“Tally two, Sentry One-One is naked,” Batman announced, indicating he was not being locked by any of the fighters’ radars.
“Tally two, Sentry One-Two is naked,” Tuna replied. The MiGs were not a threat to him.
“Ten miles, two, bracket,” Batman directed. Tuna started a hard turn to the right as Batman offset left in an attempt to gain separation between himself and his flight lead. They would each take a side and meet at the group of fighters from separate avenues of approach, allowing one fighter an unobserved entry into the fight.
“Unknown Rider, Unknown Rider, position One-Two-Zero radial at seventy-six miles off Key West, five thousand feet, identify yourself on frequency 243.0 or 121.5, Hunter on guard,” the male controller said, attempting to establish voice communications with the aircraft as the fight approached the ADIZ.
“Sentry One-One, cleared to engage,” the controller said. In accordance with the rules of engagement, they were allowed to identify and intercept the targets. If they felt an imminent threat to themselves or the US, they were cleared to fire, but otherwise were to remain weapons tight.
“Sentry One-One,” Batman replied.
“Holy shit!” Batman said to himself as he watched one of the dots explode in flight and plummet toward the water in a fireball.
“Sentry One-One has a fireball,” Batman announced on the primary frequency.
“Hunter copies, do you have an ID yet?” the controller replied.
“Sentry One-One, negative,” Batman said as he turned from his offset to face the fight at five miles.
“Hunter shows slow mover separating north squawking 7700,” the controller said, indicating the slow contact was now indicating an emergency with its transponder code.
“Tally two only,” Batman announced. At three miles, he saw the two aircraft, one much larger than the other. He could make out the distinct twin tails of the large MiG-29 as he watched it jockey for position with the other much smaller aircraft.
“Smoke in the air!” Tuna said, approaching the merge.
Batman was locked to the MiG-29 as he struggled to make out the type of the smaller aircraft. He watched as the missile left the rail of the MiG-29, sending a plume of smoke as it screamed past the smaller aircraft.
“Maintain ten thousand,” Batman directed as the two fighters approached the merge. They set up a wide orbit over the fight.
“Looks like a MiG-29 and an... F-16?” Batman asked over the auxiliary radio.
“Concur,” Tuna replied as the two jets circled above the fight.
Batman watched as the MiG-29 regained the advantage, rolling in behind the F-16. It jinked into a barrel roll as the MiG was in its control zone.
“Hunter, Sentry One-One IDs Fulcrum and Falcon, confirm friendly?” Batman said. He wasn’t sure why a friendly F-16 would be this far away, but if it were, they needed to act fast. It was obviously defensive.
“Hunter unable,” the controller responded.
He had to act quickly. The odds of a foreign F-16 being engaged by a known Cuban MiG-29 were slim in this part of the world. The nearest country with F-16s was Venezuela, and Batman doubted they would be fighting each other. He made the call.
“Sentry flight, green’em up, lead’s in. Two, cover,” Batman said over the primary frequency as he reached up and flipped the MASTER ARM switch to ARM.
As the F-16 rolled out in front of him, the MiG-29 maneuvered back into a firing solution. Batman selected the AIM-9, his most surgical air-to-air missile, checked for a good tone on the maneuvering MiG-29, and said a small prayer as he pressed the red “pickle button” on the control stick.
“Fox two!” he said as he maneuvered to maintain his offensive position behind the two aircraft.
The AIM-9 screamed across his canopy as it launched from the left inboard pylon toward the MiG, exploding as it hit the MiG’s left engine. The pilot ejected just as the aircraft fell toward the water.
“Splash one!” Batman announced.
Batman rolled in behind the F-16 as it turned hard toward him. Batman breathed a sigh of relief as the aircraft rolled out and started rocking its wings.
* * *
Spectre had lost the MiG-29 in the sun momentarily as he rolled out of the tuck under jink. He saw the pilot eject as the MiG exploded into a fireball behind him.
As he continued his turn to look for the shooter, he saw another set of twin tails in the rising sun and attempted another break turn. He had never seen the third aircraft enter the fight, but was relieved when he saw the light gray jet and realized it was an American F-15.
Spectre tried to key the radio and speak, but realized his radio cord had somehow been disconnected as he twisted and turned in the cockpit during the fight, so he rocked his wings – an indication in training to knock off the fight. He hoped the American F-15 pilot would recognize it.
As Spectre stopped rocking his wings and returned to level flight, he tried to maintain a non-threatening posture as the F-15 followed him in trail. He plugged in his comm. cord and attempted contact on the emergency UHF frequency.
“This is the F-16 squawking seven-seven-zero-zero, eighty miles southeast of Key West,” he said. He couldn’t think of a callsign to use. He thought about just using his name, but figured it would just be best to identify his position. He had never had that problem before.
“Aircraft squawking seventy-seven hundred, say intentions,” the voice replied.
“Request a discreet frequency,” Spectre replied, not wanting to broadcast what happened over an open, emergency channel.
“This is Hunter on Guard, change to my frequency three four three decimal seven,” the male voice replied.
Spectre changed the frequency as the F-15 pulled alongside him in formation.
