by Tom Hansen
“Bonty, you’re our traitor! Well I should have known!” Oliver chuckled as he clutched Jenny even harder. “Now you boys will drop your weapons and clasp your hands behind your heads.” The sheriff, Willy and Tyrus carefully placed their guns on the ground, then stood up and did as they were ordered. Meanwhile, Barney and Ben were still hiding in the barn, watching closely, ready for their chance.
“Now, we’re going to walk to my Learjet and get on board. Any slight movement and you’ll need to dig one more grave for this pretty girl. Do you understand?”
“Let her go, Oliver!” demanded Sheriff Bonty. “You have our word we won’t try anything.”
“Your word? Well, that’s a joke, Al. You tried to con us, and now you want us to trust you? You know what. I’m going to let you live, Al, because living will be worse than dying, knowing your son’s dead and your wife soon will be. Yes, that’s right, Mr. Sheriff. As soon as we reach our destination, I will be calling our friends in the Middle East and order my one final hit. Now, if you behave yourself for a few minutes, I’ll let your daughter live so she can grieve alongside you.”
With Oliver leading the way, walking backward so he could face Bonty, Willy and Tyrus and using Jenny as a shield, his men climbed aboard the Learjet. Oliver waited until they had entered, then slowly ascended the ramp with his back to the fuselage. After boarding the jet, he released Jenny, but ordered her to stand perfectly still on the top step. She did as she was told, and Oliver left the hatch open and walked to the cockpit. Sam and Yussef appeared in the doorway with rifles as soon as Oliver disappeared from sight. Sam’s weapon was aimed at Jenny, while Yussef made sure Bonty, Willy and Tyrus stayed put. Two minutes later, the aircraft rolled down to the end of the runway. The hatch was closed and the Learjet readied for takeoff. Jenny slowly walked down the ramp steps, then fainted.
Willy ran into Roy’s office and called for an ambulance, while Tyrus tore off his shirt and was applying pressure to Tyrone’s bullet wound. Bonty was doing the same for Jimmy while yelling at Willy to hurry. Neither boy was conscious. Blood was everywhere. Johnny Murphree was dead.
CHAPTER 97
Monday, March 15, 1982
9:00 p.m.
O tis was breathing heavy, but was the first one to arrive. He practically dove on his brother Tyrus to see if Tyrone was alive or dead. Pancho came next, followed by Lance and Lew. Janet ran to Jenny to give her some comfort.
When Lew noticed the planes circling the Jackson ranch, he gunned the Trans Am from Yeehaw Junction all the way to Seminole Bend, then slowed down slightly through town, running two red lights on his way out to Angler’s Delight Marina. Several rescue airboats had been docked at the marina ever since the midair crash last week. No one was around the boats and Lance had a knack for hotwiring anything that had an engine attached. They all loaded up and Pancho directed them to the small creek that was the hidden entrance to Roy’s property, the same place he had saved Willy’s life.
Lew parked the airboat at the edge of the swamp. In the distance they could see Oliver’s Learjet sitting near the runway with the hatch open and the ramp pushed up against it. They noticed lights on in Roy’s office and guessed the Learjet was empty. No one had any idea that Willy and his entourage were waiting in the barn, or that Jenny would soon be making her fateful entrance.
It had been Lance’s idea, actually. They all knew the Learjet was probably Roy’s method of escape, so they devised a simple plan to stop him. Next to the jet was a water pump with a 100-foot rubber hose attached that was most likely used to wash off boats and farm equipment. Otis pushed the portable ramp underneath the starboard side secondary fuel tank that was located on the wingtip, then unscrewed the cap. The jet fuel drained quickly, then Otis stuck the water hose into the inlet valve and refilled the wingtip tank with H2O. When that was finished, Otis unscrewed the main fuel tank in the wing itself and drained most of the fuel. Lew had told him to leave a small amount of fuel so that the Learjet could taxi and take off before the water in the wingtip tank transferred through the valve into the main tank. That would happen automatically as soon as the main tank became empty. When Otis finished on the starboard side, he moved the ramp to the port side and did the same thing. Then, they all ran as fast as possible back to the airboat to watch.
