by A S Bond
Through the small window, she could see Maynard, his face grim. The little plane began to move.
“Brooke!” Dex reached out of the door as far as he could manage and caught hold of her shoulder. Brooke felt a second pair of hands around her waist and between them, Dex and Kyle half lifted her up into the cockpit. The plane was taxiing now, but Kyle’s hands gripped the edge of the door. He flung himself forward, grunting with effort, and landed on the floor at her feet.
The plane accelerated, skimming across the water, and Brook was aware of a sense of lightness as they rose into the air. She checked her watch: fifteen minutes. Would - could - they get far enough away for safety and land, before the bomb went off?
Chapter 42
They took off facing upriver and Brooke watched as the mine buildings grew gradually smaller through the little window in the door. Don’t get too high, she thought to herself. We could fall from the sky at any moment.
It was fortunately a four-seater seaplane, with space for her and Kyle behind Maynard and Dex, who had somehow grabbed the pilot’s seat from Maynard. He turned the little craft to the left, banking as he did so, and giving Brooke a clear view of the river slithering away between bare hills. The highest ridges bore a dusting of snow already. Yet they were still low enough for her to see something moving on the water.
“It’s a boat!” she cried jabbing a finger at the glass. “A speedboat!”
“That’s how our friends will be leaving.” said Maynard without glancing down. His calm, deep voice put a shiver up Brooke’s spine. “They’ll turn the engine off before the explosion and back on again afterwards. They’ll have another plane ready, outside the radius of the pulse.”
“You seem to know a lot about their plans,” Dex said. “You’re gonna have some explaining to do.”
“Maybe. But right now, you should be concentrating on that.”
“What the - ?”
Brooke screamed as a military helicopter roared past them from nowhere, followed by a second, passing on the other side of their little plane. She could feel the rhythmic whop whop whop of the rotor blades deep inside her, and the noise drowned out their own small engine.
“Hey, who ordered the Cavalry?” shouted Kyle
“Where the hell did they come from?” Dex said, as he tried to look over his shoulder at the choppers.
“I don’t know, but you need to get on the radio to warn them!” Kyle leaned forward to bellow in his brother’s ear. Dex was already way ahead of him though, and attempted to hail the helicopters.
“This is the Cessna 158 on heading 578493 north of Nutak, calling the two Merlin helicopters approaching south, over.”
Static. He tried again, then Maynard reached over and flicked a switch.
“The open frequency won’t work with military software. Try the recognised emergency frequency.”
Dex glared at him and tried again. This time the static sparked into life. Brooke felt like cheering.
“This is Royal Navy Air Squadron EDGF, heading south on bearing 789347. Come in, over.” said a Scottish accent, surprisingly loud in the cockpit.
Brooke and Kyle looked at each other. What was the British Royal Navy doing out here?
“Be advised of imminent EMP pulse in this area.”
“Did you say EMP?”
“Yes!” shouted Dex. “Electro-magnetic pulse is imminent. Land, for God’s sake, land!”
The choppers, high above them, immediately began dropping vertically towards a piece of more open land close to the speedboat, which had stopped moving. Brooke craned her head up against the glass, watching the helicopters. As soon as they touched the ground, soldiers jumped out and spread across the ground. Then, they were gone from view, replaced by the gun-metal grey of the North Atlantic below.
“Twenty one minutes and counting!” she yelled. “And the speedboat stopped! It’s going to blow any second!”
The water rushed towards them and the surface that looked so serene from above became coarser and choppier as they descended.
“Hang on, it’s going to be bumpy!” Dex shouted. “She ain’t designed for landing on the open ocean!”
Brooke’s eye caught something up ahead altogether harder-looking than the water, and it sat directly in their path. She punched Dex on the shoulder and pointed. Dex, fighting to maintain control as the plane descended at speed, looked up.
“What?”
“It’s a Goddamn iceberg!”
