Blackout

CHAPTER 27

The Da Nang Airport ramp was less than five miles ahead.

Kat squinted to see through the steady hurricane of wind blowing through the hole in the windscreen. She slowed the Huey as much as she could and motioned Robert and Dallas close to the back of her seat.

“Robert, do you have any idea… who those assassins were?”

He nodded. “On the ground at the crash site, I recognized one of them from Hong Kong. One of the goons who tried to snatch me.”

“So, as I figured, they were trying to keep you from talking,” Kat said, working hard to keep her control movements conservative and the Huey flying smoothly.

“But as I told you, I really don’t know anything yet to talk about,” Robert said. “That’s the ridiculous part. They’ve validated the fact that Walter Carnegie really had stumbled onto something, but I still don’t know what.”

“Robert, we don’t have much time, and I’ve got to try to land this thing, but”—she looked back over her shoulder at him—“they left their business jet up ahead.”

Dan had been standing beside Dallas and behind Kat. He reached out and grabbed Kat’s shoulder. “This is the copilot, Dan Wade. Who are you?” he asked.

“Special Agent Kat Bronsky of the FBI, Captain Wade. I’m sorry, there was no time to—”

“Don’t apologize! You rescued us. There’s no better introduction. But you mentioned a business jet?”

“Yes.”

“What kind? Not a Bombardier Global Express, by any chance?”

Kat turned partially in the seat to try to see Dan Wade’s face, but he was standing directly behind her and the momentary diversion caused her to bobble the controls. She turned her attention back to stabilizing the Huey and slowing.

“Dan, it is a Global Express. I think it may be the same one that shot, or sabotaged, your plane.”

There was a long pause before Dan spoke. “It was a Global Express that took off ahead of us, all right. He had to be part of it. There may have been a fighter out there too, because someone fired a missile that exploded in front of us.”

“The Air Force thinks it may have been a special phosphorous warhead, designed to flash-blind you,” Kat said.

“Yeah. That would be about right. It was hideously bright. I thought at first it was a nuclear blast in the distance, but since we immediately hit a shock wave, it had to be an exploding missile.”

Da Nang was on the nose now, two miles away. Kat felt her frustration rising that the small necessity of figuring out how to land was blocking some key questions. She looked hard at the ramp up ahead, relieved to see the Global Express was still parked in the same place. Kat turned slightly in Dan’s direction. “We’ll talk later. In the meantime, I plan to steal their Global Express, search it, and fly the evidence home.”

“You can do that?” Dallas asked, her eyebrows up. “You can fly a jet, too?”

“Well, I’m not trained in a Global Express, but I can fly it safely… with help.” She worked to find the right combination of power and pitch to slow the Huey a bit more and continue to lose altitude, aiming for the same spot they had occupied a few hours before, a hundred feet from the Global Express.

“Okay, everyone, this could get rough. Everyone please strap in!”

“You need me up here, Kat?” Robert asked, pointing to the copilot’s seat.

She turned quickly and nodded. “Yes. Moral support, at least. Wait! First, look out that left side and tell me whether I’ve got enough of the landing skid remaining to support this machine’s weight.”

She pulled back slightly on the stick, forgetting to lessen the pitch angle of the rotor blades — and the lift they were generating — with the collective lever. With less of the lift going to forward motion and more directed upward, the Huey began to climb sharply.

Gotta remember, down on the collective when I’m slowing like this. She made the adjustment and started descending again. The airspeed was less than thirty knots, and this time she was forcing herself to feed in some rudder to keep the Huey from turning as she slowed.

Robert was back, climbing over the center panel to get in the left seat. “Kat, the forward strut is gone, but the back strut is still there, and I think it’ll hold. The skid itself is partly there, attached to the rear strut.”

“If it doesn’t hold,” Kat said, “she’ll fall to the left on touchdown and the blades will hit the ground.”

