The Rowen (A Rossler Foundation Mystery Book 7)

by JC Ryan

“See you soon,” Daniel replied. I hope.

  “What are you guys not telling us?” Daniel asked.

  “Later,” Peter said. “Strap yourself in a seat.”

  Chuck was a bit surprised to hear how Peter was talking to the Vice President and frowned at him.

  “Don’t worry we’re old friends—he’s not a stuck-up type of guy,” Peter said softly.

  Daniel didn’t hear that as he was already on his way back to the crew lounge. He buckled himself in a seat near the flight deck door and felt an uncomfortable pinch in his stomach—it wasn’t from hunger. It grew into a cramp as he listened to the two talk on the flight deck.

  “Er, Chuck? When should I stop dumping fuel?”

  Chuck checked the fuel levels. “Not yet.”

  “Um, ok,” Peter said looking at him nervously. “Uh, how much more do you think we need to dump?”

  “Oh, we’re on final approach and only have about fifty miles to go, don’t worry about it.”

  Peter was silent for a minute and then whispered, “shit, I just realized you’re emptying the tanks.”

  Chuck looked at him and nodded slowly. He pushed a couple of buttons to lower the landing gear.

  “But, why? You’ll kill us all! You’re one of Hayden’s men, aren’t you?”

  Chuck blinked at the absurdity of Peter’s comment. “Of course, I’m not!”

  “Then why?”

  “Because the nose gear is damaged and can’t be lowered for landing,” he said pointing to a flashing indicator on the instrument panel. “This lady is going to belly flop, and I don’t want to risk an explosion with all the fuel onboard.

  “But we’ll fall out of the sky like a rock!” Peter objected.

  Chuck snorted a laugh. “Weren’t you listening earlier? Contrary to popular airline disaster movies, this plane can glide for nearly one hundred miles under the right circumstances, and we’re only going to need about thirty.”

  At that moment, the last engine failed—it was out of fuel.

  Chuck checked the instruments. “Good, we got further than I thought; we’re only twenty miles out.”

  “Why hasn’t the control tower contacted us?”

  “I turned the radio off; don’t want them to know who we are until the last minute, which I guess is about now.”

  Chuck flipped a switch and adjusted the radio to Denver’s frequency. He started clicking the transmit button on the mic in slow irregular intervals and spoke in a slightly excited voice, “Mayday! Mayday! Denver tower this is SAM28000; do you read?”

  “Unidentified aircraft this is Denver tower; repeat your last transmission.”

  “Mayday! Mayday! Denver tower this is SAM28000; do you read?” Chuck repeated as though he hadn’t heard.

  “Unidentified aircraft this is Denver tower; your transmission is breaking up repeat. Are you declaring an emergency?”

  “Denver tower, SAM28000, emergency, emergency. We’ve lost all engines.”

  ***

  Owen and the local Tectus members who were assisting him watched as Air Force One approached the runway, descending closer and closer to the ground. It was obvious the plane was having difficulties; it was too low and moving too slow.

  What the hell else has gone wrong up there?

  Engines.

  No engines!

  Shit!

  A coffin with wings.

  They watched in horror as the plane touched down fifty feet shy of the runway. The weight of the plane drove the wheels into the soft earth, and the landing gear snapped off like matchsticks.

  The mid-section of the plane’s belly touched the ground at the beginning of the runway and began skidding along the tarmac. The flash of sparks illuminated the darkness of the early morning. The nose of the plane slammed down—that’s when Owen realized the nose gear hadn’t been extended.

  Everyone held their breath, waiting for an explosion—but it never came. Sparks continued to light up the night as the plane skidded down the runway, some of the metal was glowing red by the time it came to a stop—intact.

  Owen, and everyone with him, was slack-jawed. Slowly the cargo door at the back began to lower.

  “Let’s get going!” Owen shouted, and they moved toward the plane.

  Because it was resting on its somewhat crushed belly, the cargo door couldn’t be deployed entirely, but it was enough to get everyone off.

