"Or, they were very thrifty with their cash. After his wife was observed leaving one of three California banks known to have safety deposit boxes to distribute money to spies, the NCIS folks arranged to have Wong transferred to Cherry Point."
"Did his wife go with him?"
"No way. She had to stay where the cash was flowing."
Scott rose from the chair. "When Wong arrived in Cherry Point, he was very cautious for a while. He didn't know that an NCIS agent, a former Marine lieutenant disguised as a sergeant, was working with him in the general's office."
"Did the general know?"
"No one knew."
"So, what are they going to do, if anything?"
"They've already taken him into custody. They bluffed him and he started breaking down. When they asked him if he could spell court-martial and Leavenworth, he started singing like a roadhouse honky-tonk band. He gave them the details of the call he made to the Chinese coordinator in San Francisco who arranged the attempt on our lives. The man, who answered directly to ZhengYenTsung, is currently being interrogated along with two of his senior assistants."
Scott reached for his flight gloves. "As you might have guessed, Zheng has obviously placed our names at the top of his hit list."
"Somehow that doesn't come as a surprise. Your friend at the Agency had a very productive day."
"That, he did." Scott reached for his helmet. "I hope we have a productive night."
"I'm sure it'll be memorable."
"Excuse me. Did I just detect a cutting remark — a slam?"
"Let's go, before I come to my senses."
The hundred-thousand-ton supercarrier was steaming slowly 135 nautical miles southwest of San Diego when the ship's skipper received word that the highly classified operation was about to get under way. Only a handful of Lincoln's senior officers knew about the drone mission.
Below the flight deck, the majority of officers and sailors had had dinner and were relaxing or taking care of personal business. After being away from their home port at Everett, Washington, for nearly three weeks, the crew was looking forward to making a port call in San Diego the following morning.
Above the flight deck, in the island containing the navigation bridge, admiral's bridge, flight-deck control, chart room, and primary flight control, planning sessions were being conducted. Proving Chinese involvement in the mysterious plane crashes was paramount in the minds of the senior officers who were aware of the drone mission.
Escorted by the Aegis cruiser USS Princeton and the Aegis destroyer USS Benfold, the Lincoln's air wing was continuing to stand down from night air operations. However, two SH-60B Seahawk helicopters from the HS-4 Black Knights were manned and standing by to launch on short notice. The escort ships also had SH-60Bs ready to assist in a possible search-and-rescue mission.
After flying their Grumman E-2C back from MCAS Miramar, the Hawkeye flight crew had a quiet dinner and manned their aircraft for a pinkie launch just before the sun went to sleep. As the pilots started the turboprop engines and began completing their checklists, there was a sense of uneasiness among the mission systems operators. Not dread or obvious fear, just a definite feeling of concern.
Following hand signals from the yellow-shirted taxi director, the pilot deftly guided the airborne early warning aircraft toward the port catapult at the bow of the ship. In the back of the E-2C a naval flight officer had removed and stowed the ditching hatch in case they went into the water.
The Hawkeye, having been upgraded by the radar modernization program, could track smaller targets and air and surface targets simultaneously. The sensory perception of the E-2C is capable of searching more than three million cubic miles of airspace, plus tracking objects on the surface of the ocean or land.
Once the E-2C was in position on the catapult and the wings were unfolded and locked, the pilot came up on the power. "Engines look good, hydraulics check good, circuit breakers are in; I like what I see."
He turned to the copilot. "How about you?"
"Looks like a winner."
"Are you ready in the back?" the pilot asked over the intercom. "We're ready to go."
The pilot scanned the instruments one more time and then signaled the shooter that Prime Time 602 was ready to fly.
The catapult officer completed his checks, then knelt down on one knee and touched the deck with two of his outstretched fingers. Seconds later, the Hawkeye blasted up the deck in a swirling cloud of steam vapor and began climbing to altitude.
The E-2C would fly a wide pattern around the carrier and coordinate with other reconnaissance aircraft, including an RC-135S Cobra Ball spy plane and three innocent-looking civilian surface vessels. The two reconditioned motor yachts and the trawler were packed with cleverly camouflaged surveillance gear.
One yacht and the trawler were positioned south of the cargo ships Kapitan Zhirnovsky and Chen Ziyang, while the other yacht was trailing twelve miles astern of the Kapitan Zhirnovsky. As soon as the Hawkeye crew pinpointed the cargo ships, they would guide the Harrier and the F-4 drone to the targets.
In geosynchronous orbit twenty-three thousand miles above the earth, an advanced NRO Orion signal intelligence spacecraft would be eavesdropping on communications in the Eastern Pacific. KH-11 and Lacrosse intelligence-gathering spacecraft would work in concert with the Orion to unravel the mystery behind the elusive and deadly unidentified flying objects.
Chapter 15
Scott completed a thorough preflight of the Harrier while Jackie stowed her camera and camcorder in the backseat of the plane. The handpicked ground crew, who had no idea what kind of mission the two pilots were flying, helped Jackie and Scott get settled into their ejection seats. Although the aviators were pleasant and seemed to be relaxed, the Marines found it strange that neither pilot wore anything displaying their name or rank.
Scott started the engine and completed his checklists, then keyed his radio to receive his instrument clearance. He copied his clearance to the rendezvous point with the Phantom, then read back his instructions and called for taxi to the duty runway.
Keying the intercom, Scott spoke to Jackie as he began taxiing for takeoff. "Everything okay back there?"
"Couldn't be better."
"Excellent."
"Do I get an in-flight movie?"
"Now, the movies are reserved for the pilot."
Jackie glanced at two F/A-18s taking off in formation. "How are things in the wheelhouse?"
"Well, all the bells and whistles are quiet."
"That's always a good sign."
Scott completed his takeoff checklist as they approached the end of the runway. "Ready to go?"
Jackie keyed her ICS. "Yeah, I just hope everyone is on time."
"They will be."
"You're such an optimist."
He laughed under his oxygen mask. "It's contagious, you know."
"Well, I haven't caught it yet."
Just before reaching the runway, Scott called the tower for permission to take off. The response was immediate.
Dalton keyed his radio. "Spooky Four-Fourteen is on the roll."
He added power and made a normal short takeoff. Seconds after leaving the runway, Scott raised the landing gear and flaps and began accelerating to his climb profile.
"Spooky Four-One-Four, contact departure control."
"Spooky Four-Fourteen switchin' to departure."
After Scott checked in with departure control, he established radio contact on a common frequency with the E-2C Hawkeye and with Wyatt Craine, call sign Rocky Nineteen. Less than two minutes later Dalton leveled off at ten thousand feet and looked at the moon. "At least we'll have some light this evening."