by Tom Carroll
“Lieutenant Garrett is reporting errors with the refueling systems and also the ejection system. We can’t get him more gas, we’re too far for him to make it to the beach, and they can’t eject. Our only option is to take him aboard.”
“What does Boeing say about the refueling and egress failures? Are they related to the control problem?” CAG asked Tom.
“That’s the weird part,” Robinson replied. “Boeing says no way are these two problems related — they’re entirely different systems!”
“Have you considered sabotage, Captain?” DeSantis quietly asked. “I mean, is it possible that someone might purposely have damaged the aircraft in an attempt to assassinate Secretary Garrett?” As Anna looked around the table, she could tell from the silence and blank expressions that sabotage had not been considered.
Captain Chavez broke the silence. “Perhaps that’s one explanation, and I would ask you to pursue that line of investigation with our contacts at Boeing. Right now, our priority remains getting that damaged plane safely aboard.”
“We’ve discussed using the barrier to stop the plane,” Commander Robinson said. “But we’re all in agreement that Lieutenant Garrett should first attempt an arrested gear landing. He has enough gas for two shots at the deck, and if he can’t get aboard, we’ll have to take him in the barrier.”
“It’s a lot to ask of any pilot, Tom, let alone a young one, to land a plane with reversed controls on a heaving deck. Are you confident this is our best option?” asked CAG.
Commander Robinson pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. “Yes, sir, I do. Lieutenant Garratt’s a good stick. And right now, we’re wasting time and gas talking about it. Let’s get ‘em aboard!”
As the meeting ended and the officers all began to scatter, Lenny Wilson approached Anna and motioned her aside. “That was a shocking theory! If you really think someone sabotaged the aircraft, you better get on the phone right away with Boeing to figure out how it might have been done, and who could have done it.”
“Yes, sir. I have a meeting already scheduled with them for fifteen minutes from now. I’ll let you know what I find out.”
10,000 feet above USS Ronald Reagan
“Yes, skipper. I agree it’s our best option,” Dan said into his mic.
“You’ve been well-trained to handle emergencies, JOKER,” Tom reminded him. “Although you’ve never simulated this particular malfunction, we both know you have the skills to get this aircraft safely aboard.”
“Roger that, sir. Let me get a few things lined up here first, and I’ll start my approach.”
Dan reviewed his landing checklist one more time, making certain nothing was being overlooked, and nothing else was malfunctioning. “Hey, Dad. I wish Katrina was sitting back there right now instead of you.”
“You’re not the only one!” Colt laughed nervously.
“No, I meant I really wish I wasn’t putting you at risk. You’re more than just my father now. You’re important to our country. And also, Katrina gets flight pay, and you don’t.”
As Dan carefully worked his way through the landing checklist, Colt had a few moments to think. Who knows if we’re going to get out of this? he wondered. I’ve faced danger before, and I’ve lived a good and complete life. But Dan is too young to die! he thought, silently praying his son would survive the flight. He wished he had been a better husband to Linda. He made a promise to work harder to fix their marriage if he somehow walked away from this landing. And he would spend more time with their daughter, Alexandra, too.
“Actually, Dan, I’m glad I’m here with you. I am so proud of you right now. And no matter how this turns out, we’re together. But son, like your skipper said, I know you can do this. I have absolute confidence in you.”
Colt thought he heard Dan keying his microphone to respond until the radio began to squawk. “Growler 505, this is Sierra Three Foxtrot. You are cleared to land! Good luck, JOKER!”
Dan eased the Growler to his left and began his final descent to the carrier, intercepting the glideslope and lining up for landing. When he spotted the Fresnel lens that would guide him to the ship, he keyed his mic and reported, “505 Growler Ball, 7.0!”
Landing Signal Officer Platform, the Reagan
Standing firmly on the landing signal officer platform near the ship’s stern, Katrina was in the only spot on earth she would want to be right now. While Dan was attempting to bring his crippled plane aboard the Reagan, the air wing’s most experienced LSO, Lieutenant Commander Rob Burnett, was giving power and line-up corrections to him via a radio handset. And Katrina was watching every second.
