Mahmoud and Fareeq were sitting in the warehouse going over the plan one last time. Fareeq assured his cousin he knew everything and that he would not let him down. Mahmoud left him to his prayers and walked across the warehouse to consult with Amir.
“What do you make of the people you saw on the camera last night?”
“They left small cameras out back, but they’ll only see what I want them to see.”
“What’s your idea?”
“You need to help me with it. You’re going to pull the plane out and take off in full view of the cameras. Then I’ll disable them and you land and bring the plane back in.”
“How are you going to disable the cameras?”
“Those things are small and they’re in the grass. When was the last time it was mowed?”
Casey sat in the co-pilot seat monitoring the camera feeds on the laptop while Ken gave the plane a thorough going over. He was beginning to think nothing was going to happen when he saw the overhead door begin to open.
“Ken, think we got something here.”
Ken came over and looked at the screen. The overhead door finished opening and the Cessna came rolling out followed by a man on a zero- turn mower. The Cessna’s engine started and it went to the end of the new pavement strip, moved down the strip picking up speed, and took off and headed north. A few seconds later they saw the mower approaching and then everything went blank.
“Great, fine time to mow the grass,” Casey said.
“You know what that means now,” Ken said, “Forget about watching this place. We’ll have to keep an eye on the airstrip at their office and catch him after he picks up the banner. Lord knows where that plane will be between now and then.”
Fareeq spent most of the day in prayer while Mahmoud and Amir went over the plane and loaded the bomb. When everything was prepared, Amir pulled the helicopter outside and warmed up the engine while Mahmoud went in to see Fareeq one last time.
“Will you not take something to eat, cousin?”
“There is no need. My next meal will be in Paradise.”
“I envy you, your upcoming joy.”
“Will you pray with me?”
“It would be my honor.”
The two cousins knelt on the prayer rug and prayed together, that Fareeq would have the courage to follow through to the end, that their enemies would be confounded, and that Allah would be pleased. When they were done with the prayer, they embraced and Mahmoud made his way to the helicopter while Fareeq prepared himself for one last Salaat before his mission. Going through the required cleansing and reciting the words brought him into a state of peace he could not have imagined at such a time. He knew Allah was with him and would guide his hands this day. He knew his family would be proud and that they would be well cared for.
When he finished the prayer, he walked over to the plane and sat in the familiar cockpit, making a note of the location of the switch he would need to toggle to arm the detonator. He went over the procedure in his mind again. He would pick up the banner and then climb to 2000 feet before arming it. Then he would fly to the stadium like he had done countless times before, only this time he wouldn’t be flying back. He looked at his watch. Only another half hour until he would leave. He was ready and wanted to go ahead, but the timing was essential, so he waited.
Rachel sat in the bridge with Raheem, sipping a bottle of juice she found in the galley. Raheem said little over the hours they had sat there, other than to let her know when he had to use the restroom and when he was thirsty. She expected Mahmoud to radio in any moment, so Raheem was seated near the radio and she had her pistol out trained on him. She reminded him several times what the consequences would be if he tried anything.
When Mahmoud’s voice came over the radio, he seemed more startled than she was, but he answered in a calmer voice than she imagined he would. There followed a brief conversation in Arabic and the radio went silent. Amir was with Mahmoud and they would arrive in about five minutes. Rachel called Elijah and he came to the bridge.
“How’s our other friend?” she asked him.
“Resting comfortably. He won’t be going anywhere.”
“Good. Mahmoud is on the way and he has someone with him. We need to provide a warm welcome.”
“We can’t just stand there waiting for them.”
“No, but there’s only one good way here from the helipad. We can wait either side of that corridor opening and they won’t see us until it’s too late. We don’t want to kill them if we don’t have to.”
A couple minutes later they could hear the sound of the rotors getting louder and they went out and stood on either side of the end of the corridor leading from the helipad. The helicopter touched down and Amir cut the engine. A minute later Rachel and Elijah could hear footsteps coming down the corridor. Mahmoud and Amir came out of the corridor and found themselves face to face with two people they had never seen before, but the drawn pistols told them these people meant business. Mahmoud started to reach for a weapon, but was cut off by Elijah addressing him in Arabic.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
He realized the helplessness of the situation and raised his hands. Rachel relieved him of his pistol and searched him for any other weapons while Elijah did the same with Amir. Five minutes later, they were on the bridge and bound with rope.
“Where are you taking us?” he asked.
“Oh, you speak English. That’s a relief. I was getting sick of Arabic. I don’t have the grasp of it my friend here does.”
“Well, where are we going?”
“We aren’t going anywhere, at least not for a couple hours.”
Mahmoud was sweating and was trying to look at his watch.
“Do you have some pressing engagement we’re keeping you from?”
Rachel walked over and removed his watch from his wrist, placing it in front of him where he could see it.
“There, is that better? Oh, would you like to watch some TV? I can bring a TV in from one of the cabins.”
“Already taken care of,” Elijah said as he brought a small TV in and set it up, “What do you want to watch?”
