by Tom Carroll
Shaking his head, Captain Winters decided at that moment not to stop the train wreck he was witnessing. He reminded of the old Spanish expression, “The fish dies by its mouth,” and he sat in amazement, watching the admiral destroy his naval career.
Carissa paused for a moment before asking, “Is it your view, Admiral, that the military should not be subject to civilian control?”
Admiral Carlisle replied, authoritatively and by looking directly into the camera. “Certainly not civilian control,” he said.
A few minutes later, Carissa concluded the interview by thanking the admiral and then quickly ushered Randy and his unpacked camera, sound, and lighting equipment out of the stateroom.
After they left, Admiral Carlisle turned to Captain Winters and said, “That went quite well, I think. I didn’t say a word about the special mission, and I believe I made clear my qualifications for elected office and my views regarding the defense department.”
Captain Winters gathered his notes and nodded, “No question about it, sir.”
NCIS Offices, the Reagan
Kevin Orr and Anna DeSantis had been working non-stop, trying to discover the identity of the Russian agent using the screen name Geoffrey. Kevin had convinced Anna that they should focus on contractors first because they represented such a small percentage of those onboard. Over the past 24 hours, the two NCIS Special Agents had compiled a suspect list of five contractors who matched the search criteria they had selected for age, gender, and time onboard the Reagan.
“I’m satisfied that these five are our most likely candidates for Geoffrey,” Anna said as she looked over Kevin’s shoulder. “How do you think we should move forward?”
Kevin leaned back in his chair and rubbed the back of his neck. “This guy really interests me. I’ve been looking at his background, and so far, he’s the only one on our list who might have a problem with the department of defense. And this is the same contractor that Father Mike said has been hanging around the library.”
Anna moved closer to Kevin, placed her hands on his shoulders, and started massaging his neck. It wasn’t the first time she had done it, and he did seem to like it. She enjoyed touching and being close to him — that much she knew. Kevin closed his eyes and breathed in the subtle scent of her natural fragrance.
“Tell me about him, Kevin.”
It took him a moment to refocus on the job at hand. “His name is Malcolm Simpson and he’s a Boeing Tech Rep. He’s been on board for six months, but the interesting part is he was kicked out of the Army ROTC program at the University of Oregon for failing a drug test. It appears Mr. Simpson was smoking cannabis while he was in Eugene. He wasn’t on my radar before because this info wasn’t in the files his employer provided to Commander Abrams. But when I decided to run a criminal and military records search on our five suspects, that’s when it popped up.”
While Anna continued massaging Kevin’s neck, she said, “Weird that it wasn’t in the employer’s file, since that’s pretty basic stuff that would usually have turned up during a background investigation. Malcolm might be Geoffrey. I think I’ll send a formal message request to the security manager at Boeing Defense to see if they have anything more on this guy.”
Anna moved around the desk and sat in the chair facing Kevin. She picked up Malcolm Simpson’s file, looking at each document and photograph in the folder. “He’s a software engineer here to support the Super Hornet and Growler avionics systems. He seems to be one of their best. He’s single, lives with his mother in Seattle when he’s not deployed on a ship, and spends all his free time playing computer games and flying remote-control airplanes. He reads sci-fi novels and collects comic books. No wonder he’s single! Remind me not to date that guy.”
“Well, what kind of guy do you like to date?”
Anna blushed and straightened her shirt. “I don’t think I’m into dating anyone right now.”
“Why not?” Kevin pressed. “Don’t you want to find Mr. Right someday?”
“Well, she said coyly, I’ve been starting to wonder if maybe I’ve already found him.” With that, she smiled demurely, got up from her chair, and left the NCIS office.
Kevin stared at the closed door, wondering if he had heard her correctly. His feelings for Anna been shifting and intensifying over the past several days, but he hadn’t imagined she might feel the same. All he knew was that he liked being around her, and he sure didn’t mind those neck rubs.
Kevin looked back at the file on his desk. So, Mr. Malcolm Simpson,” he said, looking at a file photo, “Are you also our man, Geoffrey? And if so, why are you spending so much time in the library?”
