah my brother eagles, we will meet again very soon in our heaven. Insha-Allah.”

*

12:31 p.m.

The flight engineer handed Captain Hugh Rubin, pilot of the United Global Airlines 747, the completed information needed to land the plane. Rubin called out each item on his checklist, waiting for the co-pilot to confirm as he checked the landing weight, runway, wind, altimeter, reference speeds and the A.T.I.S information code. They were fast approaching 10,000 feet, at which time the cockpit would become sterile. This would mean no talking other than replies and requests to and from ground control. The flight engineer was checking the fuel, batteries and generators. Then he would set the pressurization. The co-pilot scanned the approach charts, noting the minimums, then busied himself with the altimeter, correcting it, then checking to see if the captain had set his altimeter exactly the same way. Both radios were on and they heard the controller’s instructions. “United Global 419 heavy, 8 from Codie, turn left heading 270 intercept. The final approach course cleared for I.L.S. runway 24 left approach. Maintain 3000 until established. Contact Tower 124.9 Codie inbound.”

Rubin made some slight adjustments to the rudders with his feet. They were now in the final approach and he released the landing gear, hearing with satisfaction the smooth whine until the wheels locked. He opened the throttle slightly to get more power for the descent.

“Tower, flight 419 Codie inbound.”

“United Global 419 heavy tower, cleared to land RWYS246.”

“Roger. Okay, gang, let’s take this baby home to Mama O’Hare.” 12:32 p.m.

Perry found O’Hare’s security chief, Ran Hatuka, waiting for them. His hair was cut short military style. There was a dent on the side of his hair as if he’d taken off a beret or hat that was too tight. Quickly Perry explained what had happened. They followed the security chief to the tower cab. He punched code numbers into the pad on the outside of the door. The door marked TRACON opened. They entered the room.

“What do you want to know?” Hatuka asked.

“Explain to me what is going on in here quickly, and remember I’m a layman. I might want you to hold the plane in its flight pattern, or once it lands, that you divert it to another concourse. Finally, I might want you to hold the plane on the tarmac and not let if off-load its passengers until I can secure the area. I’ve already alerted my people. They’ll be in their positions in ten minutes.”

“Stop me if you don’t understand what I am saying,” Hatuka said. “In the tower cab upstairs, the traffic controllers issue clearances for departure and delivery. They control inbound and outbound flights, ground control to and from the gates, and runways and landing craft. Aircraft are cleared to land and take off. Traffic controllers also monitor positions and watch for changes in weather patterns or sudden crosswinds. Here in TRACON, each controller has a scope set up for his specific area. He has a single headset and boom microphone in front of his mouth. The humming noise you hear is because each scope has its own motor. The controller’s chair is on wheels so he is mobile and can move around to check on any changes that might have occurred while he was talking a plane up or down.”

The scopes were placed all around the room and Michael saw that each radar screen was green with yellow flight numerals. The revolving boom sweep was clearly visible. Large maps were above each scope.

Hatuka continued, “The small black and white television screens give us the information about the runways, their surface and approaches. The other panel of instruments and switches allow us to monitor other frequencies including the A.T.I.S. that’s Automatic Terminal Information Service. Look on the screen. All planes on instrument flight, we call I.F.R. and they appear as a square. Planes flying visual and not in contact with us are called V.F.R., and they appear as a V on the screen.”

Perry replied, “The flights you bring in are squares, the planes you are not in contact with are a V, do I understand you correctly?”

“Yes.”

Perry said, “Hold on.” Using his walkie-talkie he said, “Ivan, have you and Diane got your people deployed at the Campers Joburg section of the international arrivals yet? Good. Christy, Andy, Karen, Charlie, are you all in position. Fine, Valerie, where are you and Jack? Okay. Hold there until they land. Once the plane lands, I’m going to hold it out on the runway until you’ve placed enough people with the baggage handlers and next to the luggage carousels. Ken, you and Pat take charge there. Get Craig and Janie to secure the whole area and the outer perimeter; call me as soon as you’re ready. Call Dani and tell him to send S.W.A.T. in helicopters.”

There was an urgent call. “Supervisor. Quick.”

They turned to see a man striding over to scope number nine.

“I noticed an unidentified intruder on target at 2000 feet. I called him up, warning him that he’d strayed into the terminal control area. I’ve been waiting for him to identify himself but his radio must be out of order. I’ve been unable to make contact.”

“What is his distance?” the supervisor said sharply.

“He’s at 12 o’clock. Five miles eastbound, altitude 2000 feet, unverified.”

The supervisor locked his headset microphone onto scope nine’s frequency. “Aircraft over Bensenville, you are in the T.C.A. Over.”

They all waited. The other controllers had been concentrating on their flights, not taking notice of scope nine. However, scope nine was obviously now on all of their minds, a sixth sense warned of danger. Something wasn’t right, but they had to concentrate on bringing in their crews or clearing them for takeoff.

Over all the buzz of activity and noises, scope nine had only silence. Michael saw the V getting closer and closer to the square. The supervisor continued trying to make contact with the unidentified intruder. The controller, finally realizing the potential danger, said, “United Global 419 heavy, traffic alert, emergency. Advise you turn left, climb immediately. Repeat emergency, climb left.”

“Roger, United Global 419 heavy, preparing left turn immediately.” Perry said tersely, “How long will it take for him to turn?”

