Dragon Sim-13

21

Both pilots were awake and alert despite being tired. They'd been in the air almost six hours. The two had been switching off every thirty minutes, with one flying under goggles and the other resting. It had been an exhausting regimen. Now the two pilots would have to be at their peak. Jean and Colin both had their goggles on as they wound their way through the foothills of the Changbai Range.

Lassiter concentrated on reading the map and ensuring that they were on the correct heading, while Long kept watch ahead, flying the terrain. In two minutes they crested the first ridgeline.

"That was the border," Lassiter called out. "We're over China now."

Anxiety churned in their stomachs as Long slowed the helicopter to eighty knots and started flying west, only twenty-five feet above the treetops. They knew the risks they were running now. Not only the Chinese but the terrain could be their enemy: a power line strung across in front of them, a radio tower, a microwave relay station, a tall hill coming up suddenly out of the dark. Any such obstacle could spell disaster.

Long headed west ten kilometers and then turned to the northwest, searching the ground for the small river that was to be their guideline. Lassiter continued to call out the instrument readings to her. They had agreed that she would fly the leg in. He would fly the leg out.

Long concentrated on flying. For the whole flight she had not allowed thoughts of what they would find on the pickup zone interfere with her performance, and she wouldn't now.

There was a quick intake of breath through the intercom. "Jesus, Colin. Take a look ahead."

Lassiter looked up from the instruments and scanned the night sky. It was obvious what the captain was referring to. He counted four aircraft in the sky ahead, higher in the mountains. Helicopters with their searchlights on.

"We're in for fun and games now."

Long took another view. "But it's also a good sign, in a way. It means the Chinese are looking for somebody too. It means there are people alive."

At Yanji the radar operator in the mobile unit again counted the number of blips on his screen. It still wasn't right. One had entered his screen at the eastern edge, almost looking as though it had come out of North Korea, and was now intermittently appearing and disappearing. The radar image did not have an identifier code.

Junior Lieutenant Baibang called on the radio for the second time, asking the helicopter to identify itself. Again no answer. It was also flying too low to the ground. Supporting the 3d Aviation Regiment on numerous training missions, Baibang had never seen a regimental helicopter fly that low during the daytime, never mind at night. Baibang picked up the radiophone to army headquarters.

It wasn't hard for Mitchell to stay awake, despite his exhaustion. Shivering saw to that. The Chinese air activity was continuing. He wasn't sure he would be able to tell if an American aircraft was inbound until it just about landed. He looked over at Olinski to make sure that he was still monitoring the radio. Olinski had the little plug from the FM radio in his ear and was holding it in place with his good hand. He saw the captain's glance and gave him a negative shake of the head. Mitchell quickly scanned the others in the party. Comsky was peering into the dark woods, pulling security. Hoffman was scanning the pickup zone. C.J. appeared to be unconscious.

Mitchell checked the glowing hands on his watch: 2:14 local. He was tempted to pick up and start moving now. Even if a helicopter was inbound, they wouldn't be foolish enough to come in with all the air activity. They hadn't thought of this when they'd made the diversion plan. Now it was too late. An inbound helicopter was sure to be spotted.

Tugur's presence had finally made things start functioning in the division forward headquarters. The report of the unidentified helicopter reached him only four minutes after it was called in. It was another piece of the puzzle falling into place. Things were beginning to make sense. The firing had probably been a diversion.

Tugur immediately called General Yang at Shenyang and quickly updated him. "We've got an unidentified helicopter inbound. It's only about ten minutes out from where the troops are fighting. I've already diverted all the Z-9s to try and intercept. We need some air force jets down here just in case."

Yang concurred. "I'll call the airfield here and get them moving. You must stop that helicopter. Force it down if you can. If not, shoot it down. I'll get back to you. Out here."

The AWACS's large rotodome continued to track 579 as it flew through the Changbai foothills. Colonel Ehrlich watched as the helicopter wove its way through the terrain. It was about ten minutes' flying time from all the Chinese activity. Whoever was flying that thing sure had balls— it was flying right into a hornets' nest.

One hundred and twenty miles to the west of the coast, Ehrlich also had the four F-16s out of Misawa circling. And somewhere out there, screaming toward the coast at more than a thousand miles an hour, was Wildcard. Ehrlich was in radio communication with the aircraft if he needed to talk to them, but radio silence was the standard operating procedure for Wildcard. Its orders were to take up a position twenty miles off the North Korean coast near Najin and be prepared for further instructions. Ehrlich didn't know what was going on, but things were going to get hot real soon.

