Using his binoculars, the Soviet captain watched as the Yak descended even lower, the chain dangling just 10 feet or so from the ground. The airplane hovered for a moment, then moved forward. The hook at the end of the chain snagged something and in one motiori, the Yak started to quickly gain altitude.
The SAM's blew up a few seconds later — not from the fire but from a time-bomb hidden underneath the launcher. Three of the SA-2 missiles were obliterated immediately along with most of the Soviet soldiers fighting the fire. The fourth missile actually launched itself, traveled a brief, spiraling path and impacted on the side hill less than a mile from the base.
Flaming pieces of shrapnel from the explosion started to rain down on the base, touching off many small fires. It didn't matter. Exactly one minute after the SAM blew up, a second time-bomb went off under the base's precious fuel supply. Within seconds the installation was a mass of flames, growing higher with every exploding barrel of jet fuel.
The last thing the Soviet captain saw was the stolen Yak-38 turning toward the west and accelerating, the smaller minijet hanging underneath it.
Chapter Thirteen
The two PAAC F-105 Thunderchiefs were at full afterburner when they intercepted the Yak somewhere over Wyoming. The jet fighters were on armed air patrol when the PAAC Early Warning Radar net detected an unidentified aircraft coming out of the Badlands. The Thunderchiefs were immediately vectored to the area.
When they arrived at the coordinates, the PAAC pilots observed the Yak, its landing gear deployed, its collision lights blinking frantically, plus it was flying completely upside down. The F-105s got no response after ordering the airplane to identify itself. Normally, at this point, they would have shot it down. But this airplane was flying so oddly, the Thunder-chiefs decided to hold their fire and investigate.
It was a good thing for Hunter that they did…
Hunter had never flown a Yak before, but he had got the hang of it quickly.
The Soviet-designed cockpit and controls didn't bother him; they were essentially the same as the British VTOL Harrier, an aircraft he had flown on several occasions. As long as he knew where the throttle, the up-down-forward steering controls and landing gear buttons were, he was okay.
Getting the Russian-made radio to work was another story.
For the first 50 miles, Hunter had flown the jet slowly and steadily, being careful not to drop the mini jet hanging underneath. It was not for entirely sentimental reasons that he had risked getting shot down in order to retrieve the small airplane. There was a load of valuable recon film in the minijet's cameras — film that he knew would be critically important to PAAC in the coming weeks and months.
He had located an isolated stretch of roadway and set down long enough to discard the minijet's wingsail, fold up the small aircraft's irreplaceable parts, and store them inside the Yak's undercarriage. As long as he flew with the landing gear deployed, the valuable minijet would stay secured. He took the precaution of removing the precious film and keeping it inside the cockpit with him.
He was up and flying within an hour, though the wheels-down gear position prevented him from putting the Yak at full throttle. He started fooling around with the radio soon after taking off. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get so much as a crackle of static on the thing. The airman spent most of the flight cursing the so typically Soviet malfunctioning radio; he was certain it was busted before he ever arrived on the scene. The trouble was he hadn't talked to Dozer via the gunship link in a while. He knew because of the information he did get to them, the base and all of PAAC's aircraft would be on a high state of readiness, which was not casually nicknamed a "shoot first" alert. All they needed to see was a Russian Yak come streaking out of the Badlands unannounced and they'd be picking him up in pieces somewhere between Cheyenne and Yellowstone. He had to somehow warn them off…
The F-105s slowed down and took up positions on either side of the inverted Russian fighter, their Sidewinder missiles armed and ready. They could see the pilot waving and giving them the thumbs-up sign, but it wasn't until they saw the small American flag attached to the inside of the Yak's canopy did they back off long enough to allow the airplane to do a quick flip. Only then did the Thunderchief pilots recognize Hunter as the grinning man at the controls.
Heartened to see their commander again, the F-105s escorted the Yak home.
Alerted ahead of time that a "friendly" Soviet fighter was on its way in, a large group of base personnel and civilians turned out to see the airplane make a dramatic vertical descent and landing. Hunter received a half-kidding round of applause from the crowd of mechanics and others who quickly gathered around the VTOL jet.
General Jones and Dozer were waiting for him.
"Are we glad to see you," Jones told him, shaking his hand as Hunter stepped down from the Yak.
"Same here, General," Hunter said. He took off his helmet and shook hands with Dozer.
Jones walked around the Yak, inspecting its unusual features. "Wait 'til we get a bottle before you tell us how you got this," Jones said. "Right now, let's have it. How bad is it?"
"Real bad, sir," Hunter said solemnly rubbing his sandpaper-like beard. "They have more SAMs sitting out there than in Ho Chi Minh's best wet dream."
The trio started walking toward the base saloon.
"Can we take them out with air strikes?" Jones asked, his face furrowed with concern.
Hunter shook his head. "It would take every airplane this side of the Mississippi, plus all of the Free Canadian Air Force too, just to make a dent in it," Hunter said grimly. "We'd face very heavy losses to the SAMs. Plus we'd have the Yaks to contend with — forty-nine of them anyway. Then, there's their cavalry…"
"Cavalry?" Dozer asked. "You've got to be kidding."
"I know it sounds crazy," Hunter said, "but not only have they moved in all those Yaks and SAMs, they've somehow managed to infiltrate at least a division of cavalry. Probably much more. Ever hear of the People's Mounted Army of Mongolia?"
"Yes," Jones said. "They were the last regular cavalry units left in the world. But the Russians disbanded them in the early 'Fifties. Gave 'em trucks instead."
"Well, they've been reactivated," Hunter said. "I tangled with a bunch of them. They're tough customers."
"It's incredible," Dozer said. "But I guess that would explain these horses we've been hearing about lately."
"But how did they do it? Did they swim over from Siberia?"
Jones asked.
Hunter shrugged. "They must have come across the Bering Straits in anything that could float, then let 'em off in the Yukon somewhere and pointed them toward the 'Bads."
"Like Hannibal and the elephants," Dozer said incredulously. "And these guys are probably experts in working their horses in the snow, over mountains, through the desert, Jesus, wherever."
"And the plains of Kansas and Nebraska are perfect for operating cavalry,"
Jones added.
"So is Texas," Hunter said ominously. "We know they've been flying some of these guys from a hidden base somewhere way out in.northern Montana and ferrying them and their horses down to southern Oklahoma. That's what that convoy was doing when I ran into them."