by S. L. Menear
Fourteen
Boeing 727
Hussein lay in a padded, sound-proofed ceiling compartment lined with silver reflective foil to block infrared sensors. He had scrambled into his secret hiding place when armed men rushed into the airplane while it was parked on the dry riverbed. He had felt the acceleration of the takeoff and the hard landing later.
The vibrations told him at least one engine was running now, and the private airliner seemed to be rocking. The tight space must have tricked his senses.
He pulled the remote detonator from his pocket and looked at it.
What to do? Are my leaders captive or safe? Where are we? Don’t want to kill my people if there’s no need, but our command center must not fall into enemy hands.
As Hussein contemplated his next move, he felt the airplane jerk and accelerate. He needed more information before he activated the detonator. He was not afraid to die for the right reason. He unlocked the hidden entry door and dropped into the empty cabin.
“Boeing is cleared to back off the landing deck. Chocks are pulled. SEALs are in position,” the air boss said.
“Boeing starting reverse thrust.”
I selected full reverse thrust on the center engine and secured the thrust handle with the bungee cord before I released the parking brake. The airplane rolled backwards and slowly accelerated as I centered the nose-wheel steering.
“Boeing is on a straight path to the fantail and accelerating,” the air boss said. “Pilot is cleared to jump.”
“Pilot exiting now.”
I headed for the forward galley, but a man in a turban blocked my path. He held a detonator in his left hand and a knife in his right.
“Where are my people? What have you done with them?”
Out the corner of my eye, I saw the Boeing pass the first SEAL. Damn! That was my easiest way off while the speed was slow.
“Your people left the airplane. They’re safe. Drop the detonator and I’ll lead you to them.”
“Liar! Where are we? What are you doing?”
We passed two more SEALs as the speed increased. Three SEALs and three hundred feet left.
“I’m repositioning the aircraft on the parking ramp. I must get back to the cockpit.”
“Liar! I will send you to Hell. Allahu Akbar!”
He rushed forward and plunged his knife into my left breast.
“You first!” I yelled as I drew my knife.
We passed the fourth and fifth SEALs as I kneed his groin, shoved my knife into his gut, and drop-kicked him into the cabin. I ran for the open galley door and grabbed the rope on my way out.
One hundred feet to the fantail.
Lieutenant Kernan was my last hope as I soared toward him at almost fifty knots. He ran toward me and snagged my netting as I passed even with him. He pulled me close and wrapped his arms and legs around me as we hit the deck and rolled over and over.
The Boeing’s main landing gear rolled off the after deck a second before we stopped at the edge of the deck with the lieutenant on top of me. The tail dropped straight down toward the sea as the airplane rotated into a vertical position.
The carrier must have been making better than fifty knots. For a second, the Boeing seemed to hang in the air with its nose pointed skyward and its belly facing us. Then it exploded, and one of the main wheels hurtled toward us as the carrier pulled away.
“Roll forward!” I pushed off with my leg to roll us over.
The wheel slammed into the deck where we had been a second before and bounced clear. Now I was on top of the SEAL.
“Roll aft!” he yelled as he rolled me back just in time to avoid another main wheel hitting the deck beside us.
I scanned the sky. No more giant wheels. Pieces of the Boeing fluttered down and disappeared in the sea.
The pain in my breast commanded my attention.
“Rolling around on the deck with you would be a lot more fun if I didn’t have a knife sticking in me.” I gave him a light kiss. “Please take me down to medical.”
He rolled off me and focused on the blood staining my life vest. “Shit!”
Lieutenant Kernan scooped me into his arms and ran off the deck.
“Make way! Coming through!” he shouted inside the carrier.
In the medical facility, he gently laid me on an exam table and yelled for a doctor.
A woman in a white lab coat walked in with a nurse. “What have you brought me, Lieutenant?”
“Knife wound in the chest, left side.” He stepped aside.
The hilt protruded from my life vest over the lower portion of my left breast. Blood soaked the four-inch-thick flotation panel while my body hummed with adrenaline.
