by Larry Hunt
Chapter Two
A FEW HOURS EARLIER
The time was 7 a.m. Eastern Standard Time Wednesday November 21, 2012. Brothers Sam Lin and Si Lei Kim, both members of the secret black ops program in Washington, D.C., known only as SCAR (Studies Concerning Antiquated Records), were snuggly buckled into their seats on American Airlines Flight 4446 scheduled out of Washington, D.C. to New York’s Kennedy Airport. At New York, they were to change planes and depart on Cathay Pacific 6073. This flight was scheduled to arrive the evening of the 22nd at Hong Kong. Hong Kong is thirteen hours ahead of New York’s Eastern Standard Time. After a two-hour layover, they were to depart Hong Kong heading to their final destination: Bangkok, Thailand. Total travel time approximately eighteen hours twelve minutes.
Sam Lin and Si Lei seated in the Business Section of the Boeing 777-200LR waited anxiously as the jumbo jet gained speed down the tarmac of the Kennedy Airport. The two enormous turbofan jet engine’s whine began to change to a lumbering moan as the twelve gigantic Goodyear tires lifted from the black asphalt. The monster of steel, plastic and rubber began its eastward and upward ascent towards the towering cumulus clouds 16,000 feet above. The morning was cold but pleasant for a November day in New York. At least, thought the Kim brothers, it’s not snowing.
Si Lei turning to Sam Lin asked, “Can I open my eyes yet?”
“For goodness sakes Brother, you’re a grown man, act like it!”
“I can’t help it, I’m terribly afraid of flying.”
“Well you should not be afraid of flying. This plane does a very good job of ‘flying’. You should be afraid of this airplane falling out of the sky.”
“Now you’re getting the picture Sam Lin! Seriously tho’, I know Captain Scarburg is head of SCAR Operations, but why do you suppose he decided to send you and me to Bangkok to investigate Mr. Ryan Rousseau?”
“It’s simple - he knew we worked with Rousseau in the Bangkok CIA office, in the ‘60s. Besides we know the lay of the land, and still have a few contacts we might be able to use.”
“But, Brother, Mr. Rousseau is Chief of Experimental Design at SCAR Headquarters. He has been with the Captain since SCAR was established in the ‘60s, isn’t that right? I thought he was the Captain’s friend.”
“Yeah, you’re right, but Captain Scarburg knows what he is doing, just trust his judgment. There is something about Ryan Rousseau that is bothering the Captain. We’ll get to Bangkok and do the job we were assigned. Now don’t worry about our mission, and for goodness sake quit worrying about this steel bird falling out of the sky.”
Sam Lin was still chuckling as the massive aluminum skinned machine turned its nose from the direction of the rising sun and began a slow, deliberate, left turn. It was beginning a northern flight path. “What’s happening? Why are we turning? Is something wrong?” Asked Si Lei.
“No, we have to turn north since we will be flying over the North Pole to Hong Kong.”
“You’ve got to be kidding - we’re flying north to go west to Hong Kong?”
“That’s right, it’s the shortest route.”
“But won’t we be flying over Russia?”
Sam Lin knew Si Lei was confused, so he explained their flight route. He began by saying the flight will skirt the eastern edge of Canada, go across the tip of the Hudson Bay, past the western end of Greenland and up and over the Arctic Ocean. They will fly a few thousand miles across the Arctic Ocean then slowly turn south across eastern Russia, Mongolia and pass over China and finally the plane will land in Hong Kong. This route will cut a twenty-one hour flight to only fifteen and one-half hours. “Simple huh? Asked Sam Lin?”
“Simple? Simple? What does this pilot think? That we are a flock of geese migrating back north? And you say this is the shortest route? What if this sucker runs out of gas somewhere up there in the Godforsaken frozen north? I just believe I wouldn’t like whale blubber!!”
“Run out of gas? Are you kidding? This thing holds over 52,000 gallons of fuel and has set a flight record of 11,000 miles, non-stop, from Hong Kong to London. Running out of gas is the least of our worries.”
“Okay, Mr. Know-It-All, I’m not asking you anything else. When do we eat?” replied Si Lei.
“Thought you were not going to ask for anything else?”
“Gentlemen,” said the attractive young flight attendant. “Could I get you anything?”
“Yeah, how about getting our pilot a map and a compass!” exclaimed Si Lei.
With a surprised look, the flight attendant slightly tilted her head, frowned and was about to question his response, but was quickly stopped by Sam Lin...
He asked the attendant for coffee, just a plain cup of black coffee. He also asked if she could, please bring Si Lei a cup of hot tea and some type of pastry? He explained Si Lei gets irritable if his blood sugar drops. Looking to the young lady taking their orders he added grinning, “More irritable, that is, than usual.”
In a few minutes, the coffee, tea and a cinnamon bun were sitting on their tray tables. Knowing their flying time from New York to Hong Kong was over fifteen hours, Sam Lin was in no hurry - he sat sipping his coffee looking out his port window at the soft, fluffy clouds miles below slipping slowly beneath their wings.
A while later, Sam Lin had finished watching the latest Hollywood blockbuster as Si Lei sat enjoying a pleasant lunch, consisting of salad, a main course of beef, potatoes and asparagus. Watching Si Lei shovel food into his mouth Sam Lin decided he could eat a bite too. He placed his order for the lighter serving of cantaloupe, melon slices and strawberries. Si Lei finished his meal with a slice of cheesecake while Sam Lin tried the non-alcoholic Cathay Delight, a kiwi-based drink that turned out to be rather pleasant tasting. Both with stomachs full and eyes heavy with sleep grabbed a few hours of shut-eye. The pilot would come on the intercom from time to time and point out fascinating features on the ground. “Off to our left, ladies and gentlemen, you’ll notice a large body of water, that’s the Hudson Bay.” A couple of hours later, “Just wanted to let you know we are now over the Arctic Ocean. Temperature outside is a warm minus fifty-two degrees below zero.” With a slight grin, both brothers fluffed their pillows, pulled their blankets up snuggly and resumed their naps.