“Oh, you know me. Put the game on. It should be starting soon. I wonder if our guests here like baseball. Do you like baseball…Mahmoud? It is Mahmoud isn’t it?”
Mahmoud only glared at her and looked back at his watch. Elijah tuned the TV to the pregame show and sat down.
“I guess Mahmoud doesn’t care for baseball. Or he has someplace else he needs to be. I don’t have any place better to be. How about you, Elijah?”
“No. I’m good. Might want to get a bite to eat later.”
“I’m sure we can find something in the galley after the game’s over. You gonna watch it with us?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Come on Mahmoud, you need to relax. Nothing more relaxing than a baseball game.”
36
Fareeq opened the overhead door and climbed in the cockpit of the Cessna. He took another look at the bomb behind his seat and went through his pre- flight checklist. Everything checked out and he started the engine. He taxied out of the warehouse and took off, heading south toward the airstrip where he would pick up the banner. It was a clear evening and visibility was good. That would make the job easier with no adverse weather to contend with.
Ten thousand feet above him, Ken flew Nyangumi from the east, heading toward Parkland, while Casey watched out the window for any sight of the other plane. He had the baseball broadcast streaming on his tablet, which he knew was a good minute behind real time. The lineups were being announced and players were lining up on the baselines while color guards from the different armed forces branches were crossing the field. Soon the large flag would be unfurled in the outfield and the National Anthem would be sung.
He was already dressed in the wing suit he had flown once before and his pistol was strapped to his thigh where he would be able to access it quickly. The helmet was sitting next to him. He would
put it on in a minute so they could test the comms. He looked down at his phone and saw the message from Rachel that Mahmoud and Amir were enjoying their hospitality aboard the yacht and that they were not going anywhere until she heard back from him when the bomb was secure.
“I think that might be our friend,” Ken said, “about five thousand feet below us.”
Casey looked out the window and saw the Cessna flying due south approaching the airstrip.
“Sure looks like it. He’s heading right toward the airstrip. What’s his flight time to the ballpark again?”
“About twenty minutes at the most, maybe quicker depending on the engine he has in that thing.”
“They’re almost done singing the anthem, and this stream is behind. The game will be underway by the time he gets there.”
“You better get that helmet on and do a comm check.”
Casey put the helmet on and headed to the back of the plane. Ken’s voice came over loud and clear in his ears and Ken could hear him as well. He sat down and awaited the word from Ken. What he was attempting was crazy, but they couldn’t think of anything more likely to succeed. He bowed his head and said a quick prayer for guidance, and then chuckled at the thought that the pilot in the Cessna had no doubt been praying for success in his mission as well. He could pray all he wanted, but his mission was one of death and Casey doubted God would listen to such a prayer let alone honor it.
Fareeq was praying as he flew, confident that Allah was hearing his prayers and would grant him success, and confident that Allah would welcome him to Paradise in just a few moments. While he had been nervous in the morning, he was filled with peace now. His mind was clear and he was calm. He believed in his mission, that his whole life had led to this point, to the moment he would give his life for the cause. This would be the biggest attack ever carried out against America. It would make 9/11 look like child’s play.
He looked ahead and saw the airstrip where the banner was, a different strip they had picked farther south, the two poles sticking up where he would hook the banner, and he decreased the throttle and began to descend. There was a slight crosswind and he compensated with the rudder and kept right on course. He lined up and hooked the banner on the first try, something he had gotten quite good at recently. He increased the throttle and began his climb back up to 2000 feet. He would normally fly the passes over the stadium at 1000 feet or just under. He would approach at 1000 feet like he normally did and put the plane in a steep dive at the last second. By the time anyone realized what he was doing, it would be too late. The altitude detonator was set at 200 feet, just inside the top height of the roof.
All Casey could do now was wait. He sat in the back of the plane, listening to Alison Krauss over headphones he had rigged inside the helmet, when he heard another voice over the music.
“He just picked up the banner. Picked it from a different strip farther south. Must have changed plans at the last minute. Let’s see how high he climbs before leveling off.”
Closer to the stadium? That wouldn’t give him as much time, but he could do it. He had to do it. Thousands of lives depending on it. Alison continued to sing inside his helmet, a voice to calm the most ragged nerves, and he felt relaxed and ready. He felt the plane descend and Ken’s voice came back in his ears.
“Looks like he's around 2000 feet. I can’t imagine he’ll approach at that altitude. Probably drop to 1000 or under for the approach. I’m going down to 3000. Get ready. When I open the door, get out and let me know when you’re clear.”
“Roger that.”
The plane continued to descend, then leveled off, and the cargo door began to open. Casey cut the music and prepared to exit the plane.
“Got visual on the stadium. Not much time to waste,” Ken said.
The plane was level, the door open, and Casey walked to the end and jumped out. He glided a few seconds and then engaged the jet boots, keeping the throttle low. A quick glance showed him well clear of the plane and he radioed Ken that he was clear before banking around to spot the Cessna. He saw the plane with the banner flowing behind and the stadium just beyond. The Cessna appeared to already be descending. Casey angled his body downward and throttled up, gaining ground on the Cessna rapidly.