Anna wandered back to her stateroom, thinking about Kevin and what she had just said to him. She certainly hadn’t planned to reveal her feelings and thought she had probably just said too much. She knew that in a few days, Colt Garrett would be leaving the Reagan and she would most likely be leaving with him to go back to Tokyo and, presumably, her next assignment. She definitely liked Kevin, though, and wished she had more time to get to know him. Life’s not fair, she thought to herself as she sank into a chair and drafted a message to the Boeing Defense security manager.
The Flight Deck, the Reagan
The Steel Beach party was in full swing. Three stages featuring rock, country, and hip-hop music competed for fans on the massive 1,100-foot-long flight deck. At over three football fields long, the flight deck provided plenty of space for the crew to find and enjoy the entertainment of their choice. Making the mood even lighter were the two cold beers rationed per crewmember, while the ship’s master-at-arms force watched closely to make sure no one over-indulged.
At noon, the three bands stopped playing and started to break down their equipment, while the rest of the crew moved to the ship’s port side in anticipation of the air show.
Joe Carlisle’s chief of staff, Captain Gary Winters, had decided to approach Lenny Wilson with his concerns about the admiral’s questionable statements during his TV interview. When he found Lenny in the crowd, he stood next to him and said, “Mr. Wilson, if you’ve never seen an air show before, you’re in for a real treat!”
Lenny responded enthusiastically, “I’ve seen the Blue Angels a few times at Pensacola, and also the Air Force Thunderbirds at Joint Base Andrews. You probably can’t get better than that!”
“Those pilots are sure amazing, and they’re some of the best pilots in the service,” said Captain Winters. “But nothing beats watching operational units show off the skills they use every day. Most people don’t realize the Blue Angels and Thunderbirds are pilots that recently served in regular Navy and Air Force squadrons, and the maneuvers you see them execute are the same that all military pilots can perform — the formations are just tighter.”
Watching the sky with a pair of binoculars he had borrowed from the bridge, Lenny continued to scan for airplanes. “I’m looking forward to it,” he said, “and of course, the chance to see Secretary Garrett and his son fly will be very cool!”
Captain Winters glanced around and asked, “Would you mind if we talked business while we’re waiting for the show to start, off the record?”
Lenny lowered his binoculars and looked directly at Gary. “What can I do for you, Captain?”
Captain Winters checked again to see that no one could be overhearing them. “Earlier today, Admiral Carlisle gave a television interview, and he made some statements that I’m afraid will not reflect well on him, the Navy, or the department of defense.”
Lenny looked at the concern on the Naval officer’s face. “Okay, spill it, Captain.”
“Admiral Carlisle said he didn’t think civilians should ever have operational responsibility over the military and its functions. He also made what might be construed as some derogatory remarks about Secretary Garrett. I thought you should know.”
As Lenny raised the binoculars back up to his eyes, he asked, “I assume he signed a release before they taped the interview? Ms. Curtis had me sign one whe
n she interviewed me.”
“Yes, sir. The admiral signed a release. In fact, I saw Ms. Curtis and her cameraman on the bow taping her comments for her newscast, and I’m pretty certain she has already transmitted the interview back to her network in New York.”
“That’s very unfortunate. It appears your admiral may have tripped over his own sword, big time. But I do appreciate your giving me a heads up. I’ll let the Pentagon know about the interview so they can be ready with a response.” Lenny paused and then said with a grin, “Speaking of the Pentagon, Captain Winters, do you have any interest in a tour on Secretary Garrett’s staff? I understand that colonels and captains are typically relegated to making coffee in the building, but perhaps we can find something more career-enhancing for you.”
Captain Winters was taken aback for a moment, but kept his voice calm as he answered, “I’d definitely like to hear more about the opportunities on Secretary Garrett’s staff, but first I think you better cover your ears as these two Super Hornets start making their approach.”
In less than a minute, two dual-seat F/A-18Fs were rapidly approaching from the stern just above the level of the flight deck, less than 100 feet above the water’s surface. As the two planes passed by where Lenny and Captain Winters were standing, they saw the aircrew waving before rocketing straight into the air. The ship’s crew jumped and cheered wildly at being so close to the noise and power of the high-performance jet aircraft.
