Everyone in the plane joined in the fray. Thawri’s victim gasped for breath and the life crept out of him. Tharwi was merciless. This man would hurt innocent women and children. He has killed others today. He deserves no mercy. He tightened his bulldog grip dragging the man on top of him as he lay on the floor looking up at passengers above him. Another man grabbed the man’s throat and squeezed. A few more seconds and the terrorist went limp.
“He is dead!” a cheer went up.
“Quiet! We have two more to go.” Thawri waited while others pulled the lifeless body off of him and then assisted him to his feet. Several took off their shoes and slapped the corpse in the face with disgust.
An older woman gave him an embrace. “You are the bravest man I have ever met,” she cried.
“Praise be to Allah.” Thawri felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from him. “Now let us deal with the two in the pilot’s cabin.”
Someone cried, “Look out the window!”
Everyone rushed to the windows to see four American jets hovering at the wing tips. They were so close you could see the clean shaven faces smiling back. Several waved but there was no response. One wrote on a napkin, “HELP! TERRORISTS!” and held it to the window.
“They do not see it! Try another window.” Others made up messages and held them to the windows. There was no sign from the pilots that they could see anything.
The steel door was meant to keep terrorists out. There was no window. It looked hopeless.
“We can try to break it down,” suggested one. A half dozen passengers stood at the door while the others took their seats and held up the hurried messages.
Thawri had an idea, “We will trick them into opening the door. They do not know that we have taken control.”
“How will we…?”
“Let us think, surely one of us can come up with an idea.”
“One of us could pretend to be one of them and offer refreshment.”
“OK that sounds good,” said Thawri. “We need someone who can fool them into believing we are one of them.” He saw the intercom button that communicated with the pilot’s cabin. “We will have only one chance at this. We need something to jam in the door the moment they open it.” One of the men moved into the back and began opening the storage compartments. It was agreed that Thawri would grab the wrist of anyone who opened the door, another would jam something into the doorjamb and another would push on the door as hard as he could.
Suddenly the aircraft lurched forward and began a steep descent. Another set of jets replaced the first and everyone agreed that they were Arabs like themselves. They could see the Iranian emblem and the Arabic writing. A buzz filled the cabin. “What is going on? Where are the Americans? Are we safe now?”
The descent continued and the windows fogged up with clouds for a half minute then they could see the waters hovering below.
Thawri had been elected to impersonate the terrorist. The passenger returned with a tennis racket to jam in the door. He spoke in a short muffled gravely voice. The less said the better he calculated. He pressed the intercom button “I have tea. Open the door if you want tea.”
“We don’t want any….” The door opened a crack and that was enough. Thawri grabbed the wrist and jerked the man into the hallway where others pummeled him to the floor. Three others burst into the pilot’s cabin….
“We must shoot down the plane.”
The vice president dropped the spectacles on the desk and rubbed his eyes. “We have no choice.” He leaned back in his chair and brought out a stick of gum.
Landenberger disagreed, “There are always choices.”
“Yes, some are better than others.” He unwrapped the gum and popped it into his mouth.
The CENTCOM secure line was open awaiting the command.
The Iranian general stood firm, “You will stand down.”
“TWO MINUTES.”
Deshano spoke, “If you do not give the order, over one thousand of our best men will die.”
Michael Costanzo said, “If you give the order 256 innocent people will die on that plane. And you will be blamed for killing innocent Iranians. It could very well be the beginning of a war with Iran.”
“Mr. President,you must make a decision…,” warned Melissa Farnsworth. “Time is runing out. To do nothing is a decision in itself.”
“ONE MINUTE….”
Captain Edward Schmitzer of the USS George H.W. Bush wondered if he and all his men would be dead in one minute.
He stood with the binoculars in his hand outside the command center. “Mr. President, I have a visual. The Iranian airbus is headed directly at us.” He could see Iran Air Flight 645 dropping fast surrounded by Phantom II’s and behind that followed his own boys led by the incredible Bishop I, captain of the Super Hornets. He had ordered every aircraft off the carrier and they filled the sky like carrion vultures lost at sea. Sirens were sounding: his men stood fast, he imagined they would be in lifeboats shortly; two thirds of his men would die instantly. The $4.5 billion dollar USS George H.W. Bush would be gone in an instant lost to the bottom of the sea in a fiery death. His career, in its third decade, would be over and he would live the rest of his life knowing that everyone he knew died while he stood by and watched.
Men stood at battle stations ready to launch a RIM-162 Evolved Sea Sparrow Missile that would save the carrier from certain destruction. No, I will not stand by while I have a single breath in me. It will be the end of my career. I will be dishonored.
No.
I stand here to obey the president, my country. I am sworn to follow orders. I have never disobeyed an order in my life. I cannot begin now. He knows more than me and will have a reason for his decision….
No….
My men must not die. I cannot stand by while…. I will give the order at the very last second… that is it— the very last second… my career be damned.”
“FORTY-ONE SECONDS….”
He was cocky.
He was brash.
He was as bold as life and the best at what he did. If ever there was a meld of man and machine, Tom Bishop was it. Most who knew him considered him the best jet pilot in the world, perhaps the best of all time. He was born for the job and many considered him to be a legend.
Bishop I opened the cover to the trigger of the AIM-9X Sidewinder and held his thumb over it.
In a nanosecond, flight IAF 645 would be a ball of fire. This is going down to the wire. The Phantom II’s were in the way and if they did not move they would go down with it. He kept his tracking equipment on engage. Everything was ready to take the shot.
He knew that the POTUS was making that very decision and would not make it until the last few seconds, perhaps less than that. There could be no hesitation on his part. His country depended upon the decisions of its leaders and for its military to carry out those orders.
He glanced at Bishop II, III, IV all racing along at mach .5 at his side while in unison they dropped behind the IAF 645 and the Phantom II’s. Hundreds of jets filled the sky all hovering around his mother ship, the USS George H.W. Bush. He passed over the core of the Fifth Fleet, the US Enterprise, Task Force 50, 52, portions of the Sealift Command…. There are too many to take it all in at this speed. It was a blur as he dropped to five hundred feet. The entire Fifth Fleet held its breath and it all came down to him. Bishop I was chosen to carry out the order. Thousands of eyes filled the sky as he passed over their heads. A couple hundred MH-53E Sea Stallions and C-130 Hercules choppers had formed a line off to the side a mile out from the USS George H.W. Bush. He figured they were ordered off the ship just in case this whole thing went south. To say the least, it was an incredible sight, an incredible mission, and a day he would tell his grand children about.