"We've seen it coming for years, ignored our own borders while we ran around the world trying to save everyone else from harm."
Jackie turned around and crossed her arms. "They're invading our country with low-tech weapons, and no one knows what's coming next or where. All we can do is react, fire-fight."
"We need to be aggressive, go after them on their own turf," Scott said, standing up to stretch. "Let's have breakfast and then concentrate on finding Farkas."
"Uh . . . you're forgetting something."
He gave her a blank look and then the synapse took place. "We're grounded. Terrific."
"The terrorists win in more ways than one," she conceded, with a dismissive shrug. "They paralyze our ability to track the perps."
"Then we have to get ungrounded." Scott's voice was full of determination. "I say it's time to saddle up and hit the trail."
She shook her head. "You've been watching too many old Westerns."
"Take the initiative, be a self-starter."
"You need to double up on your medicine," Jackie said and then gave him a brief smile. "You shave, and I'll see if I can get in touch with Hartwell--like he needs another problem." She reached for the satellite phone. "Little Bighorn." "What?"
"General Custer showed a lot of initiative, too."
ANDREWS AIR FORCE BASE, MARYLAND
Prestigious Andrews AFB is the port of entry for many foreign dignitaries and the home of the 89th Airlift Wing, the proud unit that operates the worlds most famous plane, Air Force One.
President Macklin delayed his departure to address the American people. He spoke calmly and reassuringly for sixteen minutes. The president explained what the government, the military, and the law enforcement agencies were doing to protect the American people and the United States. He assured the nation that his administration would prevail in the fight against the terrorists.
After a short delay to repair a mechanical problem, the E-4B National Airborne Operations Center, a modified Boeing 747-200 airliner, taxied to the runway. The E-4B, based at Offutt AFB in Omaha, Nebraska, was one of four sister ships that operated from various bases around the world. At least one NAOC "doomsday plane" was always on fifteen-minute alert with a full battle staff.
With President Cord Macklin on board, the airplane was automatically designated Air Force One. However, under the current circumstances, the flight crew of the airplane would use a different call sign once they were airborne.
Security at the legendary base was always a priority, but it was extremely tight this morning. Most people who worked at Andrews, civilians and military personnel alike, were not smiling today. They were deeply concerned about the shocking events and fearful of what might follow.
Before the Boeing reached the end of the 9,700-foot runway, the plane was cleared for immediate takeoff. Once airborne and climbing through 12,000 feet, the E-4B was joined by four F-14D Tomcats flown by VF-102 Diamondbacks stationed at NAS Oceana, Virginia.
Other air force, navy, and marine corps fighter squadrons would rotate around the clock to provide blanket protection for the command post. The E-4B was capable of remaining aloft for seventy-two hours with aerial refueling. The seventy-two-hour limit was based on the length of time it takes for the engine oil to begin breaking down.
Depending on the threat assessment, the airplane s route of flight could be changed on a moments notice. At any given time, the E-4B might be over the middle of the Atlantic or high above the wheat fields of Oklahoma and Kansas.
Hartwell Prost was discussing the target list with the president, Secretary of Defense Pete Adair, and General Chalmers when Jackie s call was received. He had anticipated the communication and quickly solved the problem. Their LongRanger was exempt from the grounding order.
COEUR D'ALENE, IDAHO
"What was the squawk again?" Scott asked, as he reached for the transponder. "Something-something-six-six?"
"Let s see," Jackie said, as she pulled a slip of paper from her pocket. "We--three-four-six-six and center is waiting for us."
He donned his sunglasses. "Okay, were ready."
She started the engine and took her time completing the checklist. The sun was above the horizon when the LongRanger lifted off and turned south. Scott and Jackie were wearing their standard uniforms.
She checked in with Seattle Center and found the controller to be tense but friendly and helpful.
Scott had their grid chart on his lap, circling small out-of-the-way airstrips. "We 11 stick to our basic search pattern, check anything that looks out of place."
He picked up the binoculars and studied the unsullied terrain. "I expect they 11 use anything flyable ... if its big enough or fast enough."