Chong discerned the enemy soldiers first. He gripped Riley on the arm and pointed. Riley stopped and squinted into the darkness. There were ten of them, seven hundred meters away and heading downslope. The Chinese were spread out, weapons at the ready, with twenty meters between each man. Riley looked around quickly. About a hundred meters ahead of them was a small knoll of boulders rising slightly above the rest of the ground. He pointed it out to Chong. "We'll make our stand there."

Junior Lieutenant Baibang started guiding the Z-9s toward the inbound helicopter. He had two Z-9s coming down from the mountains out of the north. He gave them an intercept path directly toward the intruder. Three others were lifting off out of Yanji. The sixth Z-9 from the 3d Aviation Regiment was unable to fly because of maintenance problems. Baibang gave two of the three out of Yanji an intercept vector straight down the river. The third he gave an easterly approach, just in case the unidentified aircraft turned and ran for the border.

The inbound intruder was flying at about eighty knots. The Z-9s could easily beat that in a flat run at altitude. Baibang glanced at the clock. The two out of the mountains should intercept in eight minutes if all factors stayed the same.

Even as he finished giving instructions, a new voice came over his radio. "Yanji Control, this is Tiger Flight leader. We are four J-7s just lifted off and heading your way. Request approach and intercept information. Over."

"We've got four fast movers lifting off out of Shenyang, sir." Ehrlich swore. "This thing's getting out of control. They must have picked up the Blackhawk on local radar." He turned and looked across the cabin to the bank of equipment and the operators sitting in front of it. "Do you have any emitters down there?"

A young air force technician turned from the screens toward the colonel. "Yes, sir. I've got a dual emitter located in Yanji—820 megahertz 280 pulse, and 890 megahertz 650 pulse. From the signal wavelength, I'd say it's close to a P-15 Flatface early-warning radar. A little off. Probably a Chinese copy."

Ehrlich turned back to his side of the plane. "How long till the fast movers are in the area near the Blackhawk?"

The analyst next to the radar operator quickly calculated. "Twelve minutes, sir."

"All right. Relay the data to Wildcard and the F-16s. Bring the F-16s in to fifty miles off the coast. How long until Wildcard is on station?"

"Twenty-five minutes."

"Get me General Gunston on the line."

"Start calling, Colin."

Lassiter keyed the FM radio with his right foot. He read from the note attached to his knee pad. "Duncer, Drager, Dirtie, Dwinki, Doinke, Dopple, this is exfiltration helicopter. Over." He waited a second and then repeated the message, again using the mission code names of all the members of Team 3 left behind.

Mitchell saw Olinski start abruptly. "What have you got?" he hissed.

Olinski shook his head as he strained to listen. Then he nodded vigorously. He grabbed the small radio and pressed the send button. "Exfiltration helicopter, this is Dopple. I say again, this is Dopple. We are awaiting your arrival at agreed-upon location. It will be marked with infrared strobe. I say again, infrared strobe. What is your ETA? Over."

"Roger, Dopple. We are five minutes out. Mark pickup zone in three, and stay on the net. We're going to need to load fast. Over."

"Roger, exfil aircraft. What type of aircraft are you? Over."

"Blackhawk. We'll land facing east. Over."

"Roger, facing east. We'll be ready. We've got five pax. One on stretcher. Over."

"Roger, five pax, one of which is on a stretcher. Listen up — we've got internal tanks on board. The front two are empty now and held in place with 550 cord. You're going to need to cut the 550 cord and dump the two tanks as soon as we land. We've got only the two pilots on board and can't help. Over."

"Roger. Cut out two front internal tanks. We'll be ready. Over."

"ETA five minutes. Over."

Olinski turned to the other members of Team 3, all of whom had been listening to his end of the conversation. "We've got a Blackhawk five minutes out. Sir, you need to mark the pickup zone in three minutes. Comsky and Hoffman, get ready to bring me out. When we get to the bird we need to cut out the front two internal fuel tanks and throw them off. They're held in with 550 cord."

Mitchell pulled out his strobe. Fatigue and the cold were forgotten. He turned to Comsky. "Get C.J. awake. I'm going out into the field to mark the PZ." Mitchell started moving out as Comsky shook the pilot. C.J. painfully became conscious.

"Let's go, man. Our ride's coming. There's a bird inbound."

