The Zombie Deception

by Marvin Wolf

  Johnstone got out of the aircraft and went to see the duty officer.

  Will got out and stretched.

  Johnstone returned with a handsome, lanky, Coast Guard officer in fatigues.

  “Mister Spaulding, this is Lieutenant Commander Matthews, CO of this sector.

  “Will Spaulding,” Will said, and they shook hands.

  Matthews looked confused. “I expected a CID agent,” he said.

  Will took out his badge and credential and showed it to Matthews.

  Matthews said, “So you’re a flying CID agent?”

  “Fort Rucker is the Army’s center for aviation excellence.”

  “Well, which one of you is going to fly this mission?”

  Johnstone said, “He will.”

  Matthews regarded Will with suspicion and apprehension. “From what Captain Johnson explained, this will require superior aviator skills. Why isn’t he flying?”

  Will said, “Captain Johnstone is Major General Davis’s senior aide-de-camp.”

  Matthews chewed his upper lip for a moment before turning to Johnstone.

  “In the Coast Guard, the senior aide of a flag officer is presumed to speak for that flag officer. Is that it how it works in the Army, too?”

  Johnstone said, “Yes, sir, that’s how it works in the Army. Mister Spaulding is more current on this aircraft than I am. I mostly fly the Blackhawk, and in my current assignment, just often enough to qualify for flight pay. I assure you, he is much the better pilot for this mission.”

  Matthews turned his head to stare at Will. “Wait,” he said. “You’re Spaulding, is that right? Willson Spaulding?”

  Will extended his credential so that Matthews could read it. “Yes, sir. Willson, with two els,” he said.

  “Then are you the guy who rescued those two cops and the little boy over in Pensacola?”

  Johnstone said, “Two cops, a little boy, and his dog, sir.”

  Matthews stuck out his hand and they shook. “Forget what I just said.”

  Will said, “Thank you, sir. Have you alerted your opposite numbers in Biloxi and Pascagoula?”

  “Both vessels are en route now. One cutter will attempt to follow the submarine as it passes between Dauphin Island and Fort Morgan. Once the fish is in the net, the other cutter will take up a station just outside the harbor.”

  Johnstone said, “And the Secret Service?”

  “As of two hours ago, eight agents en route by air from Huntsville.”

  “Do we have a concealed heliport?”

  “I asked the Harbor Master to level the containers atop the Hanjin Regina. That gives you an almost flat surface about 300 meters long and fifty wide.”

  “Then we’re all set,” said Johnstone.

  Chapter 109

  They sat side-by-side in the darkened helicopter atop the giant container ship. Will looked at the greenish glare of his weapons targeting display. Johnstone watched the bay water through a pair of amplified infrared binoculars.

  “There it is,” Johnstone whispered. “Just below the surface, coming into the harbor. I don’t know how you called this, but my hat’s off to you, Spaulding.”

  “I gotta wait for it to come into my field of view,” Will said.

  “It’s coming up,” Johnstone whispered again.

  A full moon lit the waters. It was 0147 hours, ten minutes before spring tide, the confluence of the monthly high tide and a full moon, a period of less than an hour when the waters of Mobile Bay would be at their deepest that month.

  On the eastern horizon, two dots appeared on Will’s screen.

  “Tallyho!” he said. “Two bogies inbound!”

  The submarine surfaced in a quiet fountain of white water.

  In Johnstone’s lenses, the leading flying dot resolved itself into a Blackhawk helicopter.

  The sub began to make a slow turn to the west.

  Johnstone said, “Shouldn’t we be cranking soon?”

  “Not yet. We have to wait for the second bird to land.”

  “The second Blackhawk? You’re sure about that?”

  “Yes, sir. Watch and wait.”

  The sub was now about a half a kilometer south of the Hanjin Regina and heading due west in the narrow channel.

  The first Blackhawk was twice that distance but closing fast.

  “He’s got an infrared sight, sir. The minute we crank, our heat signature gives us away and they execute Plan B, whatever that is. Probably begins with a Stinger or two.”

  “Forgot about that IR sight.”

