by Doug Beason
Vikki waited until they were halfway to the bunker before contacting the helicopters on the walkie-talkie. Almost immediately the HH-53’s swung from their sentry above Alpha Base and circled an opening between bunkers. As they descended, Vikki estimated the landing area was two hundred yards away. She shouldered her rifle and moved out to greet Renault.
“How did it go?”
Fellows looked sullen as Renault shoved him forward. The colonel beamed. “Great. All we need is a bunker.”
Vikki jerked her head behind her. “The choppers landed. There’s plenty of bunkers over there.”
“Let’s move it, then.” Renault took a quick look around. “Where’s Dr. Harding?”
“I’m not sure—probably hunting down security policemen.”
“I’m sure he is.” Renault shoved Fellows forward.
The path to the helicopters was dark. Every time they passed a bunker, Vikki squinted into the shadows, trying to see if anyone was hiding.
Harding met them as they approached. Ten additional security policemen lay on the ground, their hands tied over their heads and their boots all unlaced. Renault wore a thin smile. “Congratulations, Dr. Harding. If I’d known you were such an excellent stalker, I would have hired you years ago.”
Harding ignored Renault’s sarcasm. “Just think of them as catalyst for our young friend to open up the bunker.”
Renault pushed Lieutenant Fellows up to a clearing where the helicopters had landed. He chose the nearest bunker and directed the young officer to open it.
Nudging the captured security policemen with his automatic weapon, Harding forced them to stand and herded them forward. They shuffled as a group until Harding had them stop next to Lieutenant Fellows and the bunker.
Renault lit a cigarette and waved smoke away. “Lieutenant, we’ve wasted enough time sparring with each other. You know I promised you your life if you opened the bunker. Don’t make me shoot more of your men if you fail to keep your side of the bargain, eh?” Renault drew on his smoke and watched the officer.
Fellows set his mouth and began working. Bringing the holograph up to the box, he leaned over his shoulder and checked the bunker number: 6640. Harding kept his weapon trained on the airman as he watched him. Fellows keyed 6640 into the interference device, then waved it over the tiny glass hole. The box beeped.
Harding stepped back. “What was that?”
Renault grunted and motioned for the lieutenant to continue. When Fellows waved the second device past the box, the bunker’s steel door started to rumble. Slowly, the four-inch-thick sheet began to swing open.
“Watch out—back up,” shouted Renault. The men scrambled to get out of the way. Vikki kept her rifle trained on the security policemen.
As the door crept open, Harding glanced at the prisoners. “Vikki, get rid of them. All they’ll do is get in our way.”
Vikki opened her mouth to answer when a shout erupted from a helicopter.
“Colonel, we’ve intercepted some radio traffic.”
“What is it?”
A man ran up. “Wendover has called in reinforcements.”
“How did they do that?” interrupted Harding angrily. “I thought your men were going to cut off all communications outside of the base?”
Renault ignored him. The colonel spoke patiently to the pilot. “What happened?”
“Someone is communicating with Air Force fighters. They are five minutes out and are being directed straight for Alpha Base.”
“Just friggin’ great!” Harding spat out.
Renault persisted. “Where’s the transmission coming from?”
“I’m not sure. But to transmit at that range using that frequency, they must be airborne.”
Renault craned his neck and scanned the sky. The moon was just setting, and the stars blazed down in the crystal-clear night. He searched for something, anything that looked out of place. “There, that bright light, directly above us.”
The pilot squinted. “That’s right, Colonel. It looks like a strobe!”
“And I bet it’s an HH-53.” Renault looked down. “All right, I’ll take care of this.” He shoved Fellows toward Harding. “You’ve got it, Dr. Harding. The bunker’s open, so it’s your ball game.”
Harding grabbed Fellows, astounded. “What do you plan to do?” he said to Renault.
“Misinformation. Al Qaeda used it all the time in Iraq, Syria, and anywhere else they had a presence. I bet the Air Force hasn’t learned its lesson after all these years. By the time I’m through with these fighters, they won’t know who to trust.” Renault sped out toward the helicopters.