“Roger Ball, 505, the deck is steady, winds are slightly starboard, you’re on glideslope, you’re on speed,” coached Rob Burnett, who could only imagine the difficulty Dan was experiencing while flying a plane with inversed elevator controls. Under the most ideal conditions, pilots were always challenged when landing on an aircraft carrier. And this situation was far from ideal. Burnett noticed Growler 505 was starting to drop a bit below the glideslope and said calmly into the mic, “Don’t settle, easy with it.”
Standing on the LSO platform, Burnett watched the Growler climb as Dan increased power, but then noticed the plane lose altitude again. “Power back on, a little left rudder, POWER!”
Now below the glideslope, as Growler 505 continued to descend, once more Dan increased power at the last moment but Growler 505 gained too much altitude, causing its tailhook to miss an arresting gear wire as the aircraft slammed down and continued down the flight deck. Dan immediately increased power to full military, pushed the control stick forward, and the aircraft climbed back into the sky.
“Bolter, Bolter, Bolter!” shouted the LSO as Growler 505 continued to climb into the air and to prepare for its second attempt at the deck.
“Well, that didn’t go very well,” said Dan to his father as he brought the plane back around and called the ball once more. “I’ve got enough fuel for one more pass before they rig the barrier.”
The barrier or barricade was made of strong, industrial-grade nylon straps that grabbed an aircraft to stop its forward motion. In emergencies, a barricade was stretched across the flight deck to stop an aircraft and to ensure the safety of the pilot and flight deck crew.
This time, Dan made fewer flight control adjustments as Growler 505 gradually descended down the glideslope toward the carrier. The LSO made just a few comments to Dan as he closely watched the plane approach the ship. The crew of USS Ronald Reagan watched Growler 505 descend the glideslope on monitors throughout the ship. They stood in silence, motionless, each praying in the way that felt the most comforting, the most reassuring.
Dan slammed the throttles forward as the Growler crossed the ship’s stern and Burnett watched as the plane flew by the LSO Platform and caught the Number 2 wire with its tailhook. Dan kept the throttles fully forward until a flight deck crewman indicated he had safely hooked a wire. Dan pulled the throttles back, raised the tailhook, and taxied out of the landing area.
Rob Burnett placed his handset back into its holder, wiped the sweat from his brow, and turned to face Katrina. “Not the best landing I’ve ever seen, but hands down, that was the best flying I’ve ever seen!”
Holding back her tears, Katrina breathed a deep sigh of relief and silently gave thanks before hurrying off the LSO platform to find Dan.
The Flight Deck, the Reagan
Dan shut the engines down and sat for a few moments longer than usual, collecting himself and calming his nerves before opening the canopy above his head. In no time, technicians were scrambling up the sides of the fuselage to assist the shaken pilot and passenger out of their ejection seats. Climbing down the ladder, Colt saw Anna DeSantis waiting next to the plane with several of the ship’s security team alongside her, all armed with pistols and semiautomatic rifles.
“What’s with the security detail?” Colt asked Anna.
“Sir, glad to have you safely on board! I’m afraid, we su
spect the airplane’s malfunctioning may have been an attempt on your life, and we’re not taking any chances. Now, let’s get you back to your cabin.”
“Do you mean this wasn’t an accident? Someone was trying to kill us? Do we know who?”
“We’re just starting to piece it together, sir,” Anna said over the flight deck noise. “We’ve learned the GRU has one or more assets onboard the Reagan. We thought they were being tasked with espionage, but now it appears they might have made an attempt on your life. I can give you more details later, but right now, I need to get you to your cabin!”
As Anna grabbed the secretary by the arm and the security team rushed him inside the carrier’s superstructure, Colt thought to himself, The GRU? Could Petrov be involved with this?
Squadron maintenance technicians waisted no time to inspect the aircraft to see if they could identify what had caused the system failures, until Kevin Orr arrived and loudly announced, “Everyone step back! This plane is now a Federal crime scene, and nobody touches it without my permission! I need 505 moved down to the hangar deck and secured. Now!”
