Ron Schwartz - The Griffins Heart.txt

by The Griffin's Heart(Lit)

  Rob smiled at Wright. “We need fuel. If we’re going to have to start another war, well, I can’t think of a better place.”

  Wright shook his head, frustrated. “What did you mean when you said that the Navy already has its ships in place?”

  “The Navy always keeps a carrier task force in the region of the South China sea. It’s because of Formosa. You know, Nationalist China. Even though we don’t officially recognize them as a nation, we still have forces there to protect them from Communist China.”

  Rob lifted his hand and motioned for the men to be silent. “It’s settled. Vietnam, it is. Rock, go get Taylor. Lucky, tell me what you know about the area. How do we get in without being seen?”

  Lucky laid out a plan. “Hanoi’s soft spot is in the south. Vietnam believes China to be their enemy, so they have focused their defenses mostly to the north. To the west is Laos and Cambodia, and they’re nothing but puppet states for Hanoi. They act as a kind of buffer between them and Thailand, so only minimal forces are focused there. Vietnam has no threats to the south, so they expend very little effort there. There are holes in their radar and air defense network we can exploit there. We should come up from the south across the Mekong Delta, up along the border of Laos, and into Hanoi from the west. Then we leave by making a run east to the South China Sea. Once there, we could seek protection by the Aircraft Carrier Task Force.”

  “And the carrier is in place now?”

  “Yes. But we may not even need their help if we can get in and out quick enough.”

  “So it’s the element of surprise that’s the issue.” He considered the options. He knew he would be hard-pressed to do low-level nap of the earth flying of which the helicopters were capable in this large aircraft. But if they were to remain unnoticed he would have to come close to it.

  “The element of surprise is crucial,” Lucky agreed. “Their air defense network is in a state of rest. I estimate that it would take ten minutes at the most for them to realize what’s happening and alert the military about our landing. Hopefully, it will take another five to ten minutes for them to react. It’ll probably take us another ten to twenty minutes to get out over the South China Sea.”

  “That’s about fifteen or twenty minutes to land and fuel.”

  Wright was worried. “And another fifteen to get out of range of the air force. That’s cutting it mighty close, isn’t it?”

  “Well, once they react, they would have to acquire us and then intercept us. Since international airspace is only twelve miles from the coast, we would have plenty of support waiting for us before we could be intercepted.” Lucky smiled.

  Wright wasn’t convinced. “Providing the carrier task force comes to our rescue.”

  Taylor came into the conversation late but quickly caught on to the discussion. By now, he knew why Rob wanted him there. He was to consider the plan from a tactical standpoint. He rubbed his tired face with both hands. “We’d have to split into two groups. One would secure a fuel truck and fuel the aircraft while the other would fan out to surround the Concorde, forming a protective perimeter.”

  No one spoke as they considered the time line. It would be incredibly close. Even if everything went perfectly, and they were able to get off the ground, could they escape the enemy air force? Would the carrier task force come to their aid?

  Logan finally spoke as if everything were decided. “I’ve been looking at the charts. If we come in from the south, there’s a mountain range we could follow as far north as Hanoi. Then we could fly in from the west just like Lucky explained.” He folded the map. “I don’t see a problem, do you?”

  It seemed out of character for Logan to be so helpful. They had all gotten used to him as the silent observer standing in a corner watching. But his endorsement sealed up the plan.

  “Then it’s settled.” Rob turned the airplane into the direction it needed to go.

  Lucky, Wright, and Taylor headed for the rear of the airplane to prepare.

  Main Operations Center, USS Roosevelt

  Persian Gulf

  Miller and Brodie poured over a chart table covered with a large map of the Indian Ocean and Southeast Asia. “I don’t understand.” Miller was staring at the map. “They aren’t answering any of our transmissions, and their course makes no sense.” He pointed to a spot in the Indian Ocean. “Then, just minutes ago, a helicopter amphibious assault ship spotted them here, south of Thailand, headed northeast toward Vietnam. I don’t understand where they’re headed.”

  He stared at Brodie as if waiting for the answers, but Brodie just shook his head. “Don’t look to me for the answers. I’m just as in the dark as you are.”

  Miller was about to ask him for information on other ships when the communications officer interrupted. “Agent Miller, we just received a transmission for you. From Washington.”

  He was puzzled. “Who’s it from?”

  “Sir, the transmission is not signed, but it came from the NSA.”

  He grabbed the message and quickly read it:

  Special Agent Dick Miller:

  The Aircraft Carrier USS Kennedy is located 150 miles off the coast of Vietnam in the South China Sea. Its current position is relatively east of Hanoi. International airspace begins 12 miles off the coast.

  When he finished, he handed it to Brodie. “What do you make of this?”

  Brodie read the message. “It sounds like someone is trying to tell you something.”

