by Wolf Wootan
“You’ve done the procedure several times with that team, Sara. Can you tell everyone here how it goes?” asked Hatch.
“In theory, the steps are fairly simple. The pilot hovers over the correct point on the aircraft and we open the hatch on Shadow and use the laser drill to drill a small hole for our flexible video snake. We take a quick look and try to determine that no highjacker is wired with explosives with a deadman’s trigger, or holding a grenade with the pin pulled. We also try and count the highjackers. This can’t be a real accurate step, but you make an educated guess as to whether to proceed. There’s no way to get a look at the cockpit. You just have to wing it.
“If you decide to go for it, we insert the flexible gas injector into the hole and pump the aircraft full of the new CX3 gas. This should immobilize everyone on board in about 15 seconds as the A/C spreads it around. We take another look and make sure everyone is out cold. The next step requires plugging that hole with a spot weld using the laser welder/cutter tool and then moving the Shadow to the entry point over the rear galley.”
She paused and took a sip of coffee.
“Using the laser cutter, you cut a round hole in just the right spot and send one or two people into the plane—wearing our newest self-contained HASMAT suits—and neutralize the highjackers. If they are out cold, as they should be, tie ’em up and gag ’em. Then you go to the A/C controls and vent outside air in to clean out the gas. Using one of our special meters, you can tell when the gas is vented. At this point, what you do next depends on whether the plane is surrounded by good guys or bad guys.”
“In this case, it will be Cuban soldiers—definitely bad guys,” interjected Hatch.
“The best thing in that case is to weld the hole shut with the laser welder and get the plane the hell out of there before anyone knows you have control of the aircraft,” said Sara.
“But the pilots are knocked out, too,” said Syd.
“That’s right, Syd,” answered Sara. “There are three options at that point: wait until they wake up, not a good option; one of the people we put on the plane is able to fly a 757; or we use the fast-acting antidote we have on the 757 pilots to speed up their recovery.”
“Let’s take this one step at a time and see what we have. First of all, do we have a laser cutter/welder here and a CX3 delivery system?” asked Hatch.
“Yes, we do,” answered Smitty.
“Can Smitty do the maneuvers required, Sara?” asked Hatch.
“Oh, yes! He flew the feasibility flights for me in Arizona. But that was in daylight. Can you do it in the dark, Smitty?” asked Sara.
“I’ve got the eyes of a cat, Sara! Besides, I’ll use the night vision equipment. It should be like a butterfly landing on your butt,” chortled Smitty.
They all laughed at that.
“OK, we’ve got the equipment and a Shadow pilot. Who else do we need?” queried Hatch.
“As a minimum, you need people on the Weapons Stations for the usual reasons—watching the skin status, checking for radar lock-ons. You need someone to operate the laser equipment and the mini-crane. And you need someone to go down into the 757, neutralize the assholes, and get the plane off the ground,” Sara summed up.
“Smitty, can any of your ground mechanics operate the laser equipment?” asked Hatch.
“Several of them. The best is Carlos Garcia, plus he speaks Spanish, which could come in handy. He can also double as Engineer in case we have some sort of failure.”
Hatch thought for a moment as he sipped his coffee.
“Sara, do you have a schematic that shows the exact spots on the 757 to drill the peep hole, and where to cut the entry hole,” Hatch queried.
“Better than that. I have it in my training files and can display it on the Shadow’s consoles.”
“Great! Now we need some candidates for entering the 757.”
“I suggest we use two people, in case there is trouble once they get on board. Bruno, you could be one,” said Sara.
“Sounds like fun,” laughed Bruno. “You guys usually don’t let me go on these fun missions. Do I get to wear one of those space suits?”
“A must! Otherwise, the CX3 would knock you out, too!”
“I could go in with Bruno,” said Shirley.
“I was thinking of you for the Defensive Systems Station, Shirley, and you could switch to Offensive if the need arises. I was thinking of flying copilot,” said Hatch.
“Syd can operate those systems on Shadow-5 as well as I can. She’s been training with me for days,” stated Shirley.
