From a hover, Bick and Zeke watched the situation come to an end as the rifle muzzle flashes were quite the sight from the air.
Richard was already at the end of the physical barrier, with more than half his body leaning over the edge. Richard released his feeble grip, rolled off the net, and fell sideways and downward as he plunged toward the earth. Reaching over 100 miles per hour in his five-second freefall, he broke all the bones in his body upon impact and left a pool of blood on the surface of the river.
Relieved it was over, Charlie stumbled out of exhaustion and came down near the retaining wall. Despite the dozens of law enforcement officers that surrounded him asking him if he was ok, he sat sideways on the bridge in silence, staring out into the abyss.
Chapter 52
Youngstown, New York
A few days ago, Charlie had to do two of the most difficult things he ever had to do in his entire life. The first one was going in person to tell Emily that Ford was dead, a conversation which he dreaded the entire way to their house from the bridge. After he was done sharing the story of Ford’s death, his gut told him she had already known about it somehow. He always felt she knew. Maybe he’d ask her one day, but not this week. There was just too much going on.
The second toughest thing was telling his parents down in Hilton Head, his mother off the charts hysterically upset.
Today was funeral day, and Charlie had hoped it was one of celebration of life for his brother rather than ones he’d attended that focused on death. It was an ‘all hands on deck’ funeral event, one of admiration from other uniformed military services, police officers, veterans, and firefighters, and the 914th Air Refueling Wing. Even Jackson Gagnon from Canadian Law Enforcement attended, which Charlie thought was a nice touch. They were there this afternoon to show their ultimate respect for posthumously promoted Lieutenant Colonel Ford Stevens.
Coming out of the Niagara University Alumni Chapel first this afternoon was Emily, then Ford’s parents, all leading down to the black hearse and stretch limousines parked out front. Charlie led the six pallbearers, reflecting that it was the way Ford would have wanted it.
I bet he’s looking down, ready to tell me I’m doing it wrong, Charlie thought, the only one that could possibly understand the joke.
Charlie knew that over at the airbase, some of the guys from the squadron were in their cockpits, engines running and waiting to take off to contribute with a missing man formation flyover. Shorty was scheduled to lead the four KC-135s that were holding short for takeoff in a trail formation, prepared to fly over the funeral with the ring finger position empty. Next to the KC-135s was an Ellsworth B-1B Lancer bomber ready to taxi and fly over single ship, flown in for the night from Ford’s former South Daniel squadron. Even Zeke was part of the “Ford Stevens Tribute Airshow” as he told Charlie earlier, arranging for a B-2 Spirit to fly over all the way from Missouri. The Navy also sent jets, four F-18 E/F Super Hornets, as a show of respect from his cross-service tour. It was going to be one hell of a flyover, Charlie thought, followed by some recovery time together over at Water Street.
Charlie was misty-eyed, constantly wiping his red eyes with his hands. He was concerned, though, knowing that Emily was pregnant, and hoped that the stress wasn’t enough to harm the baby. He thought about Ford many times these past few days, crying for both the loss and celebration of life, knowing that Ford was a brother that lived. He indeed lived. Out on the edge, unlike so many people that were hesitant to take such excessive risk for reward. Ford walked the walk.
The sun was getting lower in the sky that afternoon, a good distance above the trees across the water as the entire motorcade took the short trip up to the Old Fort Niagara Cemetery at Fort Niagara State Park. The cemetery began in the 1700s, and with permission from elected New York leaders, prominent citizens could be buried there. Located on the corner of Lake Ontario and the Niagara River, it was one of the most beautiful sights in the country.
It was a little bit cooler that afternoon with a lot less humidity, and it felt good to be outside for once this late in the summer. Emily was fatigued as she held on to the door handle, staring out the window of the limousine. She turned her head to see Charlie looking at her and grabbed his hand.
“I’ve always loved him, despite some of our earlier differences as brothers. I always wanted to be him. The older brother… the pilot… a rockstar.”