  “Yes, but by not signing it, it has no power to act.”

  “Maybe whoever it’s from doesn’t want to be identified, and for some reason, he either didn’t want to use his power or can’t use his power. Maybe someone is trying to lead you along. Kind of like...”

  “A trail of bread crumbs. And they want us to figure it out. Maybe it’s because of the political ramifications.”

  “Well, Agent Miller, I suggest we follow this trail of bread crumbs and see where it leads.”

  Miller walked over to the maps and drew a line with his finger up in the direction the Concorde was headed. His finger stopped at Hanoi. His eyes met Brodie’s in a silent conversation.

  Finally, Brodie spoke. “If we contact Hanoi and ask for permission to land, we as much as warn them that the Concorde is headed their way. But if we don’t...”

  “There will be the devil to pay.”

  “So about the best we can do is cover their retreat...”

  “And the Kennedy just happens to be strategically positioned to do just that.”

  “What a coincidence!”

  “I don’t like this.”

  “It wreaks of CIA to me.”

  Brodie sat down and looked at Miller. “Whoever sent that note wants us to contact the Kennedy and ask them for help rather than do it themselves. Why? What do you NSA boys know that you aren’t telling me?”

  Miller put up his hands and took a step back, shaking his head. “Captain, trust me. I know nothing about anything in this area.”

  “What I don’t like, Miller, is that whoever sent that message knew that I would be the one having to contact the Kennedy’s captain to beg for help. They knew that you would have zero pull with anyone on the Kennedy, and I’d have to put my neck on the line. This whole thing wreaks of espionage, and I don’t like it!”

  Concorde Flight

  Ten miles west of Mergui Island

  Andaman Sea

  Rob dropped the Concorde down to an altitude of a hundred feet and an airspeed of six hundred miles per hour. At this speed and altitude, the ocean was simply exploding behind him as the sonic shock waves hit the water at velocities approaching the speed of sound. The airplane trembled and shook as they covered the last fifty miles over the ocean in less than six minutes.

  “We’re coming up on the coast,” Rob tried to shout above the roar of the sonic turbulence and the rattling of the aircraft. His hands shook violently and sweat poured down his forehead as he struggled to keep the aircraft under control.

  Though only six
hours had passed since they left the Persian Gulf that morning, it had been dark for hours. Crossing six time zones had changed the actual time from 8:00 PM to 2:00 AM the next morning. A full moon was all that was providing light outside.

  “Can we slow it down some?” Wright asked.

  “Afraid not. We can’t afford to sit too long out here over the water. We need to get in over land and mix it up in the mountains. Once there, we can slow it down some.”

  Wright clung to his weapon and fought the urge to vomit. He tried to concentrate on the plan. He knew that their timing was perfect. At their current speed, they would be at Hanoi by 4:30 AM Hanoi time, yet it would only seem like 9:30 PM to them. They would be wide awake, but the Vietnamese would be tired and asleep.

  Rob slowed the airplane as they crossed the shoreline and gradually increased their altitude as the mountains rushed upon them. It wouldn’t be long now, and the apprehension was drawing an unnatural quietness as each man became lost in his thoughts.

  Day Fifteen

  Concorde Flight

  Ten miles west of the Blach Da River

  Vietnam

  Rob was quickly becoming exhausted. He had been straining to weave his way through the mountains in the moonlight for several hours, approaching Hanoi from the west. He was flying as slow and as low as he was able. The lights of the city were getting closer and closer below them. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his forearms were aching. The possibility of flying blindly into something in the middle of the night was a thought he couldn’t escape.

  “I don’t see it yet,” he said, sounding more like an athlete out of breath than a pilot. Because of how low they were flying, they had to be right on top of something before they could see it.

  Logan sat in the co-pilot seat leaning all the way forward, straining to see. “I tell you, the map says the airport is right here.” He looked back at the map and then up again. “There it is!”

  The airport runway came into view before them. Rob made some minor adjustments in the speed and controls and started his slow descent.

  The Concorde set down practically unnoticed without landing lights and taxied to the end of the runway. So far, it was going better than they had thought. Hopefully, there would be momentary confusion before someone noticed they were an unscheduled flight. The Marines and Special Forces poured out of the airplane, quickly disappearing into the night.

  Rob taxied the Concorde to an unlit area at the end of the airfield and throttled back the engines to wait. He checked his watch. It was now 4:57 AM Vietnam time. The Marines, Taylor, and Logan set up a defensive inner perimeter around the plane, then Rock and Hawk sprinted out toward the command center to find a fuel truck. The Special Forces set up an outer perimeter further away from the airplane.

  Rob tried to sit back and relax, but anticipation had the best of him. He realized for the first time that he was covered in sweat, and his body ached from exertion. He watched out the windshield as the soldiers spread out to make their way forward. It was difficult to see in the dim light, especially since they all wore the same dark colored uniforms. The only light visible in this portion of the airport was from the runway lights, and they provided little more than what was necessary to see the runway.