Riley and Chong settled in among the boulders on the crest of the small knoll and watched the Chinese squad approach in the moonlight. They were only two hundred meters away now, moving slowly toward them. Riley whispered to Chong. "Another fifty meters and we start firing. You work our right to left. I'll start our left to right."

Chong checked his machine gun and ensured that he had a round in the chamber and that the hundred-round drum magazine was seated properly. Riley laid out two more ten-round magazines for his SVD next to his left hand, where he held the stock of the rifle, for quicker reloading. He unhooked his M79 grenade launcher from his vest and removed the flechette round, replacing it with a 40mm high-explosive round. He put the launcher down next to him. They were ready.

"This is General Gunston. I'm going to patch you in to Colonel Ehrlich, who's monitoring the situation from the AWACS. It will save time,

rather than having everything relayed through me. I'll monitor on this end. He's got some news. Hold on a second." There were some beeps and clicks and then Gunston was back on. "Go ahead, Pete. General Parker is on the line."

"Yes, sir. Things are getting hairy over there. We've got the Blackhawk only a couple of minutes out from the area of all the activity. It's obviously been spotted, since we've got five Chinese helicopters vectoring in on it — two heading straight for it, two straight in from the north, and one moving to the east. They're about four minutes out from intercept and are being guided by a local radar. We've also got four fast movers scrambled out of Shenyang. They're nine minutes out."

Parker cut in. "What about our forces?"

"I've ordered the F-16s to move in to fifty miles offshore. Wildcard will be twenty miles off the North Korean coast in twenty-two minutes."

Parker considered the situation. "What do you think, General Gunston?"

"Sir, that helicopter is never going to make it out. Those Chinese helicopters vectoring in are probably armed. The Blackhawk doesn't have a chance against five of them, especially if they're being guided in. Even if it escapes them somehow, it still has the fast movers to contend with. It might dodge the jets for a while by getting low into the terrain and outmaneuvering them."

Ehrlich came back over the net. "Sir, we're running out of time. I'm also starting to get some radar signals from the North Koreans. I think all the Chinese air activity has spooked them. I'm patched in to both Wildcard and the F-16s. What do you want me to do?"

Parker closed his eyes. Whatever his decision was, the consequences would be severe.

Mitchell turned on the strobe. His eyes squinting, he scanned the skies. Out of the wood line, Comsky and Hoffman carried Olinski, who was still on the radio with the helicopter. They could hear the inbound bird now, off to the east.

Jean Long was guiding along the river. Ahead, through the goggles she could see the lighter line of the unimproved road snaking across the ground. Not far now. She slowed down further, to fifty knots.

Lieutenant Wei felt the adrenaline race through his veins. He had never felt like this before. He was piloting the lead Z-9, following the azimuth given by Yanji Control. He couldn't see much by the light of the moon. According to Yanji they were only three minutes away from the intruder, who was slowing down. Wei pressed his send button and called the second aircraft. "We'll make one pass to see what's happening and spot the intruder. Then we'll turn around to the left and do a gun run. Guide off me."

Riley took a deep breath, then let it out. "Are you ready?"

"Roger that, Top."

"On my round."

"Roger that."

Riley took another deep breath and held it. He pulled back on the trigger and the SVD spoke. Immediately he started sighting in on the second target as the roar of Chong's SAW rent the night.

Mitchell swung his head and listened. He could hear the helicopter close by now, but he thought he heard more firing up on the ridgeline. He heard it again. The burst of a SAW. It could mean only one thing. Riley and Chong were still alive, and they were fighting. Mitchell looked at Olinski, who lay on the ground next to him. Olinski was still monitoring the radio and hadn't heard the firing. Hoffman and Comsky were leading C.J. to the center of the field to join up with them. As the helicopter closed in, the roar of the bird covered up any sound of firing from the hills.

Long and Lassiter spotted the strobe at the same time. It flashed brightly on and off in their goggles.

"Roger, PZ. We've got your location. Turn off the light so we can land. Over."

A second later the light was out. Jean slowed the helicopter to a hover over the open field. She could see the men clustered below as she swung the aircraft about and faced to the east. She concentrated on bringing the helicopter down next to the small party on the ground.

Lassiter's voice came over the intercom. "We've got company heading this way. I count two helicopters coming in from the northwest. About two minutes out."

