Kram peered anxiously into the open access way The glowing lights of the Trident’s aft, upper-level missile magazine invitingly beckoned down below. A steep, iron-rung ladder was anchored into the side of the hatch, and Kram readily accepted Gilbert’s offer to lead the way.
The descent went quickly, and as he dropped onto the deck below, Kram looked up to see which of the SEALs was following.
It was at this exact moment that a camera triggered from inside the mini-sub, temporarily blinding him.
He gently rubbed his eyes, his sight returning in time for him to view the strange reception committee that waited for him inside the missile magazine. Gathered in a tight, protective phalanx was a group of helmeted sailors wearing full-body armor, a lethal combination of combat shotguns and pistols trained his way.
Chapter 53
It was from the wire operator, of all people, that Trent Warner learned about the other aircraft flying in close formation off their tail. After getting a confirmation that the object the startled airman saw out the window of his wire port was indeed another airplane, the Chairman flew into a rage.
“Has the flight crew forgotten that I’m supposed to be the first to know about any other planes we might encounter?” he shouted to no one in particular, then made a beeline straight for the stairway leading to the flight deck.
“Major Lassiter!” he exclaimed as he stormed into the cockpit.
“Are you asleep on the job up here? Why didn’t you tell me that we’ve picked up an escort? Is it one of my Tomcats?”
The Chairman’s eyes opened wide with disbelief when the individual seated in the pilot’s position calmly turned around, exposing the grinning face of Coach.
“Sir,” came a woman’s firm voice from behind, “if you’ll please keep your hands where we can see them, and back out of the cockpit.”
Shocked horror filled Wamer’s face upon learning that the speaker of these words was none other than Commander Brittany Cooper. The President’s military aide held a flare gun in her determined grasp, with Sergeant Rayburn close at her side.
“What’s the meaning of this outrageous act of insubordination, Commander? Put down that damned pistol before someone gets hurt! Have you lost your senses, woman?”
Brittany coolly answered him.
“It appears that you’re the one who needs a long rest, sir.”
“And how about starting with early retirement at Leavenworth?”
Red put in.
“So the conspiracy nuts have escaped, and now they’re spreading their dangerous, paranoid fantasies to the rest of my flight crew,” said the Chairman to Lucky, Jake, and Owen Lassiter, who had taken the navigator’s position behind Coach.
“What did they tell you, gentlemen? Don’t tell me it’s that coup d’etat crap again?”
The collision-avoidance radar began chiming, and Lucky leaned forward to inspect the screen.
“We’ve got more company headed our way, gents. There’re three of them this time, approaching on a direct intercept course from the north.”
All eyes went to the wraparound cockpit window, where the flashing red and green strobe lights of the lead F-15 Eagle that had already joined them took up a defensive position in the black sky ahead.
“Nightwatch six-seven-six, this is Strike Eagle Leader,” announced a clipped voice from the overhead intercom speakers.
“Please be advised that I show a flight of three bogeys coming in on zero-one-five. Eagle Two will remain in your six o’clock.
Over.”
“Strike Eagle Leader, this is Nightwatch six-seven-six,” replied Coach into his chin mike.
“We’ve got the bogeys on radar. Thanks for your concern. Over.”
“So our escort this early morning is compliments of the Air Force,” stated the Chairman with a bitter laugh.
“I hope they’ve got some fight in them for a change, ‘cause my Toms fly with an attitude.”
“Admiral, enough!” warned Red, who had had her fill of the Chairman’s intimidating head games.
“Back out of that cockpit, and keep that trap of yours shut!”
“Sergeant,” interrupted Major Steve Hewlett’s deep voice from the top of the stairway, “is that any way to speak to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff?”
The broad-shouldered Marine SIOP advisor stood there with a 9mm pistol in his right hand, and he pointed the barrel at Brittany.
“Drop it. Commander!”
Hewlett took a tentative step forward, and he directed his next remark to the silver-haired individual standing in the back of the cockpit.
“Are you okay. Admiral?”
“I am now. Major. Arrest them all, and throw the whole lot of them in detention.”
Hewlett took another step forward, and Red beckoned toward the gun that Brittany still had trained on the Chairman.
“One more step, Gomer, and Commander Cooper is gonna put another hole up the old man’s ass!”
“Major Hewlett, don’t listen to the darned fool,” commanded Warner.
“And besides, do any of you think it makes any real difference if I live or die? Our movement will continue regardless!”
“Nightwatch six-seven-six,” a male voice with a slight Southern drawl to it broke in over the cockpit’s intercom.
“This is Tomcat Leader, from aggressor squadron Baron, based on the Harry S. Truman. Be advised that your escorts have arrived for door-to-door service all the way to Andrews.”
“Nightwatch six-seven-six, this is Strike Eagle Leader. You are to disregard that offer. Eagle Flight will be your escort to Langley as ordered.”
“Strike Eagle, this is Tomcat Leader. On whose authority do you base your orders, sir?”
“Tomcat Leader, this is Strike Eagle, and my orders come directly from General Lowell Spencer, Deputy Commander of the U.S. Strategic Command. Please move out of our airspace so we can proceed to Langley. Over.”
There was a noticeable pause as the Tomcat Leader appeared to be mulling over this request, and the Chairman defiantly grabbed the auxiliary radio headset that was hanging beside Jake.
“Tomcat Leader, this is Admiral Trent Warner calling from Nightwatch six-seven-six. You are to ignore the instructions of Strike Eagle and provide escort to Andrews as I originally requested. Over.”
Jake reached up and ripped the Chairman’s headset plug out of the radio socket. At the same time. Coach spoke into his own chin mike.
“Strike Eagle Leader, this is Major Foard, Nightwatch six seven-six’s commander. I realize there are some contravening orders this morning, but be advised that I’m personally requesting escort to Langley, per the authority of General Spencer aboard Iron Man One. Over.”
“Major Foard, this is Strike Eagle Leader. Roger that, sir. My wingman in Eagle Two will be joining me off your nose for the flight to Langley. Over.”
Seconds later, the red and green strobes of the F-15 that had been trailing them could be seen through the cockpit window, taking up a position to the right of Eagle One. No further radio transmissions emanated from the overhead speakers, the only sound that filled the flight deck being a new outburst of warning tones from the collision-avoidance radar.
“The Tomcats are continuing their approach,” noted Lucky.
“Those idiots appear to be painting us with their attack radar!”
“Surely they wouldn’t shoot at us,” Jake said uncertainly.
“I warned you that they had an attitude,” the Chairman reminded them, a sly grin on his face.
“Commander Cooper, put down that damned flare gun, and I’ll act to defuse this ridiculous situation before it gets further out of control.”