  They hurriedly sorted and loaded everyone according to their destination.

  The President, Daniel, and Rick, accompanied by the doctor, Max, and four Secret Service Agents, along with Cliff Willis, Bill Sims, Jack, Peter, and Chuck were all taken to a waiting bus which transported them to a private airstrip not far away. There, a nineteen passenger, twin-turboprop Fairchild Swearingen Metroliner airliner, which Sam and Luke had managed to find, was waiting for them.

  Everyone else was taken to waiting cars and then on to local Tectus safe houses before Hayden had time to figure out what happened and send in his troops.

  Beds had been improvised along each side of the Metroliner for the President and Rick. Everyone else took their seats as Chuck and Owen taxied to another runway for take-off.

  Owen called Roy. “We’re going to take off in a few minutes; are your decoys ready?”

  “Ready and waiting, I’ll get them airborne right now.”

  Chuck and Owen ran through the pre-flight checklist quickly, double checked their instruments and revved the engines for take-off.

  When Chuck released the brakes, the plane began to roll, and Owen reported to the Rabbit Hole, “we’re on our way; see you soon!”

  The sleek Metroliner roared down the runway, caught air, and lifted into the early morning sky, the faint light of sunrise off the starboard wing.

  Chapter 33- That’s my wife you’re holding mister

  General Hayden and his senior officers were startled when a young clerk barged into the room shouting, “they’ve crashed, they’ve crashed!”

  Hayden grabbed him by the arm, angry at being interrupted, but too exhausted to spare the energy of rage. “What’s the meaning of this? How dare you…”

  “Air Force One, sir,” the clerk said excitedly, “she’s crashed! Look!” he said as he turned on the TV in the room.

  “… that’s right Sally,” the newsman said to a woman sitting next to him. “And now we go live to Mike, who is on site at Denver International Airport. Mike?”

  “Good morning Dave—what a way to start the day. Airport authorities say that an unidentified plane called in a Mayday and requested an emergency landing, reporting that they were coming in ‘dead-stick’ which means they were without power.

  “Control tower staff were stunned to see the low-flying plane was none other than the Presidential plane, Air Force One, and even more shocked when it came in short of the runway, crashed, and skidded nearly half the length of the field.

  “We are told that rescue personnel were on site and unloaded the passengers, but took them to an unknown location. It is not known if the President was indeed on board or what her condition is after the crash.

  “Airport security has secured the plane and is awaiting the arrival of the FBI.”

  “That is an incredible story, Mike! Did anyone see somebody getting off the plane alive?”

  “Dave, several airport employees did indeed say they saw people climbing from the cargo ramp and walking across to board a service vehicle. They also said they saw at least two people being carried out on gurneys.”

  “That’s not much to go on.”

  “No, Dave, it isn’t, but keep in mind the plane came in almost unannounced, and that it was just before dawn and the only lights were those on the runway itself, there wasn’t much time to prepare and visibility…”

  “Got you, bitch!” shouted Hayden over the voice of the reporter on the TV. “We found them!

  “Contact our troops in Denver; get them out to the airport and have them start looking for those guys—they have to be there somewhere. Tell
them to check the hospitals and clinics—someone’s going to need medical attention after a crash like that!”

  ***

  The Metroliner smoothly leveled off and settled into a north-westerly heading. Everyone on board was pleased to hear the muffled roar of healthy engines that carried them toward safety at close to three-hundred miles per hour.

  Chuck called back over the intercom in his best happy voice.

  “Good morning ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to welcome you aboard Air Force One. All systems are functioning normal and flight time to our next destination is about two hours. Please sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight.”

  “Air Force One?” Owen asked.

  “Yes, any plane that is carrying the President gets the ‘Air Force One’ call sign.”

  “Mhh, never too old to learn new things,” Owen mumbled.

  The group of exhausted, disheveled travelers sporting black eyes, cuts, bruises, broken bones, and gunshot wounds looked at each other and then burst out laughing. It was the laughter of relief, knowing they had escaped from the jaws of hell.