Mitchell closed his eyes as the four powerful blades of the Blackhawk threw loose grass and debris through the air. The helicopter settled on its wheels only eight feet from where they crouched. Immediately Mitchell, Comsky, and Hoffman ran forward. They leapt on and began hacking at the 550 cord holding the two front internal fuel tanks. They freed the right one and shoved it out the door. Comsky jumped out and ran over to C.J. He picked up the injured pilot and thrust him into the helicopter, as Mitchell and Hoffman shoved the other forward tank out the left door. Mitchell grabbed C.J. and sat him down as Hoffman and Comsky ran back, hoisted the stretcher, and carried Olinski on board. The whole operation had taken only forty seconds. Mitchell turned and gave the pilot the thumbs-up.

With their goggles and helmets on, the pilots were unidentifiable to the men in the back. As Lassiter lifted off 579, Jean Long unbuckled her harness and turned around in her seat. She closed her eyes briefly in thanks as she saw her husband right behind Lassiter's seat. She threw a headset to him.

Mitchell caught the headset and put it on as the bird lifted over the trees on the eastern edge of the pickup zone. He keyed the intercom. "We've got two more men farther up along that finger to the northwest."

"We've got company!" Lassiter yelled through the set as he accelerated the helicopter and jerked it hard to the left. Those in the back were tumbled on top of each other. C.J. screamed with pain as he landed again on his shattered arm. Two helicopters roared by out of the northwest and started to circle.

"The next one will be a gun run," Jean yelled. "They're circling to the east to come back. Turn north and dive into the riverbed."

In less than a second Mitchell took all this in: His wife was on board. They were being attacked by Chinese helicopters. And up there on the ridge, he could see the red and green tracers of Riley and Chong's firefight.

Riley had hit his first two targets before the rest could find cover. The sudden silence was deafening.

"How many did you get, Tom?"

"I'm pretty sure I got two. How about you?"

"Two. That leaves us six. We've got about five minutes before they get reinforced."

There was a burst of fire from up ahead and green tracers flew by to their right. Another burst. "Shit! We'll never make it running." Riley looked at Chong. "What do you say, wild man?"

Chong had made his peace in the dark of the previous night. He was ready. "This is as good a place as any. I'd rather take a stand here than get chased down by helicopters come dawn."

"OK then. This is it. I'll see if I can take out these six ahead. You might as well cover to the east. That's where our next visitors will come from."

The lead Z-9 strained as it banked in a steep left-hand turn. Wei had only a brief glance at the aircraft as they flew by. An American UH-60 Blackhawk. This was going to be a real challenge.

Wei calculated in his mind as he completed the turn and gave chase. From what he had seen of the S-70s the transport battalion had, the Blackhawk held a great edge over his helicopter in terms of maneuverability and speed. The Americans also held a big edge at night.

Wei grinned. He had two aces up his sleeve, however. The first was that he was armed and the American wasn't. The Blackhawk was just a transport helicopter. The second was that there were five Z-9s and only one Blackhawk. He watched with grudging admiration as the American helicopter dove for the riverbed and fled north only a few feet above the water.

Lassiter had 579 down very low, skimming just above the surface of the river. Although he was down lower than the enemy could go, he was forced to go much slower than the other helicopters at altitude. As he took a left-hand bend in the river he glanced back. The running lights of the lead enemy helicopter were only eight hundred meters behind. In the moonlight he tried to make out what type of aircraft was chasing them. The only one he knew that had a built-in tail rotor was some sort of Aerospatiale. Maybe an SA-365 model Dolphin.

Junior Lieutenant Baibang was trying to keep up with the chase. The intruder had disappeared from his screen — probably down too low for him to track. He could see the two center Z-9s turning to the north in apparent chase. He ordered the Z-9 to the east to stay in a holding pattern. The two to the north he ordered into blocking positions along the river, which the intruder seemed to be following. The intruder would reach the blocking force in about forty seconds.

Wei watched as the dark silhouette of the Blackhawk disappeared around a westerly turn in the river. Since he was flying well above tree level at three hundred feet, Wei decided to cut the corner of the bend and try to make up some of the distance between the two aircraft. He knew there was a blocking force only a kilometer ahead, but he wanted to get as close as possible before they brought down the intruder. He flew over the elbow of land and looked down into the river.

The American was gone! Wei started slowing down as he looked around. Where did they go? The second Z-9 shot past him as the pilot of that bird belatedly tried making the adjustment. Wei banked right and caught movement out of the corner of his right eye. He turned his head just as the American rose out of the riverbed. Wei sighed to himself with relief. The UH-60 must have flared to a halt and let him fly by. The American was probably going to double back toward the border. He might have made it, too, if I hadn't slowed down in time, Wei thought.