Next, a single-seat Super Hornet approached the ship with its landing gear and tailhook down, flying as slowly as possible. As the jet came abreast of the ship, another Super Hornet flew past in the same direction but at full military power to demonstrate the dramatic difference in flight speeds. The Sailors and Marines watching the airshow grabbed their chests and covered their ears as the second Super Hornet went supersonic and broke the sound barrier with a loud boom.
A voice from the loudspeaker then directed the crowd’s attention to the next squadron in the show as two E-2D Hawkeye turboprop aircraft approached, rotating their massive circular radar rotodomes as they flew by the ship. An SH-60S Seahawk helicopter flying low next to the ship was the next flight demonstration, in which a crewman could be seen dropping into the water and climbing into an inflatable raft to simulate a downed airman. A second Seahawk then swooped down low, and a rescue swimmer jumped off and into the water to assist the simulated victim. He first helped the victim get out of the raft, then hooked a large yellow rescue collar under the man’s arms and watched as the Seahawk hoisted the man into the helicopter.
Next up was another F/A-18E squadron, with each of the two aircraft dropping bombs on the water. The crew on the flight deck watched as the bombs hit the water, followed by flashes of light, and finally, the delayed sound of the bombs exploding. The announcer then directed the crew’s attention to the starboard side, as two CMV-22B Ospreys approached the ship, one hovering in place like a helicopter while the other flew past at near top speed.
Lenny and Captain Winters looked eagerly to the stern of the massive aircraft carrier as two Growlers approached at 800 feet in a right echelon formation. The entire crew on the flight deck cheered loudly when the control tower announced that the lead Growler was being flown by Lieutenant Dan Garrett, and his father, Secretary of Defense Colton Garrett, was in the NFO seat. The two airplanes flew parallel to the ship and then in sequence banked 90 degrees left across the ship’s bow, bleeding off speed and altitude in a maneuver known by Naval aviators as the break. They climbed into the air and joined the other airshow aircraft circling the carrier as the flight deck was cleared and prepared for aircraft recovery.
Colt Garrett removed his oxygen mask and keyed his intercom, saying, “This has to be the coolest thing I have ever done! Thanks for the ride, son — you’re a hell of a pilot!”
Dan Garrett smiled to himself, feeling a bit embarrassed that his father’s opinion still meant so much to him. “Thanks, Dad! But I still need to get us safely aboard, so hold your applause for a few more minutes and get your O2 mask back on! I’m sure Skipper Robinson is pacing in Ready 4 right now, worried that I might screw up and kill us both!”
Colt didn’t doubt that Dan’s squadron commander was uneasy about the secretary of defense flying in one of his planes, but he believed it when Commander Robinson said Dan was one of the best pilots in his squadron. “Your skipper has a pretty high opinion of your skills as a pilot. In fact, he’s been pushing me pretty hard to help you get into test pilot school.”
“Dad, c’mon, let’s drop that for now. I get your position. It wasn’t fair of me to ask for your help, and I’m sorry the skipper brought it up. Right now, I need to get us aboard that bird farm. Lock your harness, and I’ll start the landing checklist.”
Colt watched out the canopy as aircraft after aircraft entered the pattern and began the descent to the carrier. The Ospreys recovered first, followed by the Hawkeyes and the Super Hornets. Dan banked the Growler left and descended to 600 feet on the downwind leg, running parallel with the carrier’s course and about a mile away. He had completed his landing checklist and reported he was abeam of the carrier with wheels and tailhook down, descending at 250 feet per minute. He banked left again and descended further to 450 feet above the water’s surface, then continued left one last time to intercept the glideslope for final approach to the carrier. Three-quarters of a mile from the ship, Dan saw the glideslope lens and “called the ball,” informing the tower of his side number, squadron, aircraft type, the amount of fuel remaining, and that he had visually acquired the ship’s Fresnel lens landing system. He skillfully made countless minor adjustments with his control stick, rudder pedals, and throttles to maintain the Growler’s alignment with the landing zone, while simultaneously maintaining the correct airspeed and angle of attack.