  Owen looked at Chuck and grinned. “You’re quite a guy to get them laughing after what they’ve been through—they look like they were in hand-to-hand combat with a speeding train.”

  Chuck smiled, “Thanks, Owen, all in a day’s work—oh, and by the way, congratulations on your promotion.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Becoming an Air Force One pilot.”

  Owen grinned, “you’re the pilot, I’m along for the ride.”

  “You’re rated on twin-engine aircraft, aren’t you? That’s what Peter told me.”

  “Well, yes, but nothing as big as this…”

  “Aw, the principle is the same. Time for a bit of on-the-job training. I’m going to take a nap, so you’re the pilot now.”

  “But …”

  “Wake me up if you need me. Enjoy!” and with that Chuck donned a baseball cap and pulled the bill down over his eyes.

  Owen stared at him for a moment, before looking out the window at the rapidly brightening sky, glanced at the instrument panel without seeing it, and then turned back to Chuck and settled a bit further into his seat.

  “Well, I’ll be a son-of-a-bitch… I’m flying Air Force One!” Owen mumbled.

  Chuck smiled, but Owen was already looking over the instrument panel again, seeing it this time.

  As tired as the passengers were, most of them remained awake.

  Daniel’s shoulder was throbbing, but he tried his best not to show his discomfort.

  Max and the doctor stayed close to their charges, Rick and the President, checking their vital signs and trying to keep them as comfortable as possible. The doctor frequently shook his head, obviously worried, but said nothing.

  To everyone’s relief the flight went without incident, and Chuck awoke when Owen tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Wake up old timer,” he teased. “I’ve got her lined up for you, and we’re on final approach.”

  “What did you wake me up for then? You’re doing fine!”

  “I’ve never landed a plane this big, and while the principle may be the same, with all the injured we’ve got on board, I’d prefer that someone who knows what they’re doing land the plane.”

  “Well, if you insist—I guess I can’t let some young upstart out-fly me now can I?”

  “After that landing at Denver, I don’t think anyone can out-fly you!”

  Chuck checked the instruments and looked out the window. “You’ve lined us up dead on. Good job! I couldn’t have done it better myself!”

  Within minutes the plane touched down gently, rolled out, and taxied toward the gathered welcoming committee.

  Chuck was the last to leave the plane, and Sarah walked over to him, put her hands on her hips and glared at him, fuming.

  “So, you’re the one who has lots of experience landing a 747 on one engine— simulator experience? Huh?

  “And you dumped the entire fuel supply? Right?”

  He stood looking at her, bracing himself—he had no illusion that he was facing a mother grizzly ready to tear him apart. He took a step back, “I ah … I … I …”

  “I ought to tear you apart for lying to us,” she started to cry and threw herself at him wrapping her arms around him, “but I’m just so grateful to you for bringing them all here safely—thank you!”

  Chuck was astounded and uncomfortable; surely this beautiful woman was someone’s wife; he patted her haltingly on the back, saying “that’s my job ma’am.”

  Just then someone tapped him on the shoulder—the Vice President.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “That’s my wife you’re holding mister.”

  “Oh, geez, sorry sir,” Chuck said looking abashed and trying to step further aside.

  Daniel smiled and offered his hand. “Thank you for bringing me home to her. If it’s ever up to me, I want you as my pilot from now on when I fly anywhere. You have a permanent place in the Rossler family.”

  Chapter 34- You better run and hide

  Kelly, Peter’s wife and former TV celebrity, and Alison, Owen’s wife, were a little overwhelmed by the influx of people suddenly needing food and places to sleep at Mount Ararat. However, they were able to accommodate everyone.

  They already had a buffet style breakfast of coffee, eggs, bacon, potatoes, toast, and fruit ready. People gratefully served themselves and found places to sit wherever they could. When they finished eating, they were distributed between the two houses to clean up and get some sleep.

