A few seconds later the catapult fired and Turcotte staged both blowers — full afterburner. Expecting to accelerate from o to 157 miles per hour in a hair over two seconds, he had a sudden sinking feeling when the aircraft stopped accelerating halfway down the track. It felt as if he had plowed through a tar pit. The launch bar broke or came out!
Suffering from denial, Turcotte still had full afterburner on both engines, knowing the plane was not going fast enough to fly. The brakes aren't going to stop me!
The denial was still there, causing a moment of paralysis. This can't be happening!
The end of the flight deck was almost under him when the synapse finally shot through his mind. I'm outa here!
Seeing only dark oily-looking water, Turcotte aggressively pulled the loud handle and ejected from the doomed aircraft. He tumbled a couple of times before the parachute began to open, followed by a severe snap that stunned him. He caught a glimpse of his Hornet as it crashed into the water and blew apart with a muffled explosion.
Still hanging from his chute, a moment of panic seized him when he saw the huge carrier coming straight at him. The ship is going to hit me while I'm still in the air!
He reached for his Koch fittings and frantically detached himself from the parachute, dropping fifteen feet into the dark water. A strong swimmer, his arms and legs were already in motion when he splashed down. Quickly surfacing, Captain Turcotte swam as hard and fast as he could to clear his parachute and the starboard side of the ship. I'm going to make it — don't stop-go-go-go!
The ship was almost past him when he stopped swimming and looked up. There was a sizable crowd staring at him from the starboard side of the flight deck. Thank God, I'm still alive.
He was suddenly tumbled again, over and over, in the turbulence of the wake from the powerful ship. It was like going through the wash cycle in a gigantic 4oo-horsepower Maytag.
Mere seconds later the plane guard, an H-60 Seahawk search-and-rescue helicopter, was overhead and creating a mini-hurricane around Turcotte. He turned away from the helicopter rotor wash and waited for the swimmer to reach him.
"Are you okay sir?" the petty officer asked.
"Yeah, I think so."
"Okay, well have you aboard in just a few seconds."
The swimmer quickly clamped the D-ring attached to Turcotte s torso harness to the hoist. A minute later the drenched but thankful pilot was safely aboard the Seahawk. After the swimmer had been retrieved, the helicopter turned to chase the carrier. Stennis was still launching aircraft at a rapid rate. Captain Turcotte was going to be sitting out this strike with some medicinal brandy in hand.
Chapter 26
Jackie and Scott had flown over Lake Mary and then searched the area around Mormon Lake. There was no trace of a helicopter. They continued flying in a southeasterly direction and reconnoitered Blue Ridge Reservoir and the surrounding area.
"I dont see anything," Scott said, as he lowered the binoculars.
Jackie gently banked the helicopter. "Let's go back and check the shoreline of the second lake."
"Okay."
Making a gradual descent, Jackie leveled off 100 feet over the lake and slowed the LongRanger. They flew along the shoreline looking for any sign of a lodge or a helicopter.
"Very few people around here," Jackie observed.
"Thats why Farkas may be here, stay camouflaged, and let the hunt go in other directions."
They continued the search for another fifteen minutes.
Jackie descended to fifty feet and glanced at Scott. "We need a better description of the area where the hikers saw the—"
"There!" Scott exclaimed. "Two o'clock, a lodge in the trees."
"I see it — got it."
Jackie maneuvered the helicopter into a hover over the grassy shoreline thirty yards from the once-exotic retreat. She turned the LongRanger 90 degrees and gently set it down. "I don't see any activity or any sign of a helo. Want to continue down the lake?"
"Let me check the place, and then we'll move on."
"Be careful."
Scott nodded as he touched his 9mm Sig Sauer and reached for an H&K compact submachine gun. He started to get out of the helicopter and then hesitated, reaching for three full magazines for the H&K. "Back in a minute."
He climbed out of the helicopter and cautiously approached the deteriorated lodge. The oversized front door was gone. Behind the main dwelling were two small log cabins, one of which was partially collapsed. Scott walked up three steps to the uneven front porch and entered the dusty main building. He checked the rooms on the ground floor and then went up the short flight of stairs to the loft. A ragged sleeping bag and three crushed beer cans were the only items on the dirty floor.
Turning to go back down the stairs, Scott felt a cold chill when he saw crushed cigarette butts on the downstairs floor. He descended for a closer look. They were freshly smoked cigarettes, the same U. S. brand Khaliq Farkas was known to use.
With his adrenaline surging, Scott began scrutinizing the rooms again and noticed something strange in one of the bedrooms. In the corner of the inside wall he noticed a lot of footprints on the dusty floor. Why would there he dust tracks from the door to an empty corner? Why all the activity in the corner and no tracks across the room?
He paused a moment and then started walking toward the corner. Five feet from the junction of the walls, he stepped on the end of a floorboard and almost tripped when the other end of the board popped up. He gently pushed on his end of the board and grabbed the other end when it came up. Setting the loose board aside, Scott looked into the space beneath the floor and froze. Oh, shit — the nukes!
At the same instant he heard something familiar. He paused a moment and then rushed into the living/dining area and turned toward the open front door. Jackie could not hear the sound because of the noise her helicopter was making.
Scott had started to bolt for the LongRanger when a blue-and-white MD 500 rose above the nearby trees.
Khaliq Farkas aimed an M79 grenade launcher at the Bell 206 and fired. The 40mm grenade exploded under the tail rotor blades, twisting and snapping the tail rotor drive.
Opening fire with the submachine gun, Scott did not count on getting many hits from his position. He fired a few more rounds while Jackie scrambled out of the helicopter. With the engine winding down, she raced for the lodge with the other submachine gun.
Farkas smiled, amused by his strange turn of luck. He finally had the two Americans trapped like rodents in a cage. He and his pilot, Omar Musa, had planned to lie low in the abandoned lodge for a few days. Too many people had seen their helicopter at the B-25 crash site and at the Flagstaff airport.
Farkas had correctly figured that the description of their helicopter would have been sent to all the airports and law enforcement agencies in this part of the country. With a stash of food and water from the helicopter, they planned to wait a day or two and then fly at night to a rendezvous point with their driver. Farkas was going to move the four nuclear bombs to a safer location, but first he had to dispose of the two Americans.
Farkas and Musa had rolled their light MD 500 under a thick stand of trees and then carefully camouflaged it with branches from other trees. They had not counted on the hikers who watched them land and get out of the helicopter.
When the LongRanger suddenly came into view, Farkas and Musa were caught completely off guard. Fearing the FBI might be rapidly closing in, they grabbed all of their gear and raced out the back door. After an eighty-yard run, they yanked the camouflage off the MD 500, tossed their belongings inside, moved the helicopter out into the small clearing, fired up the engine, and immediately took off.