Harding looked to Vikki. His eyes were glazed, but bright. “Let’s go, babe. This is what we’ve been waiting for.” He shoved Lieutenant Fellows into the bunker.
Vikki drew in a deep breath, relieved; she’d been afraid that Harding would massacre the security policemen she guarded. She motioned for Renault’s men to secure the prisoners. “Make sure they won’t escape.”
She followed Harding and the lieutenant into the depths of the nuclear weapons storage bunker. Wide yellow stripes were painted on the floor, leading into the storage facility. After a year of planning, it was all coming together.
Chapter 19
Saturday, 18 June, 2354 local
One Mile above Alpha Base
The two worked in silence, Manny keeping the chopper steady while McGriffin compared the location of the terrorists with their position on the map. The temperature was steadily rising, heat diffusing into the craft from the helicopter’s stealth exterior.
Wiping a hand to remove the sweat from his brow, McGriffin looked up. “Ready to play Forward Air Controller?”
“Just as long as those jet jockeys stay away from us.”
“That’s the whole idea.” Just as McGriffin reached to click his mike, a voice came over the radio.
“Falcon One, this is Wendover. There is a maverick HH-53 circling approximately one mile AGL over Alpha Base in violation of restricted air space. He has dropped ordnance on the Alpha Base and is dangerous. Request you ace this bandit soonest. He will probably try and break into this frequency and claim he is a friendly.”
McGriffin’s mouth dropped open. Manny nearly sent the helicopter into a dive. McGriffin choked. “He means us! Someone’s vectoring the 16’s in on us!”
He frantically tried to raise the fighters. “Falcon One, this is Wendover airborne CP—that’s affirmative, we’re in a chopper approx one mile AGL, but this frequency is tapped. I say again, this frequency is bugged. Switch to your secure comm link ASAP.”
A voice cackled back immediately. “Negatory on that, airborne Wendover—or whoever you are. I’ll need validation on you. Now what the hell is going on? Why are you flying in restricted air space? You’ve got one minute to clear the area. We’ve been unlocked from our Wing at Hill and are arming now. So move!”
Manny turned white. He held a steady hand keeping the helicopter at altitude. Turning to McGriffin, he wet his lips. “What do we do?”
McGriffin tried to think. Manny and he were the only two people between the terrorists and the nukes. But what could he do?
Manny raised his voice. “Come on, Bill—what do we do? I’m for turning our lights out and getting the hell out of Dodge. What do you say?”
McGriffin shook his head and whispered, “I don’t know—I don’t know!”
2356 local
Captain Jerry Allison’s F-16 broke through five thousand feet. He rocked his wings slightly by applying the barest of pressure on the fly-by-wire control. Lounging back at a thirty-degree incline, he spotted the soft glow of Wendover across the night sky fifteen miles away.
He’d never been to Alpha Base—or Wendover, for that matter—but he was well aware of the drill: the thirteen-thousand-foot runway and spacious parking at Wendover could accommodate a lot of aircraft. He wasn’t sure how many—the exact number was classified—but his Wing could fly in and strap on tactical nukes if the balloon
ever went up.
Jerry flipped the Doppler onto his heads-up display. Nothing was in the air, and after a quick infrared search and track scan, he nodded to himself. He raised Pete over the radio. “IRST shows the air is clear. Whoever was up earlier must have taken our warning.”
“Falcon One, this is Wendover CP. We’ve got an audible track on something still over Alpha Base. Request you verify and smoke him—”
“Falcon One, this is airborne Wendover CP. I say again, you’re picking up unfriendly jamming. Until you get positive confirmation, request you check out the bogies on Alpha Base—they have launched a raid on the complex and are stealing the devices stored there—”
“That’s a negative, Falcon One. We have rescue operations currently ongoing at Alpha Base and are attempting to airlift the injured to the base hospital. Request—”
Jerry yelled over the confusion. “Pete, switch to local plus one.” Jerry punched in his Wing frequency plus one band width and immediately called out, “Pete.”