He was gaining too fast. He had to come in under control. He throttled back a bit, then increased the throttle, but now the Cessna was gaining speed as Fareeq was dropping altitude faster. The stadium looked to be a couple miles away. Casey increased the throttle and steered just to the right of the plane, coming in next to the banner and almost hitting it. He backed the throttle and eased up next to the plane, looking inside and seeing the bomb right behind the pilot’s seat, the pilot staring straight ahead and not even noticing him. His flight was turbulent next to the Cessna and he couldn’t reach for the weapon on his thigh without turning. They were almost over the stadium now.
He had to make his move now before it was too late. Another glance at the bomb showed a blinking light on the top near a switch that was within reach of the pilot’s seat. That had to be the detonator. He drew even with the door of the plane, reached up with his left hand and grabbed the strut coming from the wing to the side of the plane and put his left foot on the top of the landing gear, hooking his left arm around the strut to make sure he was secure. With his right hand he reached to his thigh and pulled his pistol, thumbing the safety off as he brought it up toward the window.
Fareeq was startled out of his reverie by the sound from outside the plane and when he glanced to his right, he was startled by the sight of a man hanging onto the strut. What he saw next startled him more. The man was holding the barrel of a pistol to the window. Casey fired one round through the window, shattering the glass and missing Fareeq by inches, passing out the other window, shattering it as well. The next shot didn’t miss. He squeezed the trigger again and caught Fareeq in front of the ear. He put the pistol back and in one quick motion reached through the shattered window to open the door. Fareeq’s body was slumped over and was pressing the yoke down. They were over the stadium and going into a dive. Casey got into the plane and struggled to the pilot’s seat, shoving the body out of the other door as he did so.
The plane was in a steep dive, but under control, and Casey pulled back on the yoke. It was considerably harder than in the simulations he had done on the tablet, but the controls were essentially in the same place. He looked at the altimeter—under 1000 feet and still descending fast. He needed to turn off the detonator, but he needed to get control of the plane. He kept a grip on the yoke and continued to pull back in a struggle to level the plane, while he reached back with his right hand and found the toggle switch on the detonator. He flipped the switch and stole a glance back. The light was still blinking.
“Bad news. Detonator is still active,” he said.
“Come again,” Ken said in his helmet.
“I flipped the switch and the detonator didn’t turn off. It’s still active.”
“What’s your altitude?”
“500 feet and dropping…almost…got…control.”
In the stadium, the pitcher had been preparing to deliver another pitch when everyone began looking up. The banner plane was diving straight toward the top of the ballpark and the players were sprinting toward the dugouts. Fareeq’s body landed with a thud, narrowly missing the center fielder. Some fans stared open- mouthed at the sky while others were making for the exits. A moment later the plane appeared to level off and fly away from the stadium.
Casey breathed a sigh of relief as he got control of the plane and looked at the altimeter—210 feet. He looked around the cockpit and saw a switch he didn’t see in the simulator. Then he remembered the banner he was still towing. This must be the release. He flipped the switch and looked behind to see the banner detach and fall toward the field below. He increased the throttle and without the drag of the banner, the plane gained speed rapidly. He pulled the yoke back and went into a gentle climb. When he got up to 2000 feet he banked and headed
east. He glanced at the fuel gauge and there was plenty of fuel. He reached behind him and toggled the detonator switch a couple more times and confirmed that he couldn’t turn it off. He didn’t know what altitude it was set for, but he knew he had come extremely close. Ken had figured on 200 feet as an optimal altitude to do maximum damage.
“I have control of the plane, but I can’t turn off the detonator. There’s plenty of fuel, so I think I can get it out over the ocean far enough. What did Avi say the blast radius would be?”
“It’s a six- kiloton bomb, probably a mile, two at the most, depending on how high it detonates.”
“I leveled off at 210 feet.”
“That was close. It couldn’t have been set much lower than that.”
“How high can this plane go?”
“Around 13000 feet.”
“What’s the stall speed?”
“About 50 knots. What are you thinking?”
“Gonna ditch this thing in the ocean. Need time to get away.”
Casey kept his heading due east over the ocean and put the plane into a climb. He leveled off at 12500 feet and kept heading east. He opened up the throttle until he was cruising at 100 knots and did some quick math. He found the music player in the pocket on his left arm and flipped through the music, switching from the calming tones of Alison Krauss to Darius Rucker and cranking the volume. He kept an eye on the altitude and his airspeed and when he was by his reckoning about seven miles from shore, he climbed up to 13000 feet and pushed it a little higher.
He was close to 13500 when he figured he couldn’t push any farther. Keeping the nose pointed slightly upward he decreased the throttle and brought the speed close to 50 knots. The engine was still going strong, but when he brought the throttle back more the engine started to stall. Right before the plane stalled, he leapt out of the door and glided away. He wasted no time watching the plane start its downward spiral, but turned to the west and maxed the throttle on his jet boots, accelerating rapidly to over 200 mph. He angled downward to pick up speed and continued westward as fast as he could, right as Good for a Good Time was starting to play in his ears.
Wolf Trap (Casey Reddick Book 1) Page 27