Moments later, they heard gunshots, then witnessed Jenny’s kidnapping and the Learjet takeoff with a planeload full of thugs. When Otis saw Tyrus running towards a body that had collapsed near the office door, he sensed it was his nephew Tyrone.
* * * * *
Ben ran up to Tyrus, who was applying intense pressure to Tyrone’s wound, and touched him on the shoulder. Willy had just made the call for an ambulance and was now standing hand-in-hand with Otis directly behind Tyrus watching helplessly. Everyone wanted to pitch in, but no one was trained on how to stop the flow of blood from a .45 caliber bullet that had penetrated the upper chest area and exited out the back. Prayer seemed like the only logical treatment.
“Barney ran to get the chopper and will put down here,” said Ben. “Tyrone and Jimmy don’t have enough time to wait for the ambulance. We’ll fly them over to Gregorson.”
“What about Roy and Harfield?” asked Willy. “We can’t let them get away!”
Lew was panting, puffing and resting his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. Then he looked up at Willy. “You don’t need to worry about Roy Jackson again, Willy. He’s not going far.”
Willy and Sheriff Bonty then knelt down next to Johnny Murphree’s bullet-shattered and bloody face, then motioned with their hands the sign of the cross over their fallen hero. Bonty unzipped his jacket and covered Johnny’s upper torso the best he could.
The Huey landed a few feet away, and the men wrapped Tyrone and Jimmy in blankets and carefully laid them on the floor of the chopper along with Johnny Murphree’s lifeless body. Tyrus, Willy, Otis, Sheriff Bonty, Janet and Jenny all buckled up for the five-minute ride to the hospital. Lew, Lance and Pancho headed back to the airboat. They were planning to hang around near the swamp and see how far the Learjet got before the sputtering began. Jenny was in shock as Janet embraced her. In her mind, Jenny believed she was responsible for the deaths of her brother and boyfriend.
The chopper was just lifting off the ground when the call came over the radio.
“Huey 618, this is Bo. Are you on board the chopper, Barney and Ben?”
“Ten-four, Bo. Problems at the Jackson ranch and we’re headed for the hospital.”
“What kind of problems?” asked Bo with a concerned tone.
“Long story,” replied Barney. “Tell you later. What’s your location and TOA to the Halibut?”
“USS Halibut made it to the Pacific, but I now have a visual. It appears they are at a depth of thirty to forty feet, but not moving. Wait a minute, that’s curious.” Bo clicked off the microphone. Ben glanced at Barney and shrugged his shoulders.
“Bo, we lost you. You were saying something’s curious. Please repeat.” They waited almost a minute before Bo responded.
“Oh my God!”
“Bo, what is it?”
“They’ve opened the missile silos and are ready to deploy!”
“We need to alert Washington!” shouted Barney into the mic. “I’ll take care of it from here!”
“Too late,” replied Bo. “They won’t have time to evacuate the city. I’ll take care of this myself.”
“What do you mean, Bo? Your ammo can’t penetrate salt water to that depth enough to do any damage.”
“No, Barn, you’re right. But my F-4 Phantom traveling at Mach-2 can stop them.”
“Absolutely not, Bo! Damn it, don’t do it! We need you alive! This country needs you alive!” Barney was now screaming into the mic, pleading with Bo.
Willy unbuckled his belt, then leaned forward and snatched the mic from Barney. “Bo, this is Willy! Hey man, we’re all in the chopper listening. Don’t do it, my friend, please! Turn around and come back home!”
The
F-4 Phantom shot straight up to an altitude of 50,000 feet before Bo leveled off. From that height, he lost visual contact with the sub, but believed he could regain an optical lock around 10,000 feet, even though he would be traveling at 1,400 mph. The trick would be to thread the needle and drive the jet directly into the Halibut. A near miss would do no good. He had one chance and one chance only.
Then Bo remembered that Coach Bear Bryant had said the exact same thing to him during a final timeout against arch rival Auburn in the 1967 Iron Bowl. Down three to nothing, ball on the two-yard line with fifteen seconds remaining and no timeouts, Bryant opted to go for the win instead of a tie. After all, he had Bo Yardly, the best college running back in the nation. During the timeout, he motioned for Bo to come to the sideline.