They were less than a hundred feet from the target spot on the ramp, still moving forward at ten knots. Kat milked the stick back slowly and lessened the collective to compensate for the changing flight dynamics. She felt herself working the rudder pedals too much, and the nose swung back and forth, left and right, as she coaxed the Huey into what could pass for a hover and let it continue to descend. Her inputs on the stick were much calmer now, but still causing the helicopter to dance around.

She could see the Global Express just ahead, and she could see something else, which chilled her: The forward door was open and the stairs had been extended.

The momentary loss of concentration was too much. Suddenly she was behind the machine again, nudging the stick left when it should have gone right, and shoving it right when it needed only a nudge left, until they were rocking violently back and forth in all three axes as she struggled for control.

“DAMPEN YOUR INPUTS!” Dan Wade yelled forward, feeling the gyrations. “Easy does it! THINK the controls. Don’t move them!”

Kat felt herself tensing. Her hands shook, defying her attempts to relax. Any correction on the collective lever, and they were either dropping dangerously or rising precipitously. For every axis she brought under control, another would slip away into a left pirouette, a forward or backward motion, or just another severe case of the wobbles.

She was breathing hard, holding on, calculating the distance to the ground at twenty feet as she held the stick fairly still and forced herself to merely think the collective down a hair.

Obediently, the Huey began moving down ever so slightly, but going sideways to the right. Think it left! she commanded herself, amazed when the sideward movement ceased. Ten feet! Okay, just hold this, hold this.…

They settled to within three feet of the ramp, all forward motion now stopped. The Huey slowly turned to the left as she successfully tried the new technique again and felt the skids touch with surprising gentleness, the one on the left giving a little, then rocking them forward.

She felt her heart jump into her throat as the body of the helicopter suddenly shifted forward and to the left. The arc of the blades descended toward the tarmac as she instinctively hauled back on the cyclic stick, raising the blades even as the motion continued, then suddenly stopped. The blades were still whirling without obstruction, with the lowest point of the arc mere inches above the concrete.

Kat slowly let the rest of the collective down, reducing the lift to zero. She reached out, then, and cut off the fuel, shutting down the turbine engine rotor as the blades slowed and stopped.

“You okay?” Robert asked, watching her breathe hard, her hands still welded to the controls, and her head caged straight ahead. He saw her eyes flick over to him, then a smile began to play around her mouth. There was a nod, followed by a tremendous sigh of relief.

When the rotor blades had stopped, Dallas, Graham, Dan, Steve, and Pete Phu began helping one another up to move across the tilted floor toward the left door. A loud crack reverberated through the helicopter, throwing them farther to the left as part of the mangled skid gave way, leaving the Huey with the left forward part of the fuselage resting on the ground.

A military jeep was approaching fast. Kat found the release on the pilot’s door and climbed out, jumping to the ground in time to summon Pete Phu, the translator.

“Pete, this is very important. Whoever these guys are, explain to them what happened, that we were attacked, and the major… the pilot… was killed. Explain that the attackers got into a midair collision with us and damaged this helicopter. Do NOT, please, tell them that the attackers are from that Global Express over there, okay?”

He nodded. “No problem.”

“If he wants us to go in somewhere and — I don’t know, fill out reports or something bureaucratic, tell him we’ll do so in an hour. Not now.”

“You want to stand here on the ramp for an hour?”

“No. Tell them that’s our airplane, the Global Express over there. We need to check out something onboard first.”

A strange expression clouded Pete’s face, but he nodded anyway and turned toward the occupant of the jeep, a Vietnamese Army captain. A certain amount of arm-waving and examination of the damaged Huey ensued, the captain looking at every bullet hole and the shattered window before speaking into his walkie-talkie.

“What’s he saying?” Kat prompted.

“A lot of reports are needed,” Pete said. “Government property has been damaged and the pilot is dead. But he wants to know who these people are.” He motioned to the survivors.

“Tell him…” Kat hesitated, thinking fast. “They are survivors of the airline crash, and all are American citizens under my protection. Ask him if he needs to talk with the ambassador in Hanoi about this.”

Pete grinned. “I don’t think he will.” He turned to relay her words, watching the eyebrows of the officer suddenly rise when offered the option of checking.

