Freefall

by Traci Hunter Abramson

  * * *

  Amy dialed the phone for the twentieth time in an attempt to connect with someone in London’s Center for Disease Control. Apparently everyone was so busy dealing with their three tragedies that no one was actually in the office to take her calls. She hung up after yet another unsuccessful attempt.

  She anxiously glanced up at the clock. Only seven more minutes before the three cars would reach the bridge. She knew it was unlikely that they could prove Abolstan responsible for the attacks in the next seven minutes, and she prayed silently that the Navy would succeed in destroying the bridge to eliminate any imminent threats until they could prove who had caused this nightmare.

  Her eyes swept the room, and she knew that the rest of the team was working just as hard. Each of them was concentrating on different aspects of the strike that would destroy the weapons plant, none of them paying attention to the news that hummed in the background. Amy let out a little sigh as she let herself look up at the television screen.

  In her mind, the most logical way to confirm that Dagan was responsible was to identify the biological agent that was used in the attack. Since they already had a sample of the deadly substance in the United States, all they should have to do was compare the sample with the weapon used today.

  She had already contacted the CDC, and they had faxed over their report of the drug to her as well as to their counterpart in London. The substance they had confiscated in Washington was a new derivative of some drug with a name she couldn’t begin to pronounce. Most of the information they had about it had come from a source in Abolstan that had caused the intelligence officer there to arrange for the meeting with the DCI.

  The report listed the various technical data that could be used to match their sample to samples being taken at the scene of the first attack. As she watched the television, a reporter came on the screen dressed in a hazmat suit. His voice was muffled as he pointed to the scene behind him, the site of the first attack. The camera showed several people working in the area, all wearing the required hazmat suits.

  With a flash of inspiration, Amy snatched up her phone once more. The call to her father’s secretary only lasted a minute, and two phone calls later she was speaking to the producer for the news broadcast she was currently watching. The beginnings of a smile lighted her face as the reporter signed off and the scene shifted to Edinburgh.

  When her phone rang two minutes later, she sighed with relief as she spoke to the reporter who had just been on camera. When she explained she needed to talk to one of the British scientists, he was eager to help. A minute later one of the scientists currently taking samples on site came on the line. Amy relayed how critical it was for them to identify their samples and compare them to the samples obtained from the attempted subway attack in DC. She hinted at the possibility of more attacks if they couldn’t gather the information quickly.

  Amy agreed to send her report from the CDC to their makeshift command center, pleased that the scientist promised to gather the initial analyses and make the comparisons immediately. With a little sigh, she leaned back and prayed that this would all be over soon.

  CHAPTER 32

  Kel hung up the phone and turned to face the rest of his team. “Our patrol was two minutes late. The cars had already crossed the bridge.”

  “Did they still take out the bridge?” Tristan asked.

  Kel shook his head. “They didn’t want to alert anyone that we’ve identified their location.” He pointed to the map. “Intel is trying to keep track of the three cars, but we only have about an hour before the first one gets to a heavily populated area. Once that happens, we’re going to be hard-pressed to keep tabs on them.”

  Brent leaned back against the table. “Then we’re going to have to plan a simultaneous attack on three moving targets as well as the military base.”

  Kel held up his notes. “Here are the projected routes of the vehicles. Let’s figure out when the best time to strike is so that we can keep this stuff away from the populated areas.”

  * * *

  The phone rang and Amy snatched it up, pleased to find that the British scientist was on the line. She grinned when she received the news and rattled off her email address so that he could transmit the official findings.

  “We’ve got our confirmation. The Brits have matched the substance used in the London attack with the samples we confiscated in DC.”

  Kel nodded his approval. “Call up to the XO and let him know. Let’s get the strike plan ready now. We don’t want to miss this time.”

  Ten minutes later they were all staring at the maps trying to see something that wasn’t there: the perfect timing. At any given time, at least one of the three cars would be near some kind of populated area, and they had no idea how much of the biological agent was being transported in each vehicle.

  “Where would the least civilian casualties occur?” Kel voiced the question that none of them wanted to hear, much less answer.

  “Right here.” Tristan tapped the route of the car on the northernmost route. “There’s a medium-sized town right beside the road, but the other two cars aren’t near any kind of populated area at that time.”

  Quinn shook his head with disgust. “I wish there was a way to get the villagers to leave so that they’d be out of the kill zone.”

  “Actually, I have an idea,” Brent said, breathing new life into the team. “When Amy and I were in Abolstan, we came across a village that had been abandoned just a few hours earlier because of a nearby battle. If we make it look like there’s fighting nearby, they should head the other direction.”

  “How do you plan to do that?” Amy asked.

  “A couple of well-placed missiles should do the trick,” Brent suggested. “In fact, we should probably do the same thing in Abolstan to get the villagers to move away from the kill zone when we go in to strike there.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Kel said, nodding in agreement. “Amy, call the XO and tell him we’re ready. Everyone get suited up and meet in the briefing room in five minutes. The rest of the pilots should already be in there standing by.”