Brooke saw the chunk of ice loom up into full view. It was not one of the pretty translucent blue ones but a dirty gray brute, studded with rocks, and the size of a house.
Dex heaved back on the controls, forcing their plane to strain upwards, nose pointing towards the sky at an angle that pinned Brooke against the back of her seat.
A grating noise bounced around the cabin.
“Have we hit it?” shouted Kyle, fighting gravity to lean forward and look out of the window.
“Just scraped, I think.” Dex shouted back. “At least, I hope s - “ at that moment, the engine cut out. The plane’s nose still pointed upwards and Brooke knew there was no way they could glide into a descent this time.
“This is it!” shouted Dex. “We’re ditching!” Their angle of ascent was so extreme, the sudden loss of power meant that their momentum and a strong wind pushed the tail forwards, flipping the plane onto her back. Brooke screamed as her head hit the cabin’s roof. The image of their little plane smashing flat onto the iceberg below flashed through her mind.
Brooke braced for their impact on the water, but instead there was a deafening crash on the right side as the iceberg tore off the wing. Brooke saw the side of the iceberg so close she could have touched its hard, shiny surface. Then they hit the water, smacking flat onto it with all the finesse of a brick wall.
The hole the iceberg tore in the side of the plane allowed the sea to flood in, and they dropped below the surface almost instantly. The shock of the cold made Brooke shriek, but she only had time for one more gasp of air before the cabin filled with water. It felt so cold, the temperature didn’t register; it just felt like she was being stabbed all over by thousands of knives. Brooke fumbled with the seatbelt, the freezing water already numbing her fingers. The buckle parted and she kicked towards the gaping hole, but the plane was still sinking, dragging them all deeper.
Brooke saw Kyle, sitting next to the hole, free himself from his seatbelt and lurch for the opening. He got a grip on the jagged edge, but then turned, reaching back for Brooke as she fought against the power of the water. Dex forced open the door next to him while Maynard, also on the same side as Kyle, struggled to free himself. Then, her hand found Kyle’s and she kicked strongly, her eyes closed and lungs bursting, and every nerve screaming at the cold.
Brooke erupted onto the surface, coughing and gasping for air. Out in the open ocean, the swell felt huge. It was barely twilight and, as each wave powered over her, she tried to ride to the crest to see if the others had surfaced.
“Dex!” she shouted. “Kyle!” Kyle’s head appeared next to her and, a few seconds later, she spotted Maynard some distance away, in a trough, before a wave swept him from view. But it wasn’t Maynard she cared about.
“Dex!” she yelled, the sound of her voice feeble against the immensity of the ocean. Where was he?
“Did he escape? I thought I saw him get out!” she gasped to Kyle, who trod water as he turned this way and that, scanning the waves for his brother.
“I’m sure he did,” Kyle said. Then he froze and stared, eyes narrowed against the poor light. “Could he be in that?”
Chapter 43
BBC Online - International News
A Congressional Special Committee will be convened, it has been announced, as the thwarted terrorist attack on Washington D.C. earlier this week continues to raise questions about failings in America’s Homeland Security. US Government officials deny that the attack was a result of failings in security planning, yet sources have been reported as saying the hi-jac
ked ship carrying the weapon was stopped only minutes before it came within range of the city, thanks to the actions of two as yet unnamed American citizens.
Exactly what did happen on Chesapeake Bay that night, in one the world’s most highly guarded waterways, remains unclear. Questions have been asked on the floor of both houses of Congress, and it was announced this morning that a Special Committee will launch a hearing later this week. The session will be exploratory, and the head of the Coast Guard agency and top military officials are expected to attend. If the Committee decides to conduct a full investigation, it is thought they will call members of the Presidential White House security advisory team to testify. It is also possible that the trouble-prone CIA Director Paul Vernon will be one of those called, forcing the Committee to sit in camera.
