The tragic event was monitored on VHF radios by a number of individuals, including other pilots and a television news crew. The horrifying story, complete with accompanying video of the crash scene, was soon breaking news on all cable news networks. The message was clear. General aviation pilots needed to be extremely cautious about flight planning and orientation. Even a small error in navigation or a momentary lapse in communications could be fatal.
Located in the wide-open spaces of west Texas, the colorful city of Abilene conjures an image of weather-beaten cowhands, dusty catde drives, rowdy saloons, and gunfights at high noon. The ancestors of Abilenes current residents would be shocked to see their west Texas town now. It was home to the supersonic Rockwell B-1B strategic bomber. After showcasing its capability in Operation Iraqi Freedom, the sharklike Mach 1.5 bomber continued to be a linchpin in the war on terrorism.
The early morning arrival of the E-4B was not a surprise to the flight line workers at the air base. One of the other airborne command centers had landed at 4:20 A. M. and was standing at the ready when the presidents plane arrived. Routine by now, the debarkation and embarkation evolution went smoothly. The 747 would remain on the ramp while the president held a short meeting.
When Macklin and his senior aides entered the waiting E-4B, they found Brad Austin aboard.
A former F-4 "Phantom Phlyer" fighter pilot in Vietnam, Bradley Carlyle Austin was a trim 166 pounds and stood five feet ten. The streaks of silver-gray hair at his temples accented his twinkling hazel eyes. A distinguished graduate of the U. S. Naval Academy, Austin had opted for a commission as a second lieutenant in the U. S. Marine Corps.
Upon completion of flight training at Kingsville, Texas, he was assigned to a marine F-4 squadron. He later became an exchange pilot with a carrier-based navy F-4 fighter squadron. His performance-some would say exploits — during the Vietnam era were legendary throughout the naval aviation community.
To a person, his fellow naval aviators knew that Captain Austin had flown a captured Mig-17 behind enemy lines. Less well known was the fact that he almost faced a court-martial during his first carrier tour for breaking the restrictive rules of engagement.
After his active duty obligation, Austin remained in the marine corps reserve. He later earned his graduate degree in international studies at Georgetown University.
Cord Macklin and Colonel Brad Austin, USMCR (Retired), had met on several occasions during their years inside the Beltway. The president was aware that Brett Shannon thought highly of Austin. Shannon had relied on Austins judgment and experience, especially in situations requiring a military or global perspective.
"Brad, welcome aboard," President Macklin said, as he enthusiastically extended his hand.
"It's an honor to be here, sir."
Macklin gestured for everyone to take a seat at the conference table. He sat down and turned to Austin. "I trust you've been thoroughly briefed on our current situation."
"Yes, sir." Austin glanced at Prost and the secretary of defense. "Mr. Prost and Secretary Adair had their staffs bring me up to speed."
"Then you know we have an international diplomatic powder keg on our hands that could blow wide open at any moment."
Secretary Austin nodded solemnly. "Yes, sir. Brought my flak jacket and helmet with me."
The president smiled. "Im not so concerned about our close allies; 111 deal with them. But when word gets out that our submarines have been sinking Shayhidis ships, that we've been destroying his private property, there's going to be some heat generated."
"I understand," Brad said. "Our greatest exposure is with our pseudo-allies in Europe, the Far East, Russia, and the Middle East.
Shayhidi is an icon to many people in the Middle East, and it's going to require some hand-holding sessions."
"The bottom line?" Macklin said, looking Austin squarely in the eye. "People are going to cry foul to the U. N. and to the international press. Count on it."
"Sir, they already are."
The president slipped out of his windbreaker. "Well, I hope you'll be able to minimize the impact and smooth their ruffled feathers."
"I'm going to need some bargaining chips."
"Whatever you need, it's your show." Macklin was impressed with Austin's straightforward no-nonsense approach.
Brad didn't hesitate. "Leverage — foreign aid. I've talked with Commerce about expediting lucrative construction projects in the region, military aid packages, et cetera." Austin glanced at Prost. "It would be helpful if I had a noose to hang over Shayhidi's head."
Macklin turned to Prost. "Hartwell, anything we can release without compromising sources or methods?"
"Everything we've gathered on Shayhidi at this point is highly classified. If we find him, have him in our custody, that would dramatically change the picture."
"Or if we get our hands on Farkas," Adair added.
"That's another story," the president said.
"Farkas is still around?" Austin asked.
"He sure is, and we're trying to close the deal," Macklin said, darting a look at his watch. "Gentlemen, if there's nothing else, I suggest we let Secretary Austin get under way."
Brad rose from his chair on cue. "I'm going to be on the move a lot, but I'll keep you fully informed."
"Just don't start any wars," the president said, tongue in cheek.
Austin smiled, knowing the president was fully aware of his escapades during the unpleasantness in Vietnam.
"Thanks, Brad," Macklin added, as he shook Austin's hand firmly. "Again, welcome aboard. Sorry we have to throw you into the lion's den your first day on the job."
"I wouldn't know how to respond if it were any other way."
"Good luck," Prost said, shaking Austin's hand.
"Thank you, sir."
As soon as Austin left the 747, it began taxiing to the active runway. Escorted by four air force F-15s, President Macklin and his staff were soon airborne and on course to a patch of sterile sky above Lake Michigan near Green Bay Wisconsin.
The Amtrak California Zephyr, train number 5, was precisely on time as it passed near Rocky Mountain National Park. Originating in Chicago, many experienced travelers considered the California Zephyr the most comfortable and safest way to travel to San Francisco. The relaxing train trip was certainly one of the best ways to see the towering peaks of the Rockies, follow the winding Colorado River, and ascend the famous mile-high Donner Pass in the heart of the Sierra Nevada.
The passengers aboard the California Zephyr were beginning to see the effects of the bad weather plaguing the northwestern states. By the time the train began its leg to Glenwood Springs, Colorado, many of the contented diners were having dessert and coffee. Most conversations quietly shifted from terrorism to the myriad pleasures of San Francisco, the romantic city by the bay.
From his vantage point high on a ridge above the train, Waleed Majed waited until the second passenger car passed over the marker he had placed beside the tracks. Gleefully, he triggered the twin sets of dynamite explosives. In what appeared to be a movie in slow motion, the California Zephyr derailed in jumbled sections, its cars, piled into each other, ripping open like bags of potato chips and spilling their contents.
Laughing aloud, Majed turned and raced to the idling helicopter perched on a narrow slope behind him. He and his accomplice would be many miles away before the first news helicopters, emergency medical technicians, and law enforcement officers arrived at the scene of devastation.
Chapter 17
"What do you think?" Jackie asked, looking out the car window at the low clouds and steady drizzle. "Go or no go?"