Hatch looked at Syd with a raised eyebrow.
Syd read his body language and shrugged, “I was bored, and Shirley asked me to keep her company. I hope I didn’t break some rule.”
“Syd’s not on the payroll, and besides, she’s a guest. I can’t ask her to fly another mission. Iran was different,” said Hatch, still looking at Syd.
“You’re not really serious about this mission are you, Hatch?” asked Syd. “I thought you were just ‘what-iffing.’”
“If we have all the right pieces, I’m for giving it a try. If, when we get to Cuba, the environment is all wrong, I’ll call it off. I would like to rescue those people if I can, plus there is a very sensitive document on that plane which the President of the United States wants badly.”
Syd continued to stare into his eyes and saw that he was dead serious. He was going to Cuba if he could put together a team. Unfortunately, without her, he was a person short.
“Then ask me,” she said.
“Ask you what?”
“Ask me to go.”
“I can’t do that again, Syd. This could be very dangerous!”
“More dangerous than a building blowing up under us?” she queried.
“No, but …”
“Shirley, can I operate the Shadow-5 systems?” asked Syd.
“As well as I can, Syd,” answered Shirley.
“That’s settled then. I will be the Weapons Systems Officer. When do we leave?” asked Syd with a smile.
Hatch wanted to argue with her, but knew it would be a losing battle. Besides, he really wanted her along, even though he knew he was putting her in danger again. She had forced his hand, though, and he did not like that.
“You win, Syd. Let’s say takeoff is 10:30. Smitty, you can see that the equipment is loaded and Shadow-5 is pre-flighted. Brief Carlos. Bruno, you and Shirley go get fitted for the new HASMAT suits. Let’s meet in the library at 2200 for a final run through,” said Hatch.
As they all got up to leave, Hatch turned to Syd and said so no one could hear him, “My room. Now!”
• • •
Once they were in Hatch’s room with the door locked again, Hatch said to Syd, “I don’t like you putting me on the spot like that, Syd! You shouldn’t be going on this mission!”
“Oh, pooh! Did I hurt your little ego? I had great plans for us tonight, and you get a call from the President, and BINGO! You’re off to Cuba! I’ve been waiting days for you to get back! So, I’m going with you!” she spat out.
He softened and said, “Syd, I just don’t want to keep putting you in danger!”
“Hell! Danger is my middle name, remember? If you’re going into danger, then so am I. I really do know those systems. If I didn’t, I certainly wouldn’t go and put everyone at risk.”
She was pacing again, he noticed.
“I certainly didn’t plan this Cuba thing. I was looking forward to taking you home tonight. Er … what kind of plans had you made for tonight?” he asked sheepishly.
“Oh, a little drinky-poo in front of the fireplace, a little smooching. I was even thinking of dusting off my diaphragm if I thought you were up to it, old man,” she giggled.
“God, I hate Cuba!” he groaned.
“But you’ll go, and I’ll go with you. I’ll need a flight suit, boots, and gloves. Can you have someone send some gear here? I’ll change here, unless you object,” she said sweetly.
“Oh,
no! I’ll call Mrs. C. right now!”
While he was on the phone, Syd wandered to his small wet bar. There would be no more drinking tonight, so she got a Pepsi out of his small refrigerator and popped the top.
“Can I get you a cold one?” she asked.
“I’ll share yours. I don’t suppose your diaphragm is in your purse by any chance?” he leered.
“No, and if it was, we wouldn’t be using it right now. We have to be ready to go in a little over an hour. When I finally get you to bed, there is a chance that it could end up being a one-night-stand. So, just in case, I want to get a whole night’s worth, not just a quickie. You know, you’re not very reliable—we haven’t even had our second date yet. You’re always running off somewhere: Israel, Istanbul, Iran, Langley, Cuba. Jeez!”
He grabbed her and shut her up with a long, passionate kiss. A knock came at the door and Eddie handed over Syd’s flight gear to Hatch. He put it on one of the beds.
“At least we can get you out of these fragile clothes so I can grope you some more,” he said.