“We’ll all miss him, Charlie. He was excited you were flying, bloke. Don’t stop, okay?” She looked to him for an answer as he sat staring.
Charlie got out first, taking a glance at the procession down Scott Avenue and backed up into the traffic circle, and held the door for Emily.
Ford would have been embarrassed at this, then thrown a party.
He then looked up in the air, wondering the direction the aircraft were going to come from. Waiting for the arrival of others to join Charlie and Emily, he observed a motorcade of four black Suburbans with visor and grill police lights but didn’t recognize the vehicles or the suited men standing around. The last vehicle had the British Union Flag on the front of the windshield. Charlie saw Emily look at the vehicles, giving a warm nod of appreciation in their direction for a quick moment.
“Who are they, Em?” Charlie whispered.
“British Embassy Washington. A few others. I’ll introduce later,” she whispered back, grabbing his hand and squeezing.
“British Embassy Washington? Ford knew them, too?” he said quietly.
They walked from the paved road through the black wrought iron gate and hand-laden river rock entrance and under the tall, mature trees to the burial site. Almost acting like guards over the graves of so many that have gone before them, Charlie was impressed with the thickness of the tree trunks, appearing to him as trees full of strength and authority.
Emily held onto Charlie, knowing this was their final good-bye. She seemed to be short of breath, but it wasn’t an emergency, rather her emotions getting the best of her. The entire Stevens family was present, as they all had difficulty focusing in on what the Catholic priest was saying in their grief.
Charlie had talked with Emily a few days ago while they did the funeral planning, asking her to reconsider being buried at Arlington. He tried to make the case about his military service and his Air Force Cross Award, but she was inflexible about him being buried locally for some reason. At this point, the decision was made, and all their emotions were wrapped into this one single moment, right now.
Charlie listened to the priest with one ear while scanning the crowd. He figured someone close by from the squadron was listening for the priest to finish his words to coordinate the take-offs. He knew Ford had always enjoyed performing this part at other funerals. He glanced over his shoulder to see a variety of guys in uniforms from the base, searching for who might be acting as a combat controller for the fly-over timing. Charlie was appreciative that the squadron pilots worked so hard to make it special in honor of Ford and the family.
Next came the 21-gun salute portion of the ceremony, which Charlie knew would bother Emily. The military firing party was comprised of a commander and seven military members who held the sacred duty of rendering final honors to Ford through the precision of a 21-gun salute.
On the command of “ready,” each military member removed his weapon from the safe position.
On the command of “aim,” the butt of the weapon was brought up to the pocket of the shoulder so that the handgrip rested in the palm of the left hand, and their right hand grasped the small of the stock with the finger on the rifle trigger. The members then simultaneously turned their heads, keeping them vertical, to look over the barrel of the weapons.
Finally, on the command of “fire,” all weapons were fired in unison, with each member returning their weapon to the port arms position. The seven members of the firing party executed as one element until the 21-gun salute to Ford was complete.
Crack.
Crack.
Each volley jolted Emily in her seat, startling her at each volley just as she dreaded.
With the rifle volley complete, the bugler played Taps. The casket team leader finished folding the flag and handed it to the commander of the 914th Air Refueling Wing, Colonel Sarah McNew. The team looked sharp in their formal uniforms while the Honor Guard continued holding their rifles off to the side.
She turned and handed the flag to a previously unseen guest missed by many earlier in the day. Stepping in front of Colonel McNew was Under Secretary of the Air Force Calvin Burns.
How does Ford know these guys? Charlie thought.
Secretary Burns received the flag and walked over to Emily and leaned down to her. “Emily,” he said, swallowing hard. “On behalf of the President of the United States, the United States Air Force, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for Ford’s honorable and faithful service.”
Emily accepted the flag, wiping her cheeks. “Thank you, Mr. Secretary.”
With that, Charlie was saddened and worn out. But he was puzzled at the firepower from Washington that showed for Ford’s funeral and burial. He did not recall anyone mentioning to him they were coming.
