He turned north and remained on course to Pensacola, Florida, until he was out of sight. At that point, he dropped to 100 feet over the smooth water and turned east toward Cuba. The Bronco would not be visible to radar at their transition altitude.
Spidel cast a quick glance at his vertical tape engine instruments, then concentrated on keeping the OV-10D at the prescribed altitude. He could tell he would have good moonlight for low-level flying.
Wickham sat with his arms folded on top of his equipment pack and thought about his mission. He had checked and rechecked his gear a half-dozen times. He adjusted his camouflage parachute and felt again for the static line snap. Hooked properly and free to slide.
The waterproof equipment bag connected to Wickham's chest straps contained his extraction harness and balloon. It also contained worn-looking dark khaki trousers and a soiled green peasant shirt. A tattered straw hat and scuffed work boots completed the outfit. Wickham also carried a 9-mm Excam with a clip containing fifteen rounds, along with a Burbour tactical knife.
Cushioned inside the clothing were two very important items-a small transmitter to signal for his extraction, and a compact Sony television camera. The lightweight camera, a fraction of the size of the Sony Betacam, had a built-in power pack capable of generating a continuous picture for eight to ten minutes. Provided he could locate the Stealth bomber, Wickham would be able to send real-time photos of the B-2, via satellite. The picture would go to a Transat-16 satellite receiver before being flashed to a monitor in the National Reconnaissance Office.
The last piece of equipment Wickham had attached to his harness was a small hydrogen-powered tow vehicle. The underwater tow conveyance had been designed for covert operations by Ingenieurkontor Lubeck. Small fuel cells produced electricity by combining hydrogen and oxygen in a quiet electrochemical reaction. The energy turned a shielded propeller, which supplied the swimmer or scuba diver with an effortless ride. Wickham knew that the tow vehicle would take him to the beach from one mile offshore. Returning to his extraction point would expend the limited fuel and require him to swim most of the way.
Wickham keyed his intercom. "Spider, let me know when we're five minutes from the drop."
"Will do," Spidel replied from the darkened cockpit.
The pilot could see a half-dozen aircraft navigation and recognition lights traveling north and south over the channel. The diversionary aircraft flew at staggered altitudes ranging from 4,500 to 16,500 feet. He knew that there were at least another ten aircraft crisscrossing over the Bronco's flight path with their lights extinguished.
Cuban radar hopefully would not be able to pick out the low-flying OV-10 in the mass of airborne traffic. The string of small prop and turboprop aircraft provided a screen to fully occupy the Cuban radar operators. The CIA pilots would make their trips every night while Wickham was in Cuba.
Spidel carefully reset his specially mounted Collins AL-101 radio altimeter at seventy-five feet and lowered the OV-10's nose. The precision instrument provided the pilot with altitude accuracy within plus or minus two feet, or 2 percent accuracy, below 500 feet.
"I'm stepping down to seventy-five feet," Spidel informed his passenger. "I'll take it down on the deck in a couple of minutes."
"You're the expert," Wickham responded as he slipped on his swim fins. "Just don't doze off."
The United States Naval Base, referred to as Gitmo, was almost deserted except for the contingent of marines and the essential personnel of CompRon Ten.
The naval air composite squadron VC-10, who claimed to work in a Communist country every day, was on full alert. The unique squadron, charged with the dual mission of serving the fleet and providing base defense, had its eight TA-4J Skyhawks loaded with ordnance. Three of the single-engine jets, affectionately known as scooters, had been configured for close air support. The remaining five aircraft were loaded with weapons for air defense, including two AIM-9 Sidewinder missiles and twin 20mm cannons concealed in the wing roots. Each cannon held 200 rounds of ammunition.
The VC-1 °Challengers maintained a high state of readiness in air-to-ground ordnance delivery by flying almost daily weapons training missions. The unit, acting as an adversary squadron, also provided air combat training for fleet fighter pilots. Each VC-10 pilot had to refine his tactics skills continually, with an emphasis on countering the types of MiGs deployed in Cuba.
The naval aviators of VC-10 were typical of their breed — excellent pilots and proud of the fact. Three of the current pilots were Navy Fighter Weapons School graduates who added to the lean and mean reputation the squadron enjoyed.
Lieutenant Commander Jim "Flaps" Flannagan, VC-10's operations officer, sat alone in his TA-4J at the end of the naval air station's 8,000-foot runway. His wingman, Lt. Frank "Doc" Wellby, taxied into position for the night section takeoff. Both of the attack aircraft had been configured for air defense. A standby Skyhawk, manned and with the engine running, sat on the taxiway adjacent to the runway.
Flannagan checked his master armament switch to ensure that it was in the off position, then glanced back at Wellby's Skyhawk. He could not see Wellby in the cockpit, but he knew that his partner was going through his final checks. Frank Wellby was one of the best in the fighter business.
Wellby's red anticollision lights flashed back and forth in an eerie, pulsating glow. Flannagan, flying the lead position, had his anticollision lights off so he wouldn't blind his wingman.
"Gunsmoke Four is ready," Wellby radioed Flannagan. The tower had already cleared the flight of two for takeoff before the pilots taxied onto the runway.
"Rog," Flannagan replied, advancing the throttle of the Pratt & Whitney J-52 turbojet. "Power coming up to ninety-six percent." The lead pilot did not use full power for takeoff so his wingman would have extra thrust to stay in position. "Gunsmoke Three rolling," Flannagan announced as he released the brakes and concentrated on tracking straight down the left side of the dark runway.
Wellby, jockeying his throttle slightly, maintained perfect position to the right of his flight leader. The two Skyhawks blasted down the concrete strip, sending a thundering roar reverberating across Guantanamo Bay. Wellby watched the lead Skyhawk and responded identically to every move Flannagan initiated. The actions and responses of the two pilots were only an eighth of a second from being mirror images.
The lead TA-4J lifted smoothly from the runway. Two seconds later the landing gear was retracting and the aircraft settled slightly as the flaps were raised. Flannagan felt a wobble as one of the leading edge slats on each wing seated before the other was in place.
"Gunsmoke Three," the tower controller radioed, "contact Gun-smoke One on three-two-seven point six."
"Smoke Three, switching three-twenty-seven-six," Flannagan responded as he banked gently to the left and watched his airspeed approach 250 knots.
"Gunsmoke One, Smoke Three and Four up."
"Roger," the orbiting flight leader replied. "I have a tally. We're at your nine o'clock, four miles, descending through eight thousand."
Flannagan, scanning back and forth above his left wing, saw the flashing red lights. "I have you in sight."
Flannagan and Wellby would replace their two squadron mates as the duty air base combat air patrol (CAP). Since Cuban MiG activity had increased sharply during the massive personnel evacuation airlift — two MiG-23s had flown directly over the base during the late afternoon — a continuous combat air patrol was necessary.
The Skyhawk flights were operating under the guise of normal training missions. They would refuel from a Navy KA-6D tanker fifty-five minutes into the mission, then remain on station for another hour. The two TA-4Js now landing would be their reliefs. Fresh pilots were being rotated on each mission, allowing the previous two pilots an opportunity to grab a quick meal and a few hours of sleep.