“Here.”
“Next time they find us, switch to this minus five.”
“Got it. What in the hell is going on down there?”
“Don’t know, but let’s find out. Break left and stay at altitude. I’m going in.” Jerry pulled to the left and inched his stick forward. Pete remained in loose trail until Jerry started to descend; he pulled into a slow bank.
As he broke through to the low altitude, Jerry hit his speed breaks and lowered his landing gear. The F-16 grabbed at the air, slowing its air speed.
As Jerry approached Alpha Base, the devastation struck him. Building after building lay ruined, bomb craters peppered the complex. A smoky haze covered Alpha Base.
He spotted a trio of helicopters squatting in the middle of a cluster of bunkers. He inched down to one hundred feet and rocked his wings. People scattered over the area started waving, raising rifles over their heads.
Jerry pulled up, bringing in his landing gear and flaps. Pete was silent until Jerry reached five thousand feet.
“What did you see?”
Jerry mulled it over. “The place was under attack.”
“So where’s that bandit we should smoke? I’m—“
“This is airborne Wendover CP. Don’t switch channels, I got your frequency over the secure comm link from your Wing. I say again—”
Jerry clicked his mike and interrupted the person breaking in on their frequency. “All right, all right, dammit. Pete—if this guy’s an unfriendly, switch to the frequency we agreed on earlier, right?”
“Button three, roger that.”
Jerry turned his attention back to the voice claiming to be the real Wendover CP. He held his ship in a gentle bank over Alpha Base. “Okay, Wendover. Prove to me that you are who you say you are.”
“I just spoke to Colonel Justine over the secure link and he gave me your Wing frequency. I added one band width, and here I am. But listen, those bozos on the ground are about to take off with part of Alpha Base’s devices.”
“Wait a minute—what devices? And where are you?”
The voice came back angrily. “You know as well as I that we can’t talk about what’s stored at Alpha Base—not over uncleared channels. And I’m not about to tell you where we are if you won’t assure me you believe me.”
Jerry hesitated; he quit speaking in clipped sentences as adrenaline rushed through his veins. “Look, how do I know you just didn’t stumble on this frequency? I made a pass over Alpha Base and everything appeared to be on the up and up—”
“Open your eyes! Did you see any rescue vehicles? Ambulances? Security police cars? Make a pass over by the runway and you’ll see that the access road is cratered. A flock of vehicles is trying to get across the desert to Alpha Base.”
Jerry pondered the information. Crap—why couldn’t he just get the easy ones? He wasn’t even a flight commander—just a captain flying fighters, on flight pay, a beautiful wife, two kids, and no alimony … things were supposed to be going great for him. He didn’t even have to think if he didn’t want to—the Air Force would do that for him.
And now he had to use “utmost discretion” to save the nation?
He snorted. “Pete, jump to the new frequency. Wendover, you stay put—I’ll be right back.”
Jerry clicked to the Wing frequency minus five. “Pete, what do you think?”
“I don’t know. You saw Alpha Base—it’s your call.”
“But—” He stopped. There’s no one else around, is there? Damned if I make the wrong choice. “Pete, flip back up to Wendover.” Jerry moved the radio once more. “Wendover?”
“Here.”
“I’m going to make one more pass. And if you’re not telling the truth, I’m hunting you down.”
Two clicks came over the speaker.
“Hold on, Pete. Keep her steady.”
“Roger that.”
Jerry pulled down to Alpha Base. He clicked back to the original frequency he and Pete rode in on. “Wendover, this is Falcon One. I’m making another pass—please step out and identify yourself.”
“That’s a rog, Falcon One. We’re waiting for your ID.”
As Jerry rolled in he spotted a dozen white barrels being pushed from one of the bunkers. The barrels were shoved onto one of the helicopters. As he dipped lower, the men pushing the barrels scattered. One hauled out what looked like a long pipe and pointed it at him.
“Holy shit! A missile!” He pulled back on the stick with his right hand, slapped the side of his fighter with his left hand to unload his decoy flares, and hit the afterburners, all in one motion.