03 Level Catwalk, the Reagan
Malcolm and VADIM stood apart from the crowd and watched the commotion surrounding Growler 505 as the ship’s security detail rushed a bewildered and visibly unnerved Colt Garrett to his private cabin.
“Malcolm,” whispered VADIM, “what do you think went wrong? I thought you said there was no way they could have safely landed that plane.” VADIM knew it was only a matter of time before the NCIS agents and the Boeing engineers determined that the Magic Carpet system was at least partially to blame for the near disaster. If the Navy discovered that the software had been altered, Garrett’s security detail would be increased, and Malcolm would be on a very short list of suspects. Vadim also suspected that Malcolm wouldn’t stand up to the inevitable NCIS interrogation.
Malcolm turned his back on the activity on the flight deck, faced the sea and tightly grasped the steel lifeline. “I did exactly what I said I would do, and you agreed with the plan,” he said vehemently to VADIM. “It’s not my fault that the pilot was able to successfully recover from the system failures and bring that plane aboard. There’s not another pilot in the air wing that could have done what he did. Moscow can’t blame me!”
VADIM turned to face Malcolm and touched his shoulder. “I’m sure you’re right. I’ll make certain that Moscow understands you did everything you could. I suspect they’ll start working on a plan to get you off the Reagan as soon as possible.”
Malcolm released his grip on the lifeline and turned to face VADIM. “Thanks for having my back, and for being a friend,” he whispered. “I can’t wait for this to be over.” Malcolm turned and started to walk away with his head down and his hands in his pockets.
VADIM watched him shuffle along the catwalk and open the hatch to return to his stateroom. VADIM thought, I’m pretty sure you won’t have to wait too long, as the topside loudspeaker blared, “Now, secure from flight ops!”
Russian Military Intelligence HQ, Khodinka Airfield, Moscow, the Russian Federation
Colonel General Igor Korobov read through the intelligence reports with increasing concern, as it became more and more clear that the GRU’s attempt to assassinate the American secretary of defense had failed. Although he knew better than to consider it a sure thing, he had hoped things would go better than they did so his problem with Colton Garrett could have been solved by the time he read the morning intel reports. His long weekend with the lovely Ulyana had sufficiently distracted him from worrying about the mission on board the Reagan, but now that he was back, he faced a difficult decision: Should he execute his fail-safe plan to assassinate Garrett, or should he accept the unfortunate setback and move on? Well, he knew that taking direct action against a senior American official could be a career-ending move, but the general also knew that the goals of a Garrett-led, American defense department would be unacceptable to the Russian government.
Annoyed with an interruption, Korobov pressed the red flashing button on his telephone and grumbled, “Yes, what is it?”
“Colonel General, Comrade Director Orlov is holding for you on line three.”
Gregory Orlov served as Director of the Russian Federation’s Federal Security Service, one of the agencies that survived after the breakup of the Soviet-era KGB. Orlov reported directly to the Russian President, and from his headquarters in the Lubyanka Building in Moscow, he managed a vast agency responsible for internal security. His call now was certainly not a surprise.
Korobov took a deep breath and sat up in his chair as he lifted the phone to his ear. “Good morning, Comrade Orlov. I trust you are well. What can I do for you?”
“Comrade Colonel General, I understand your operation to eliminate the new American secretary of defense was not successful. How unfortunate for you! I was speaking with our president a few moments ago, and he continues to be concerned that Mr. Garrett will be nothing but an impediment to our interests. He expressed great disappointment upon hearing of your failure. He made me pledge to him that I would contact you immediately and offer any assistance you may require.”
General Korobov carefully considered his response. “Thank you, Comrade Director. I very much appreciate your offer of assistance. At this moment, I am in the process of initiating the next phase of the plan, which I am confident is fail-proof. I will definitely contact you should there be a resource I require that you can provide.”