“No, no, no! You will all wait here. My colonel says everyone must wait here,” he told Pete in Vietnamese.

“May they go over to check on their jet?” Pete asked the officer. “Remember, these are guests of our government in Hanoi. I don’t think your colonel is going to want to get in trouble with Hanoi.”

The captain thought for a second as he looked at the Global Express, then nodded. “Okay. But wait at the airplane.”

As the exchange continued, Kat moved to Robert’s side and motioned Dallas over, speaking quietly. “I’m going to go over to the Global Express and try to secure it. I don’t know why it’s open, and I don’t know if they left anyone behind. Stay here, and if you see the landing lights blinking on and off, bring everyone and come get aboard. I’ve held off the local officials for a few minutes, but if we don’t get in motion rapidly, we’re going to get stuck here.”

“Why?” Dallas asked.

“Somebody let those cutthroats park their jet undisturbed this morning and let them take a very expensive helicopter, and I’ll bet you anything it was all without customs or immigration or diplomatic clearance. That means a lot of money changed hands, and the recipient’s going to be very nervous right about now over all that’s happened with the crash, and now this damaged chopper. He’s very likely to do unpredictable and dangerous things, using his official position.”

“Understood,” Robert said, and Dallas nodded in agreement.

“Please bring my bag when you come,” Kat added. “I’m going to… get something out of it now and leave the bag with you.”

She moved into the Huey and retrieved a 9mm pistol from the dead pilot. She opened her shoulder bag and rummaged quickly for the plastic flex cuffs she always carried, verifying she could pull them out quickly.

The short walk to the business jet was a circuitous affair. It was a Global Express, the latest of the rarified breed of multimillion-dollar business jets that could span almost seven thousand miles without refueling. It sat delicately on its tricycle landing gear, its wingtips turned up in fuel-saving winglets, a vision wholly out of place with the impoverished backwater that post-war Vietnam had become.

With the sun hanging low on the horizon and shining in her eyes, Kat circled casually off to one side and came up behind the aircraft, invisible to anyone inside. She walked the length of the fuselage just to the right of the belly, and slipped around and up the entry stairs as quietly as she could.

She stopped near the top of the stairs, hearing someone snoring rhythmically inside. Quickly glancing around the cockpit bulkhead, she spotted a Caucasian male in a white pilot’s shirt snoozing in the right seat.

Kat took a deep breath to steady herself, checked behind her, then looked to the right, into the cabin. The interior was beautiful, empty, and typical of an executive jet. She could smell the aroma of rich leather from within.

Kat backed through the cabin, keeping her eye on the cockpit as she checked the bathroom and rear cabin. Both were empty. She slipped off her shoes, kept her gun at the ready, and moved forward again through the cabin and past the entry, stepping gingerly into the alcove just behind the cockpit. With a sudden movement, she leaned forward and jammed the barrel of her gun against the pilot’s head with one hand while flipping out her leather ID wallet with the other.

“FBI! Freeze! DO NOT MOVE!”

The shouted command brought the wide-eyed pilot bolt upright, and his head crashed into the overhead panel. “Ow!” he said, trying to turn to his left, but freezing at the sound of the 9mm being cocked. His eyes finally found her, and he raised his hands to the ceiling. “Okay, okay! What is this, a joke?”

“On the ceiling! NOW! Put your palms flat against it!”

“What’s this all about? Where are the others?”

“As if you didn’t know, scum. You’re under arrest for the murder of over two hundred civilians, among other things.”

“Mur… murders? I’m just a corporate pilot!”

“Sure you are. Understand this clearly. This is a hair trigger and I have every incentive to blow your miserable brains out, so please, go ahead and give me an immediate reason. Go ahead. Flinch, try to move, say something smart-ass.” He didn’t move or speak. “All right,” Kat continued, “you’re going to keep both those hands touching the ceiling as you ooze slowly out of that seat and walk back here, kneel, and put your hands behind you.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” he said forcefully, his head bobbing up and down. “Please, don’t get trigger happy! What is this, a problem with rival factions in the Bureau?” The pilot was in his forties and extremely nervous. Sweat covered his brow, and his eyes were wide as he complied precisely with her orders.

