The other female voice was surprised. "Three Fox Lima, how do you know the Tacos?"
"I'm a former F-16 pilot, and the guy next to me is a former marine aviator — Harriers."
There was an uneasy pause.
"Did you have a midair with the bomber?" Janssen asked.
"Uh… I'm going to toss that question to the attack pilot."
Scott keyed the radio. "Tacos, its a long story. That was the B-25 that dropped the nuke on Hoover Dam. We saw him do it and chased him down after his right engine failed; couldn't let him get away."
"I see," Major Janssen said, a trace of suspicion in her voice.
With the tension ebbing, Scott and Jackie glanced at each other before Scott keyed the radio. "We would sure like to buy you and your wingman an adult beverage if you'll escort us to Nellis."
"Why Nellis?"
"I need to put this thing down on grass, and Nellis has a nice golf course."
"Okay," Janssen radioed, "lets go to Nellis."
"Roger that." Scott turned to Jackie. "You might want to call Wakefield, explain the houseboat situation."
She favored Scott with a thin smile. "Fd like to give him a piece of my mind."
Running low on fuel, the Taco F-16s left the plodding Caravan behind and raced toward Nellis AFB. After explaining the unusual situation to the senior tower controller, Major JoEllen Janssen made arrangements to have the crash crew standing by at the golf course. The links were being cleared while the damaged Cessna limped to the base.
Jackie was flying the Cessna while Scott was on the satellite phone with their secretary. He had been unable to reach Hartwell Prost. After many holds for Mary Beth to use another phone to communicate with Hartwell's office, Scott finally signed off. "Were all set."
"How's that?"
"Mary Beth contacted Tim Covington in Prost's office. Another Two-oh-six LongRanger will be available for us, and a new float-equipped Caravan will be ordered for the FBO at Boise."
"Sounds good," Jackie said. "First, we have to survive this landing."
He stowed the satellite phone in the back of Jackie's seat and reached for the flight controls. "I'll take it."
"You have it."
Los Angeles Center handed the Caravan to Approach Control, who in turn handed it off to Nellis Tower.
Scott called the tower, completed the landing checklist, and lowered the flaps. "Do you want to move to the back?"
Jackie considered the option. "No, I'm fine."
"Nellis Tower," Scott radioed, "Caravan Three-Two-Three Fox Lima would like to circle the golf course, see what we have."
"Two-Three Fox Lima, that's approved. The course has been cleared, winds are calm, and you're cleared to land on any freeway-fairway."
"Three Fox Lima, appreciate the assistance."
"No problem."
Scott circled the course twice and decided on a long fairway with few hazards. "Cinch up tight."
"I can barely breathe."
He extended his approach and turned on final. Coming in low, slow, and flat, Scott was hanging on the prop at 67 knots. When he knew he had the fairway made, he shut down the engine and turned everything off, including both of the fuel tanks. "Brace yourself."
"I am," she said tight-lipped. "Dont catch a sand trap."
Holding the nose up as the airspeed rapidly dwindled, Scott allowed the Caravan to gently touch down on the aft section of the floats. "Come on, we're almost home."
He held the yoke back, trying to nurse the nose down as slowly as possible. "Easy, nice and smooth."
The next few seconds became a blur as the floats settled on the fairway and began sliding over the grass.
"Were down," Scott said, as he let his breath out.
Without warning, the jagged bottom of the left float dug in like a shovel, violently yawing the Caravan to the left. The right wingtip hit the ground with enough force to bend the outboard section upward two feet. The plane rocked up on its nose, teetered a brief moment, and then smashed down with a resounding thud.
"Lets get out of here," Scott said, as they exited from their respective doors and moved away from the battered plane. They glanced at the idle air force crash trucks.
Jackie gave Scott a stern look. "Well, that was exciting — enough for today."
After gathering their luggage and weapons from the Caravan, Jackie and Scott gladly accepted a ride to Las Vegas. The young first lieutenant, familiar with the Las Vegas strip, recommended a hotel. They thanked him, checked in, dumped their belongings in their suite, and went straight to the cocktail lounge.
The bar was practically empty, as were the streets and casinos. The normally crowded city had become a ghost town. Although the prevailing winds were west to east, a majority of visitors deserted the city in a panic. They were afraid of the fallout from the nuclear bomb dropped at Hoover Dam, thirty-seven miles east-southeast.
Enjoying a refreshingly cold draft beer, Jackie and Scott sat quietly, mesmerized by the live television coverage from Lake Powell and Lake Mead. Scott leaned his elbows on the bar. "Can you believe this is actually happening?"
"After September eleventh, I can believe anything."
They watched as news helicopters showed the devastation at Lake Powell. From the northern tip of the lake at Dirty Devil River to the collapsed Glen Canyon Dam, the scenes were astonishing and surreal. The attack turned a pristine lake into a sea of mud in a matter of hours. The marinas, including Bullfrog, Halls Crossing, Wahweap, and Dangling Rope, were like scenes from a war movie.
Houseboats, fishing boats, sailboats, and expensive cabin cruisers were resting on the bottom of the muddy lake, some hanging from their mooring lines. Dangling Rope Marina, only accessible by boat before the dam was destroyed, was now indistinguishable from the landmass that surrounded it.
The footage and narration continued as the story moved to the shattered dam and then down the Colorado River to the Grand Canyon. The aerial tour above the canyon rim was graphic enough to know that the disaster was far from over.
The live shots of the debris-strewn Grand Canyon revealed the awesome destruction the powerful flood generated. Nothing in the sea of debris and mud was moving. The stories of the scenes of horror and the unselfish acts of heroism were both heartbreaking and heartwarming.
"Let s go to our room and unwind," Jackie suggested. "We need to get organized and find out about our helicopter."
As they entered their suite, the sat phone rang. Scott answered it and mainly listened while Jackie turned on the television. He walked to the window, stared at the lifeless main strip, and then sadly signed off.
Jackie glanced at Scott. The usual twinkle in his eye was gone. 41 We cant catch a break — too much to ask."
"Whats wrong?"
"That was Tim Covington."
"How'd he get our number?" she asked.
"Mary Beth."
Jackie felt a knot in her stomach. "Out with it."
"There was only one body in the B-25."
She shook her head. "No, there were two people," Jackie insisted. "Farkas and the guy in the back."
"Jackie, there was only one body in the wreckage, and it wasn't Farkas."
Unblinking, she stared at him for a few seconds. "He bailed out?" she rationalized.
"Must have. No one survives when a plane goes straight in at that speed — impossible to survive."
"I'll be damned," she said, in disbelief. "How did we miss seeing him?"
"Just one of those days," he said, in a tight voice. "Ready for that martini?"
"Yes, lets call room service. Make mine a double."
Chapter 24
The sun was low in the afternoon sky when the lake began filling faster than the water pouring through the dam could compensate. Hoover Dam officials, the ones who had been fortunate enough to be off work at the time of the explosion, were afraid to release more water because of the flooding that would occur at the other dams downstream.