Bear grabbed Bo’s face mask and shook it, then said, “You’re getting the ball. Your blockers can only give you a split second to hit the hole and go in for the touchdown. A near miss will do us no good, Bo. You have one chance and one chance only. Now go be a hero!” Bo crashed through that hole and rammed the middle linebacker with a helmet to helmet crunch that echoed throughout the stadium. Alabama won and would play in the Cotton Bowl on New Year’s Day.
Bo got back on the mic. From the altitude he was now traveling, his voice crackled with static on the Huey’s receiver. But his words were understood loud and clear.
“Barn and Ben, it’s been a pleasure, boys. But now I must carry the ball for the final time and win one for our great nation. Until we meet again in a much better place, God bless you both. And Willy ...” Bo paused for a moment and tried to clear his throat. “And Willy, my lifetime best friend for all of eternity . . . I love you, man!”
The F-4 Phantom turned nose down and sped to earth with extraordinary velocity. At 8,000 feet above the Pacific Ocean, the jet’s extraordinary pilot locked his eyes onto the USS Halibut. The fate of America would be decided in the next few seconds.
CHAPTER 98
Monday, March 15, 1982
9:15 p.m. (EST)& 6:15 p.m. (PST)
A clear day in Seattle is somewhat of an anomaly. But as the sun was nearing the horizon on the west coast, a cloud of salt water could be seen by diners enjoying the view from the Space Needle. The radioactive geyser rose and then spread wide, splashing down in a radius of fifty miles from where the F-4 Phantom hit dead on target with the USS Halibut. The nuclear explosion caved in the sea floor and rocked the coastline of Washington. The cliffs surrounding Neah Bay and the Makah Indian Reservation broke off from the Olympic Mountain range and were now resting on the floor of the Juan de Fuca straight. Two rescue boats were sent from Port Renfrew on Vancouver Island across the straight to try and assist any Native Americans that didn’t have time to get to higher ground, but one vessel capsized in the rough seas.
Earth vibrations caused the Juan de Fuca tectonic plate to shift, separating the Cascadia fault and generating a small earthquake in the city of Victoria. The esteemed Empress Hotel collapsed into the harbor, spreading fiberglass splinters from the marina’s small boats and big yachts onto Government Street.
The 130-foot Tsunami that was created traveled westward across the Pacific Ocean and would hit landfall at Sendai, Japan, in nine to ten hours. Over three million lives would be at risk if the Japanese weren’t warned to evacuate. Hugh Boyd was the lone scientist on duty at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration Center in Toke Point when Bo blew the USS Halibut into oblivion. As the ground below him shook violently, Hugh believed an earthquake would be the cause of death written in his obituary. He dove from his workstation to the floor and covered the back of his head with his hands, as if that would do any good. After lying there muttering a continual stream of “Hail Mary’s”, he finally realized he was safe, thanked the Lord and returned to his desk. It was then he noticed the blip on his computer screen. A tsunami was moving at 500 mph in a westerly direction across the Pacific Ocean.
Hugh tried to call his boss in Seattle, but the phone lines were dead. So he reached for the ship to shore radio and pushed the emergency button. A Coast Guard cutter was just offshore in Wallapa Bay. Captain Keith Adams answered and scribbled Hugh’s data on his clipboard, then shoved the throttle to full and raced southward down the Pacific coast. The 120-foot cruiser docked in Astoria, Oregon, an hour later, and Captain Adams immediately called the Japanese consulate in Portland. The shocked Consulate General quickly relayed the oceanic data to Prime Minister Suzuki’s office in Tokyo. Within minutes, a mid-afternoon evacuation was ordered for the entire east coast of Honshu Island.
* * * * *
Barney touched the Huey down lightly onto the Gregorson parking lot next to the emergency entrance. Those automatic doors had seen a lot of action in the past week. The ambulance that Willy had called for was already half way to Jackson’s ranch. In the haste to get everyone in the chopper, he had forgotten to call off the paramedics.