The F-16 responded sluggishly. Jerry thought fast—he was moving too slow. Dumping his ordnance, he shot straight up. As the gee indicator pegged, he cut back on the thrust. Looking back over his shoulder, half the men were scattered over the ground from his wash and load that hit the ground.
“Jerry—what’s up?”
Jerry tried to keep his voice from shaking. “The bastards tried to bag me. They’re loading barrels into the helicopters.”
“This is Wendover CP—those are medical supplies, Falcon One. You spooked our men. They didn’t know you were coming. Sorry about the misunderstanding.”
“Pete, flip up to Wing plus one.” A moment passed, then, “You there, Pete?”
“Yeah. What do you think about that white barrel story?”
The airborne Wendover voice broke in. “Those, gentlemen, are the ‘devices’ stored at Alpha Base. Any other questions?”
Jerry was silent. His ten-year career as an Air Force officer flashed before him. Damn. What if he was wrong? What if there really was a rescue operation going on down there? But he couldn’t be wrong. He saw those barrels with his own eyes. And what else could they be but storage containers for nukes? He clicked the mike. “Airborne Wendover, what do you suggest?”
“Take out the helicopters.”
“There are people down there—”
“You think those buildings on fire is part of a joke? A hoax? How many men do you think have died trying to prevent what is happening right now?”
Jerry bit his lip. “What about the helicopter that’s being loaded?”
Silence, then: “You can’t set the devices off even if you hit them—”
“What!”
“Listen. Those things are safe. They were designed to survive fires and explosions, and can’t detonate unless they go through a complicated pre-firing sequence.”
Jerry’s head ached. “I don’t know, Wendover. It sounds too easy. If those things go off, there’s enough wallop there to take out Nevada and Utah.”
“But I just told you—”
“I don’t care what you just told me. How do I know you’re right?”
The radio was silent for a moment. “Falcon One?”
Jerry came back irritably. “Yeah?”
“How about this: you take out the two choppers that aren’t carrying the devices ASAP. We’ll land and take care of the other 53 on the
ground.”
Jerry mused it over. “Can you handle it?”
“Probably not. But unless you’ve got any other ideas, we’ll do it this way. And one more thing—how much fuel do you have?”
Jerry glanced at the heads-up display. His outboard tanks were nearly empty. But with his ordnance gone, he was set. “Plenty. We can loiter for another hour if we have to.”
“Good.” The voice from Wendover sounded grim. “Because if we don’t stop that chopper, you’ll have to take it out before it leaves.”
“But what about the nukes!”
“Listen, Falcon One. If that chopper gets away, we might as well hang it up. How would you like a bunch of crazies holding our nation hostage?”
Jerry nodded to himself. He clicked his microphone. “Pete?”
“Your call, lead. I’m just glad you’re in command. But that sounds damn fine to me.”
Jerry nodded. He flipped the switch arming his twin-barreled cannon; it was the only armament he had left. But as a true fighter pilot, he sincerely believed that going in for the kill with a missile—standing off twenty miles and not even seeing the enemy—was for wimps. With a gun he could smoke the SOB on his own turf.
Jerry clicked his mike. “Follow me in, wing. We’re cleared hot. I’ll go for the nearest 53 and you get the one at the far right.”
“That’s a rog, lead.”
Jerry pulled into the turn, breaking out of his bank. He screamed down to attack Alpha Base.
Colonel Renault swore at the radio. Vikki looked up from the copilot’s seat on his right.
“Do you think it will work?”
Renault tore off the headset. “I don’t think so.”
“So what do you think we should do?”
Renault stared out the cockpit. Vikki studied his face: his jawbone worked silently, as if he were grinding his teeth. He’s frustrated, she thought. And it didn’t help having Harding usurp his authority.
Renault broke her train of thought. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t like losing contact with those fighters and that other helicopter. No telling what they cooked up.”
Vikki shot a quick glance at Harding and his crew. They rolled white barrels out of the bunkers, lining them up in a queue. Only one of the helicopters had nukes in it.