Vincenti swore loudly into his oxygen mask. Cazaux was about twenty miles ahead of him, flying just north of Treasure Island. In less than a minute he’d be over the San Francisco Bay Bridge. He could turn right and be over the city of San Francisco in another minute, or over the Golden Gate Bridge in three minutes; or continue straight ahead for four minutes and be over San Francisco International Airport. It was like watching a tornado move across a prairie, not knowing which way it was going to go, praying it would go one way but not the other.
“Vincenti… Al,” Tellman tried once more, “break off your pursuit, now. ”
“Damn you all to hell, ” Vincenti muttered as he shoved in full afterburner and pulled the nose skyward. In sixty seconds, he was level at eighty-five hundred feet, above the San Francisco Class B airspace and on the proper hemispheric altitude for his direction of flight. He was flying above the city of Richmond and barreling toward Oakland when Cazaux crossed the Bay Bridge, heading directly for San Francisco. On his backup VHF radio, he called, “Bay Approach, Foxtrot Romeo-01 on one-two-seven point zero, F-16 active air intercept, level eight thousand five hundred, ten miles north of Oakland VOR, requesting Class B clearance, vectors to intercept unidentified aircraft crossing west of the Bay Bridge, and requesting speed to four-zero-zero knots, over.”
“Foxtrot Romeo-01, Bay Approach, unable your request,” the air traffic controller responded. “I don’t show you as an active air intercept — I’ll have to check with your air defense sector people. Squawk four-three-zero-zero, maintain present course and altitude, remain clear of San Francisco Class B airspace. Break. United Three-Seventy- Two, turn left heading one-five-zero and slow to your approach speed for separation. Amflight Two-Zero-Niner- Niner, keep your speed up, sir, traffic at your seven o’clock, three miles, an unidentified aircraft, altitude unknown…”
The stress in the controller’s voice was painfully obvious, and Vincenti knew why. As soon as he heard a break, Cazaux interjected, “Approach, my target is that unidentified aircraft, and I’ve got him tied on radar. Let me intercept him and I’ll try to get him out of your arrival pattern, over.”
“Several aircraft talking at once, everyone please shut up and listen,” the irritated controller said. “Foxtrot Romeo-01, I said unable, maintain your present course and stay clear of the Class B airspace. Delta Fourteen, turn left heading two-zero-zero, descend to five thousand, vectors for VOR runway one-niner left arrival. United Eight-Twenty- Two, descend and maintain six thousand…”
It was impossible to cut through the rapid-fire controller’s instructions. Vincenti thought about doing a rapid descent and dropping right on Cazaux’s tail, but now it was far too dangerous — the closer Cazaux was to San Francisco International, the more aircraft he was mixing around, and the harder it would be to stay away from the traffic.
Well, he had done at least part of what he was ordered to do — stop the pursuit — but he wasn’t ready to give up on Henri Cazaux. Vincenti still had an hour of fuel to bum, (and plenty of suitable bases nearby to choose from. Better wait up here, clear of all the traffic and confusion, and watch to see what the maniac Cazaux had in mind.
On his backup radio — no use in listening to Francine, Tellman and the rest of the Southwest Air Defense Sector yell at him — he switched over to San Francisco Tower and set up an orbit above the Class B airspace so he could watch Cazaux on radar. He felt completely useless, orbiting thousands of feet above his prey, but there was absolutely nothing he could do except listen to the horrible tragedy un- I fold below him.
“Unidentified aircraft over the port of San Francisco, this is San Francisco Tower on GUARD,” the frantic tower controller radioed on the VHF emergency frequency. “You have entered Oakland Class C airspace without proper radio callup, and you are on course to enter San Francisco Class B airspace without a clearance. There are numerous aircraft departing San Francisco at your twelve o’clock position.”
The controller tried a different tactic: he decided to assume that the pilot of the aircraft was in trouble — perhaps it was the wife flying after her husband had a heart attack, or a kid had stolen a plane to go for a joyride and was aiming for the biggest airport he could see. No use trying to threaten him or her — better to offer plenty of options while protecting the airspace and the legitimate aircraft already in it.
“You must execute a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn and fly away from San Francisco because there are a lot of very big airliners in your vicinity and you could get hurt,” the controller said, trying hard to control his anxiety and anger. “If you can hear me, it is important that you turn around and head back towards the north bay or toward Sacramento, right now. You don’t have to reply, just turn away from San Francisco until we can get some of these planes out of your way, and then we can help you get oriented… TWA Five-Eighty-One, roger, report the outer marker… Unidentified aircraft flying over the Seagram’s sign heading towards San Francisco Airport, you must turn away right now… American Three-Seventy-Two, traffic alert, two o’clock, altitude unknown, NORDO aircraft in Class B airspace, stay with me until you’re clear and be prepared to maneuver… Delta Four-Twenty-Two, I can’t give you that, we’ve got NORDO VFR traffic in the area, unless you declare an emergency I’m going to have to send you back to FAITH intersection for the ILS…”
Vincenti dropped his oxygen mask in absolute frustration. The air traffic situation around San Francisco and Oakland was going haywire, all because of one madman.
He had to do something!
He refastened his mask and keyed his mike: “San Francisco Tower, Foxtrot Romeo-01, over the Bay Bridge at eight thousand five hundred, be advised that VFR NORDO aircraft is at one thousand feet. He is a LET L-600 cargo plane piloted by a suspected terrorist. I strongly suggest you hold all departures on the ground, divert all arrivals, and let me take care of the bastard. Over.”
The radios were completely, utterly silent after that — it was as if all the air had been sucked out of the San Francisco Bay area. The word “terrorist” had that effect on people, and now his reign of terror was being felt here, now.
Finally, after what seemed like a very long time, the tower controller radioed, “Roger, Foxtrot Romeo-01, San Francisco Tower copies, stand by.” It was not the same “stand by” issued by the other controllers, which in effect meant “don’t bother me”—this “stand by” meant “wait while I clear a path for you.” “United Twelve-Oh-Four, cancel takeoff clearance. Delta Five-Niner-Eight, hold your position. TWA Five-Eighty-One, go around, contact Bay Approach. Delta Fourteen, go around, stay with me until advised. Attention all aircraft, emergency air traffic operations in effect, expect delays. Amflight Two-Zero-Niner- Niner, clear to land, keep your speed up on final and land past the intersection of runway one-niner right. Foxtrot Romeo-01, you are radar contact, one-one miles north of the San Francisco VOR at eight thousand five hundred, what are your intentions?”
“Foxtrot Romeo-01 requesting emergency descent through Class B airspace at five-zero-zero knots and MARSA operations with the suspect aircraft,” Vincenti replied. “MARSA” stood for “military accepts responsibility for separation of aircraft,” and although it usually applied only to military formation flights or aerial refueling, Vincenti wanted to use it to intercept Cazaux.
“Roger, Foxtrot Romeo-01,” the tower controller said. Although air traffic control tower controllers rarely issued clearances other than “cleared for takeoff’ and “cleared to land,” this was obviously an unusual and dangerous situation. “You are cleared to descend through Class B airspace at your most expeditious airspeed to the block surface to two thousand feet within five nautical mile radius of San Francisco VOR, and you are cleared MARSA with the NORDO aircraft. Stay on this frequency.”