She gave him a slight nod. Tm going to use two thousand feet above the ground as a basic altitude."
"Sounds good,"
As the sun rose higher, they carefully scanned the ground along their flight path. After twenty minutes, Scott held the chart in front of Jackie. "Ill take it for a while, give you a chance to pick out the places you think we should check."
"You'll take it?" She gave him a look laced with suspicion. "I thought you said you didn't fly helicopters."
He took the controls and glanced at her. "I said I didn't fly helicopters, didn't say I don't know how."
"You flew jets; were you cross-trained?"
"No, I had a few rotary-wing lessons while I was still in college."
She grinned good-naturedly and smoothed the chart. "That was long before you had your head examined, right?"
"You said it, I didn't."
"Did you finish your training?"
"No, but I did solo before another student crashed the machine. He really trashed it, but walked away with only minor injuries."
"So, all this time you've been sandbagging me, huh?"
"Hey, you're the helo expert. I'm just an innocent victim along for the ride."
MONACO
The stately Principality of Monaco, one of the crown jewels of the lush Riviera, was the latest home port for Evening Breeze, a 242-foot megayacht owned by Saeed Shayhidi. Hoping to outflank the crafty Americans, Shayhidi secretly passed the word via his personal messenger to have his yacht stand out to sea as soon as practical. He planned to helicopter aboard the grand vessel and take an extended vacation while his jihad against the United States continued.
Having known Shayhidi for many years, the Greek captain of Evening Breeze was always prepared to get under way in two hours or less. Konstantinos Theotokas routinely had the chef replenish the perishable food every three days, dividing the "spoiled" groceries evenly among the crew of eight. The canned goods and the frozen supplies were replaced on a monthly basis. Topped with fuel and water, the freshly cleaned yacht sailed on the tide.
With a range of 3,800 nautical miles, the yacht provided the perfect way to tour the Mediterranean. A major retrofit had been completed, including engine room upgrades, exterior paint from bow to stern, and an interior with a distinctly Middle Eastern flair. Shayhidi had overseen every detail of the interior work himself.
Evening Breeze's large main salon offered intimate seating areas with panoramic views of the sea. Three full-width master staterooms boasted their own sitting rooms with bath and Jacuzzi. Four other staterooms with enclosed bathrooms offered passengers splendid living quarters.
A galley truly fit for a king and a Swedish chef who trained at the prestigious Culinary Institute of America ensured that the meals were on a par with the finest restaurants in the world.
Formal dining in a separate dining salon was complemented by imported china and crystal from Hong Kong and London. The shaded top deck was ideal for informal outdoor luncheons, while the aft deck on the main level was a charming alcove in which to have breakfast. Evening Breeze was truly a floating palace by anyone's standards.
GLOBAL HAWK
Loitering directly over Monte Carlo at 64,000 feet, a sister ship of the Global Hawk that had followed Saeed Shayhidi's Boeing Busine
ss Jet now stalked his prized yacht. Evening Breezes departure from Monaco was being monitored by the UAV while the stylish yacht sailed southwest, off the coast of the French Riviera. The reconnaissance data was updated on a regular basis and relayed to President Macklin on board the aerial command post somewhere over the Atlantic.
An hour after the sun had set over the Mediterranean, Evening Breeze was thirty-one miles due south of the resort city of Cannes. Flying low, an unlighted helicopter approached the yacht and landed on the helo pad. The owner was now on board. Global Hawk recorded the arrival and the departure of the helicopter and transmitted every detail to Washington.
Forty-five minutes later, the same helicopter delivered budding French movie starlet Danielle Pelletier to the yacht. It took five minutes to unload her stacks of luggage. An inch short of six feet tall, the dazzling blond actress was an occasional companion to Shayhidi. Global Hawk again recorded the event and transmitted the images to Washington.
NATIONAL AIRBORNE OPERATIONS CENTER
Four marine corps F-18C Hornets from the Thunderbolts of VMFA-251 had just relieved four air force F-16s. Based at MCAS Beaufort, South Carolina, the Hornets had recently refueled from an air force KC-135 and would continue to rotate to the tanker.
