Inflamed with anger and resentment, Raines slammed the gavel down, called a recess, and stormed out of the hearing room.
Prompted by General Chalmers, Colonel Sloan rose and quietly followed his boss out of the United States Capitol. They were then driven to the White House to have an early lunch with Chalmers's old friend from the U.S. Air Force Academy.
Chapter 18
Hartwell Prost was waiting when Jackie and Scott were ushered into a private dining room. He rose to greet them and then seated Jackie. "I thought we might like some privacy."
Scott unfolded his napkin. "I hope you haven't been waiting long."
"Only a couple of minutes," Prost said, reaching for his coffee.
They ordered breakfast and coffee, and then Hartwell gave them a brief update on the clashes in Panama and in the Yellow Sea. He also told them about the de Havilland RC-7 reconnaissance plane that was shot down.
Hartwell looked at Jackie. "She managed to ditch the airplane without injuring any of her crew. A helicopter from the Washington battle group picked them up and flew them to the carrier. They'll be going to the Pentagon for a debriefing."
"What's the situation in the Korean standoff?" Scott asked.
"Not good. We're going to move two more AG130 Spectre gunships to South Korea, and we have eleven B-52s and a squadron of F-15E Strike Eagles getting ready to deploy to Asia. Fourteen F-15Cs from the 3d Fighter Wing at Elmendorf will also join the buildup."
The conversation continued in the same vein for another couple of minutes before Scott turned to Prost. "We've decided to give your plan a try, but we have some questions."
Hartwell's face reflected his relief. "Good — that's great. First, let me tell you what I know as of fifteen minutes ago. The Chen Ziyang changed course about three hours after the other ship went to the bottom. From what we can tell, and it's an educated guess, the ship is returning to Chinese waters — probably to its home port."
Jackie and Scott didn't reveal how surprised they were. The cargo ship's change in course negated their original plan of action.
"Unfortunately, we don't have a lot of time to set this up — to keep you and the operation in a cocoon."
"We're going to have to use the navy," Scott surmised.
"That's right. I think the best way to do this is to use Stennis as the staging point, but that's up to you."
After a brief glance at each other, Scott and Jackie nodded in agreement.
"That sounds like a good platform to operate from," Dalton said. "It gives us lots of options and support."
Hartwell's enthusiasm was growing. "As soon as I pass the word to the president that you're on board, Stennis will make a slight course change to close on the Chinese ship."
"We can use the COD to get out to the carrier," Jackie suggested, referring to the twin turboprop Grumman C-2A Greyhound. The "carrier onboard delivery" aircraft was a mainstay for carrier operations.
Scott was thinking ahead. "Since the COD's ramp can be opened in flight, we can also use it to make the drop."
"That's perfect," Jackie said. "And we can use one of the carrier's Seahawks to pick you up after the operation."
"I've already made the arrangements," Hartwell said, pleased with his plan. "The COD is being fitted with a ferry tank."
"You're way ahead of us," Scott said. "What about a cover?"
"Standard boiler plate. Jackie will be on the manifest as a navy lieutenant commander — you as a Marine major. Your uniforms will be ready by late this afternoon."
Hartwell unfolded his napkin on his lap. "The crew of the COD will be thoroughly briefed before you leave the carrier. They won't know why you're jumping out in the middle of the night in the middle of the Pacific, and they'll be told to forget any questions they might have."
"And me?" Jackie asked feeling left out of the equation. "Is there anything I can do after we get to the carrier?"
"Besides flying jets, you also fly helicopters, correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"Have you ever flown a Seahawk?"
"No, sir."
"Well, this morning is probably a good time to get checked out as a copilot. I'll set it up and you can fly all day if you want to. You can get copilot qualified and be aboard the extraction helicopter."
"Sounds great."
"Both of you think about it. If you have any other ideas, let me know."
"When do we go to the carrier?" Scott asked.
"Tomorrow morning, oh-two-hundred. The COD will have enough fuel to reach the carrier or divert to Hawaii if the plane has a problem or can't land on the ship for some reason."
"Ah, there's just one small hitch," Scott said.
Hartwell's smile disappeared. "And what would that be?"
"My custom-built chutes, wet suit, and other items are in our spare bedroom at home."
"Not a problem," Prost said with a smile. "I'll have one of the guys at the Agency let himself into your place, and then I'll have it all flown out to you by this evening. Okay?"
"Let's do it," Scott said, and then chuckled. "No doubt about it, you have the magic touch."
"Call me, the sooner the better, when you work out the logistics. I want whatever you need flown out to the carrier, then we'll get you out there as soon as we can."
Scott was already reformulating his plan to parachute onto the deck of Chen Ziyang. "We'll call you on your way back to Washington."
"I look forward to it," Hartwell said, falling silent when their breakfast was brought into the room. He waited until they were alone, then looked at Scott. "The president will be very appreciative."
"Let's just hope we can pull this off."
Scott was mentally rehearsing the drop. He was carefully analyzing all the possible problems that might arise when a loud knock on the door startled him. He checked his watch and walked to the door. He was surprised to see that it was almost 1900.
Scott was greeted by a straight-faced second lieutenant of Marines who had two huge nylon bags containing everything that had been in Dalton's spare bedroom. Everything, that is, except the furniture.
"Thanks, Lieutenant," Scott said, taking custody of the heavy, bulky green bags.
"You're welcome, sir," the squared-away officer replied, and returned to his car.
Scott was in the process of sorting through the second bag when Jackie showed up with her SH-60F Seahawk flight instructor, navy lieutenant David Finchly. They were still in their flight suits.
The muscular lieutenant commander — select was a rugged-looking former college wrestler. Introductions were made while Scott worked on his gear and invited everyone to have a seat.
"Dave is going with us," Jackie said. "He'll be piloting the Sea-hawk."
"Welcome aboard, Lieutenant."
"Thank you, sir."
"Dave's a NATOPS check pilot, and he has two carrier cruises under his belt, so we're in good shape."
"We can use all of the experience we can get," Scott said, tossing one of his parachutes on the couch. "Is Hartwell in the loop on this?"
"Sure, he's the one who arranged it."
"Good." Scott turned to Finchly. "Dave, how much do you know about this operation?"
"Only that Jackie and I will be plucking you from the water at night. Other than that I don't care to know anything else."
"That's a good answer. Have the two of you had dinner?"
"We had a snack," Jackie said. "We're going to get in some night flying, then pack our gear. We'll see you around one-thirty."
"I'll be there."
"Would you like to ride along this evening?" Finchly politely asked.
"I'd like to," Scott said, and motioned toward his parachutes and assorted gear, "but I'm going to have to sort through some things."