The seasoned professionals concentrated on their landing preparations. Sheremetyevo reported visibility at six miles, a cloud ceiling of two thousand meters and a wind out of the north gusting up to twenty-five knots. Ian adjusted the heading to compensate for the crosswind. “Gear down.”
“You’ve got it. Gear down,” First Officer Jackson said. “I’ve got green on the main, but the nose isn’t budging.”
“Extend manually,” Ian said.
“I’m on it.” Frosty flipped a switch to depressurize the gear’s hydraulics.
“Landing gear lever off,” Jackson said.
“Ian, can you drop speed? I need two-seventy or lower.” Frosty grabbed the red crank mounted on the rear bulkhead beside the fire ax. He climbed onto the floor near his station. The metal ring that served as a handle on the access panel was missing, but he got it open. He inserted the shaft and cranked it clockwise three times, hoping the doors opened. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he wiped it with his forearm. He turned the crank three times counterclockwise. For good luck, he visualized the latch moving back and allowing the gear to go into a freefall. Frosty prayed his last three clockwise turns had locked the gear down.
He glanced over to the instrument panel in front of the first officer, but didn’t see the green light he wanted. Squinting, he looked through the view hole, but couldn’t see the red reference stripes. Oil and dirt caked the viewer. He slammed the panel shut. Those jerkoffs in maintenance.
“Ian, I can’t get a green light and shit’s smeared all over the view hole. I hope it’s not oil from hydraulics. Given the state of the back end, recommend we proceed with a couple of Hail Marys.”
“Jackson, advise the tower we don’t have a safe nosegear-down indication, but we’re coming in anyway. Make sure they have the equipment ready. Everything they’ve got.”
Ian aligned the craft with runway 25L. The first officer set the flaps to fifteen degrees and the aircraft slowed. Frosty noticed it yawing heavily to the right and rolling side-to-side. “Is it easier to control with the flaps up?”
“Put them back to five,” Ian said. “Engineer, give me a V speed for a flap-five landing.”
Frosty flipped through the flight manual and read, “Vref forty plus thirty for flaps one through fifteen.”
“English, please, sir,” Ian said.
“Uh, Vref forty is one-two-two knots… no, one-fifty-two knots.”
They broke through the clouds and Frosty could see the flashing lights of fire trucks racing to meet them. As Ian reduced the speed, the plane rocked and rolled. Ian struggled with the yoke.
Frosty was confident he could read Ian’s mind. He pulled out the letdown chart. “I just checked. The runway’s over twelve thousand feet-enough room to take it in at warp speed.”
“Then warp speed it is.” Ian pushed the power levers forward and the rocking decreased. Just let the gear be down and locked.
From the altitude and angle of attack, Faith knew the landing was only moments away. She had prepared the passengers to assume crash position at her signal. As the plane slowed, it began to toss like a boat in high seas. Then she felt the increase of speed. Please don’t do a go-around. The ground got closer and closer. She picked up the microphone and squeezed the button. “Brace, brace, brace.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
SHEREMETYEVO AIRPORT, MOSCOW
Man, I had a dreadful flight. I’m back in the USSR.
The plane kissed the tarmac in one of the gentlest landings Faith had ever experienced. Fast but smooth. Ian was good. Damn good. She looked through the opening. A fire engine on the parallel access road was speeding to catch up with them. As the craft rolled to a stop, some passengers applauded and cheered wildly. Others just sat there, staring straight ahead.
Faith sprang up, swung the lever on the emergency exit counterclockwise and pushed the door open. The yellow emergency slide inflated, a giant tongue hanging from the exhausted plane. KGB Igor stood, awaiting her instructions.
“Go to the bottom and help them as they come down.” Faith smelled jet exhaust, but didn’t notice any smoke. The engines seemed finally to be quieting down. She picked up the megaphone. “Proceed to your nearest exit. Don’t take anything with you. Go!” Passengers mobbed the front of the craft. “Jump. Jump. Don’t take anything with you.” She wrestled a package from the babushka with all the plunder and shoved her down the slide. “Jump. Jump. Don’t take anything with you.”
After the last passenger was evacuated, Igor caught Faith at the bottom of the slide and helped her onto the tarmac. He held Faith’s hand in a firm grasp and walked her away from the crowd. Ian, Frosty and the first officer were left to take care of their own escape.
“Thanks for the help,” Faith said. Hair wisped across her face. She didn’t bother to push it away. “Am I correct to assume it wasn’t your bomb? It sure as hell wasn’t mine.”
“You were a hero.” The operative continued to shake her hand. “You have my word that, if I have to kill you, it will be merciful.”
“Swell. Guess it’s back to our game. I can’t do this right. I’ve been through enough for today. Give me a second to regroup, will you?” She retracted her hand and stepped away, turning her back toward him. Ian was tallying passengers.
Igor followed her. “Did the package make it? My orders were to ensure that it did.”
“Those were your orders, huh?” Faith whirled around. “I tend to believe you. I don’t think you’d plant a bomb on board, then go along for the joyride. Who wants to stop delivery?”
“KGB politics are deadly. Do not concern yourself. Did the package make it?”
“You saw all that crap flying around up there.” She shrugged her shoulders. “All I can guarantee is that it’s definitely in Moscow oblast-either in that plane, on a debris field or it arrived last night through Helsinki.” She smiled. “You were my guardian angel in there, but pardon me if I don’t completely trust you.”
“The devil had angels, too, didn’t he?”
The glint in his eyes was chilling. Faith looked away and saw five gray GAZ jeeps speeding down the now-closed runway ahead of two fire engines and an ambulance. She knew the jeeps could only belong to the KPP-Soviet-style airport security and a directorate of the Committee for State Security.
The first wave of the KGB had arrived.
Faith watched the operative walk toward a jeep from the airport militia. How the hell was she going to get the C off a plane surrounded by the KGB? She looked up to the cockpit. It was a good two stories above her and there were no stairs. Then she sensed someone approaching her from behind. “I’d like to commend you for your gallant work, miss.” Faith recognized Ian’s voice and swung around.
“Faith?” Ian said. “Bloody Christ, what are you doing here?”
“Before you say anything, it wasn’t my bomb. I swear.” She put her hand over her heart. “This is an international emergency. Lives are at stake, including mine.”
His face turned bright red. “Young lady, you have gone too far.”
“Ian, I’m not doing anything you haven’t taught me.”
Frosty came running up to them. “Skipper! Hold on! If it hadn’t been for Faith, you wouldn’t have had a cabin crew. We’re damn lucky she was on board. She performed like a vet while our chief steward was strapped in, giving himself last rites. Faith’s a hero. You owe her, buddy.”
Ian exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize-”
“That’s all right. Just help me get that cooler off the plane and to Svetlana’s before morning.”
Frosty shook his head. “No can do, honey. That puppy’s a crime scene. No way will they let us back on there.”