  Will said, “Uh, Captain, a question.”

  “A question now, Spaulding?”

  “Does General Davis know about all this? About any of it?”

  “Mr. Spaulding, I am certain that Major General Lester Davis personally instructed you that whatever I might say to you is presumed to come from him.”

  “He did tell me that, sir.”

  “Then if anyone of any rank should ever ask you about anything that I told you, or that I told others in your presence, that is your reply: You were following General Davis’s orders, to the syllable.”

  Will laughed.

  “So what if this all blows up in our faces?” Will asked.

  “You’ll be fine. I’ll go back to flying. In a couple of years, I’ll get out and become a stockbroker or a banker.”

  “And if we succeed?”

  Johnstone put his head down for several seconds, thinking. “If we pull this off, we’ll get medals. The general will get a better one,” he said. “And maybe another star.”

  The sub continued its turn through a southwest heading.

  Will and Johnstone watched the first Blackhawk slow and descend as it approached the turning submarine.

  The sub stopped its turn and came to a due-south heading, bow pointed into the tidal current, all but dead in the water.

  The Blackhawk swooped down to hover over the rear deck, turning ninety degrees before dropping the last few feet to the deck.

  The rotors slowed, then stopped.

  The side doors were shoved open.

  A man left the pilot’s seat. Another hopped down through the open side door.

  A hatch yawned atop the sub’s twenty-foot-high conning tower. A sailor emerged, followed by two more. Each had an AK-47 slung over his back.

  The Blackhawk’s rotors slowed and stopped.

  The man in the co-pilot’s chair opened the door and hopped down to the deck.

  The seamen from the conning tower moved to the deck between the tower and the helicopter. They cracked open a big deck hatch.

  The second Blackhawk started a slow circle a quarter mile away and about 200 feet above the shoreline.

  “He’s early,” Johnstone said. “And anxious.”

  On the sub’s deck, four men manhandled a big, container out of the helicopter and dragged it to the open hatch.

  The three sailors and the four aviators lowered the box into the hatch.

  The airmen returned to their Blackhawk and wrestled out a second box, identical to the first, and again manhandled it down the deck and into the hatch. Then a smaller box came out and followed the others down the hatch.

  The three sailors pushed the Blackhawk over the side. It rolled over and sank with hardly a ripple.

  Everyone on deck then moved to the base of the tower and waited while the second Blackhawk hovered in, turned sideways, and settled on the deck.

  Will cranked the engine, and the jet turbine roared to life. His eye was fixed on the control panel, so it was Johnstone who saw the flashing blue lights moving out from both ends of the harbor at very high speed.

  The Blackhawk’s rotor slowed and stopped, and the crew hauled out two giant boxes. The submarine began to creep forward.

  “Oh shit,” said Johnstone.

  Will looked up. “They jumped the gun!”

  On the submarine, the slow whooping sound of approaching marine sirens was a jolt that electrified everyone on deck to move faster.


  The crewmen sealed the deck hatch and ran to the tower.

  The submarine picked up speed.

  Will glanced at his gauges: The engine was still not quite warm enough to launch. A cold engine might flame out.

  But there was no time to waste.

  He pulled the collective and the Kiowa rose, then dove toward the black water.

  Chapter 110

  On the sub, the sailors pulled their guns off their backs.

  A man standing next to the helicopter grabbed a smaller figure next to him and threw it into the helicopter.

  The man then jumped into the right front seat.

  The Blackhawk’s rotors began to turn.

  The sailors began shooting at the aviators. Three men in flight suits leaped into the bay.

  The sailors raced to the tower ladder and climbed, one after the next.

  The sub’s wake was white against the black waters. Its bow began to sink.

  The Blackhawk rotated 90 degrees until it faced south.

  With Will at the flight controls and Johnstone manning the weapons panel, the Kiowa flew toward the retreating sub at 120 knots.

  As water sloshed over the front deck, the Blackhawk staggered into the air.

  Johnstone said, “I’ve got a hot Stinger.”

  Will said, “Hold fire. Rockets hot?”