The emergency room staff ran to meet the Huey and within minutes, Jimmy, Tyrone and Jenny were all being rushed into the hospital on stretchers. Barney and Ben remained in the chopper and tried to hail the Coastal East and Bayou jets. They hoped that their communications were reestablished when Jenny cut the cable to the satellite dish.
Ben dialed in emergency voice frequency 121.5 on the Huey’s radio. “Coastal East 561, this is Charlie Alpha
six-two-zero. Do you read?” No response. “Bayou 444, do you read me?” No response. Ben repeated the hailing for several tense moments.
Ben looked at Barney, and with a stressed voice asked, “Why won’t they answer?”
Barney just shook his head. “You got me!”
CHAPTER 99
Monday, March 15, 1982
9:30 p.m.
A fter unfastening the last bolt on the center panel, Harley Hutter, with the help of Captain Auferdahl and Co-Captain Alvin, carefully pulled back the entire cockpit dashboard of the HoftanJet HJ-15. Harley shined a flashlight into the mess of tangled electrical wires and then noticed a strange metal box with every color wire imaginable running into and out of it. A tiny green bulb was blinking faintly.
“This isn’t right,” stated Harley. “Hand me the manual.”
George Alvin handed him the thick HJ-15 operations manual and Harley quickly opened to the page he was looking for. “Just what I thought. This box is not supposed to be here.” Harley shined the flashlight towards the box that was fastened to a bracket as Auferdahl and Alvin peered inside the dash.
“What is it?” asked Auferdahl.
“I’m not sure, but there are wires leading to the switch panel that appear to be overriding the auto pilot, hydraulics, rudders, spoilers, flaps and yaw damper system. I’m assuming the metal box acts as a receiver that has a switch which allows for both pilot control and some sort of remote control.”
“Are you kidding me?” responded Captain Auferdahl.
“Wish I was. But if I can disengage the remote, we should be able to regain control.”
“We tried to shut down the auto pilot, but we weren’t able to.”
“Well, the autopilot is still engaged, which means whoever is controlling us from the ground has locked us on this holding pattern and has also done the same with the Coastal East jet.”
Co-Captain Alvin pointed at a different wire inside the dash. “Look at this purple wire. It’s running from the metal box to the radio.” All three pilots were on their knees studying the complicated wiring system.
“It appears to be connected directly to the radio’s fuse box,” said Harley. “That must be how they shut down our radio communications. They blew a fuse. But take a look, the orange wire that runs from the box to the radar controls is not connected to the fuses. Which means it must be sending incorrect or scrambled data directly into the radar’s mainframe.”
“If we can shut down the metal box functions, will we then have control of our radar and hydraulics again?” asked Auferdahl.
“In theory, we should. But I’m only guessing. If they installed a ta
mper switch to the box, we’ll be in big trouble.”
“What’s a tamper switch?”
“The military uses them all the time. If an enemy captures one of our fighter jets or naval ships and tries to operate it without a proper code, the jet or ship will blow up.”
“So, you think whoever did this to our plane may have installed an explosive inside the cockpit, or worse yet, anywhere in the fuselage that would go off if we try to override their controls?”
“Yes, Captain, that’s exactly what I’m trying to say.” Auferdahl and Alvin glanced at each other and both wiped the sweat that was rapidly beading up on their foreheads. Neither knew how to respond. That’s when Harley made the decision for them. “We have no choice. Even if we can regain radar functions, we have no communications ability with the ground. It will take some time to put the cockpit back together and fly blindly to a landing location and we only have a couple hours of fuel left. We have to get this bird back on the ground, so we must take that risk. Go out to the cabin and prepare the passengers. And see if we have any clergy on board with all those kids. A prayer or two couldn’t hurt.”
The tropical depression that had moved into the Bahamas yesterday turned into a tropical storm with sustained winds of sixty-two miles per hour. It had changed directions and was now picking up speed and velocity, bearing due west towards the Gold Coast of Florida. With everything else happening in the Sunshine State no one gave it much thought. Besides, a March hurricane was too rare to even seriously consider. Tell that to the overnight boaters now rocking between twenty-foot swells in the Bermuda Triangle.