  “What do you mean, ‘the rest of the pilots’?” Amy asked, apprehension shooting through her as understanding dawned. She had never considered that this squad would be going into combat with the other pilots on board.

  “We’ve got the most firsthand data, and we know more about the targets than any of these flyboys on board,” Kel explained. “That means we’re going along.”

  * * *

  Amy had never seen anything like it. Briefing the pilots had only taken about three minutes, but those three minutes had been charged with an excitement level Amy couldn’t compare to anything she had ever witnessed. These men were in essence going to war, and they were eager to do it. Not eager to kill, but eager to protect.

  She sensed that the images they had all seen on television that day probably fueled their need to get out and do something, and for them that something was to exact revenge in a way that could protect their country and so many others from experiencing anything like this again. Assignments were given out—who would take out which target, who would intercept any enemy fighters, and so on. Then suddenly they were dismissed.

  As the men filed out of the room, Amy caught a glimpse of Brent. She shifted uncomfortably when he returned her stare. Then he disappeared in the crowd filing out the door. Brent and Quinn had been tasked with firing the shots near the village by the military base to hopefully save innocent lives. She looked at the now-empty room, realizing that all she could do was pray that they would be successful and that they would all come home.

  * * *

  The sky was crystal clear, blue above and blue below all the way down to the Mediterranean. Brent had scored the pilot’s seat in the F-14 since he had been next on the training schedule, and Quinn was operating as his navigator in the seat behind him.

  “I always get stuck in the back seat,” Quinn complained grumpily as he looked over the complex instrument
ation he would use to help Brent achieve their objective. “How come you always get to fly on the real missions?”

  “Because it’s always my turn,” Brent said simply, suppressing a grin. He could always count on Quinn to keep him loose. “Time to intercept?”

  “Two minutes,” Quinn replied. “The bombers are in place and are thirty seconds behind us.”

  “That’s cutting it pretty close,” Brent observed.

  “We don’t want the base to have too much warning. We can’t be sure those antiaircraft guns aren’t already waiting for us.”

  “How long will we be in range of the guns?”

  “Fifteen seconds.” Quinn checked in with the other team members, and then suddenly the target was right before them.

  “Incoming!” Quinn shouted as the antiaircraft guns started firing. “Roll right!”

  Brent rolled to the right as bullets flew within inches of the belly of the plane. He made another turn to avoid the steady stream of ammunition. His heart pounded and his fear surfaced briefly before he pushed it aside. Seconds ticked by slowly as he used a combination of instinct, skill, and luck to evade the bullets sparking in the sky around him. Finally he made it out of range and picked his target, a large tree a half mile from the village. From the corner of his eye he saw one of the Navy pilots take out one nest of antiaircraft guns. “Missile away.”

  “Let’s get outta here,” Quinn said as the bombers came into view.

  Brent didn’t respond as he navigated out of the kill zone to rejoin the squadron that was flying cover. He was moving too fast to see if the villagers heeded their warning, and he hoped that the estimated size of the kill zone was accurate.

  Twenty seconds later, the bombs dropped and the military base ceased to exist.

  * * *

  Amy stood wide-eyed as she tried to decipher the pilots’ voices as they reported in. She stood in CIC watching the intricate details that went into running a military operation. Each officer seemed to know exactly what to do, who to report to, and how to disseminate their information.

  The first round of cheers startled her, but she shared in the joy when she heard that the military base had been completely destroyed.

  The next few minutes seemed to take forever. Amy found it difficult to understand the overlaying messages as the pilots were given the precise locations of their targets. As she watched, officers communicated with members of the intelligence community to help guide the fighter pilots while also tracking a squadron of enemy planes being sent to intercept them.

  The first two suspicious vehicles were neutralized just as they reached the Turkish border. Seconds later, the plane targeting the third car missed its objective as it came under fire from enemy planes. Amy understood little about what was happening except that several Navy planes were in the middle of a dogfight as the third car passed over the Turkish border. She turned her attention back to the radar screen where Commander Dunnan was now hovering. Communications overlapped as enemy planes were shot down, a tense voice rattled off a series of technical data, and the tracking continued on the third and final car. Tension was rising rapidly, and Amy struggled to understand the situation.

  Suddenly, Dunnan turned to Amy. “Have all of your boys finished their weapons qualifications?”

  Amy nodded. “What’s wrong?”

  “Enemy fighters have intercepted our planes that were after the third car. I’m diverting your team to finish up the job,” the XO told her. “Who had the best accuracy rating from your team?”

  Amy’s heart lurched into her throat as she answered. “Lieutenant Miller.”

  Dunnan turned from her and rattled off the instructions Amy feared. Brent was being sent to intercept the last remaining threat, and in so doing, would have to pass through a war zone.

  * * *

  “I don’t see the target,” Brent said as he passed over the road heading toward the Turkish border. On his starboard wing, Seth was piloting another F-14 with Tristan in the back seat.