Enough of this playing around. Wei started banking hard right as he ordered his copilot to prepare to fire the miniguns. The Z-9 was only halfway through the turn when Wei saw a flash of light on the side of the Blackhawk.

"Again!" Lassiter yelled as the closest Z-9 exploded into a ball of flame. Jean Long punched the firing button and the second Stinger leapt from the side of the helicopter. The trail Z-9 was about nine hundred meters to the west and had started a long, sweeping turn to come back. The supersonic Stinger raced it down in a second and a half. The heat-seeking missile flew straight up the right exhaust of the Z-9 and the helicopter blossomed into flames.

Mitchell keyed the intercom in his headset. "Head northwest. Straight toward that ridgeline."

Lassiter accelerated. Northwest was as good as any other direction. If those helicopters had reported in, the Chinese would know that he had followed the river. It wouldn't be smart to do that again.

Riley stared to the east at the ball of fire that had been ignited in the sky. Then there was a second one. "What the hell is going on?"

A burst of automatic fire up ahead caused him to turn his attention back to matters closer at hand. Hidden behind a rock, he fired the M79, blooping another high explosive in the direction of the surviving Chinese.

Baibang didn't know what to make of it. The two Z-9s in pursuit had disappeared from his screen. He couldn't raise them on the radio. He called the two hovering just above the riverbed to the north — no, they hadn't seen anything.

Baibang was puzzled. The intruder should have reached the blocking force thirty seconds ago. And where did the two in pursuit go? He ordered the two in the blocking position to move south along the river. Then he called the J-7s to give them final vectors. He gave the jets a course that would put them to the east of the last sighting of the intruder. No matter what happened, the intruder eventually was going to have to head for the coast.

"Goddamn!"

Colonel Ehrlich swiveled his head to look at the radar operator. "What's the matter?"

"Did you say that Blackhawk was armed, sir?" "Yeah. They had Stingers on board. Why?" "Then you can splash two Chinese helicopters.

"There. Ahead and to the left. Did you see those green and red tracers?" Mitchell was leaning forward, pointing between the two pilots. "The red is our people."

"Who's up there, Mitch?" Jean asked as Lassiter swooped in toward the firefight.

"Dave Riley and Tom Chong."

Riley heard the rotor blades coming toward them. He arced another high-explosive round toward the Chinese, then looked south, while Chong continued to cover their front. At first Riley didn't see anything. He was expecting to see the searchlights of a Z-9 coming at them. He quickly pulled up his goggles and turned them on.

Riley blinked. A Blackhawk. He pulled up his SVD and took aim at the cockpit. The goddamn Chinese were trying to land troops right on top of them! He started to squeeze the trigger when something occurred to him. Every other helicopter they'd seen tonight had searchlights on— this one didn't. Riley remembered Olinski's words in the briefback about the Chinese pilots — that they didn't fly blacked out because they didn't have night-vision goggles. Riley figured they had nothing left to lose. He'd take a chance.

There it was. The intruder was back on his screen briefly. Off to the north. Baibang called the two Z-9s and redirected them to the new location. He called the inbound J-7s.

"Tiger Flight leader, this is Yanji Control. I have you with an ETA of one minute. Change heading to three three zero zero mils. The intruder is heading north from last reported location. Over."

"Roger, Yanji Control. Activating our tracking radar now. We should pick up something soon. Decreasing altitude to one thousand meters."

"Get your harness buckled, Tom!" Riley yelled out. Chong turned in surprise. "We've got a Blackhawk inbound." Riley turned on his infrared strobe and held it up.

On board 579, Comsky slid open the left door while Hoffman slid open the right. Each man held a 120-foot nylon rope in a deployment bag. Lassiter flared the Blackhawk to a halt eighty feet above the ground by the IR strobe. The two bags were thrown out and hurtled to the ground.

"I've got this one," Chong yelled as he ran forward. He pulled the deployment bag off the rope and hooked the end loop through the two snap links in the shoulders of his vest. Twenty feet away Riley did the same. The two ran together and linked arms.

No shots had yet been fired by the Chinese soldiers. They probably assumed that the helicopter was one of their own, but Riley knew they'd soon wake up and take action.

"We've got them!" Mitchell yelled as he peered off the deck of the cargo compartment. Lassiter snatched in collective and quickly pulled the helicopter over onto an easterly heading.

