by Fritz Galt
Jade peered at the lights of the distant airfield. It was surrounded by darkness, with the glow of the city just beyond. Baghdad wasn’t a busy commercial airport, but there might be military aircraft, either fixed wing or rotary, in the vicinity. Perhaps the control tower wasn’t aware of the presence of military aircraft.
“Are there other aircraft in the area?” she asked over the radio.
“Negative on other aircraft,” came the stern military voice. “However, we have experienced rocket attacks earlier today. I repeat, do not attempt landing at Baghdad International.”
“Baghdad, I need to land,” Jade insisted.
“Negative. You have no permission,” the military voice transmitted.
What did they care about the problems of an errant civilian aircraft? They had a war to conduct.
Off mike, she turned to May. “Remind me why we’re doing this?”
“To save my father,” was the reply.
“I know that we need to get to China and find him. But why does Liang have your father in the first place?”
May seemed to fight with herself before responding. At last, she said, “Brad told me all the news. Shangri-la does exist. And Liang needs my father to take him there.”
Jade wrinkled her nose. She was as much a skeptic and atheist as May. Maybe she hadn’t heard her friend correctly. “Shangri-la exists? Where?”
“We don’t know. Someone at the symposium gave my father the directions, and only he can interpret them.”
Why would Liang want to go to Shangri-la? With luck to disappear from the face of the earth forever. But that didn’t seem like Liang.
She had been Liang’s lover long before May, and she knew all the man’s foibles, as well as his good points, which were only skin deep. Nothing about him indicated spirituality. To the contrary, the world knew no greater hedonist.
So why the obsession with Shangri-la?
“We have minimum fuel reserves,” May reported.
Jade put Liang aside for the moment. She had a crew and passengers she cared deeply about, she was running out of fuel over central Iraq, and she was barreling at 500 knots toward an airport that gave her conflicting signals. It seemed like Baghdad International Airport was being run by a two-headed dragon arguing with itself.
“Who’s in charge over there anyway?” she asked over the radio.
“This airport is run jointly by civilian and military authorities,” the military voice responded. “Iraqis control the civilian operation and Americans run the military.”
“So who do I listen to?” She had to keep from screaming. “We are not a military aircraft.”
“You have clearance to land,” the civilian air traffic controller rumbled over the speaker.
“And I say you do not have permission to land,” the military voice crackled.
She turned to May. “Do you suppose they’re fighting it out at the airport?”
May was flipping through the laptop’s information about the airport. “Baghdad International is under joint civil and military control,” she confirmed. “Sounds like they have disagreements.”
Jade was nearing the Initial Approach Fix. It was decision time. Either they start the approach to the airport or they glide to the ground somewhere between the Tigris River and Iran.
There really was no option. “Fasten your seatbelts,” she announced over the cabin PA system. “Prepare for an interesting ride.”
“What does that mean?” she heard Brad shout from the cabin. The poor guy hated to fly under any circumstances, and this wasn’t going to be pretty.
She decided to use the approach fixes with some modification. Just prior to the IAF, she disconnected the autopilot and began an aggressive descent.
“Good idea,” May said. “Push up the power and we’ll go low and fast to surprise anyone who might launch a rocket.”
They dropped, but the earth was still dark beneath them. She leveled off at 300 feet. Thank goodness for radar altimeters.
Even at that dangerously low altitude, she couldn’t make out much in the desert landscape. She reached down and cut her running lights. With all those insurgents roaming about in the dark, she had to be less visible. She killed the cabin lights for good measure.
“Hey,” came Earl’s voice. “I was just dealing.”
They’d be playing 52 Pickups when this was all over.
She would reach the Final Approach Fix in five miles. Her plan to avoid ground fire was to go low and fast until reaching the runway.
Suddenly, a white flash erupted from the darkness below.
“Incoming,” May cried through the earphones. “Missile at three o’clock. Probably heat seeking.”
So the military was right. There were rockets in the area. And she was flying a civilian plane, not military aircraft with countermeasures to deploy.
In the green glow of the instrument panel, she quickly reviewed her options. She could adjust speed, altitude and direction. Aside from that, she was one big target.
“Break left,” May suggested.
Jade’s reactions were instantaneous. She turned left forty-five degrees. The missile would be tracking her from behind at six o’clock.
“It will catch us in about seven seconds. Break right in five, four, three, two, one.”
Jade rolled into a bank and pulled right as hard as she felt the airframe could handle. The G-force pushed them deep into their seats. She heard a whimper in the back and Earl’s voice. “Mind if I share your barf bag?”
She rolled out of the turn and tried to spot the missile. It had reversed direction and was still locked in on them.
“Turn back into the missile,” May suggested. “Then pull the power to idle. Maybe our reduced heat signature will cause it to fly by.”
Jade pulled a climbing left turn and reduced the power to idle. The red missile streaked toward the cockpit. She performed a barrel roll. The missile screamed past, just above their heads.
She increased power, leveled her wings, and executed a final turn along the approach track to the runway.