She sat down on the bed and took off her black, soft leather boots and her knee-high hose. She went to his closet and got some hangars. She stripped her skirt and blouse off and hung them up. Hatch could only stare at her as she walked around in her black silk bra and black silk bikini panties.
“Are you sure about this, Hatch? You’re not getting laid before we go to Cuba. I’ll get dressed right now if this is bothering you—me sitting around in my undies,” teased Syd.
“Don’t you dare! Let me drink in your beauty for a little longer!”
She wandered to the bed where her flight gear was. She ran her fingers over the super-soft cloth of the flight suit. She was suffering from a huge adrenalin rush—not only because she was walking around in her underwear in front of Hatch, but also because in a short while she would be airborne in an aircraft right out of a science fiction book. She would be pulling triple duty: Defensive and Offensive Weapons Officer, and Medic. Could she really do this? They would be relying on her more than they did on the flight into Iran. Also, this procedure they were going to attempt had never been done before by any of them.
Hatch was having an adrenalin rush of his own looking at her butt as she leaned over the bed. He walked over to her and put his arms around her, a hand on each silk-clad breast. She straightened up and leaned back against him.
“What are you thinking about,” he asked hoarsely.
“I was wondering what would happen if we lost the skin while hovering over that airliner, surrounded by Cuban soldiers,” she answered. “We’re going in an untested bird with an untrained team to do an impossible task. And—I know what you’re thinking about! You had a choice: all night with me, or go save a plane full of innocent people.”
She laughed when she said it.
“It wasn’t an easy decision, but …”
“Of course it was! You made the right decision! I’m just teasing you. The highjacking won’t wait, but I will,” she said.
“I’m glad to hear that! When we get back, we’ll spend all day together,” he said, running his hand inside her bra.
“I was also thinking, Hatch, that maybe you would feel better if Shirley was on the Weapons console. She is much more experienced. I could go into the airliner with Bruno. You’ll have to agree I’m trained for that!”
“Not on your life! I don’t even want you taking this risk at all! I should refuse to let you go!”
She removed his hand from her bra and turned around to face him.
“You know you don’t have a choice. You’re short-handed even with me going. I did my job last time, and I’ll do it this time, too!” she exclaimed, putting her arms around his neck.
“I know that! That’s not my concern. I just keep exposing you to danger!”
“It’s my choice, but I do wish Sara could be there. It’s her procedure. Now, shut up and kiss me! It’s time to get dressed,” she ordered.
He pulled her to him and, while their tongues dueled, he ran his hand down over her flat stomach and into the top of her bikini panties, over her pubic hair and into her crotch. Her tongue became more frantic in its search for his. She did not make him remove his hand.
She broke the kiss, and gasping for breath, panted, “You are making this harder than it needs to be. We really have to get dressed!”
He removed his hand and gave her a peck on the forehead.
“You’re right. I apologize. I couldn’t help myself. Let’s go save that airliner so we can get to more important things! First, I have to call the President and tell him to hold off on any action for now. I don’t need a U.S. skirmish with Cuba getting in our way.”
Chapter 21
Shadow-5, Over Cuba
Saturday, August 11, 2001
12:55 A.M.
With the invisible Shadow-5 hovering at 5,000 feet, its crew had watched the highjacked airliner land at Jose Marti International Airport in Havana. The 757 had taxied back to the take-off position at the end of the runway before shutting down the engines. The Shadow-5 crew had been monitoring the tower’s voice channels and could hear clearly the chatter between the pilot and the person with authority in the tower. The pilot had said that the highjackers demanded to be refueled, and wanted an Auxiliary Power Unit hooked to the aircraft so they could use the A/C, radios, and lights without running down the batteries. They also ordered food and drinks to be delivered to the aircraft. The discourse was in English.
By 12:55 A.M., the food had been delivered, and the fuel truck was pulling away. Shadow-5 was still hovering at 5,000 feet over the highjacked 757. All console screens had been switched to night-vision mode and the scene below them had an eerie, green cast.