Riley and Chong felt their vests tighten around them as the rope became taut. Their feet came off the ground and they were savagely swung out to the west by centrifugal force. Riley gasped for breath as he and Chong held onto each other, momentarily forgetting where they were. A line of green tracers stitching the night air quickly reminded them.

As he straightened out the Blackhawk, Lassiter keyed his intercom. "Two more helicopters coming out of the east."

"Find someplace to land. We've got to get them in." Mitchell watched tracers make a pattern around Riley and Chong and pass by the helicopter.

"We can't. There's no time. Pull them in!" Lassiter responded.

Mitchell was astonished. "How the hell are we going to pull them in? I've got only two healthy bodies back here!"

Long turned to Lassiter. "I'll take the controls. Go back and help them."

Lassiter unbuckled and climbed over the seat, back to where Hoffman and Comsky were struggling with the left rope, pulling it up inch by inch.

Chong felt his rope jerk. He looked up and saw someone hanging over the edge of the deck, signaling him to separate from Riley. He tapped Riley and pointed up. Riley let go.

Long glanced to her right and saw the Chinese helicopters closing rapidly. She was flying at only seventy knots with the two men dangling below. She also had to stay 150 feet above ground level to keep from slamming the men into the earth. She looked around, trying to think of something to do.

Baibang was running out of airspace. He now had the intruder on his screen heading east. Two Z-9s were closing rapidly on it from the east. He ordered the third Z-9 to also start an intercept vector to the north. As he finished giving that order, his radio crackled again.

"This is Tiger Flight leader. I've got the intruder on tracking radar. Preparing to fire."

"Those fast movers are on top of our bird. We need to do something now."

The young operator who had been tracking the action looked up at Colonel Ehrlich. "I can do something, sir. Give me a few seconds."

At an altitude of a thousand meters, the J-7's tracking radar easily picked up 579. The lead pilot armed a pair of missiles — Chinese copies of the Russian AA-2 Atoll. His hand paused over the guidance switch. The AA-2 missile under his left wing was guided by a built-in infrared heat seeker. The one under the right wing was guided by radar homing using the plane's radar.

The pilot chose the left missile. Since his target was so slow moving, he'd pass by too quickly to keep his tracking radar on it. He got on the radio and ordered his wingman to do the same.

Only one thing to do, Jean Long decided. She banked left, straight toward the onrushing helicopters. By doing this, she reduced both the amount of time they would have to fire and the Blackhawk's silhouette.

The pilot of the lead J-7 yelled over his radio, "Fire." Two Atoll missiles leapt forward, one from each aircraft.

The 579 was moving at 70 knots, the two Z-9s at 125 knots. The Blackhawk closed the five-hundred-meter gap between them in three seconds. The Z-9 pilots had not anticipated this maneuver and were able to fire only a quick, poorly aimed burst from their miniguns before the Blackhawk shot past them. The Z-9 pilots stared in amazement at the two men suspended below the aircraft.

The Atolls made up their electronic minds immediately after leaving the wings of the J-7s. They went for the hottest targets available.

"Jesus Christ!" Chong closed his eyes as the two helicopters approached and roared by. He was dangling only ten feet from the edge of the deck. The night sky lit up and the force of the two explosions buffeted his body and the Blackhawk.

"Tiger Flight leader. This is Yanji Control. You just shot down two of ours! The intruder is still moving southeast."

The Tiger Flight leader swore. So much for infrared. This was his first time in combat and his first time firing live missiles. He wouldn't make that mistake again. He didn't have a choice now anyway. As the J-7s completed a sweeping turn and started their second run, Tiger Flight leader called his wingman. "Fire your second missile on radar guidance. Launch five kilometers out and slow to just above stall speed to keep your radar tracking."

His wingman acknowledged.

Ehrlich stared over the operator's shoulder at the image of the J-7s closing again on the 579. He didn't know what had just happened, but there were two fewer Chinese helicopters and 579 was still flying. He didn't think the Blackhawk could survive another encounter with the fast movers. "Whatever you're doing, we need it now," he said to the radar operator.

"Just another second, sir." She was furiously working her computer keyboard.

"Now!" Tiger Flight leader ordered.

His wingman's thumb closed on the firing switch in concert with his. Two more Atoll missiles were launched.

Chong was pulled into the cargo compartment. Staring out, they could all see the burst of flame and the twin streaks of light, as two missiles came screaming toward them.