“I’m Doctor Linda Carole. We need to cut the vest and shirt off, uh, Miss?”
She handed scissors to the nurse and picked up heavy gauze.
“Samantha Starr, but everyone calls me Sam.”
“Nice to meet you, Sam.” The doctor yanked the knife out and pressed gauze against the wound. “There, all done except for the stitches.”
“I hope the wound won’t leave an ugly scar.” I tried to inspect the cut and gasped from the pain.
“Lucky for you the life vest and your breast tissue were thick enough to prevent the blade from reaching your heart. The wound is about three inches deep, but it didn’t penetrate your chest cavity. Several stitches and you’ll be fine.”
The doctor talked as she sewed. “The wound is on the lower side of your breast so the scar won’t be visible while wearing clothes or a bikini.”
“Good.” It was then I noticed the SEAL lieutenant staring at the floor with an anguished look.
“I’m sorry, Sam, this is my fault. I should have been with you on the aircraft.”
“No way, Lieutenant! I’m responsible for what happens to me on my airplane. A small army of men missed finding my attacker. We all thought the airplane was empty when I closed the airstairs. I guess we’ll never know where he was hiding.”
I was so focused on his sad eyes, I forgot I was topless.
Captain William Kingston walked into the room and froze. He turned his back. “Please, excuse me, Miss Starr. I came to check on you and find out what happened.”
Doctor Carole bandaged the wound and handed me a hospital gown.
“Any allergies? I need to give you antibiotics. Can you take Percocet for the pain?”
“No allergies, but I need a pain med approved for pilots.”
“I can give you 800 milligrams of Motrin.” She handed me pills with a glass of water. “When was your last tetanus shot?”
“I had one in Scotland two months ago after I was shot twice.”
“You do get into trouble, don’t you?” She shook her head. “I’m sure our captain can find a good place for you to rest.”
She turned to the skipper. “She’s decent now.”
“Miss Starr, how are you feeling?” Captain Kingston asked.
“I feel like the 727 ran over me. I’m sure I’d feel a lot worse if Lieutenant Kernan hadn’t caught me and protected me with his body. That was a wild roll across the deck.”
I smiled at the lieutenant and drank the water.
“Why were you so late jumping from the airliner?”
“An Islamic terrorist blocked my exit and stabbed me in the chest.”
“What? Where did he come from? The airplane was empty.”
“I don’t know, maybe a secret compartment. He had a combat knife and a detonator.”
“How did you escape?”
“I kneed him in the groin, stuck my knife in his gut, and kicked his terrorist ass into the cabin.”
I saw the lieutenant smile.
The skipper grinned too. “Lieutenant Starr told me you have combat skills. I thought he was joking.”
“Matt’s twin is a SEAL. He taught me all sorts of moves. I’ve been getting a lot of practical experience lately, which reminds me, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep our involvement a secret. We’d like the N
avy to get full credit so we don’t have to worry about repercussions from the Al Ghazi terror network.”
“No problem.” He looked at the doctor and nurse. “Miss Starr’s presence aboard and everything she said is top secret.”
He turned back to me. “We’ll have Navy Intel create a cover story for you and your people. They’ll debrief you on the Petra incident and your escape in the Boeing. Anything else?” Captain Kingston looked pleased.
“When you make admiral soon, please remember to be good to my brothers, Lieutenant Kernan and his team, and Commander Jeff Rowlin.”
“That’s an easy promise to keep. They’re all good men and a credit to the Navy. Now, with Doctor Carole’s permission, I’d like to get you settled in the vacant admiral’s suite so you can rest.”
The captain offered me his hand.
“The patient is good to go, Skipper. See to it she has plenty of fluids available.”
“Thanks, Doc.” When I stood, my legs felt like rubber.
I wobbled as Lance, Pete, and Jeff arrived at the open door. They looked frantic until Captain Kingston caught me.
“Sam, are you all right? We heard you were wounded somehow.” Lance moved closer.
