Jackie glanced at the Phantom. "Could it have been some kind of advanced holography? A continuous-wave holographic image, or something like that?"
"Yep, that's what it looked like." Scott thought about the bogey's ability to maneuver and accelerate. "I think what we have is a three-dimensional holographic image — an optical illusion."
"You're positive, huh?"
"As positive as deductive logic can be," Scott answered, rechecking the fuel. "In my mind, what we saw was an object that appeared to be solid, but it was a hoax — an illusion. It's like pointing a flashlight beam on a wall and making the beam stop, start, reverse course, climb, dive, and disappear in a matter of seconds."
"But it looked so real. It's like watching an old-fashioned searchlight scan the night sky over a drive-in movie."
"I know, but think about the physics, the energy, and the impossible-to-believe maneuvering. The bogey aspect of the weapon is simply an illusion to camouflage the laser — distract people and keep them guessing."
"Yeah, chasing something that doesn't exist."
Scott paused and then keyed the ICS. "That's what Sammy was doing."
"I know," she said painfully.
"Spooky, come left five degrees," the Hawkeye lieutenant said. "Left five degrees. Rocky, let's start an easy climb to four thousand and turn on your lights."
"Roger," Craine said a second before the F-4's strobes and cockpit glow lighted the night.
The Hawkeye operator studied his radar screen while listening to the crewman in the RC-135S Cobra Ball spy plane. "Spooky, the ship is slowing and has gone black."
"Copy."
"Your target is at your twelve, uh, for fifteen."
Scott clicked the mike twice and keyed the ICS. "This time let's see if we can capture the bogey on video."
"I'll do my best."
"Scott," Hartwell said, "the president wants the F-4 to be a sitting duck. He suggests two-fifty on the speed at five thousand feet in a wide circle around the ship."
"That's fine with us," Scott said, and then talked to Jackie. "I think we'll stay farther away this time."
She raised the camcorder. "No argument from this gallery."
"Let's go to five thousand," Scott radioed.
"Going to five. We'll slow after we level off."
The radio remained strangely silent until the Hawkeye called. "Target's at twelve, three miles."
"Back to two-fifty," Scott said, spotting the Kapitan Zhirnovsky. "I have the ship in sight."
Dalton called for a slight heading change to bring the flight up the starboard side of the ship. He matched the speed of the Phantom and descended two hundred feet below it. Scott glanced at the cargo ship as they passed abeam. He waited a few seconds and keyed the mike. "Okay, a shallow turn to the left for a three-sixtysee what we have."
"Coming left."
As the wide turn slowly progressed, nothing was happening, not even a radio call from anyone.
Scott keyed his ICS. "This is like trolling for the 'Creature from the Black Lagoon.'"
Jackie was intently searching the sky. "Yeah, but what do you do when you catch it?"
"There it is!" Scott said. "It's at seven—"
"I got it, I got it." Jackie worked hard to keep the bright bluish-white object in her viewfinder.
"Rocky," Scott said excitedly, "we have another bogey, an exact duplicate of the last one, making erratic passes."
The radios came alive while the Phantom completed two full circles around the ship. The bright, mysterious object made several passes at the Phantom, always appearing to narrowly miss the fighter, then shot straight up and disappeared.
At the beginning of the third circle, Scott keyed the radio. "Rocky, I don't know about the Phantom, but we're getting tight on gas."
"Scott," Hartwell Prost said, "the president has requested that you make a high-speed low pass over the ship. Would that be a problem?"
"Stand by, sir."
"Jackie, you have a vote here."
"Well, they've fired a weapon at the Phantom and he's trying to intimidate them, trying to get them to take a swing. I'm game, but one pass and we're out of here."
Scott switched to the radio. "We have enough fuel for one pass."
"That's all he wants," Prost said.
"Rocky, lights out, take up a heading of two-three-zero and descend to five hundred feet."
Craine immediately extinguished the lights and read back the instructions. Descending more rapidly than normal, the F-4 and the Harrier quickly accelerated to 420 knots and leveled off at five hundred feet.
"Okay, let's have a nice thirty-degree bank to the right and we'll roll out on a heading of zero-five-zero."
"Here we go," Craine said, totally absorbed in flying the drone. "Looking for zero-five-zero and five hundred feet."
"Three miles," the Hawkeye systems operator prompted.
After rolling wings level, Scott hurriedly called for a minor course correction and an easy descent to two hundred feet. "Come up on the power, we're looking for five hundred knots."
"Copy five hundred."
At a mile and a half from the ship, the jets were screaming across the water at 250 feet, still descending at 490 knots. When they were one mile from the Kapitan Zhirnovsky, the planes were level at 200 feet and the dark bridge of the ship was centered in Scott's windscreen.
At three quarters of a mile from the ship, Scott keyed his radio. "Lights on and afterburners — now!"
The Phantom belched twin yellowish-orange flames from the burner cans while the brilliant strobes lit the surface of the water and reflected off the windows on the bridge of the Kapitan Zhirnovsky.
Approaching the ship at 515 knots, Scott called for a gradual climb. "Ease it up, nice and easy on the pull."
"Oh, shit!" Craine said in mind-numbing shock. "I lost it — I lost the plane — too low!"
Scott frantically pulled up as the QF-4S crashed into the ship's bridge with the force of tons of TNT. The thunderous explosion shook the Harrier and temporarily blinded Jackie and Scott. In stunned silence, Dalton keyed his mike. "Rocky, I just put the Phantom through the ship's bridge."
"What? Say again."
"The Phantom just bull's-eyed the ship's bridge. It's my fault — I took us in too low."
"Spooky, it's just one of those deals," Craine said.
"Yeah," Scott said, rolling into a tight turn over the burning Kapitan Zhirnovsky. "I just made a big mistake."
"How bad is it?" Prost asked.
"The bridge is gone, completely wiped out, and the ship is on fire."
The radios became unreadable as everyone tried to talk at once.
Scott interrupted the chaos. "Prime Time, the ship just exploded in a huge fireball. We'd better get help to them quickly."
"Roger, we're on it."
"Rocky, we're at bingo fuel and headed toward Miramar."
"Copy," Craine said.
Prost informed the president of what had happened.
Jackie keyed the ICS. "Well, do you think we might be able to find positions as mercenary fighter pilots with some banana republic?"
"That'd be too much to hope for." Scott pulled the throttle aft to save fuel. "We're probably looking at something along the lines of the Pakistani Civil Air Patrol."
Chapter 16
Fourteen minutes after the Phantom blasted through the lower section of the bridge, the Kapitan Zhirnovsky exploded a second time and rapidly started taking on water. The devastating impact of the F-4 started numerous fires, ripped jagged holes in the hull, twisted bulkheads, and compromised watertight compartments.
The nine surviving Chinese crew members desperately tried to extinguish the spreading fires, then backed away when the cargo vessel began listing to port. They turned their attention to launching a lifeboat on the starboard side of the ship but gave up when the angle of the deck became too steep.