President Cord Macklin was receiving an up-to-the-minute brief on the nuclear power plant disasters when the information about Shayhidi's yacht reached him. He, Prost, Adair, and Chalmers retired to the privacy of the E-4BS conference room and took their seats. To a person, they were excited about the possibility of eliminating Shayhidi, although no one showed any outward signs of emotion.
The president remained quiet for a few moments whiie everyone read the most recent brief. "Gentlemen, we're going into uncharted waters, no pun intended."
Macklin slid his briefing folder to the side of the table. "I want to send a loud signal, a graphic example to Shayhidi, his lieutenants, and his followers."
It was imperceptible, but Prost frowned and nervously rubbed his ear lobe. "Mr. President, if we sink the yacht with the wrong person on board ... I don't have to tell you about the political consequences. They'll burn you at the stake."
Considering the consequences, both political and moral, President Macklin looked at Adair and then Chalmers. "Les, is it possible that Shayhidi isn't aboard?"
General Chalmers hesitated. "Anything is possible. There is no way to be absolutely certain who got off the helicopter. It is Shayhidi's yacht and there are passengers aboard."
"I think we have to assume Shayhidi is on board," the president said decisively. "Why else would a helicopter arrive and depart at night with no lights showing? It just makes sense. I think we have to take the shot."
"I would have to agree," Chalmers said. "Toledo has identified the target during daylight and is closely tracking it. We have a 99.99 percent chance of getting the job done with no witnesses and no foul-ups."
Pete Adair closed his briefing folder. "If we do this, the sub can't surface for any reason, even if there are survivors in the water."
"Agree," Macklin said. "Any questions, suggestions?"
"Let s do this at night," Adair said. "This night."
"Toledo is in position off the yachts stern," Chalmers said, without any visible emotion. "Mr. President?"
Macklin reached for his pipe. "Give the order."
USS TOLEDO
From the time they rendezvoused with Evening Breeze, Commander Allen Nettleton and his executive officer, Lieutenant Commander David Saddler, had had second thoughts. They didnt normally stalk civilian yachts, even large ones, with their attack submarine. Although both officers felt some degree of trepidation about their mission, there was no doubt about their final order. It had come straight from the flying Oval Office.
They were in a perfect position to attack the brightly lighted yacht. The closest vessel to their position was nine miles away. The weapon was ready. Nettleton decided to use only one 3,400-pound Mark 48 Advanced Capability (ADCAP) torpedo, since the target was truly a sitting duck. No one would be firing back and they didnt have to concern themselves with depth charges.
Nettleton stepped to the raised platform in the middle of the Control Room/Attack Center for one last look through the Mark 18 search periscope. The scope had a low-light operating mode and a 70mm camera. He snapped three more pictures.
The torpedo tube was flooded and the outer door was open. Looking through the periscope, Nettleton spoke in a firm, clear voice. "Firing point procedures."
The skipper waited a few seconds. "Match bearings and shoot." The weapons officer manning the BSY-1 (Busy One) launch control panel pressed the firing button. Trailing a guidance wire behind it, the Mark 48 ADCAP torpedo was on its way to the target at 60-plus knots. The torpedos seeker head/computer instantly tracked the yacht, negating the use of the guidance wire.
Everyone in the Control Room silently counted the seconds before impact. Peering through the search scope, Commander Nettleton began snapping photos while he waited for the fireworks to begin.
THE EVENING BREEZE
Saeed Shayhidi and Danielle Pelletier had finished a late meal in the dining salon and were preparing for bed in his aft master stateroom. When his valet left the suite, Shayhidi was adorned in silk pajamas he had purchased on a recent trip to Hong Kong. He never wore nightclothes more than once, so the valet kept at least three dozen new sets of pajamas on board the yacht at all times.
The doe-eyed actress was wearing a fetching negligee from one of her favorite Paris boutiques. Shayhidi poured champagne for them and they stretched out on his king-size bed, staring at their images in the mirror on the overhead. Shayhidi felt relaxed and safe.