  Suddenly, he was startled by a gentle hand touching his shoulder. He recognized that touch without even looking back. It was Marie.

  “Hey, soldier,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Got the time?”

  He looked back into her deep blue eyes and smiled. She knew how exhausted he was and began to rub his shoulders. He found himself taken by her charm all over again. He yawned. “We’ve got to take a vacation, Marie, once we’re done with this one.”

  “Now, wait just a minute! One vacation like this is quite enough.”

  He looked back out the windshield as she sat down beside him.

  “Is that the direction they’ll come?” she asked, following his gaze out the window.

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know, but it always seems that someone is coming after us.”

  “Yes, that’s the direction they’ll be coming from.”

  Wright and the Special Forces found their way along the edge of the airbase and fanned out across the runway. Wright knew these men were well-trained for this type of job, so he didn’t need to tell them what to do. On the other side of the fence was thick brush. This airport was built near the jungle. Not far away on the other side of the fence was a small building with two jeeps with fifty-caliber machine guns on them.

  Quickly and quietly, the Special Forces cut through the fence and surrounded the building. Then, almost on cue, they rushed in. Wright had to admire the simplicity in which they operated. They functioned as a single body. He continued to stand by the jeep until they emerged with the keys a few minutes later. There had been not a sound!

  Rock and Hawk made for a ditch beside the last taxiway adjacent to terminal. From there, they could closely observe all the buildings located around the control tower and terminal. They laid very still in the shadows and watched carefully for any activity around the surrounding buildings. But things seemed unnaturally quiet for an airport.

  “Is this place dead or what?” Hawk whispered.

  “Can it!” Rock retorted. He figured that about ten minutes had passed since they arrived, and as of yet, no other aircraft had landed. They were fortunate to have arrived this time of night. They could see very few people, even through the windows of the terminal.

  Directly in front of them, about a hundred yards away, near the control tower, a fuel truck sat in a well-lit area. There was the target. He motioned Hawk to follow him and pulled himself to his knees. He was about to sprint forward when Hawk took him by the arm and pointed off to their left. It took him a moment to see what Hawk was pointing at. Then, in the shadows near an empty hangar, he saw it. A jeep with a thirty-caliber machine gun on the back of it.

  They both knew that the guards were probably in that empty hangar, hopefully asleep. Rock nodded in approval, and Hawk disappeared into the shadows of the ditch, heading for the jeep. He watched for several minutes until he could see Hawk sprinting across the taxiway to the jeep. He trained his gun on the hangar and waited for Hawk to reach it.

  When Hawk got there, he ducked down behind the jeep and looked back at Rock. Rock took one last look around, then dashed across the taxiway toward the fuel truck. He was halfway across when a man emerged from the building’s shadow, walking toward the same truck. When he saw Rock running toward him, he turned and ran back inside the building.

  Rock knew he’d been spotted as he watched the man disappear into the building. He briefly considered shooting the man but realized that doing so would trigger an alarm faster than the man’s report. He opened the truck and sat in the driver’s seat as he checked the console. He was in luck: the key was in the ignition!

  He started the engine, turn the truck around, and headed for the Concorde just as the alarm sounded. They were on to him now.

  Hawk watched Rock drive off and heard the alarm sound. Nevertheless, he kept down behind the jeep and waited. Whoever this jeep belonged to was bound to be along shortly. Moments later, three guards came running from the hangar and jumped into the jeep. He couldn’t see them, but he knew they were there. He waited until he heard the engine start, then stood up and fired his weapon at the unsuspecting soldier. Only a short blast, and the three guards were dead. He got into the jeep and headed back toward the Concorde also, right behind the fuel truck.

  When the alarm sounded, Rob looked at his watch. It was 5:13 AM. He wondered what had happened to alert the airport. In the distance, he saw the fuel truck heading toward him with a jeep close behind. It was obvious now from where they could expect trouble. He looked all around, watching for signs of a security force, but as the fuel truck drove up and the men hooked up the fuel line, the only sign of trouble was the steady blare of the sirens in the distance.

  Meanwhile, Hawk positioned the j
eep about three hundred yards in front of the aircraft and waited. He sat in the back of the jeep with both hands holding the machine gun.

  Wright sat in one of the jeeps as the Special Forces opened a hole in the fence large enough for the jeeps to get through. Several hours earlier, this area would have been packed with people. With the exception of an occasional barking dog, there was no movement or sound at all. It almost seemed like a trap.

  He admired these men he was commanding: so focused, so quiet, and so professional. Not that his own men were unprofessional, for Rock was every bit as focused as these men. It was just that each of these men was ranked at least sergeant, and it was no secret that the government spared no expense on their training.