“Wow. You’re even lined up,” May said. “Airport two miles ahead.”
The landing lights were far below.
Then she saw another flash. And another.
Holy motherland, they were firing at her all the way to the airport.
She had only one choice. She would let the Citation do what it did best. She pushed the throttle full forward. The roar increased in the twin Rolls-Royce engines and she felt the instant acceleration.
Their approach into BIAP was becoming more of a nosedive than a controlled landing.
A rocket exploded out her left window. The fuselage shuddered, and the loud bang nearly perforated her eardrums.
She checked her hydraulics and backup electronic systems. No red lights.
Another thud rocked her sideways. She struggled to hold onto the control yoke and keep on course. The sound of detonating rockets had partially deafened her, but a tiny voice shouted in her ear.
“Abort landing.” It was the Iraqi air traffic controller.
May began to look uncomfortable. “We’re less than two miles away, going 500 knots. We’ll hit the airport in fifteen seconds. What’re you going to do?”
“Watch this.”
When she reached the approach end of the runway, she pulled the power back to idle and extended the speed brakes. There was a shudder and loud rumble as the drag began to slow them down. Simultaneously, she pulled the nose up.
For a moment, there was nothing but bright stars before them.
She held fast until they were inverted, then rolled right side up and pulled the nose even with the horizon, leveling off at 1,000 feet heading back downwind.
“Holy pagodas,” May said.
Within seconds, the maneuver was complete and they had decreased their speed from 500 to 200 knots. They were also in position for a single 180-degree turn to landing.
The silence from the cabin was noticeable.
&nbs
p; Upon completing the break, they were flying slow enough to lower the landing gear.
“Dropping gear,” she said.
She kept the power at idle, and when they were abeam the numbers of the approach, she started a left turn onto the runway.
“You’re too tight,” May said.
Jade had to turn more aggressively and banked at a forty-five degree angle. They were just above the runway, but too high to land.
Either they set down or did a fly by. Jade could see arms waving in the control tower signaling at her to scuttle the landing.
And then what? Risk more rocket attacks? No thanks.
She had to put the Citation down. She lowered the nose to a level profile and coaxed the bird lower.
Both front and rear wheels hit hard. They skidded and bounced.
There was no sound of a blown tire. On the second bounce, the rear wheels hugged the ground and began to carry the weight of the plane.
Jade reached over the throttle and applied the thrust reversers. The plane shuddered in response. She slowly applied pressure on the brakes.
“Let me get the ground spoilers,” May said.
With the spoilers extended upward from the wings, they felt the rate of deceleration increase.
They zipped past the terminal. Less than half the runway lay ahead, but how would she stop in time?.
“We’re too fast,” May said.
Ahead sat a row of tanks, their gun turrets facing directly at them. How soon before the plane skidded off the runway into them?
Jade’s enormous momentum was working against her. She had no choice. She slammed harder on the brakes.
Counting on the weight on the back wheels to increase as they slowed, she applied the last bit of pressure on the brakes just shy of their locking and hoped for the best.
She was so close to the end of the runway, she could see individual tank treads.
The brakes screeched. Her torso was pressed so far forward, she could barely breathe against her shoulder restraints. The muscles in her arms were locked tight. The smell of rubber filled the cabin. Warning lights flashed. And voices on the radio were shouting, “Abort, abort.”
She fought the impulse to close her eyes and brace for impact. Now she knew why drivers, engineers and pilots were required to sit up front. They would be the first to suffer from their mistakes. It was a natural form of justice.
But she didn’t want to suffer. Arc lights glinted off something in the cockpit. It sparkled in her eyes.
Maybe it was just to kill time before they went up in smoke, but she glanced down to see what had reflected the light.
She was clutching the top of the control column. The diamond ring that Earl had given her sparkled around the cockpit. They were going to get married, damn it.
She had to stop the plane.
At their current speed, even with the wheels nearly locked, their momentum would carry them off the end of the runway and into the row of tanks.
She held the airplane steady. She had already exerted all the pressure on the brakes she could afford. Her co-pilot was doing the same.
Jade squeezed her eyes shut. The wheels rumbled over what was turning into rough pavement.
The jet groaned and vibrated. With one last jab on the brakes, she sent the wheels to a skidding halt.
Once the pain in her shoulders and arms subsided, it took a moment to realize what she had done. They were no longer moving. She sniffed the air. They hadn’t caught fire. She tested her hearing. Merely the distant sound of gunfire.
She raised her head and opened her eyes. The plane’s nose stood several meters short of a 100-millimeter hole. She was staring down the barrel of a tank.
May raised her head. “Sure hope they’re friendly.”
Chapter 36
“Welcome to Baghdad,” the Iraqi voice intoned over the radio. “Please taxi to Gate 2.”
May turned to Jade who was gradually looking more alert in the pilot’s seat. “Some welcome that was.”
Jade shook her head, her short black hair clinging to her perspiring face.
“Please taxi immediately to runway B, exit 4A.” came a second voice, this time the American.
“Not this again,” Jade said. “The two-headed airport beast is issuing conflicting orders again.”