The AWACS radar operator punched the "Enter" button on her keyboard. "That should do it."

Mitchell and the rest of the men in the cargo compartment watched mesmerized as the two missiles closed rapidly. Then, suddenly, they both veered off. One flew almost straight up into the night sky. The other turned down and impacted with a roar into the ground. Chong turned to help the others begin pulling in Riley. He noticed, for the first time, that the right side of his uniform was covered with blood.

The Tiger Flight leader stared at his tracking screen in confusion. The clear image had dissolved into meaningless clutter.

"Yanji, this is Tiger Flight leader. We're switching to guns. Give us a vector back to the target. All our tracking radars are down. Over."

The flight leader reached over to his console and flipped the arming switch for the 30mm cannons mounted in the wing roots on either side of the plane. The other pilots did the same. Firing fifteen hundred rounds a minute, the cannons would make short work of the intruder.

"Roger, Tiger Flight leader. I'm going to loop you around to the west so you can come at the intruder from the rear. Turn right to heading one eight five zero mils."

Baibang grabbed his other handset. "Wolfpack Three, this is Yanji Control. Over."

The remaining Z-9 came on the net. "This is Wolfpack Three. Over." "Wolfpack Three. Turn on a heading of zero eight zero zero mils. The J-7s are going to do a gun run. I want you to head for where the intruder would cross the border, just in case. Over." "Roger. Heading of zero eight zero zero mils."

With Chong's help they had Riley halfway up. Chong could feel no pain or discomfort. Nor could he see any sign of a wound other than his blood-soaked uniform.

Jean knew they were running out of time. The border was five minutes away and the coast was twenty minutes farther. The fast movers were zero for two, but sooner or later they'd get their act together. She didn't have any tricks left. As soon as they got the last guy in, she'd drop down and try to outmaneuver them.

"Maintain one eight five zero mils. Over."

The Tiger Flight leader acknowledged Yanji Control.

"Jam the ground radar in Yanji, too," Ehrlich ordered.

They pulled in Riley, and Chong now knew where the blood had come from. "Jesus Christ. Look at him!" Chong grabbed Comsky and pointed. Riley's uniform was completely soaked with blood. As Chong unsnapped the team sergeant from his harness, Comsky immediately began searching for the wound.

It wasn't hard to find. Riley must have been hit just after they were picked up. Two rounds had punched small, neat holes in his lower right stomach. The trajectory of the rounds had carried them through his body and out his upper right back. The exit wounds were a mess of torn flesh and bone. Pulling bandages out of the aircraft's first-aid kit, Comsky worked desperately to stop the flow of blood.

Jean Long had 579 back down in the trees. The two jets flew by just above their stall speed at two hundred knots. She couldn't understand why they appeared to be searching for her visually. Why didn't they just use their radars?

The Tiger Flight leader wanted to slam his instrument panel in frustration. Without his onboard radar, and now without Yanji Control, he was almost blind. Somewhere below, the intruder was running. The border was approaching rapidly. The Tiger Flight leader looked down. If he didn't turn now, he'd cross into North Korean airspace. He keyed his radio. "Break off."

The radar operator sighed. "Sir, the Chinese jets have broken off." For the first time, Ehrlich felt that the Blackhawk had a chance.

Lassiter was back in the front seat. Jean Long gratefully relinquished the controls to him. Eighteen to nineteen minutes to the coast. The Chinese jets had broken off at the border.

In the back, Comsky had stopped the flow of blood from Riley's wounds. Comsky leaned over and spoke right in Mitchell's ear to be heard above the turbine engines and blades. "He's not going to make it if we don't get him to a hospital ASAP. One of those rounds, maybe both, went through his right lung. He's lost a lot of blood."

Mitchell looked at Riley. He was lying on his right side; Hoffman was holding bandages over the wounds, and putting pressure on the sucking chest wound to help close it off. Mitchell didn't know what to do. So close. They'd made it too far to lose someone now.

Ehrlich anxiously gripped the edges of his chair as he watched the blip representing 579 crawl toward the coast. Not much farther to go. The radar operator turned and looked at him.

"Sir, we've got two North Korean MiG-21s moving in at Mach 1.5 from the southwest. Direct for 579."

"Goddamn!" Ehrlich cursed. The Blackhawk might still stay low enough to avoid the MiGs, but once it hit the coast there'd be no place to hide. The MiGs would have a turkey shoot — Ehrlich had no doubt that the North Koreans would shoot.