When their brief conversation ended, the GRU chief considered the purpose of the call from Director Orlov. Clearly, Orlov wanted him to know how quickly the news of the failed assassination attempt had traveled, and that the Russian president was now even more closely monitoring the situation. Korobov saw that he had no choice but to carry out his back-up plan. He called his assistant into his office so he could dictate the order for Colonel Petrov and his agents on board the Reagan.
VADIM’S Stateroom, the Reagan
VADIM stared at Colonel Petrov’s now decrypted message, and after reading it three times, was forced to acknowledge it was a direct, two-part tasking from Moscow. First, VADIM was to carry out the assassination of Colton Garrett within the next twelve hours, and immediately afterward, permanently silence NIKITA or Malcolm Simpson. The methods used for the two executions were left up to VADIM, but the order itself could not have been clearer: Both Colton Garrett and Malcolm Simpson were to be dead before the sun went down. According to Petrov’s message, if VADIM did not comply, VADIM’s “closest relative” would “meet with an excruciating death.”
VADIM thought back to the very beginning, years earlier, when money had been unusually tight due to a bad gambling problem and the excessive losses that were the result. VADIM’s biggest mistake was accepting money from Sara, the barista in Bremerton, who turned out to be a Russian operative and who later threatened to expose VADIM unless specific services were provided. As time went on, additional assignments and payments had come along, while new rationalizations had helped to justify the increasingly risky activities. VADIM could never have anticipated or believed that those slightly dangerous but mildly exhilarating acts of espionage and betrayal would lead to brutal demands that could very likely end in VADIM’s capture, incarceration, and possible death.
Murdering someone was a world apart from the initial assignments VADIM had found it so easy to go along with. But now, there was even the added complication of a nearly impossible time frame that directly and violently threatened the life of VADIM’s mother. It was one thing to consider refusing Petrov’s order and to suffer being exposed as a Russian spy, but quite another to be sentencing your innocent and kind mother to an unthinkable and painful demise.
VADIM was trying to think of ways out of this when the phone rang. “Yes?” A short pause followed, then a quick “I’ll be right there!” Glancing at the stateroom clock before heading out the door, VADIM knew time was soon going to run out — for someone.
Defense Secretary Cabin, the Reagan
Carissa Curtis had been waiting by the door for over an hour when Colt Garrett finally returned to his cabin for their interview. She had desperately wanted to talk with him after yesterday’s incident in the air, but Garrett’s schedule had been consumed by meetings onboard and calls with Washington until early this morning.
Colt opened the cabin door and invited Carissa and her cameraman inside, then briefly excused himself to go into his bedroom and change into a suit and tie for the interview. After dressing, he opened his safe and removed the 1911 pistol which had been a gift from Admiral Shaffer a few days earlier, checking to be sure that a round was chambered. He engaged the slide lock and inserted the pistol into a holster on his waist, behind his right hip.
Several conversations with Anna and the directors of the FBI and NCIS in Washington finally convinced Colt that he indeed might have been the intended target of an assassination attempt. He was also stunned to learn that there were likely two or more Russian military intelligence operatives onboard the Reagan undercover as civilian contractors, and that the NCIS agents on the ship had already been working for several days to identify them.
This wasn’t the first time Colt had found himself tangling with Russian intelligence, but he never expected them to have penetrated the Reagan. He had long distrusted the Navy’s history of hiring civilian contractors to work onboard ships during deployments, and now he decided to ask the secretary of the Navy to reevaluate the practice.
And there was one more conclusion Colt arrived at: He needed to somehow be able to defend himself should there be another attempt on his life. He had a personal history with Dimitri Petrov that went back many years, and now, both the FBI and NCIS suspected Petrov had directed the assignation attempt. If Petrov was indeed involved, Colt assumed the Russian operative would try again, and this time, Colt was going to be prepared. The Reagan’s captain had vigorously opposed Colt’s decision to arm himself, but at this point, there was little she could say to dissuade him. Captain Solari did brief her department heads, though, in the event someone saw Secretary Garrett with his pistol and asked questions.