He had successfully eluded the treacherous Americans. Now it was time to enjoy a serene cruise around the Mediterranean while his pursuers searched in vain. This was the good life, complete with a sultry movie star all to himself. Shayhidi would embark his wealthy friends at three ports of call over the next few days. He would make the cruise a vacation to be remembered.
He turned off the main lights and closed his eyes for a moment, smiling in the semidarkness. Enthralled by the scent of her perfume, Shayhidi reached for Danielle.
A few seconds later the Mark 48 torpedo penetrated Evening Breeze's hull and exploded in the engine room amidships. The effects of the horrendous blast blew the stately yacht apart, sending fire and flaming debris hundreds of feet into the air.
The concussion knocked Shayhidi and Pelletier out of bed. In shock and panic, Shayhidi scrambled up the stairway leading to the main deck. What happened? Did the Americans do this?
"This way," an injured crewman yelled, and ran toward the life rafts on the outer deck. Barefoot and frightened, Shayhidi sidestepped shards of broken glass, fractured mirrors, and other sharp obstacles as he followed the young assistant chef. Left on her own, Danielle Pelletier trailed Shayhidi up to the main deck. The yacht was rapidly flooding and the sea was ablaze with burning diesel fuel.
Another crew member joined his friend in launching the eleven-man life raft. There was no time to launch the twenty-two-foot Boston Whaler attached to the transom. The older man pulled the exposed lanyard that automatically ejected the raft from its case. The raft quickly inflated and they lowered it over the side of the yacht, and then helped Shayhidi into it. After the owner scrambled to the aft section of the raft, the two men helped Danielle down and then jumped into the raft.
Using their hands, the crewmen frantically paddled the raft away from the rapidly spreading flames. In less than five minutes, Evening Breeze slipped beneath the sea as the flames slowly subsided. It was obvious the rest of the crew had perished in the powerful explosion.
An eerie quiet settled over the raft while the shivering men and Danielle tried to warm themselves. In the distance, a ship with a spotlight shining on them raced toward the raft.
Knowing help was on the way, Saeed Shayhidi calmed down enough to think rationally. They're trying to kill me. Macklin's trying to assassinate me. H
ow did they know I was on my yacht!"
Shivering uncontrollably, Danielle hit Shayhidi on the arm with her fist. "You are, without a doubt, the most despicable, cowardly person I've ever known. You're worthless!"
Incapable of being embarrassed, even in front of his employees, Shayhidi ignored the stinging rebuke.
Three hundred yards away, Commander Nettleton lowered the search scope. The USS Toledo quietly left the scene and set course for her operating area in the Eastern Mediterranean.
Twelve miles above the raft, Global Hawk captured the entire event, and the images were now in front of President Macklin. Clearly, there were four survivors in a life raft, but it was impossible to determine if one of them was Shayhidi.
Chapter 13.
GRANGEVILLE, IDAHO
While the LongRanger was being refueled, Jackie and Scott used the fixed base operators courtesy car to drive to Oskers Restaurant for a late-afternoon lunch. After filling the car with gas, they returned to the airport and learned the FAA was beginning to lift flight restrictions in most areas of the country. Large metropolitan areas, including Washington and New York, were still suffering from restraints and limitations, but general aviation planes were gradually returning to the skies.
Scott took his turn at the controls of the helicopter. Following Highway 95 south, they passed Gospel Peak on the left and Hells Canyon on the right. The mountains and peaks made for magnificent viewing in the late-afternoon sunlight.
When they approached the Brundage Mountain Ski Area, Jackie took the controls of the LongRanger. A few minutes later, Scott trained his binoculars on an isolated grass airstrip. He could see a hangar and a dilapidated home beside it, but something wasn't computing.
"Jackie," he said, taking the controls, "I have it for a second. Take a look at that strip at twelve to one o'clock, about a mile or so."
She reached for the binoculars and focused on the primitive airstrip. The valleys were in total shade, making it difficult to distinguish many details. "Yeah, I see it."
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