The hijacking of the Achille Lauro put an end to their sightseeing, and they were soon back to work, practicing for a possible rescue mission.
It was a bright, sunny Sicilian morning as they boarded the MC-130E for their final high-altitude airdrop. At 15,000 feet, they began pre-breathing oxygen. The jump itself was to take place at 25,000 feet, and it was Jack who signaled Thomas to be the first one out.
According to Air Force statistics, the odds of experiencing a parachute malfunction were one out of every four hundred and fifty jumps. Many jumpers went an entire lifetime without a problem, while others experienced one their first time out.
In this instance, Thomas’s problems started shortly after the jump light turned green and the jumpmaster pointed out the Talon’s open rear ramp and shouted, “Go!” As he leaped off the ramp, and his free falling body plunged seaward at a terminal-velocity speed of 120 miles per hour, the strap of his helmet snapped in half, and his helmet, goggles, and oxygen mask were ripped off his head. While jerking back his head in a frantic effort at figuring out what had happened, his rucksack abruptly shifted from its mount on his equipment harness, causing him to begin a terrifying, out-of-control spin. He suddenly found himself tumbling head over heels, and he struggled to attain a stable, spread-eagle position.
Yet vertigo ensued, and Thomas momentarily blacked out.
When he eventually came to seconds later, he found that he had rolled on his back and was still in the midst of a disorienting spin. In a desperate attempt to stabilize himself, he arched his back and spread his arms and legs. This allowed him to roll over to a free fall position, and he was able to quickly check his altimeter.
He was still disorientated by the spin, and with his eyesight blurred from the loss of goggles, Thomas let circumspection take over and he pulled the ripcord regardless of the relatively high altitude. He was thankful that his MC4 ram-air chute was good, and he was able to get a clear view of his floating LZ several thousand feet below.
It was as he looked up to initiate a routine controllability check before beginning to steer his chute in for landing, that he spotted another freefaller. This individual appeared to be headed straight for him, and they only missed colliding when his own chute opened.
Though Thomas never could say exactly what happened next, somehow their lines became entangled. Once again heart-stopping terror possessed him, as his canopy collapsed, and he identified the jumper who had struck him. Jack had apparently seen his previous difficulties, and had risked life and limb to hurtle through space to catch up with him. Now both of them were falling, with their main chutes collapsed and hopelessly entangled.
Because Jack was the top jumper, he had cut away priority. The proper procedure was for him to get rid of his main chute, and deploy the reserve. They were practically free falling side by side at this point, rapidly approaching 2,000 feet, and Thomas fought to regain his composure.
He watched as Jack gave him a brave thumbs-up before yanking his cutaway ripcord with his right hand and pulling his reserve with the left.
Though the cutaway activated, the reserve did not. Jack was doomed unless Thomas could activate his own reserve and somehow bring his best friend down with him.
For the rest of his life he would endlessly replay the horrifying sequence of events that followed. Thomas cut away his main, got a good chute on his reserve, then frantically reached for Jack’s outstretched hand. For the briefest of seconds, their fingertips touched. And the last he ever saw of his friend was the terrified look of fear that etched Jack’s face as he realized that he was going to die.
They pulled Jack’s broken body out of the Mediterranean several hours later. Thomas had been able to make good his landing on the Saratoga, and was right there in the small boat as Jack’s corpse was retrieved.
The official inquiry cleared Thomas of any direct responsibility’ for his death. Yet in his own mind, he judged himself guilty if it had not been for his difficulties during the jump, Jack would have lived.
Thomas was mentally broken by this traumatic experience that in reality had begun two years earlier, off the coast of Grenada. And it was with this heavy baggage to carry that he began his difficult transition back into civilian life.
How very fitting it was that his life should come full circle like this, thought Thomas, as he sat in the wildly shaking rear cabin of the Combat Talon JJ on his way out to the storm-tossed mid-Atlantic. Just when he thought that he had successfully put one set of demons behind him, they had come back into his life like a returned letter. Running away had given him nothing but a ten-year respite.
Now was his chance to show what he was really made of. Somewhere out there on the cold seas, his own brother’s life was at stake, not to mention that of the President of the United States, and eight of the most powerful men in all the world. There could thus be no better time for him to finally face his inner demon, or forever be its slave.
30
The tension-packed day just passing seemed to be filled with one frustrating delay after the other. As a student of the Way, Dennis Liu knew that he shouldn’t allow such trivialities to disturb his inner equilibrium. But they had come so far, and now that their goal was just beyond reach, he couldn’t help but find himself overly anxious.
Their primary difficulty had been making contact with PRC’s Red Star communications satellite. They had already made two attempts to establish a secure uplink, yet in each instance, severe static kept them from being able to transmit the nuclear unlock codes to Adm. Liu Huangtzu’s forces in Tsingtao. Max Kurtyka blamed this interference on the unusual solar-flare activity. Their computer expert promised that during the next overhead pass of Red Star, later that night, he’d devise a way to deal with the static.
Once the codes were safely sent, their next step would be to signal the Lijiang and prepare for the transfer of their prisoners. To hail the Han-class submarine, they’d be ordering the QE2’s Bridge watch to initiate a three minute-long, sprint-and-drift process. At thirty-second intervals, the ocean liner’s nine engines would be run at flank speed, followed by a thirty-second-long period of silence. This would provide the distinctive audible signal that would bring Capt. Lee Shao-chi and his crack crew out of the black depths.
It appeared that all of this would take place that evening. To bide his time and make certain that none of the prisoners tried to disrupt their plans, Liu spent most of the day making the rounds of the immense vessel.
The tour of inspection began in the below-deck spaces, where his team had done a superb job of intimidating the crew. To get their point across, the senior Filipino steward was led away in handcuffs and sequestered in the ship’s Library. This man served as the official leader of the large Philippine community aboard ship, and by threatening to shoot him, they were able to keep the rest of the crew in line with a minimum of supervision.
Liu made several visits to the Queens Grill throughout the day. Almost a hundred prisoners were being held there, including the nine statesmen, who spent a restless night bemoaning their tragic predicament. The Grill’s two small bathrooms were the only restrooms made available to them. Meals were limited to sandwiches and water, far from the decadent gourmet fare they were used to.
Only once was he informed of possible trouble inside the Dining Room.