“Yeah, Sam, what happened?” Jeff asked.
“A terrorist stabbed me in the chest when I left the cockpit.”
“Sonofabitch!” Pete said. “How did they miss him when they searched the airplane?”
Lance turned pale and focused on my chest. He swallowed hard. “Dang it! I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone on the airplane.”
The doctor squeezed his shoulder, thinking he was my boyfriend. “She’s fine. Just a few stitches in her left breast. You probably won’t even notice the scar.”
The bad-boy glint returned to Lance’s eyes. “I’ll be the judge of that, Doc.”
“Since when? I thought she was dating the Scottish badass,” Jeff said.
“I hope I’ll still be dating Ross. He’ll be angry about Petra. He warned me not to go. And there’s no telling what he’ll think about my carrier escapade.”
“Which is why you should be dating me. I’ll massage antibiotic cream onto your wound several times a day, and I won’t scold you about your misadventures.” Lance grinned.
Jeff glared at Lance. “Cool down, fly boy. We have a rule in the Navy: No friggin’ in the riggin’, and that applies to civilians too. Right, Skipper?”
“Affirmative. Sam’s in no condition for that anyway. Tomorrow, I want everyone in a debriefing session with Navy Intel. They’ll devise a good cover story for the group and arrange transportation. Gentlemen, keep a tight lid on everything, including the stabbing.”
Captain Kingston took me by the arm. “Time to get you settled. Can you walk?”
“Yes, sir, I have my sea legs now. Are you able to accommodate the rest of my people?”
“Everyone has been assigned bunks. Most of them are in the wardroom now eating lunch. If you’re hungry, I’ll send lunch to the admiral’s suite. Ready?”
“Lead on, Captain.”
“Excuse me, Skipper,” Jeff said. “I’ve finished my operational currency training, and I’d like to attend the debriefing tomorrow. I’m Sam’s chief pilot at Luxury International, and I’ll be taking her place for the remainder of her charter flight.”
“I’ll have someone notify you when they schedule it, Commander Rowlin. Now, let me take your pilot up for a well-deserved rest.”
The captain ushered me out the door.
When I woke, Matt was sitting on the edge of my bed. His aqua-blue eyes twinkled with delight as he smiled and wedged a pillow behind me. I sat up, and he put a meal tray on my lap. The roast beef smelled delicious.
“Thanks, I’m hungry.” I didn’t hesitate to dig in. I swallowed a bite and said,
“I thought you had nerves of steel when you rode those wild broncos in the Texas rodeos, but now I realize it goes way beyond that. Brother, you’re freaking fearless landing on this ship every day. I’ve done some scary stuff, but nothing compares to the terror of landing on that deck.”
He rubbed the back of his golden-blond buzz cut. “I’d love to let you think I’m Superman, but the truth is my fighter was designed to land on the deck. An airliner is another story. My squadron was so impressed with your shit-hot landing they made you an honorary member of our fighter wing and gave you a call sign.”
Matt pulled a bomber jacket from a bag. BOMBSHELL was embroidered on the left breast along with their fighter wing designation. His handsome face beamed with pride as he handed it to me.
“This is so cool! Thanks, Matt. I love it.” I hugged him.
“While you were deep in slumber all day, your VIPs entertained our fighter pilots. Carlene Jensen is an amazing singer, and I loved her comedy skit. Rod Rogan was hilarious too. Jack Stone explained how they shoot the impossible action scenes and radical stunts. I had no idea actors were such fun people.” Matt poured water into my glass.
“Sounds like my group is having a grand time. Captain Kingston told me to expect a debriefing with Navy Intel tomorrow. How much should I tell them?”
“Now that you’re the captain’s new best friend, I’d tell them everything. The military can help you and make sure that doomsday weapon doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”
“How do you know about that?”
“I talked to Professor Armitage after you vanished in Petra.”
Doctor Carole walked into my cabin. “How’s my patient feeling?”