  “Rockets hot.”

  “On my command, ripple five.”

  Will aligned his sight just below the sub’s vanishing stern.

  The sub’s rear deck was awash.

  Atop the submarine’s tower, a lone figure stood in the open hatch with an AK-47.

  Flame spouted from the gun. Two holes magically appeared in the Kiowa’s windscreen.

  Will said, “Fire!”

  A stream of five rockets spewed from the Kiowa’s right pylon.

  Five explosions in close sequence erupted around the sub’s sinking stern.

  The sub slowed, stopped, then drifted back against the tide.

  The man in the tower fired again, and Will felt impacts on the Kiowa’s fuselage. He pulled up the nose and grabbed some sky.

  “What just happened, Spaulding?”

  “He shot at us.”

  “I mean, to the sub?”

  “We broke or jammed its diving planes. Maybe bent its screw. If he dives, he can’t come up.”

  Johnstone said, “Why didn’t you shoot all seven rockets?”

  “If I miscalculated the effect of the first five, I would have swung around and put the last two into the conning tower.”

  Will flew south, watching his RPM indicator move toward the red line that indicated maximum sustained revolutions. He let it creep over the line.

  “Watch your RPM,” Johnstone said.

  “I am, sir,” Will said. “Blackhawk is a faster bird.”

  Will’s weapons sight showed an object three kilometers ahead and virtually skimming the wave tops. They were closing on the Blackhawk, but slowly.

  Will throttled back to the red line.

  “Stinger is still hot,” Johnstone said.

  “Negative,” Will said. “I think he has a kid with him.”

  Behind them, half a dozen small boats with flashing blue lights converged on the sub.

  Water gushed from the sub’s vents. Drifting, it rose a few feet in the water.

  Armed Coastguardsmen swarmed the decks.

  Will noted his location. A mile ahead lay the barrier islands, and then the open sea. He checked his fuel gauge: Nearly empty.

  “I should have refueled when I had the chance,” he mumbled.

  Abruptly the Blackhawk slowed and then turned on its landing lights. As the Kiowa closed in, Will and Johnstone saw the bigger helicopter flare to a landing on a two-lane paved road that led to a high bridge over a gap between an island and a peninsula. A small figure in a life jacket tumbled out of the Blackhawk.

  The Blackhawk took off in a cloud of dust that blew the small figure several feet down the road.

  The Blackhawk turned on running lights and flew southward into the Gulf of Mexico until it faded from sight.

  Will set down on the road near the figure, leaving the engine to idle.

  “God’s sake. It’s a little boy,” Johnstone said.

  Will unbuckled, jumped out, and approached the boy.

  Will said, “What’s your name, son?”

  “My name is Jeff, but granny calls me Quint.”

  “What are you doing here, Jeff?

  “Please,” said the boy, “Take me home. I want to live with my mom and Link again.”

  Epilog

  During debriefing, Lieutenant Colonel Slocum and the other abductees related that they were kept in solitary confinement. Each was told by his captors that he was being kept as a hostage to be traded if anyone in the gang was captured. None of the airmen knew what sort of illegal activity his captors were engaged in.

  Chief Warrant Officer Lopez told his debriefer that two days before he was taken, he had landed at Pad 29 to use a porta-potty that he had spotted from the air. He forced the locked door open, but seeing only a darkened stairwell, went into the woods to relieve himself. He did not recall whether he had mentioned the stairwell to anyone.

  Lakota helicopter 7714 was recovered from a truck in a tunnel leading to the abandoned aircraft maintenance and storage area beneath Pad 29 built during WW II. Forensic examination by aviation experts discovered a small fuel tank within the larger tank and a radio-controlled valve in the small tank that would allow persons unknown to empty the tank in seconds from several miles. After minor repairs, it returned to flight status.

  The officers and crew of the Revolutionary Guard Submarine Noor, and their vessel, were exchanged for American civilians being held in Iran, Syria, Lebanon, and Iraq.

  The bodies of four unidentified men were recovered from Mobile Bay. Three men were rescued and held on suspicion of military desertion, kidnapping, murder, and counterfeiting.

