Cinch Knot

by Ron Walden

  “I’ll buy you a beer later,” he said; then changed frequency to talk with the control tower at Deadhorse.

  “Top Rock, this is Slapshot. Do we have orders from Command?”

  “They do not have any notification of Russian aircraft in that vicinity. Do not engage them again unless they try to approach land. Repeat. Do not engage unless they try to approach land. Orbit there until they can get you some help.”

  “Roger, Top Rock.”

  Major Iniskin was still trying to comprehend what had taken place. Finally he looked through the canopy at his wingman and ordered, “I don’t know what happened. I did not select canon operate—only target acquisition. Test your targeting switch.”

  Popov nodded to acknowledge; then set his switches to target acquisition. When he pressed the trigger, to record the radar picture of a centered target, the chatter and vibration of firing canons were felt through his craft and the fiery tails of tracer bullets could be seen dancing toward the surface of the Arctic Ocean. He immediately released the trigger and shut down the arming system.

  “Mother of Stalin! What caused such a serious malfunction in both aircraft?”

  “I do not know. We have a mission to complete. Let us finish our job and return for fuel. We will search for answers when we are on the ground in our own country.”

  “Are you certain we should continue with the mission? Under the circumstances it seems prudent to return home now.”

  Iniskin was adamant.

  “We did not come this far to be this close and yet return home while we still have the capability of completing our mission. Assume combat formation; we are making a run at our target.”

  The Eagle flight from Galena had gone directly to the circling tanker to head off the two fighters sighted on the radar. It had taken almost a half hour to intercept the Russians. As the F-15s approached, the two Foxbats disengaged from the tanker and turned west toward their homeland. The two Eagles followed the fighters while the “May” turned to the north and further into international airspace. The Russian fighters were just entering their own airspace when the call came to break the pursuit and return to help the F-16s east of Barrow. “Contact the tanker for fuel,” Top Rock ordered.

  Slapshot was orbiting over the shoreline at 6,000 feet. He had visual contact with the two Foxbats. He was on the radio to Top Rock the instant the invaders changed course for the shoreline.

  “Top Rock, the hostile are descending and increasing velocity. On their present course they’re headed for Pump Station number 1. They’ve crossed the shoreline. I’m engaging, repeat, I’m engaging.”

  The F-16 responded to full military power as the pilot pointed the nose down to intercept the lead intruder. “You are cleared to engage. Be aware of civilian personnel and property in your path.” The voice was that of the Colonel responsible for assembling all the approvals needed to engage an enemy, the ANRDO.

  Iniskin had turned on his bomb targeting systems and was now lined up on the pump station. Popov was 50 yards to his right and was still unsure about the wisdom of the attack. He was distracted by his thoughts when he heard the high pitch generated by gunsight radar of an attacking F-16. Iniskin would not be swayed from his mission, but continued on a track that would put his payload on its target. This was, after all, in spite of the incident with the guns, only a training exercise.

  Slapshot waited until the MIG-25s were over open tundra, and then he squeezed the trigger. He saw the stitches of destruction sewing up the back of the MIG. There was immediate smoke and flame. The stricken aircraft suddenly snapped to the left and nosed almost vertical toward the ground. The American pilot pulled the nose up and added throttle, making a hard left bank in an attempt to gain position on the other fighter. It was too late; the Russian turned inside him and passed under and slightly behind the Falcon. Then, instead of attacking, he throttled behind the right wing of Slapshot’s fighter as though flying in close formation.

  Captain, “Slapshot,” Spencer was amazed to look out the right side of his canopy and see the Russian raising his hands above his helmet in a gesture of surrender. He pointed a finger toward the Deadhorse airport, showing he wanted the Russian to land there.

  “Top Rock, this is Slapshot. One MIG destroyed and the other wants to surrender. I am escorting him to Deadhorse. Better have someone there to arrest this guy.”

  “Roger, Slapshot. Oh, yeah! Dragonfly reported on the ground and is okay.”

  “Thanks, Top Rock. Switching to Deadhorse frequency.”