About 300 yards to the left of the 757, some 100 Cuban soldiers stood at ease in four ranks. Several military trucks carrying search lights were positioned around the area, lighting up the aircraft and the surrounding tarmac. Several hundred civilians and media people jostled each other restlessly, waiting for something to happen. A television camera van had its camera panning the aircraft and the crowd, no doubt giving the world a live account of the situation.
“I wonder where they’re goin’ next,” drawled Smitty.
“No where, if we do our thing right,” answered Hatch. “I wish those lights weren’t so bright.”
Syd had the left screen of her tri-screen console displaying various Defensive System parameters. The parameters she glanced at the most often were the skin status and the radar sweeps from external sources. She still remembered the tension they all experienced when they lost invisibility over Iran. It would be nearly fatal if it happened during their hover over the 757.
Her middle screen displayed local weather parameters from the Triple Eye Communications weather satellite system, and the rightmost screen displayed the green world below Shadow-5. As expected, the Cuban authorities were being quite cooperative with the highjackers, since they wanted nothing to do with this international incident.
From his copilot’s seat, Hatch surveyed the scene below on his console. There was a high layer of clouds, so there was no moon, which pleased him. He switched his audio channel to one that was set up to communicate with Sara, who was standing by in the library war room at Klaus Haus.
“Sara! We’re over the target,” he said. “Search lights illuminate the target. Essentially no wind. Cloud cover at 20,000 feet, no moon.”
“It would be better if you had some wind and noise to cover your approach,” she answered. “You said earlier that they were at the end of the runway. That means you could kick up some dust devils. Any indication that they are leaving?”
“Not yet. I hope not. This is our only shot at them,” he answered. “We’re not fast enough to follow them anywhere if they takeoff.”
“The only thing in your favor is darkness. Even with those search lights, you should have a dark background. Do they have any news choppers in the air? That would be perfect cover for you—noise and wind creat
ed by another chopper,” Sara advised.
“No, just a news van. Hang on, Sara.”
He switched to intercom and said, “Syd, do you have any aircraft, especially choppers, anywhere in the area?”
“Hold a sec,” she said.
She switched her center screen to search radar and checked all targets that she was picking up. She had a bogie at 45,000 feet, 500 miles per hour—probably an airliner inbound to Miami. A stationary target was 15 miles away, out over the water at 2,000 feet.
That could be a chopper. If it is, I wonder what it’s doing out there.
She switched her audio channel to the civilian channel and heard chatter in Spanish. She had not spoken Spanish in quite awhile, and they were talking too fast for her to pick up much.
“Carlos, this is Syd. Could you switch to channel 47 and tell me what they’re saying? They’re speaking too fast for me.”
“Sure, Syd. Hang on.”
Syd told Hatch she was checking on a bogie and to standby.
Carlos listened for a couple of minutes, then said, “That’s a conversation between a news chopper from Miami—Channel 7—trying to get permission to come into Cuban airspace and film the highjacking. The Cubans are saying no dice.”
“Thanks, Carlos. Did you hear that, Hatch? I have a target about 15 miles off the coast. That could be the Channel 7 chopper.”
“Thanks, Syd. How’s the skin holding up?” replied Hatch.
“Still in the green, thank God!” exclaimed Syd.
Hatch went back to Sara and explained the situation.
“That chopper would give you the environment you need. Too bad the fucking Cubans won’t cooperate!” spouted Sara.
“I have an idea! Maybe some arms can be twisted,” replied Hatch. “I’ll call you back.”
He took his Blue Phone out of the pocket on his left thigh and hit the speed dial number for the President of the United States. When the phone was answered immediately, Hatch said, “This is Bob, Mr. President.”
“Hello, Bob. The highjackers are on the ground in Cuba,” said the President.
“I know, sir. There is a possibility of recovering the aircraft without casualties if I could get your help. There is a Channel 7 news chopper out of Miami off the coast of Cuba right now trying to get permission to come into Cuban airspace and cover the highjacking, but the Cubans won’t allow it. I was wondering if you could twist their arms—in the interest of the ongoing normalization talks—and get them to allow it,” said Hatch.