“About forty, forty five seconds.”

In horror they watched the screen as the seconds ticked off. Like a magnet, the V slid slowly toward the square. The boom continued to revolve. With every sweep, the V inched closer, and the seconds continued to tick.

Michael watched stepping closer, counting to himself measuring his heart beats listening to the silence ahead knowing that there was only about eight seconds to go. Suddenly the square seemed to move. Flight 419 was beginning to turn. It began to move away, a millimeter, then another. He held his breath waiting for the next sweep to see if it had gotten away, but the V had caught it. They touched, then merged, then suddenly their space was blank on the screen. A void appeared on the screen.

Death was now looking at them from a blank hole in the screen. The four of them looked at the screen, silent observers, not believing what they’d seen.

The air traffic controller’s hands were shaking. He’d removed his headset and just stared at his screen.

“What flight was that?” Michael asked the supervisor.

“United Global Airlines 419 from London.”

They’d just witnessed a murder of over three hundred people. The Iranians had struck once again.

The air traffic controller continued to look at his blank screen, tears falling down his cheeks. There was so much pain in the quietness of the noisy room. Defeated in his loneliness, the weeping man his face transformed by grief, silently leant back in his chair and continued watching the sweep of the radar circling his screen.

THE DESERT BUNKER

6:30 a.m.

The Celebration Breakfast had started.

“Welcome to you all, my very good friends, my trusted advisors and loving members of my family. As a team, what we accomplished today will be written in our history books and taught from generation to generation. Each one of your illustrious names will be enshrined and inscribed in our holy books. You are all, each and every one of you, heroes of our beloved country, greater than any heroes in the history of a country that is known for its heroism.

We were a day or two away from defeat, but you all have helped us to survive. I salute you all. Our beloved country salutes you all. My friends, our sources in the Pentagon and State Department confirm all our wonderful successes, as does our good friend who is on the Senate Foreign Affairs Committee. I finished speaking to all of them a few minutes ago, and all report that the American president is currently meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff and his Cabinet. The Screaming Eagles were all able to reach their objectives and five jumbo jets in five different cities were destroyed with a total of over two thousand people killed.”

He paused to sip water from a glass he was holding. “As we so correctly foresaw, the stupid Americans, who do not care if nations commit genocide and kill millions of people, do, however, care if a few of their own people are killed. We anticipate that they will overreact. Remember their attack on Ghaddafi in Libya, Granada, Panama and Lebanon. We Arabs are far more advanced culturally and spiritually. Everyone of course, knows how much cleverer we are. To out think them was easy, for they are so predictable. We understand them better than they understand themselves.”

This time he took a longer drink of water then putting the glass down on the table, continued to hold it in his hand turning it in circles on the tablecloth in front of him as he spoke.

“We can and have used their many weaknesses to our advantage. To show just how predictable they are, my friends, you will see that within a few hours, their planes will be on their missions to teach our mortal enemies a lesson. May our enemies die like the dogs they are. Thousands will get a lesson, a good deserving lesson. Maybe hundreds of thousands of those dogs will die and the Americans will never know how we maneuvered and tricked them to do what we were unable to do.

Our intelligence confirms that within thirty days we would have been totally defeated, overrun by those fanatical Iranian barbarians. Our brave sons and brothers, who fought so fearlessly against the barbarian hordes of Musavi may his soul rot in hell, were preparing for their last battle. But now, congratulations, my friends. We have lost a few battles, but we will win this war. In this life and the next we are a special group. We are brothers all.”

He sat down.

As one, everyone in the room jumped to their feet, clapping and applauding.

Smiling, the president of Iraq, Abdel Amir, listened to their cheers. Palms and fingers together in front of his face, he looked at each person directly, bowing his head as he acknowledged them.

After a few minutes, Abdel Amir glanced at his watch and saw that it was 6:34 a.m. Excusing himself, he got up and walked quickly to the adjoining bathroom. He closed and locked the door. Removing his glasses, he put them into their case and stuffed them into his pocket. Standing away from the door to minimize his injuries, he heard them still cheering. They cheered and called his name, and sang the Iraqi national anthem. He primed the detonator, exploding the dynamite that he’d earlier placed under the table while everyone was asleep.

The force of the massive explosion thundered across the desert, echoing over and over as the sun was beginning to rise.

*

American’s vengeance was massive and swift. At dawn, wave after wave of F-18 fighter jets and stealth bombers roared over Teheran, waking the sleeping population minutes before they were blown to eternity. In ten incredible minutes, with surgical precision, two hundred and five thousand civilians were killed and more than a million people were injured. The stealth bombers then flew to Abadan, Bander Abbas and Kharg Island, setting all the oil refineries and installations on fire. Finally, they flew to the huge Iranian military bases that were preparing for their final advance into Baghdad. The Iranians were about to launch their attack on Baghdad, only twenty kilometers away. The bombers destroyed the advancing Iranian army and air force totally. In less than four hours, the Iranian military machine was destroyed.

The Iraqi population had been streaming out of Baghdad, trying to escape the Iranian army as it was preparing to launch its final offensive. When they heard the news of the American annihilation of the Iranians they turned back to their homes.

For seven days and nights they danced in the streets, praising the Americans and cursing the Iranians.

*

At the United Nations, Russia, China, France and Britain stood side by side with the American delegation and condemned Iran as a terrorist rogue nation.