  Eagle One and Eagle Two arrived just in time to see the smoking MIG spin into the tundra and were speeding to aid Slapshot when they saw Popov maneuver into position on his wing. Eagle Two dropped back for weapon separation while Eagle One edged into position on the right side of the Foxbat. Flanked by the two Americans, the Russian flew a direct route and approach to the Deadhorse airport. Slapshot was the first to land with the Russian only seconds behind. The two Eagles from Galena circled above the scene until the canopy of the MIG opened and its occupant climbed down to surrender to the waiting uniformed Borough police officers.

  “Eagle flight,” Top Rock relayed the orders. “Refuel and return to Galena. All other intruders are off the screen.”

  “Roger, Top Rock,” the two fighters banked to the south.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The events of the past few days had an exhausting effect on Roger and Gwen. The heat and humidity of Washington were not making it any easier. The last 24 hours had gone from hectic to frantic. Both had worked through the night compiling information gathered in interrogations, from statements of suspects in Arizona, Alaska, and in Washington D.C.. They had just finished briefing the newly formed investigative team at FBI headquarters.

  As they were leaving the office together, Gwen’s hair brushed against Roger’s cheek. He could smell the perfume he had become familiar with the last few days. He enjoyed working with Gwen and found her company a pleasant and exciting experience. The touch of her hair and fragrance of her presence triggered Roger to voice what he had been thinking. His words caught in his throat and wouldn’t come out as he stammered, “I…uh…I don’t know how to say this…any better, but Gwen, I like being with you…as they say in the movies, I’m attracted to you.”

  Gwen slipped her arm through Roger’s. She gave it a little squeeze and laid her head momentarily on his shoulder. “I feel the same way.”

  “Good. Let’s spend some quiet time together. After we change and rest, we could spend the afternoon swimming and relaxing.”

  “Sounds wonderful. Where can we swim without having to fight a crowd?”

  “As a matter of fact, a friend of mine owns a house on the Virginia side. It has a pool. He said I could use it any time. This weekend he’s out of town on assignment.” They stopped at the car door, standing only inches apart.

  “I’d like that very much.” She paused while Roger opened the car door—then turned to face him. “I like you, too.” she said and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

  It was late afternoon when Roger called Gwen. “Did I get you up?”

  “No, I just finished my shower and was thinking about coffee. Is the swim still on?”

  “Definitely. I have a pot of coffee here; why don’t you come down and we’ll enjoy a cup. I’ll call John and Dan from here. After I fill them in, we can go for a ride in the country.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  As she combed out her wet hair she thought to herself, “the feelings I have for Roger have been dead since…I like it, it’s nice to feel them again.”

  Roger answered the door, smiled and handed her a cup of coffee.

  “Ummmm, just what I need,” she said.

  “Mr. Sutter, Roger Dorfmann’s on line two.” It had only been a couple of days since they had spoken, it seemed much longer.

  “Roger. How are things in the big city?”

  “Good afternoon, John. Well, our four party goers said they’d like to cooperate. They were
reluctant at first but, with a little persuasion, saw it our way. Hopefully, they’ll have influence in Congress. Copies of all reports will be forwarded to you for review. How are things going there?”

  “A few problems have surfaced, but I think we have the upper hand, at least for the moment. You heard about Dan being shot again, didn’t you?”

  “No, what the hell happened? Is he all right?”

  “Yes, he’s okay. Some of Bergstrom’s men kidnapped Dan’s wife. They took her out into the desert and planned to kill Dan and her when he came to get her. There was a gunfight and Dan got hit in the leg. It’s just a flesh wound, but he’s more determined now than ever to get Bergstrom.”

  “How is Mrs. Webster?” Gwen asked.

  “Oh, Hi, Gwen. Didn’t know you were on the line. Beth is okay. She has some bruises and scrapes from the ordeal, but she’s all right. She’s a neat lady; Dan’s lucky to have her.”

  “That’s what I understand. I haven’t had the chance to meet her. I’m looking forward to it, though.”