The aircraft came over in formation just as they planned, beginning with the B-1, then the B-2, the Navy Hornets, and then the missing man formation of KC-135 Stratotankers. Zeke’s coordination was solid, as he and the pilots generated a nice send-off to their good friend.
With the burial ceremony over, folks walked back to the cars, fire trucks, police cars, and limousines. Emily and Charlie sat in the back of theirs, as they were last somehow in the large line-up of vehicles. She stared at the dark, carpeted interior, wondering how many other widows had sat in that very same seat.
“We’re going to miss him,” Emily said, biting her cheek. “Got a baby coming, Uncle Charlie. We’ll both need your help.”
All of the emotions of the last week made her burst into tears, nearly crying uncontrollably. She leaned over to put her head into Charlie’s chest.
“How am I going to do this? I’m alone. Charlie, how am I going to bloody survive? How am I going to raise this baby alone?”
Charlie wiped the tear from his own cheek, as he was feeling the tremendous loss and sadness come over him. “Emily, I’ll be the best uncle he’ll ever have. I’ll play ball with him. I’ll help him in school. Help you raise him. I’ll dedicate my life to you and the baby. I’ll leave the job in Myrtle to help you. Don’t worry, Emily, okay?”
She nodded, then blew her nose. “Thanks, Charlie. I don’t need you to move. But we could use the help for sure. It’s just… so bloody overwhelming. I’m… I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be. I’m family, Em. We both lost someone we loved.”
The limousine continued to sit for a few more minutes, as there was no rush to get to Water Street Landing.
Charlie held Emily’s hand now, letting the silence go for a few minutes. He reflected on Ford’s life, then thought of Wu again. “You know, Em, I guess I’m pretty disappointed that Wu never showed up. Thought he would’ve attended. How could he miss this?”
Emily snapped her head at Charlie, then tilted it slightly.
“Charlie, he was there.”
“No,” shaking his head. “No, he wasn’t. I looked around at the guests. I looked. He wasn’t there.”
Emily gave him one of her big smiles now. “You don’t know, do you?”
Charlie had a perplexed look on his face. “Know what?”
“Charlie, he’s out there right now. I see him,” she said, nodding to the general burial area, pointing to the cemetery with her index finger on the window.
He placed his hand on the armrest and leaned forward a little bit, looking out the backseat of the limousine. “I don’t see anyone Em, besides the workers ready to bury Ford.”
She kept her best face on. “Let’s go out right now, I’ll show you.”
Emily got out first, then held Charlie’s hand as they walked back under the trees, across the grass, and past Ford’s burial site. Walking past Marine Corps Major Michael Browne’s grave, they nodded in respect. She stopped walking a few seconds later.
Charlie continued to be confused, looking around for Wu, ready to give him a big hug.
“Charlie, Wu is right here,” she said, pointing down at the ground.
A grave marker was labeled, “Wu Lee, Captain, U.S. Air Force,” along with his birthday and the date he passed.
He raised his eyebrows. “You’re right, Em. I didn’t know,” he said, staring down at the grave. “His marker says he died two years ago. What… what happened?”
She put her arm on his shoulder. “I know this must be tough for you, Charlie, just finding out Wu passed right after we bury Ford.”
Charlie stood with his arms folded, rubbing his chin.
Emily continued with her explanation. “What you may have missed was that Wu had stage four pancreatic cancer a while ago. And he… I… shouldn’t be telling you this, but Ford and Wu stole a stealth jet out of China.”
“What?”
“A DIA mission. Myself, along with these other gentlemen from Washington parked over there, hatched an extensive escape plan, and the boys landed the Chinese jet on one of your aircraft carriers. I was there for it. The jet was called Devil Dragon, and Ford was involved in some substantial hand-to-hand combat to get it. Wound up killing Wu’s co-pilot to take off.”
“Ah, now I understand a bit more of why he said those things…”
So many things made sense to Charlie now. The secretive missions, the Air Force Cross, and his talk of the great power competition. Even the intel comments. Stealing a Chinese jet?