  One of the rooms at Kelly’s house had been arranged as a two-patient improvised hospital room for Rick and Laurie with Max and the doctor taking it in turns to check on them.

  Rebecca and Cyndi treated other injuries throughout the morning. Mostly it consisted of cleaning up minor cuts, suturing a few more serious wounds, providing analgesics, wrapping sprained appendages, and setting and securing a broken bone or two.

  The doctor left Max in charge of the two hospital patients while he tended to Daniel’s shoulder—Sarah present, like a broody hen, during the procedure.

  It was a relief to Daniel when the local anesthetic eased the pain radiating from the wound.

  “You’re lucky it stopped where it did. Otherwise, it would have shattered your Scapula—the shoulder blade.”

  Daniel grunted as the doctor applied a clean dressing over the sutures. “Thanks, Doc.”

  “You’re welcome. Here, let’s get this sling on you to give that shoulder some rest, and then you need to get some rest.”

  Smiling slightly Daniel replied, “Oh that I could, but I think that is going to be awhile in coming yet,” he nodded toward the approaching Max.

  “Daniel, the President is awake and wants to talk to you and Nigel immediately; Nigel is on his way,” Max reported.

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” the doctor said hurrying away toward the President’s room.

  “Come on, Max,” Daniel said, “This ought to be interesting.”

  “What?”

  “The doc trying to make the President behave.”

  When they arrived, they heard the doctors voice… “Absolutely not. You are in no condition to receive visitors!”

  “Then I will get up out of this bed and go meet them somewhere else.”

  “But you can’t, you’re in no state to go anywhere!”

  “Doctor now is not the time for this. We are in the middle of a crisis, and I don’t have the strength to argue with you. Either get Daniel and Nigel in here, or I will go to them.”

  A brief silence followed and then the rustle of covers being thrown aside was heard.

  “All right, I’ll get them, just please stay in bed, and please keep it short.”

  “Thank you, doctor,” she said weakly.

  Daniel stepped into the room, “I’m here Laurie, relax.”

  “Daniel,” Laurie gasped, “we have to let the people know what has happened… I mean what i
s happening…” she looked around puzzled, taking in her surroundings for the first time. “Where are we anyway?”

  “We’re in one of the Rossler Foundation safe houses, don’t worry, you’re going to be fine,” Daniel tried to sound upbeat, but the tightness in his throat made it impossible.

  “No Daniel, I am not going to be fine,” she said softly. “I need to get on television and radio and let the people know what Hayden has done and is planning to do.”

  “Okay, it will take a little time to set things up—I’ll get it done right away.”

  She shook her head in frustration. “I don’t have time, Daniel.” Her eyes were closed, and her voice was dropping off. “I need to do it now! Use a smartphone to make a recording if you have to.”

  Nigel had just arrived and pulled out his phone. “One moment, Laurie.”

  She tried to adjust herself to a more comfortable position but grimaced from pain.

  “Okay, ready. Go ahead, Laurie.”

  She looked directly at Nigel’s phone. It was clear, she was in pain and was mustering all her strength to speak, “My fellow Americans. Our nation is at a crossroads, and we must act wisely. The criminal John Brideaux and his Council have left this nation and the world a legacy of death and destruction. We must act to change that. We must join together to rebuild this nation, and the world, for the good of all people.” She gasped for air momentarily and then continued.

  “Retired General Tom Hayden has attempted to overthrow this government and brought about civil war. His attack on the White House last night cost many lives, and I have been mortally wounded.

  “We have intelligence reports that he is planning on setting up a military government to help him attain and keep his control. This is a nation of democracy and General Hayden’s plans are those of a dictatorship.”

  The President coughed, and a trickle of blood began to run from her nose and the corner of her mouth. “I beg of you to stop fighting, join together to support your next President, Daniel … Rossler, … and restore … this once … proud … na … ation … to …” she got no further; she slipped into unconsciousness.

  “Shut that damn thing off!” the doctor said, rushing to her side. He checked her pulse as she began to stir slightly.