  “I see the kidnaped Arabs have been returned home. Anything else I should know about?” Roger asked.

  John was silent a moment—thinking. “I can’t think of anything. I hope to have enough hard evidence to get a warrant for Bergstrom by tomorrow. I’ll let you know when we’re going to serve it, so you can be here, if you want.”

  “Thanks John. Gwen and I are taking the rest of the day off. We deserve it. Talk with you tomorrow.”

  “Bye, John. Give Dan our best.”

  “See you soon,” Gwen added.

  There was little conversation in the car on the way to Virginia. The drive wore on and each began to relax and enjoy the scenery. As they neared their destination, Gwen began to ask questions about the area and the types of trees she saw. She marveled at the small farms and old buildings. Roger did his best to be an adequate tour guide and teased her about not being able to identify a maple tree.

  Upon arrival at the country home, the two made a short trip around the grounds to a see the beautiful old farm. When they finally came back to the house, Roger made iced tea while Gwen changed into a swim suit and robe. She was lounging on the patio, beside the pool, when Roger joined her. He poured two glasses of tea—then began to chuckle.

  “What’s so funny?” Gwen asked. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “No. I’m laughing at us.” He chuckled again. “Our skins are so white we look like we came from another planet. I guess Alaskans don’t get much time to sit in the sun and get a tan.”

  “You’re right,” Gwen was laughing now. “It’s a good thing you mentioned it. We had better be careful of the sun. If we stay in it very long, we’ll look like lobsters.”

  They swam, lounged, talked, and drank iced tea. Gwen was quite surprised at how easy it was to tell Roger about her life. Roger seldom talked about himself, but enjoyed telling Gwen about his career and how he had met Dan. It was a pleasant, albeit too short an afternoon. As they packed the car to leave, Gwen turned to face her friend. He looked into her eyes for a long moment, then pulled her close and kissed her.

  “You are becoming very special in my life,” he said.

  “And you in mine,” she replied.

  There was a message waiting at the desk when they returned to the hotel. “Call the office immediately. Urgent.”

  Roger used the lobby telephone to contact his office. “Something has happened. We have to go to the office.”

  Lou Zimmer, the head of the newly formed task force, met them at the door.

  “Where have you been? We’ve been trying to contact you for over 2 hours. There has been an air strike in Alaska. We’ve been holding up the briefing until you got here.”

  The key members of the task force were all present and took seats at a large conference table. Roger and Gwen found seats next to Zimmer, near the head of the table. The room became quiet as Zimmer’s aide got the nod. “Go ahead with your report.”

  “What I have here is a preliminary report from NORAD and the Air Force. I can’t read the entire report, but I can give you a condensed version. Then, if you have questions, I’ll do my best to fill in any blanks.

  “At 1309 hours, Washington, D.C. time, today, three aircraft were detected by our radar. Their course indicated they were from Russia, and were skirting the north coast of Alaska. Later, it was learned there were five, and not three, aircraft in the flight. The largest of the aircraft was a Russian Il-38, May. The other four were MIG-25, Foxbats. The insignia painted on the aircraft was that of the Soviet Union, not Russian—Soviet. The aircraft, in very tight formation, entered U.S. airspace and descended below the radar coverage. After exactly 1 minute, two of the aircraft climbed back into radar range and flew back into international airspace to refuel from the May.

  “Two F-15 Eagles were scrambled from Galena to intercept and identify the intruders, at the refueling point. When they got there, the May headed north and the MIGs headed west, toward Russian territory.

  “Two F-16 Falcons were training close to Barrow, so they were sent to back up the F-15s. As it turned out, the Falcons intercepted the undetected MIGs just north of the Colville River on the Arctic Ocean. The U.S. fighters had been on a training mission and had no missiles, but did have live ammunition in their guns. The MIGs were on a course for the Prudhoe Bay oil fields. They did not answer the international hailing frequencies. As the Falcons closed in to turn them back, the MIGs turned in the direction of the F-16s and fired. One F-16 was damaged but was able to land at the Deadhorse airport. The pilot is okay.