“On a separate mission, he went in with Zeke via a B-2 Spirit and cyber-hijacked a second Chinese jet, this time called Black Scorpion. It was an extravagant plan,” she told him.
“Wait, he knew Zeke from a B-2 mission?” Charlie asked.
Emily didn’t answer but kept going with her story. “I bring it up because your brother had a mishap on that mission, which resulted in the destruction of the aircraft and the loss of his co-pilot, Tiffany “Pinky” Pinkerton. He had to survive alone in the Himalayan Mountains of India until we could find him. Left for dead for four months. We couldn’t find him. But he made it… survived.”
“He actually mentioned her while up on the Vista. After he was shot…”
Emily took her small handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “Okay, so about Wu. Although Wu was ill with cancer, DIA was forced to do something drastic. Smoke and mirrors. They, ah, staged Wu’s original death. They faked it.”
“What do you mean they faked it? Staged?”
“After landing Devil Dragon, we all met in the ship’s infirmary. In the event Chinese intelligence had infiltrated the ship, we needed to make it look like he died right there on the carrier. We needed to protect both him and us. We wanted his superiors in the Chinese Air Force to know that he was dead.”
Charlie stood listening, both surprised and confused. He heard the sounds of closing vehicle doors from behind him and turned to see four men from the Washington-looking Suburbans walking toward them.
“Emily. Ford never told me these details.”
“Wu even appeared at Walter Reed Bethesda while Ford was recovering. An unscheduled, middle-of-the-night visit. Funny, he relayed the story to us like he was a ghost. Scared the living crap out of Ford, thinking he was dreaming from the meds,” Emily said.
“I had no freaking idea…” Charlie said.
“I know you didn’t. You never had the right clearance. Until now.”
“Wait, I don’t have the proper clearance.”
“Yes, bloke, we can talk about that in a minute. This was what we did for Wu. Wu recovered wi
th the Whipple Procedure, the surgery that removes portions of his pancreas. Doctors gave him a six percent chance of it working for two years, and they were right. He ate better. Did Ford’s meditation, yoga, all of it. Rebounded strong. And was explicit about living close to Ford, so he moved to western New York when we did.”
“Ford meditated? My brother did yoga?”
“Yes,” she said, laughing. “And that Wu. He became legendary in the military intelligence community. He was a tremendous asset to the U.K and the U.S. These gents would come a few times a month, the ones coming over to us now, would fly up from Washington. Ah, your Department of Energy helicopters and land under the guise of Energy Department business. It used to piss off that local Congressman Anderson, and a few citizens, too, because we could never tell him why. Anyway, it’s because Wu had so much information.”
The group of men was getting closer now, and they were talking to each other.
“So, is Wu dead now or is this is staged death. A fake grave?”
“Unfortunately, no, he did pass. The Whipple Procedure extended his life for an additional two years with that pancreatic cancer. A 25 percent survival rate up to five years, but bloke, did he ever make the best of those years.”
“How so?”
“He continued to take life by the bollocks. You may know that he relished his Netflix. He couldn’t understand that you paid one price for all those movies and shows,” she said, laughing. “On sports, he switched from the Cubs to watching the Washington Nationals, Ford’s team. Wu ate his hotdogs all the time. But after a few short months, he got to be bored in between his visits from Washington… so he worked down the road at Wegmans.”
Charlie turned his head and looked at Emily, laughing. “Wu, famous Chinese Air Force pilot, worked at a Wegmans Grocery Store?”
“He cherished it, bloke. He knew all about Wegmans prior to moving up, and he said it was the best job he ever had. Posh. Worked at Wegmans for over a year, moving around different departments. First started out grabbing trollies in the lots wearing a little fluorescent vest. Then did shelving. As you can imagine, he adored pastries the best.”
The Buffalo Pilot: A Ford Stevens Military-Aviation Thriller (Book 3) Page 26