Kat flex-cuffed the pilot and carefully frisked him, taking his wallet and leaving him facedown in the aisle as she moved forward and flashed the landing lights twice. She looked through the wallet quickly, memorizing the name on the various licenses.

“Is this jet fueled?” she asked.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Range?”

“Ah… over six thousand miles.”

“Where are you planning to take the others when they get back?’

He was trying to shake his head, rubbing his chin on the floor in the process. “I… don’t know. The captain ordered me to put on a full load of fuel, coffee, and ice, and then stand by.”

“You leave from Hong Kong last night?”

There was a long hesitation and Kat kicked him hard. “Answer the question.”

“Ah… yes. I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you anything.”

“You’re going to tell me anything I ask. For instance, did you take off in front of a Meridian seven-forty-seven?”

“I don’t recall.”

Kat kicked him harder.

“Hey!”

“Remember, Pollis, if that’s your real name, I’ve got the option of killing you right here, right now. The ACLU is six thousand miles away. They can’t help you. You have three seconds to answer.”

“Look… yes. Probably.”

“And why did you turn off your transponder and fly in front of that jumbo?”

“Because I had a guy as mean as you ordering me to shut up while he did the flying. I couldn’t figure out why he wanted to play chicken with a jumbo jet.”

The answer stopped Kat. Clever, she thought. Fiction writing under pressure. “What are the names of the men you were with?”

“I… only know two of them. Arlin Schoen. He was the boss. The captain’s name was Ben Laren.”

“And the others?”

“Honest. I don’t know the other names. Ma’am, why are you doing this? I’m on your side.”

There were sounds outside and Kat turned to see Dallas and Robert helping the others up the stairs. She pointed to the prisoner and explained the situation. “Just step over him, and when we crank up, I’ll need one of us to cover him.”

“Excuse me,” the pilot said.

“What?” Kat snapped.

“Are you qualified on this type of jet, Ma’am? Or do you have a pilot?”

“No. I’m it, and all I can fly are little Cessnas,” Kat told him, watching the reaction. “This is going to be on-the-job training.”

“Ah, look, if you’re planning to… to… fly off with me on board, then let me help you do it right. I don’t want to get shot, but I also don’t want to die in a plane—”

A crushing blow from Dan Wade’s right shoe slammed into the midsection of the man, causing him to gasp and cry out in pain. “WHAT? WHAT DID I DO?” he yelped, gasping.

Dan leaned down, following his voice, and yanked him halfway off the floor by his hair, speaking millimeters from the back of his head. “I’m the first officer of Meridian Flight Five, you fucking murderer! You and your henchmen killed my captain, you’ve probably blinded me for life, and you’ve murdered over two hundred passengers and crew members, some of them my dear friends. I want you to know that you’re never going to reach a jail, because I’m going to dismember you alive.”

The cuffed pilot was frantic, his eyes huge. “I DIDN’T KILL ANYONE! I was just hired to fly this trip, and then… they were doing something back there, I don’t know what.”

Dan let the pilot’s head thud to the floor. “When we get airborne, I’m going to take a small knife and start removing your favorite body parts until we get the truth.”

Dallas put a firm hand on Dan’s arm and her mouth next to his ear. “Danny, I feel like killing him, too, but it’s probably not the best of ideas to do it or even threaten it in front of the FBI, know what I mean? They make pretty devastatingly honest witnesses when you have to explain why someone ended up in a couple of plastic garbage bags.”

Kat was studying the instrument panel as Robert leaned close to her. “You can only fly little Cessnas?”

She shook her head. “Actually, I’m typed… qualified… in Learjets and Cessna Citations, just not something this new and fancy.”

He exhaled and smiled. “I was hoping you’d say something like that. I’ve seen quite enough on-the-job flight training for a lifetime.”