  “When it was determined that the other two MIGs were returning to Russia, the F-15s were sent to help the Falcons get the two Foxbats out of U.S. airspace. It is curious though, after hitting one of the F-16s, the Soviet planes climbed up and circled for several minutes. We don’t know why they didn’t immediately press the attack. The remaining F-16 positioned himself above the MIGs to keep them away from the shoreline.

  “The two MIGs resumed a course that would put them in line with Pump Station Number One of the Trans Alaska Pipeline. The F-16 pilot did his job and took out the lead MIG. Then another strange thing occurred. The second MIG surrendered. He was escorted by the F-16 and the Eagles to the Deadhorse airport and forced to land. The Soviet pilot is in custody and being taken to Fairbanks for interrogation.

  “The only damage to U.S. aircraft is minor and repairable. The Soviet MIG was a total loss and the pilot was killed. Are there any questions?” There were none.

  Zimmer spoke. “The State Department and the President wants a report as soon as possible to decide what action, if any, to take in response to this attack. Roger, you’ve been in on this from the beginning and probably have the best handle on it.” Roger scowled, and stared at the table. He pushed his chair back and stood, placing a gentle hand on the shoulder of Gwen, giving reassurance and confidence to both.

  “Gentlemen,” he began. “We are dealing with the worst economic disaster in this country since the great depression. The entire industrialized world has been dancing to a tune played by a coalition of unscrupulous, powerful men. We have little control over General Kisishkin whom, we believe, is responsible for the abduction of the royal Arab families. He is holding the trans Russian pipeline hostage and dictating the price of petroleum in Europe. We have little control over Mr. Yamamata in Japan. His companies control the majority of the tankers and petroleum shipping in the Pacific. He also owns the company we believe is responsible for building the magnetic pig containing the nuclear device used in the attempt to destroy the pipeline terminal in Valdez, Alaska. Each of these men must be dealt with by their respective governments. But we have in this country, possibly the most dangerous member of the coalition. We must deal with him.

  “Nels Bergstrom is a powerful, ruthless man. He’s made billions of dollars in the drug trade and we’ve not been able to stop him. He has converted much of that drug money into legitimate business, mostly oil. He’s corrupted politicians and businessme
n. He’s paid off policemen. He’s ordered the execution of, we don’t know how many. And we have never been able to assemble enough hard evidence against him.

  “We are sure he’s the mastermind. He devised the plan to use a nuclear bomb in the pipeline. He’s a cautious, resourceful man, and, as my friend Dan Webster likes to say, he never does anything without a backup plan. In my opinion, the attack on the pump station by the Soviet MIGs was at least part of Bergstrom’s backup plan.

  “It is time to stop Nels Bergstrom. I have statements from some senators, an undersecretary of commerce and some undercover DEA agents, stating Bergstrom provided drugs to participants at a party at his ranch in Arizona. It isn’t a murder charge, but it’s enough to get a warrant and have him arrested. If we can prove he’s a major player in the drug trafficking business, maybe we can have him held without bail until we can get evidence against him of murder and terrorism.

  “We have already begun to destroy his power structure. One of his hitmen has been killed and some others arrested. We may be able to get them to incriminate their boss in a conspiracy to murder charge. His political allies are beginning to turn on him. I think, if we wait too long, he’ll disappear and resurface again in a jurisdiction where we have no legal authority. We must move now.” Roger thumped the table with his knuckles.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get on a soapbox. But, I’ve been trying to put this guy away for a long time, and I don’t intend to lose him again.” He sat down and looked around the room.

  Gwen reached for his hand under the table and squeezed it gently. She understood his frustration.

  Lou Zimmer opened the table for discussion. It took just under 2 hours to finalize a plan and to draft a recommendation to the President.

  “It’s up to you now, Roger. I have a feeling that tomorrow will be one of your longest days. There’s a flight to Phoenix at 0600. I’ll meet you at the airport with your tickets. I’ll bring the warrants. I want you in Arizona to head the arrest and cross all the “T”s and dot all the “I”s. Good luck to both of you. See you in the morning.”