  Behind him, Quinn rattled off the newly received directions and then checked the road himself. “I don’t see it either.”

  Seth’s voice came over the radio. “All I see is a truck up ahead.”

  “That doesn’t match the information we received.” Once again Brent studied the terrain below. Miles of open space stretched from the road to a ridge of mountains rising in the east. To the west the Mediterranean Sea glistened below them. Brent couldn’t fathom how the car could have possibly disappeared from sight. “This doesn’t make any sense.” He spotted the semi-truck and considered. “The car has to be inside that truck.”

  “It’s possible,” Quinn admitted from the back seat.

  “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we’ve already crossed into Turkey, and we aren’t authorized to take out a truck.” Seth’s voice of reason came over the radio.

  “Then get authorization,” Brent suggested as he checked their location. “And you’d better make it quick. We only have ten minutes before the next town.”

  * * *

  “How could we have lost it?” Dunnan’s voice was tense as he studied the map in front of him.

  Unsure of her current role in the situation, Amy stepped closer and looked at the map as well. Just sixteen minutes before, the planes had confirmed their target before diverting to engage enemy fighters. Three minutes ago, Brent had found no trace of the car. She considered Brent’s analysis that the car was likely inside the tractor trailer and set about looking for any other possibilities.

  Beginning from where they lost contact, Amy studied the terrain. The road followed the coastline of the Mediterranean, so there weren’t any places to hide on that side of the road. On the other side was open desert leading to a mountainous region. Again, in the short span of road where they could have lost their target, there weren’t any roads branching off of the main route. In fact, the only place they could have lost sight of the car was a single tunnel where the mountains abutted the road.

  “When did that truck show up?” Amy asked finally.

  Dunnan didn’t respond, but the officer who was communicating with intelligence turned to answer. “It’s been in front of our target the whole time.”

  “I assume it was going slower than the car we were targeting.”

  “Yeah,” the officer responded. “One of our concerns was whether or not to let the car pass it before striking.”

  Amy turned to the XO. “Commander, the car was probably loaded into the truck inside this tunnel.” She tapped on the map. “Either that, or the car is hiding in the tunnel.”

  “We have to confirm where the car is before we strike.”

  “We don’t have time,” Amy reminded him.

  Dunnan turned to face her. “What do you suggest?”

  “This stretch of road is isolated,” Amy started, tapping her finger to the map. “If we take out the road right here in front of the truck, we’ll stop the truck’s forward motion, and then we can take out the road right before the tunnel to keep it from reversing course.” Amy pointed at her suggested targets. “If the car is hiding inside the tunnel then it can’t go anywhere either.”

  Reluctantly, Dunnan nodded. “Both sections of road are close enough to the mountain that a vehicle shouldn’t be able to get by,” he admitted. “That would give us time to send a couple of helicopters in to check out the tunnel.”

  Amy nodded. “Our troops would have to be outfitted with hazmat suits, just in case, but I doubt the driver is going to release the biological agent . . . unless he plans to kill himself too.”

  “Which is definitely a good possibility.” The XO turned and relayed the suggestion to the captain. A moment later, the locations of the new targets were sent to Brent and Seth. At the same time, two fighter helicopters were deployed to help neutralize the final threat.

  Two minutes later, Brent’s voice came over the speaker confirming that the road had been destroyed in the two locations.

  Amy waited anxiously as the mi
nutes drew out while Brent was among the fighter pilots flying cover for the two helicopters entering the area. Suddenly, Brent’s voice came over the radio. “Target acquired!”

  “Where did it come from?” Dunnan asked one of his officers.

  “It just emerged from the tunnel, sir.”

  A split second later, Brent’s voice sounded again. “Missile away!”

  A brief moment passed before one of the officers informed the XO, “The target was destroyed.”

  “Alert the Turkish border patrol of the situation. Make sure they know about the truck stranded out there,” Commander Dunnan instructed. He turned to Amy, who was still trying to comprehend that the threat was really over. “You and your boys did a good job today.”

  “Thank you, sir.” A surge of satisfaction flowed through her as she fought back a smile. “I guess I’d better get out of your way.”

  She took two steps before the XO called out to her.

  “Hey, Whitmore.” He waited until she turned and then said simply, “Welcome aboard.”

  CHAPTER 33

  Brent didn’t realize he was looking for her until he found her. Amy stood on deck looking out at the dark ocean, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She had changed out of her fatigues and was in her own clothes again: jeans and a T-shirt. Above her the flight deck was quiet, at least for now.

  She rubbed her arms against the chill of the wind coming off of the water but made no move to go inside. He considered leaving her alone, but his body moved forward anyway. He was only a few feet away from her when she sensed his presence and turned to face him.

  Surprise registered in her eyes, but her voice was completely professional when she spoke. “Did Kel need me for something?”

  “No.” Brent shook his head. “I doubt he’ll need anything until morning.”

  She nodded and turned to look back over the ocean. They stood there in silence until finally Amy turned back toward him. “I guess I should go in and get some sleep.”