“This is the F-16 on three forty three seven,” Spectre said.
“Say callsign,” the controller replied.
“Uhh.... Spectre?” Spectre said, still unsure of what to call himself.
“Spectre this is Sentry One-One, you will be directed to Homestead Air Reserve Base,” another voice said.
“Spectre copies,” Spectre said, chuckling to himself at the idea of using his callsign as his flying callsign. “Request an escort for the Blackhawk off your nose for ten miles. It’s an urgent medevac mission.”
Spectre watched as a second F-15 descended in front of them in the direction of Elvis and the Blackhawk.
The F-15 escorted Spectre to Homestead ARB for a straight-in landing. It paced him until he was on short final to land, and then went around as Spectre touched down. Flying up the Keys, through Florida City, and past the racetrack brought back a flood of memories for Spectre. It was almost like the fini-flight he’d never been given.
As Spectre cleared the runway at the far end, the nostalgia ended. Two Air Force Security Forces Impalas and a Black Suburban met him at the end of the runway with weapons drawn. As soon as he stopped in the dearming area, his wheels were chocked. He was instructed to exit the aircraft with hands in sight as he shut down.
Spectre unstrapped and raised the canopy as the engine spooled down. A ladder was hung from the side of the aircraft as the men trained their guns on him. He was instructed to exit the aircraft and lie down on the hot ramp face down.
So much for the hero’s welcome, Spectre thought.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Homestead, FL
“Time to wake up, Special Agent, you’re going to die a hero today,” the man’s voice said.
Decker awoke to a man standing over her waving something in her face. As she slowly regained her senses, she realized it was Leon waving an ammonia inhalant smelling salt in front of her nose.
Decker’s eyes widened as she started to regain control of her faculties. Leon was standing over her with that same creepy grin he had earlier at her desk. Decker tried to take note of her surroundings. Her hands were bound to the old wooden chair she was sitting in. She had no idea where she was or what had happened. The last thing she rememb
ered was downloading the image and trying to get the secure fax to work after Leon left her cubicle. Everything after that was a complete blank.
“Agent Leon? Where am I? What’s going on?” Decker asked as she tried putting the pieces together. Her head was throbbing. It was scary to her that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t remember anything.
“First, you are going to tell me everything you know about that picture and what you and that Air Force agent were working on,” Leon replied as he sat in a chair next to her.
Decker took note of her surroundings. She was in the middle of what appeared to be a living room. There was a large flat screen TV surrounded by living room furniture. Her hands were bound by silk ties to the wooden chair she was sitting in. She felt the restraints loosen and the old wood flex as she wiggled her wrists. She was not well restrained.
“Tell you what?” Decker asked as she tilted her head to the side. “Is this some sort of sick joke?”
Leon leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. She could now see he was wearing latex gloves. “I’m afraid this is no joke, Agent Decker. You and the Air Force agent have gotten yourself mixed up with some very bad people, and I’m afraid it’s going to bite you.”
“What are you talking about?” she demanded.
“I read your case file, Agent Decker,” he began, standing up from the chair. “You and Agent Baxter have been chasing wild leads about stolen airplanes concocted by jilted lovers. Unfortunately, that jilted lover will kill you in his own home. Tragic really, since we already lost Thomas in this case.”
Decker watched Leon as he walked toward the rear of the room and picked something up. She tried to think of all the encounters she had with Leon, but came up blank. Other than being a sleaze ball, she had no idea what his angle was. The stolen F-16 had obviously struck a nerve with whomever he was working for.
“So you think kidnapping me and bringing me to Martin’s home will somehow frame him? You know there were guards and surveillance tapes at the office, right? You can’t expect to get away with this.”
Leon walked back to the two chairs in the center of the room. He had picked up a carpenter’s hammer on the other side of the room, and placed it on the chair next to her. He stood over her, staring with that same creepy grin.
“You really don’t remember anything, do you?” he asked.
Leon seemed to savor the confused look on her face as she continued searching for answers in her blank memory.
“Let me help you. You walked right out of the office without so much as a word of protest. You even swiped your badge out and smiled at Frank as we passed the front desk. Sound familiar yet?”
Decker struggled to remember the details, but nothing was coming back to her. She only remembered standing at the secure fax, and even that was blurry.
Leon laughed. “Don’t worry, the stuff is probably already out of your system by now. It only lasts an hour. No one will ever know.”
“What did you do to me, asshole?” Decker snapped. The realization hit her that he had somehow managed to give her some form of a date rape drug. The thought of Leon touching her with his sleazy hands sent chills up her spine.
“Relax, it’s just ketamine. You didn’t even feel a thing. But I’ve answered enough of your questions, now you answer mine,” he replied.
Decker thought back to the fax machine. He must have somehow injected her with it when she had her back turned. She cursed herself for dropping her guard after he walked off, seemingly satisfied with the explanation that the picture on her monitor was just something a friend had sent her unrelated to work. The ketamine explained her lack of memory though. She had heard of it a few times before, and she remembered it caused memory loss, compliance, a detached feeling, and sedation in victims. It was a very popular club drug in Miami.