The hearings are an unwelcome development for the beleaguered president, coming as they do at a time when the White House is already receiving considerable criticism following the successful attacks on US Army personnel in Afghanistan earlier this month. The president’s personal commitment to withdrawing US troops from the country within the next 18 months has been directly challenged by recent events, with some prominent voices questioning the wisdom of pulling out at a time when extremist militants appear to have a tactical advantage.
A White House spokesperson today denied rumours that the events in Afghanistan were linked to the attack on Washington DC and said that the “president remains firm in his commitment to drawdown US troops from Afghanistan as their own national security forces take over.”
With the US presidential election less than two years away, opposition party candidates are already critical of the president’s position.
“We are prepared to stay in and fight,” said presidential hopeful Matt Toomey earlier today at a party rally in Texas. “If we don’t root out extremism over there, we’ll find ourselves fighting it on the streets of America.”
Chapter 44
“Personnel in the water!” shouted Scott, not moving the binoculars from his eyes. “Let’s go!”
“Re-start the engines,” ordered the Captain.
“Engines,” repeated the first officer.
“Lower two ribs, full search. Two known personnel in the water, maybe more.” The Captain scanned the area of sea where the light aircraft ditched. “Last known location, heading...”
He turned to his business, leaving Scott to pace up and down, getting in the way of the slick team on the bridge around him.
“Why don’t you go to the lower deck and welcome our guests?” said the captain, looking up with a polite, but barely concealed, air of irritation. Scott was aware he was treading on a lot of toes, but this was just the last stage in a mammoth journey that had begun at Andrews Air Force Base more than fourteen hours ago.
From Goose Bay Air Base, Scott had chartered a local ‘chopper to take him northeast, up the coast, where he had joined this British Naval frigate on NATO exercises. David, of course, had arranged this, but the Royal Navy’s capacity for interference was limited; there could be no weapons discharged unless threatened in international waters.
The plan was to incorporate a fly-over across the site of the mine by the ‘choppers carried onboard, while the vessel stood off. Everything would be treated as part of the exercise in co-operation with other NATO allies. The Captain had been briefed by David and his superior on the Joint Intelligence Committee with the agreement of the Minister, who had signed off on this. No one else on board was aware of any change to the schedule. The crew noted the presence of a short, twitchy American landlubber, but were too well trained to comment upon it.
Scott reached the lower deck just as the crew winched the rib onboard. He flinched when he saw Brooke. She seemed barely conscious, swaddled in silver anti-hypothermia foil and fleece blankets. She was so weak, the crew half carried her and her companions aboard, where they were taken directly to the medical center to be warmed gradually under the supervision of the ship’s doctor.
Scott, barred from the medical bay, gazed through the glass at Brooke’s blue lips, fixed stare and uncontrollable shivering.
“She’s warming up.” A kind medic paused as he left the room. “They should all be okay. Luckily they weren’t in the water too long.”
“What’s too long out here?”
“At this time of year? At least 15 minutes. Don’t worry,” he said with a smile. “We got them in time.”
“Sir.” A petty officer approached him.
“Yes?” Scott said, his eyes not leaving Brooke.
“The Captain asked me to tell you the helicopters have landed on deck and the crew will be debriefed shortly in the conference room. You are welcome to join them.”
“I will, thank you.”
When Scott returned an hour later, he found all four plane crash survivors in the medical center sitting up and looking more human.
“Brooke.” Scott went over to her bed and gave her a hug. “Am I glad to see you! How are you feeling now? Are they taking care of you?” He perched on the side of her narrow bed and held her hand.
“Scott? I can’t believe you sent the Royal Navy to rescue me,” she whispered, without her usual spirit.
“It was the least I could do after getting you involved in this mess to start with.”
“Do me a favor; next time give someone else the tip.”
He laughed. “You sure about that?” Scott became aware of another pair of eyes on him.
“We’re pretty glad Brooke was out there. Neither my brother nor I would be alive right now if it wasn’t for her.”
“I guess you must be the elusive Dr. Adams.” Scott slid off Brooke’s bed and shook Dex’s hand, noting one leg covered in a white cast from the knee down.
