Games of State

CHAPTER SEVENTY

The Osprey hung over the field like a storm cloud, dark and rumbling, its navigation lights flashing lightning.

Colonel August stood in the cockpit, behind the pilot, as the craft rose to one thousand feet.

The LongRanger was nearly three miles downriver, moving southeast. The helicopter still lurched and rollercoastered now and then, though less frequently now. It was like a bronco resigning itself to being broken. Only August didn't want it resigning itself too fast. Legally, he suspected, he wouldn't be able to justify what they were about to do unless the chopper was out of control and a threat to people on the ground.

"Approximate speed one-two-five miles an hour," the pilot said as they watched the LongRanger recede.

The Osprey nosed down slightly, the props tilting forward as it moved ahead. At speeds of up to 345 miles an hour, the VTOL would overtake it quickly. However, the crew chief wasn't ready yet. He and his three-man team were in the cargo bay readying a two-thousand-pound hoist with a two hundred-foot cable. The cable was used to pick up or deposit cargo in areas where the Osprey couldn't land.

August had told them to get the hoist ready. When he told them why, Manigot and Boisard jokingly requested that they please be court-martialed and jump right to the execution instead. The end result would be the same.

But August didn't believe that. He told them what he told everyone in his command. If a job is planned correctly and executed by professionals, it should go as smoothly as getting out of bed in the morning. And while there were always intangibles, that was what made the job exciting.

The Osprey soared ahead in its helicopter configuration.

August was not so much concerned with speed as being able to track the chopper. If the pilot decided to change course abruptly, August wanted to be able to adjust accordingly.

The Colonel had also ordered his radio operator to maintain silence. The less information the LongRanger had about who was on board or why, the less likely he was to dig in his heels. There was nothing more antagonizing than a faceless, voiceless adversary.

The pilot adjusted the Osprey's altitude so that it was flying one hundred feet higher than the LongRanger. He bore down on the helicopter, sweeping east or west as it moved with the river. Obviously, whoever was at the controls knew how to fly but not how to navigate. He was following the river to get away.

The Osprey closed the gap, bearing down like a storm, fierce and unstoppable. The LongRanger pushed itself but wasn't able to pull away. In less than two minutes the Osprey was on top of it. The LongRanger tried to move aside, but each time it did the larger aircraft moved with it.

All the while the hoist crew worked quickly to ready their equipment. When it was finally done, the crew chief radioed the cockpit.

"Senior Airman Taylor is ready, sir," said the pilot.

Colonel August pulled on gloves and nodded. "Tell him to open the bay. I'm coming back." The pilot acknowledged the order as August opened the cabin door and crossed the fuselage. Wind tore through the cabin as massive gears churned and the underbelly door opened. The canvas covering the ribs of the fuselage whipped violently on both sides.

August moved quickly despite the wind. Once a team was primed it was a bad idea to keep them waiting. Waiting was to energy like cold was to heat: it sapped it.

August arrived as the men were checking the hooks on their parachutes. "We ready to go?" he asked.

The men answered in the affirmative.

August had outlined the plan when he had first boarded with Manigot and Boisard. Taylor was going to lower Manigot fifty feet straight down, just beyond the horizontal stabilizer to the crosspiece halfway between the main cabin and the tail assembly. There was enough room behind the main rotor blades to accomplish that. The only real concern they had was a five-to-eight-second period when the airman or the cable above him was directly behind the main rotor. If the LongRanger slowed or angled up or down during that time, Manigot or the cable could be sliced to pieces. If the chopper moved at all, Manigot was to release the cable immediately, parachute down, and the mission would be aborted. Otherwise, once both men were on the tail boom, they would make their way to the landing skid and enter the cabin.

At least, that's how it was supposed to work. They'd done simulations of chopper-to-chopper transfers. But those helicopters were hovering. Now that he was standing in the open doorway, looking down at their target, he realized that he couldn't risk sending his men from one moving vehicle to another.

He was about to abort when something happened to the LongRanger.