“If you’re just going to kill me, why bother?” Decker asked indignantly.
“Because I need to know just how much you actually know, and if you don’t answer, I will make your death very painful and slow,” Leon replied picking up the hammer. “It seems Mr. Martin learned some pretty ruthless stuff when he was in Iraq.”
“What do you want to know?” Decker asked.
“Where did you get the picture?” Leon asked, taking his seat in the wooden chair across from her. He was still holding the hammer, spinning it in his hand as he waited for her response. The chairs seemed to be from the dining room set barely visible in the other room.
“I told you, they were just from a friend,” she said, wiggling against the silk ties holding her in the chair. She guessed they must have been Martin’s as well. Leon had been fairly thorough in building the evidence, but had been careless in choosing the restraints. She was slightly insulted.
Leon backhanded her with his gloved hand. “Is that really the way you want to go with this?”
“You don’t scare me!” she screamed.
Leon put down the hammer and pulled a Gerber assisted-open field knife out of his pocket. He pressed the release and the blade clicked open.
“Good, then maybe we could have a little fun before we get back to business,” he said, sliding the flat part of the cold steel blade across her cheek.
“Fuck you, you dirty piece of shit,” Decker responded.
Leon let the blade drift down to her shirt. He slid it down to her chest and popped the top two buttons off, partially revealing her cleavage. He licked his lips.
“Ok!” she screamed. The thought of him touching her was worse than whatever sick, twisted plan he had for the hammer.
“Yeah, but I kind of like this idea,” Leon replied, staring at her partially exposed breasts with his creepy grin.
Decker was horrified. She could see the guy was a psychopath. He had no idea Spectre wasn’t even in the country, and didn’t seem to care that if he did touch her, his entire framing operation would be out the window. She decided she had played along far too long.
“Don’t you want to know what I know first?” she asked innocently.
“Good girl,” he said, “but I was hoping you were going to be a bad girl. I’ve still got more ketamine in the car. Maybe later.”
“Put the knife away, and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” she said as Leon took a step back and stared at her.
Leon took a step back and folded the knife against his thigh. He put it back in his pocket and sat down in the chair across from her.
“I’m listening,” he said, motioning for her to explain.
Decker mumbled her response under her breath.
“I’m sorry?” he asked, leaning in.
Decker said it again, this time more softly as Leon stood and leaned in to hear her. He was within a foot of her. She could feel his disgusting hot breath on her face.
“I said, ‘You’re a fucking idiot,’” she said as she sent her right foot at high speed squarely into his testicles. He had restrained her hands, but had completely neglected her feet, leaving her a perfect opportunity as he stood before her.
As Leon leaned even further down toward her in pain, Decker leaned back and unleashed a devastating head butt into his nose. The blow had landed perfectly, sending blood gushing from his nose and face as he hit the floor. Decker ripped her right hand free of the wooden chair. She had noticed its right arm was not even glued down when she was testing the restraints, and the arm ripped right off as she twisted her body and pulled.
With one hand free, Decker turned and grabbed the chair as she stood. She picked up the chair and rotated, sending the chair crashing down on the doubled-over Leon. He collapsed as the chair shattered over his body, leaving Decker holding only the two wooden arms that her hands had been tied to.
Decker untied the silk ties from each hand and dropped the pieces of wood that had once been chair arms on the floor. Leon groaned and tried to get up, but a swift kick to the ribs was enough to make him stay down.
Decker noticed that Leon was still wearing his handcuffs on his belt, so she put a knee
on the back of his neck and grabbed them out of his pouch. She handcuffed his hands behind his back and rolled him onto his back while pulling his knife out of his pocket and removing his gun from his holster.
She felt her forehead. It was tender, but she was in far less pain than Leon appeared to be. Being hard headed all her life had finally paid off. Her ex-boyfriends would be so proud to be vindicated.
“Snap out of it,” she said, slapping his face. “I have more questions for you.”
“I want a lawyer,” he said, still groaning from the pain.
“Wrong answer,” she said as she picked up the hammer from the ground. She wanted nothing more than to bash his face in.
Leon forced a laugh as he unsuccessfully tried to sit up. His ribs were bruised or broken, making it too painful.
“You aren’t going to do anything, don’t kid yourself,” he said as he gave up his attempts to sit up. “You might as well call for backup, and then it’s my word against yours.”
Decker stared at him for a moment. Leon was smugly declaring victory in the face of defeat. She spun the hammer in her hand and squatted down next to him.
“Last chance,” she said calmly. “Who are you working for?”
“Lawyer, bitch,” Leon responded.
Without saying a word, Decker sent the hammer crashing down into his right knee, shattering his kneecap and causing him to scream in agony.
“What the fuck! What the fuck are you doing!” Leon cried as he rolled in pain.
“You’ve got one more and then I move on to testicles. You know, my word against yours and all that,” she replied.
“Victor Alvarez!” he screamed, still rolling in pain.
“What was your involvement?” she asked, still spinning the hammer in her hand.
“I just gave him a heads up when his asset’s name popped up on the wire and I fed him the stuff Thomas and you were working on,” he replied.
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