“Not broken, just dislocated.” Dex managed a weak smile, an attempt at reassurance for Brooke, whose gaze, Scott noted, lingered on this confident Southerner with the intelligent eyes. On the opposite side of the small room, Maynard looked on, silent.
“We’ll be interviewing you both later about your involvement in all of this,” Scott said to Dex.
“We?”
“The United States Government.”
“We’ve already had something of an unfortunate time at the hands of some of your colleagues, so excuse me if I’m going to decline until I’ve spoken to my lawyer.”
“Dex!” Brooke said.
“It’s okay,” Scott said with a tight smile. Turning back to Dex, he said, “Sir, I can personally guarantee there’ll be no illegal use of drugs or kidnapping this time.”
Dex acknowledged this wordlessly, and Scott caught Brooke casting anxious glances between the two of them.
All business now, Scott turned to the fourth survivor.”Mr. Jean Maynard?”
Maynard’s close-cropped head nodded once, and Scott tried to disguise his curiosity at finally seeing the man in the flesh. After such a long chase, the fox was disappointingly unprepossessing. He didn’t look like a traitor and would-be mass murderer, he thought. Yet there was something unsettling about him. His stillness, almost serenity, despite the situation, was unnerving.
“You are being detained and will be arrested on suspicion of terrorist activity once we dock.”
“Where?” In Canada? I’m not within U.S. jurisdiction.” The man’s voice was quiet, but firm, the accent irreproachably American.
“You are currently in international waters on a British Naval frigate, one of our allies, and whose citizens have been directly affected by events in Afghanistan.”
“So you are also a guest on this ship?”
“We can dock wherever we need to,” Scott said, hoping his firmness was convincing. “And you are a U.S. citizen, so extradition won’t be a problem, but if we have to do that, I’ll make sure you never see daylight again.”
A smile twitched at Maynard’s thin mouth, making Scott want to punch it off the man’s face. Maynard said,
“We both know you need me to help you sort this mess out, so why don’t
we talk business?”
“We have your mine, your weapons, evidence of your supplying foreign terrorists to attack U.S. citizens. We even have witnesses to your actions.” Scott waved an arm at the other three.
Maynard snorted.
“All you have is a big hole in the ground, inadmissible covert surveillance, my legitimate marine salvage of an abandoned ship and, let’s not forget, witnesses to my being held and tortured by the very men who set the bomb. My legal team will take you apart.” Maynard’s dead-fish eyes locked onto Scott’s. “I’m an American patriot, and to prove it, I can give you the name of every member of the consortium who planned, funded and executed the entire operation. And took out your buddy too, I hear. Sorry about that.”
The derisive tone flicked a switch inside Scott, who was already wired. He lunged at Maynard. The first punch threw the older man back against the head rail, so the second, landing hard on his jaw, had nowhere to go, and pain jagged up Scott’s arm. He took a step or two back, nursing his bruised knuckles. Maynard didn’t move, or cry out. He simply looked at Scott, a trickle of blood making its way unchallenged down his chin. Scott followed it as it dripped scarlet onto the starched white sheets. The orderlies gazed on, but made no effort to intervene. Jesus, thought Scott, the man is unshakeable.
“Tell us about this consortium,” said a voice behind Scott. He glanced over at the speaker, Dex. He’d forgotten about all three of them for a moment.
“They’re businessmen, with a special interest in American security ...and in supplying the hardware to back that up.”
“Arms manufacturers,” Brooke said.
“And they don’t work alone.”
Scott looked at him, knowing that this was Maynard’s real bargaining chip. A coded deal. Those cold eyes watched him. Maynard had no idea he already knew the name of the traitor at the heart of the U.S. government; the familiar voice on the end of the line. Scott almost smiled to himself. Once again, Maynard didn’t have quite the leverage he thought he did.
“Now do we have a deal?” Maynard said. “I want immunity and protection, in return for cooperation.”