He looked over at the female technician who had jammed the radar of the Chinese jets. "Can you jam the MiGs and North Korean ground radar?"

The woman shook her head doubtfully. "I've got to find the frequencies first. The North Koreans are acting smarter than the Chinese. They're using their radar only in bursts."

The coast was one minute ahead. Lassiter and Long scanned the night sky.

"There, at four o'clock." Lassiter looked where Long indicated. He could see the running lights of two jets flying along the coast at about three thousand feet. "Once we cross the beach and hit the water, they're going to be on us."

Long shrugged. "You got any better ideas?"

"No."

"Then let's do it."

The North Korean flight leader turned on his tracking radar. The blip representing the intruder appeared on the screen. Noting the location he quickly turned off the radar to prevent possible jamming. He didn't know who or what the intruder was, but his orders were to shoot it down. He looked out his left window and spotted it. An American-made helicopter!

"There's the intruder. Follow me." The flight leader banked his aircraft and started a run in toward the helicopter flitting across the wave tops. His eyes narrowed in anticipation as he placed his thumb over the trigger for his twin-barrel 23mm cannon. Another fifteen seconds and the helicopter would be history.

"Here they come." Lassiter started evasive maneuvers, turning and banking erratically.

The North Korean flight leader looked through his gun sight. The helicopter was bobbing in the cross hairs. Still, between the two of them, they ought to be able to get in some rounds. It would take only a few of the 23mm slugs to destroy the fragile helicopter.

He edged his finger over the trigger. Just another second. Suddenly a screeching tone sounded in his headset and a light on his console flashed red.

"Missile lock-on!" the flight leader screamed. He violently threw his MiG into evasive maneuvers. His wingman followed suit. The leader turned on his radar and stared at it. Where had the lock-on come from? There was nothing on his screen except the helicopter. It couldn't have come from there. The warning meant that an enemy fighter had locked its targeting radar on his aircraft.

The tone went off. He turned his aircraft back toward the helicopter. Suddenly the screeching tone sounded again. As he broke away, the flight leader saw the silhouette of an aircraft shadowing him and his wingman. He'd never seen anything like it before — it looked like something from outer space. The aircraft didn't appear to have a fuselage, just a short, squat flying wing.

Realizing he had to deal with this unknown threat first, the flight leader kicked in his afterburners and gained altitude in an attempt to loop back behind his pursuer. He still had nothing but the helicopter on his screen. As he rolled out, the target lock-on sounded again. Trying to break the lock-on, he caught another glimpse of the strange aircraft following tightly behind. There were two of them now.

The tone fell silent. Realization seeped through the North Korean pilot's brain. If the strange aircraft had wanted to shoot him down, it could have done so by now. Three lock-ons were more than enough. They were giving him a message: Stay away from the helicopter.

Even if he managed to get behind the enemy planes, the lack of a radar image would put him at a severe disadvantage. The pilot was caught between his sense of duty and his sense of self-preservation.

Then he had a new thought. Whatever was shadowing him had never been seen before by a North Korean pilot. He would be the first to report it. Perhaps that would help assuage his superiors. Having rationalized himself out of an untenable situation, the flight leader broke and ran for home, calling for his wingman to follow.

"Where the hell did they go?" Jean Long was twisted in her seat, peering to the rear. She couldn't see the MiGs. The sky was clear.

"I don't know. And I don't care." Lassiter wasn't going to argue with their good fortune.

Comsky finished checking Riley again. He'd given him a syringe of morphine. The medic reported back to Mitchell. "He's going into shock and is aspirating blood. I think his left lung may have been nicked too. If we don't get him to a hospital with suction soon to clear his lungs, he's going to drown in his own blood."

Mitchell acknowledged the information and keyed his headset. "Jean, Dave was wounded when we were picking him up. He's got a sucking chest wound. Comsky says if we don't get him to a hospital soon, he'll be dead."

"We're a little more than five hours out of Korea. That's the closest possibility. We refueled off the Rathburne coming in, and it's about three hours to the south. We can try that. I'm not even sure we're home free from the North Koreans yet. They can still catch us with their jets. I don't know why those two MiGs broke off, but there may be more on the way."

Lassiter broke in. "I don't think we have to worry about MiGs anymore. Take a look up at 2 o'clock." Long turned and looked where Lassiter was pointing. The moon shone off the wings of two F-16s passing by in escort.