  From the Noor, the Secret Service recovered a partial set of counterfeit hundred dollar note engraving plates and more than $41million in genuine US currency,

  Another $3 million in cash was recovered from the storage area beneath Pad 29.

  The Alabama Bankers Association awarded five percent of the recovered funds to the six Army CID agents responsible for its recovery. Will Spaulding used his share to establish a trust fund for young Jeff, payable when he enrolled in college or turned twenty-one, whichever occurred first.

  After ten days leave in Washington DC, Spaulding returned to flight duty with an accelerated promotion one grade to chief warrant officer. He was assigned to the Second Battalion, Combat Aviation Brigade, at K16 Airbase, south of Seoul, South Korea. Upon arriving there he was awarded the Legion of Merit for his leadership role in the rescue of three kidnapped Army aviators; the Distinguished Flying Cross for his daring rescue of Ronnie Rhenquist and two Pensacola police pilots; and the Air Medal with bronze V (indicating valor) for his role in disabling the Noor.

  Special Agent Asher Shapiro was awarded the Department of Defense Distinguished Civilian Service Award and the Office of the Secretary of Defense Medal for Valor. After ten days of leave visiting her family in Washington DC, Ash was promoted one pay grade and assumed the duties of Special Agent In Charge of the CID Field Office, 19th Military Police Battalion, Seoul, Korea.

  After receiving the Department of Defense Distinguished Civilian Service Award and the Office of the Secretary of Defense Medal for Valor, Rudy Chelmin spent a month vacationing in Hawaii and Tahiti with his wife. Chelmin then returned to duty as SAC of the CID detachment at Fort Fremont, California. He also received a step increase to his pay grade’s highest level.

  Elliot Keiser and Steve Foosler were each awarded the Secretary of Defense Meritorious Civilian Service Award and promoted one pay grade. They remain in the Fort Rucker CID office.

  Special Agent Alvin Landon was, posthumously promoted one pay grade and awarded the Secretary of Defense Meritorious Civilian Service
Award.

  Captain Whitfield Johnstone received the Distinguished Flying Cross for his role in disabling the Noor. His citation, the first draft of which was written by Warrant Officer Spaulding, noted that Johnstone flew through automatic weapons fire while accomplishing this mission. Johnstone was also scheduled for promotion to the rank of major one year earlier than his West Point classmates and shortlisted for Command and General Staff College, a requirement for advancement to the Army’s highest ranks.

  Major General “Lucky Les” Davis received the Distinguished Service Medal and was nominated for a third star, effective at the end of his present assignment.

  Colonel Moffett received a certificate of appreciation for his unit’s support of a successful CID operation. He and Sheriff Taliaferro were married less than ninety days after they first met.

  Frank Bourassa was promoted one pay grade and assumed duties as Assistant Special Agent In Charge of the Secret Service’s New York City Office.

  For his outstanding leadership role in the largest counterfeit seizure in US history, Special Agent Charles Lockwood was appointed Deputy Director of the US Secret Service.

  Lieutenant Commander Ivan Matthews, US Coast Guard, received the Homeland Security Distinguished Service Medal for his role in capturing an intruding enemy submarine.

  Idelle Richardson changed her name to Reyhaneh Jabbari, acquired a closet full of elegant chadors by Parisiand designers, assumed the persona of an outwardly pious Shiite Muslim, and married General Bijan Asadi, vice commander of Iran’s Revolutionary Guard. She lives in Homs with her husband’s other wives and makes frequent trips to Switzerland and certain Caribbean islands on her American passport. She remains wanted on Federal charges of fraud, conspiracy, and murder.

  Although USCG Cutter Seneca detected lights and later sonar readings from an unknown location south of Mobile in the Gulf of Mexico, neither Captain J.J. Richardson IV nor his Blackhawk were ever seen again. He remains on the Army’s rolls as a deserter.

  After a few months in a foster home, Jefferson Jackson Richardson V was adopted by Lincoln Coe and was known thereafter as Jeff Coe. They live in Scranton, PA.