“Looking down at the landscape at night,” DeSantos said, “it’s pretty cool. We won’t see a city, but the night lights are something you’ll always remember.”
Something tells me that’s not the only thing I’ll always remember.
“Can’t we just drive across the border?”
“Karen,” DeSantos said. “Be real.” He must have seen her angry look because he said, “Okay, fine. It’s a reasonable question. Answer is no, we can’t. We’re illegal, and even though we have fake passports we’re taking a risk the authorities have been alerted to three men and a woman matching our descriptions who were seen near a terrorist attack in the heart of London that killed hundreds of people.”
Uzi shifted his torso to face Vail. “The US doesn’t have an airbase in France. Can’t drive across. Can’t take Eurail because there’s a major passport check. Can’t take a commercial flight because we’re sure to be flagged.”
“We can fly into Germany,” DeSantos said. “The Stuttgart Army Airfield in Filderstadt. Then we try to cross over into France. But even with the Schengen agreement, if we use our forged EU passports, there’s a border check. It’s usually pretty quick, depending on how busy the border is at the moment. But it’s a risk.”
Uzi checked his watch. “One of us gets snagged, we’re all toast.”
“So,” DeSantos said, “we fly over the top and drop in unnoticed.”
“Hopefully drop in unnoticed,” Fahad added from across the plane.
DeSantos gave Fahad a disapproving look. “This’ll be a routine, overt flight over France like the Air Force does several times a month, following the flight plan they’ve filed. They won’t suspect anything. The plane will be on radar — no problem with that — and once we jump, radar won’t pick us up. Visually, no one’s gonna see us till we’re a hundred feet, or less, off the ground.” He turned to Vail. “I’ve worked lots of drop zones when guys are coming in at night. I knew they’re in the air and under canopy, but I couldn’t see them until they were close to touching down. We’ve got a high moon so we won’t silhouette ourselves to anyone who may be looking our way.”
Vail shook her head. “What other things do I need to know about a mission like this? Now would be a good time to tell me.”
“You’re right,” Uzi said. “It would. But missions like this, we’ve got no idea what the terrorists are up to or when they’re going to strike — or how. So we’ve gotta be flexible and be ready for anything, improvise on the fly. Think outside the box.”
Vail smiled wanly. “Boxes can be claustrophobic. I avoid them at all costs.”
At the appointed time, Fahad signaled Uzi and DeSantos that it was time to prepare for the jump. They rose from their seats and donned their parachutes.
“We’re going to make this easy on you,” Uzi said, motioning Vail up. “We’re flying low enough that we won’t need oxygen. It’ll be a tandem freefall jump from a little under 13,000 feet. You’ll be rigged up to Hector. You just hook up to him and fall with us. He’ll do all the work and deploy the chute.” He examined her face and said, “Are you with me?”
Vail shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
“Did you hear what I said?”
“Everything up until you said, ‘free fall’ and ‘13,000 feet.’”
Uzi studied her eyes, no doubt trying to determine if she was attempting to be funny or if she was genuinely scared. He must have settled on the former because he did not repeat it.
DeSantos clipped a cleat to her harness, then helped her strap it securely around her thighs and torso. “I remember this contraption. Didn’t like it then.” DeSantos tightened the straps around her upper thighs. “And I don’t like it now. That’s a little snug, Hector.”
“Sorry.” He gave her leg a squeeze. “Good muscle tone. You been working out?”
“Kick boxing.” She winked. “Remember that. Next time you try to cop a feel.”
“Noted.” He tugged on the thick ballistic nylon to test it, then nodded approval. “Ready?”
The crew chief walked over to a panel on the side of the plane, pressed a button and pulled a switch. As the ramp began to lower, a rush of freezing cold air slapped Vail in the face.
Fahad came up alongside them and twisted his wrist to get a look at his watch. “We’ll be over the DZ in thirty seconds.”
“Roger that.” DeSantos turned his attention to a device attached to his chest.
“What’s that?” Vail asked.
“GPS. I’m punching in the landing zone grid. Once we’re out under the chute this baby’ll fly us there, making course corrections as needed — left turn, right turn, and so on. At this altitude, it’s all about the GPS.”
“There we go,” Fahad shouted and gestured out the opening.
Vail watched as the landscape below came into view.
“That’s the English Channel down there.” He was pointing at the body of water that fed into the Atlantic Ocean.
I’d like to channel something else … Superman, maybe?
DeSantos checked their attachment. “You and I are going to dive off the ramp. Once we’re in free fall, hold your arms out at your sides to help us fly and keep stable, okay?”
“Can you stop saying, ‘free fall’?”
“That’s what it’s called. We could’ve done a static line jump, where the parachute’s static line is attached to the anchor line cable that’s hooked up inside the C-17. As you fall out, the parachute deploys automatically. Problem is a static line typically has to be low altitude, hundreds of feet. Much bigger chance of us being seen.” He examined her face. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. Just remind me to stop getting into airplanes with you guys. It always ends up with me doing stupid shit like this.” She looked out at the lights below and felt her heart rate increase, her breathing get shallow. Stop it, Karen. You can do this. Nothing to it — Hector’s gonna do all the work.
He tapped her arm and they moved to the now-gaping opening in the plane’s rear, stepping close to the edge. The movement of the plane against the darkening landscape and dense cloud cover was disorienting, and Vail stuck her hand out to steady herself.
DeSantos leaned over, studying the landscape. He motioned to Uzi, holding his index finger and thumb close together. Uzi responded with a thumbs-up.
A green light appeared above them and DeSantos looked at it, then clasped Vail’s fingers in his hand.
He waited a beat then nodded to her and they dove forward, into the icy darkness of French airspace.
44
The sensation matched what DeSantos and Uzi had described: like she was dropped into a wind tunnel. They kept moving through the chilled air at a good clip, flat and stable with the drogue chute deployed until DeSantos pulled the rip cord and opened their main chute. They slowed and glided toward the ground.
Vail looked down and saw a blinking red light from somewhere below. It appeared as if DeSantos or the GPS was steering them right for it, and she surmised the beacon was emanating from the person who would be collecting them and driving them to their destination.
A moment later they did a standup landing and touched down onto firm, low cut, perfectly manicured turf. It was a comfortable landing, followed seconds later by Uzi and then Fahad.
Piece of cake.
They quickly gathered up the chute and stuffed it into the backpack, then unhooked the harnesses and balled them up. If someone crossed their path they would look like lost hikers.