But then, everything went terribly wrong.
As Dan pulled back on the stick to raise the nose of the aircraft, the Growler’s nose went down instead. He increased the back pressure on the stick, but the plane continued descending even more.
What the hell? thought Dan. This is nuts! He then immediately aborted the landing, releasing the pressure on the stick, and allowing the plane’s automatic systems to level the aircraft. He keyed the radio microphone and calmly stated, “Sierra Three Foxtrot, this is Growler 505. I’m declaring an emergency due to erratic flight control systems. Request safe altitude hold and get the squadron rep on the line. Expedite!”
Dan attempted to ease the stick back again, but each time he did, the plane’s nose dropped. Trying everything, he pushed the stick forward, and instead of dropping the nose, it rose up. He suddenly realized that the stick input that controlled the elevators on the plane’s tail was reversed! He experimented with the other controls and was relieved to verify only the elevator function seemed to be reversed.
“Dan! What’s going on?” Colt had known enough to remain quiet while his son was fighting to regain control of the airplane, but once Dan had achieved level flight, Colt couldn’t help but ask what was happening.
“My control of the elevators is reversed! Back is down and forward is up! And I’m also getting some other warning indications. I’m getting errors for the refueling probe and the emergency egress system. I’m going to need some help getting this broken bird fixed before we can land.”
Primary Flight Control (Pri-Fly), the Reagan
“Get all the other planes aboard now, and then let’s work the problem, people,” said the air boss to the Pri-Fly team in their perch high above the flight deck. “And get Commander Robinson up here, NOW!”
Tom Robinson had already started racing up the ladders to Pri-Fly when he heard, “Commander Robinson, your immediate presence is requested in Pri-Fly!” over the ship’s 1MC. He rushed into Pri-Fly.
“What do we have, boss?”
The air boss was watching as the last of the other planes had landed. “It looks like you’ve got a broken bird, Tom,” he said, his voice showing concern. “Lieutenant Garrett
is reporting reversed elevator controls. It’s a miracle he didn’t slam 505 onto the ramp. How he recovered in time is beyond me!”
Commander Robinson could feel the tension in Pri-Fly, as the entire team stood motionless, staring at him. “Let’s get Boeing on the line ASAP!!!”
Carrier Intelligence Center (CVIC), the Reagan
The officers seated around the conference room table were talking in hushed tones but stood in unison when Captain Rami Chavez, callsign RAMBO, walked in with Lenny Wilson. As air wing commander, Captain Chavez was operationally responsible for all of the aircraft squadrons onboard the Reagan. The position was informally referred to as “CAG,” with a nod to the older title, commander air group.
“Seats, people!” said Captain Chavez. “Where are we?”
Commander Robinson opened a file and began describing the situation. “The experts at Boeing believe 505 is experiencing a control system software malfunction. The elevator input signals are reversed, which means when the pilot pulls back on the stick, the airplane dives, and vice versa. They have attempted to replicate the malfunction without success, and don’t believe it can be fixed in the air.”
The door to the conference room opened again as Special Agent DeSantis came in and took a seat at the table.
“Ms. DeSantis,” said Captain Chavez, “isn’t this situation outside of your area of expertise? Why don’t you go wait in the passageway while we try to get this aircraft under control?”
Anna could tell that all eyes in the room were on her. “The secretary of defense is on that aircraft, and I am the one person on this ship who is directly responsible for his safety. I plan to stay exactly where I am, Captain, and I will participate in any decision-making regarding the secretary’s well-being.”
Captain Chavez glanced over at Lenny Wilson, took a breath, and addressed Anna again. “My apologies,” he said. “I obviously didn’t think that through, Special Agent DeSantis. Of course, you may remain here and offer any assistance that you can.” He cleared his throat and continued. “Okay, folks,” he said, mildly flushed, “We have an airplane with two people on board and not only are we running out of time, it’s also running out of fuel. Tom, do we know what’s up with the refueling probe?”