“Sore as hell, but good otherwise. The food here is excellent.” I patted my mouth with the linen napkin and smiled. “I guess admirals travel in style. This suite sure is luxurious.”
“The ship’s captain is our god, and the admiral is his god.” She checked my pulse, blood pressure, and temperature. “Do you need another pill for the pain before I change your dressing?”
“No, I took one before my meal.”
“I’ll have to ask Lieutenant Starr to step outside.”
“No problem, Doc. See you later, Sis.” Matt kissed my cheek and left.
“Now, let’s have a look at your wound.”
I ached all over as I pulled off the hospital gown.
“Your wound looks good. No infection,” she said after changing my dressing. “The stitches should be removed in seven to ten days.”
I stifled a yawn. “Thanks, Doc. I feel like going back to sleep even though I slept all afternoon.”
“Your body suffered major trauma. Rest is the best medicine. Sleep as long as you can. You’ll feel a little better tomorrow, but you’ll be sore for quite a long while.”
Fifteen
The next day, we gathered in a conference room for the debriefing with Navy Intelligence. Captain Kingston sat at the head of the table with the intel officer at the other end. The three VIPs from my group sat on one side, and my crew and Jeff sat opposite them.
Carlene grinned at me. “Hey, Sam, how’re you feeling? We’ve missed you.”
“I’m banged up and bruised all over from my kamikaze roll on the deck, but hey, I heard you entertained the fighter pilots. Good job!” I gave them a thumbs-up.
The captain cleared his throat. “I think you all know your lives depend upon keeping silent about taking the Al Ghazi airplane. No one can ever know you were on that airplane or this ship, understand? My crew will keep your secret. As far as the world is concerned, Navy SEALs rescued you from Petra and returned you to Aqaba where you continued your charter flight. You’ll never give the press any details about your rescue. Any questions?”
Rod raised his hand. “I got one: Who the hell keeps attacking us and why?”
“Yeah, they killed Hal and Tawnee,” Carlene said. “Did you catch them and shoot their criminal asses?”
Captain Kingston and the intel officer exchanged glances. “I’ll let Commander Robert Metz of Naval Intelligence answer that.” He nodded at the officer with the dark-blond crew cut.
“A group of mercenaries have bran
ched out into kidnapping high-value celebrities for large ransoms. The three of you, along with Captain Starr, would net them a big payday. I suggest you arrange for extra security in the places you’re scheduled to visit. As you know, Captain Starr was injured when she jumped from the Boeing. Chief Pilot Jeff Rowlin will take her place.” He glanced at Jeff and me. “Isn’t that right, Commander Rowlin?”
“Yes, sir, and I’ll take the necessary precautions to ensure the safety of my passengers and crew. I cancelled the leg to Dubai. The film festival would be over by the time we landed. I understand you’re sending us to Aqaba via Naples later today.” Jeff gave me a meaningful glance.
“If we send you straight from the ship to Aqaba, Jordanian authorities will know you were here and that you took the airplane. Instead, you’ll land at our Navy base in Naples disguised as military personnel. Then you’ll change to civilian clothes and board a Navy transport to Aqaba.”
“What about Sam? Is she coming with us?” Lance arched his brows.
Commander Metz shook his head. “Captain Starr needs to recuperate. We’ll arrange transport for her.”
He pushed a button on a recorder. “Now, let’s start with the celebrities. Mr. Stone, please give us an account of everything that happened after you disembarked the tour bus in Petra.”
As the actors recounted our ordeal in Petra, I noticed the astonished looks of the Navy officers, including Jeff. Jack’s account was straightforward, but the others couldn’t resist embellishing. The size of the scorpions grew with each new telling. Rod was last, and he insisted they were as big as rats. My crew listened and smiled.
“All right, that covers the celebrity interviews. Anything else you’d like to add before you’re excused?” Commander Metz asked.
“I’d like Navy SEALs to accompany us to Aqaba, you know, for security reasons and to help us sell the cover story.” Carlene gave Commander Metz her million-dollar smile.