“Angel?”
“Because you’re playing God, and if you’re going to talk a man into killing himself, it would be useful to hint at a happy afterlife.”
“Very well.”
“And look for documents from me, too. I’ll get you specifications on the Orion aircraft. When I call you back, be ready.”
The second cognac arrived, and he savored its biting aroma as it wafted over his tongue. A text message arrived showing images of the P-3 Orion aircraft and its vulnerabilities.
Short of chopping it in half, disabling multiple engines, or breaking off a formidable amount of a wing, the aircraft had one weakness. The Typhoon pilot would have to attack its rudder.
When Olivia called him back, he drew in a breath and prepared to deliver a sermon.
“This is Officer McDonald online with Major Thomas Greene, the commanding officer of Mount Pleasant’s Royal Air Force Base and Doctor Julius Taylor of Lockheed’s Advanced Engineering department. Can you hear us Angel?”
“Indeed I can. Greetings all.”
“This is Major Greene,” Greene said. “Officer McDonald tells me that you plan to talk one of my pilots into a Kamikaze mission against a P-3 Orion? Is this true?”
“I don’t mean to condemn the man,” Renard said. “But I if I can convince him that his life is worth stopping that Orion, then I believe we can create an attack that will at least persuade the Orion to disengage.”
“I understand that the Ambush is compromised,” Greene said. “I can do the math, and I understand that one pilot is worth a hundred men’s lives. But I would never give the order for him to sacrifice himself.”
“Would you sacrifice yourself, major, if it were you in his place?”
The silence told Renard that he had struck a chord.
“No man knows how he’ll face his mortality until the very moment,” Greene said. “But I would like to think that I would.”
“Then let me give your pilot a chance to do the right thing. If he doesn’t try something and learns that he might have saved a submarine, the guilt may haunt him forever.”
“I understand,” Greene said. “But before I do, you must convince me that he can succeed. I believe that’s why you have Doctor Taylor on the line.”
“Doctor Taylor has advised the CIA in the past,” Olivia said. “He assisted in the reconstruction of the Hainan Island Incident when an American Orion was brought down by a collision with a Chinese fighter jet in two thousand and one. He’s our expert and understands the vulnerabilities of the aircraft. Doctor Taylor?”
Taylor’s voice was soft and thoughtful.
“Although a jet fighter’s mass is much less than that of a P-3 Orion, the Hainan Island Incident proved that a jet fighter can bring down an Orion by impact alone.”
“I already assumed that a kamikaze attack would work,” Greene said. “What I want is to give my pilot a chance to do this without suicide.”
“If he could disable two engines on the same wing and damage the rudder, the aircraft would become unstable,” Taylor said. “If he leaves a working engine on either side, the pilot may be able to compensate for a failed rudder by steering the craft by varying thrust to either wing. But with a damaged rudder and the inability to apply thrust to one of the wings, the craft will become unstable.”
“He has only forty rounds remaining in his cannon,” Greene said. “Is that enough to take out two engines?”
“I don’t know,” Taylor said. “It would depend on how well placed the shots are. One bullet is enough to take down an engine if it severs the fuel line. In aerial combat, I can only imagine this will require a lot of skill and a lot of luck. But this is way aircraft used to shoot each other down for decades. So it’s certainly possible.”
“And then the rudder?” Greene asked.
As the conversation paused, Renard grasped his opportunity.
“This is where we’ll need to call upon your pilot’s courage and skill. I know your pilot is an ace, major, because he just overcame at least five adversaries in combat. He should be capable of disabling the Orion’s rudder with his fuselage. I know that a Typhoon can handle that impact, at least enough.”
“Enough for what?” Greene asked.
“Enough for him to bail out if he hits a flat spin after impact.”
“What if he doesn’t hit a flat spin, Mister Angel?” Greene asked. “What if he instead rolls or tumbles? That Orion is at low altitude, and my pilot would not have time to recover.”
“Then let me convince your man that if he must die that he would be doing so for a noble purpose. I hate to insist, major, but time is short.”
“Hold on, Mister Angel,” Greene said. “Doctor Taylor, remind me of the fate of the Chinese pilot that collided with the P-3 Orion in the Hainan Island Incident.”
“He lost control of his aircraft and died,” Taylor said.
“This will be a high-risk endeavor,” Renard said. “But it must be done. Will you let me speak to your pilot?”
An eternity seemed to pass as Renard awaited his opportunity.
“His name is Lieutenant Anderson,” Greene said. “Lieutenant Ian Anderson. I authorize you to advise him to bring down the P-3 Orion that is hunting the HMS Ambush, by any means necessary and at his disposal, including sacrificing himself if necessary.”
CHAPTER 15
Renard lifted his refilled glass of cognac to his lips and stopped. Reconsidering his need for clarity, he returned the drink to the counter as his phone’s speaker shot forth its distorted rendition of whining jet engines.
“Lieutenant Anderson,” Greene said. “Report your status.”
Renard noted adrenaline in the young man’s shrill voice.
“Altitude, one thousand feet,” Anderson said. “Air speed, two hundred and fifty knots. Seven percent fuel remaining.”
“How are you holding up, lieutenant?”
“I want a full fuel tank and weapons loadout so I can go after the bastards that did this.”
“You’ve already downed five of them. You’ve done your duty today. You’ve fought with honor and valor.”
“That doesn’t make up for the friends I lost.”
“What would you say if I told you I have more victims for you?”
“I’d say you want me to engage those P-3 Orions. I’m willing to do what it takes to save our submarine, but I don’t see how I can take down two of them.”
“One of the Orions turned back already. You now only have to deal with one of them. You can save the Ambush.”
“Bloody hell, sir. I’m sure I could do it with a kamikaze strike, but I’d much prefer an alternative solution if possible.”
“There’s a man on the line, code named Angel, who will explain the attack. I will interject if I disagree with anything he says, but he is working with a Doctor Taylor of Lockheed who understands the Orion’s vulnerabilities completely.”
“Good evening, Lieutenant Anderson,” Renard said. “I am Angel. Time is of the essence. Major Greene has calculated a flight plan to vector you toward the Argentine Orion without exposing yourself to the Dragon. Have you received this flight information?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve got it.”
“Then head after your target.”
“Roger, sir. I’m turning toward heading zero-seven-eight, altitude five hundred feet, air speed six hundred knots.”
Renard heard the Typhoon’s engines howl.
“Nobody is asking you to sacrifice yourself, Lieutenant Anderson,” Renard said. “I believe you can do this and live. But this is dangerous work, and if you wish to save a hundred of your countrymen, you must be willing to risk your life.”