After the hostile, rocket-filled reception they had received from Iraqis, May was inclined to follow the American’s instructions. But she let the pilot decide.
Jade started the engines once more. She moved the plane back toward the terminal complex. Despite the rough ride at the end of the runway, May could tell that the landing gear had survived, and they hadn’t blown a tire.
Back on smooth pavement, they were confronted by two clear options. There were the three brightly lit passenger terminals eagerly awaiting new arrivals, and there was the blacked-out hulk of a military base just off the other runway. Even though May’s instincts told her to head toward the light, that might lead to further attack. What would Jade do?
Jade pointed out May’s window. The row of tanks had revved up their engines and formed a column beside them. They churned up grass to match the plane’s speed, their gun barrels pointed at their plane.
With each meter they covered, they nudged Jade closer to the military base.
“Why not go to the base,” Jade said.
She approached exit 4A and turned to follow a signalman’s flares. He directed them toward a nearby apron just next to hastily constructed hangars. Over the doorway to a small military terminal, a sign read, “Sather Air Base.”
What a tiny place. There wasn’t a single airplane in the hangars. The complex was dwarfed by the terminals at Baghdad International Airport. How could the Americans say they were defending the country?
May thought about Brad seated in the cabin behind them. He must be a quivering mass of raw nerves by then. How deluded his nation had been to think they could run the world. He had paid for his country’s military gambles. Now he deserved a little comfort.
She longed to race back into the cabin and check out his condition and hold him in her arms.
As soon as Jade switched the engines off, May flicked the cabin lights on. She threw her buckle aside and climbed out of her seat and sprang for the cabin. There she found Brad sitting alertly beside Earl, dealing a hand of cards.
He looked up at her with a sloppy grin. “We’ve come to a complete halt,” he slurred. “Has the captain turned off the seatbelt sign?”
She eyed the empty bottles at the bar. “Did you enjoy the flight?”
“Smooth as vermouth. Any problems in the cockpit?”
She would spare him the details. “Let us go outside and inhale.”
A moment later, she had lowered the staircase and they stepped out into a mild and dry breeze.
“Who turned off the lights?” Brad said.
Jade followed them out of the plane. “Force protection measure.”
“From what? It’s quiet as a desert rat around here. I don’t see what they’re so concerned about.”
“Buddo.” Earl approached and slung a heavy arm up and over his friend’s shoulder. “If ignorance is bliss, you must be the happiest man on earth.”
“Hey, I resemble that remark.”
Earl handed him a bulky airsick bag and proceeded toward the terminal.
May took the bag away from Brad and dumped it into an explosion-proof trash bin by the door.
Jade remained outside to direct the refueling operation. “Keep an eye on the boys for me,” she told May.
An American air force officer with captain’s stripes greeted them upon entering the building. Earl saluted and headed off for the restroom.
“Welcome to the Glass House,” the captain said.
May looked up. The entire domed ceiling was a glittering mosaic of mirrors.
“Saddam’s personal terminal,” the captain said.
“Quite the swank dump,” Brad commented.
“You don’t know the half of it
.” The captain was clearly a gregarious man.
“What is the other half?” May said.
The captain showed them out the back door of the terminal.
“You call this a base?” May was not impressed. After all, the troops lived in tents and there appeared to be no hardened bunkers.
“Are you kidding?” the captain said. “This is great. This is as good as it gets here in Iraq, ma’am. This camp has it all. We’ve got some solid structures, air conditioning, satellite phones and internet access any hour of the day. We don’t even have to wait in lines. We’ve got a chow hall and a movie theater to boot.”
“I keep them under my bed,” she said.
“I like a woman in army boots,” Brad added.
“If you’ll step this way.”
Several men were exiting a wooden structure and munching popcorn.
“It’s Lucy Liu,” one drawled. “USO?”
“No, I’m May Hua,” she said. “Happy to meet you.”
They took turns shaking her hand.
“To your tents, men,” the captain ordered. “Keep your comments to yourself.”
The structure was a single room set up with chairs and a popcorn machine in the back.
The captain saw her staring at the machine. “Came from Prince Sultan Air Base in Saudi Arabia, ma’am.”
“What’s the next flick?” Brad asked.
“Sorry,” the captain said, and illuminated the dial of his watch. “It’s already past midnight. Movies are over for the night.”
Past midnight? They had just left Paris where it was mid afternoon. Then she remembered that they had been traveling eastward. Crossing time zones in that direction made the day shorter.
They strolled among the tents, and she asked the captain to explain the chow hall.
“It’s where we eat.”
“You eat Chinese food?” she asked.
“No, ma’am.”
The captain saluted and headed back toward the air-conditioned “Glass House.”
They had to get back to the plane and rescue her dad. She clutched Brad by the lapels. “Will this work?”
He looked down at her with glassy eyes. “I trust you and Jade to get us there.”
“We are running out of time.” She tried to fight off the doubt that crept into her voice. “It is Wednesday already. We would like to marry by six pm Friday.”