"Merida area control," Fernando said into his microphone, "this is Lear Five-Zero-Seven-Five. I'm at flight level three-zero, indicating five hundred knots on a heading of two-zero-niner. International, direct Cozumel. Estimating Cozumel in ten minutes. Request approach and landing to Cozumel. We will require customs and immigration service on landing."
"The only problem we have is if customs wants a look at Sergeant Sherman's suitcase," Charley said. "How do we explain the radio?"
"They might not want to," Fernando said. "They have the flight plan; they'll know we came from the States. People usually don't try to smuggle things into Mexico. And if they seem to be getting curious, you have that envelope I gave you?"
"Envelope?" Torine asked.
"The cash-stuffed envelope, Jake. It usually makes Mexican customs officers very trusting," Fernando said.
[TWO]
Office of the Commanding General
United States Central Command
MacDill Air Force Base
Tampa, Florida
0935 10 June 2005
When Sergeant Major Wes Suggins had gone into the office of the CentCom commander, General Allan Naylor, USA, to tell him that Frederick K. Beiderman, the secretary of defense, was on the secure line, Naylor, as he walked quickly to the phone booth, had signaled for Suggins to stay, which Suggins correctly interpreted to mean he was supposed to listen to as much of the conversation as he could overhear.
Suggins complied by leaning on the doorjamb of the phone booth while Naylor was on the horn, and Naylor held the handset as far from his ear as he could and still hear the secretary.
"Yes, Mr. Secretary, I'm sure we can handle this, and I will get back to you with how it's going," Naylor said, ending the conversation and thoughtfully replacing the handset in its cradle.
He looked at Suggins.
"I'm surprised that it took them this long to find it," Sergeant Major Suggins said, "not that it took this long after they did decide to tell us to neutralize it."
Naylor grunted.
"Is everybody here, Wes?"
"Yes, sir. I even mentioned to General McFadden, after we got the 'We found it' message, that you would probably want to see him shortly. He was on his way to the golf course."
"A sound mind in a healthy body, Sergeant Major," Naylor said. "Round 'em up."
"Yes, sir."
Just under five minutes later, what Suggins thought of as the "Heavy Brass" (General Albert McFadden, USAF, the CentCom deputy commander; Vice-Admiral Louis J. Warley, USN, the CentCom intelligence officer; and Lieutenant General George H. Potter, USA, the J-5 special operations officer) and the "Heavy Civilians" (Mr. Lawrence P. Fremont of the CIA and Mr. Brian Willis of the FBI) were all sitting around the conference table in Naylor's office.
The civilians, Suggins thought privately, weren't really needed. The CIA and the FBI had done their job. The stolen 727 had been located, even if that had taken a hell of a lot longer than it should have. But if they had not been summoned, Suggins knew, they would have felt left out, and Suggins knew how important it was to Naylor that the civilians felt they were part of the team.
General McFadden was even in uniform. Usually at this time of the morning, he was dressed for the links. It was his practice to come to his office early, read the overnight intel and messages, and then commence his physical training regimen. General officers were permitted to select their own method of physical exercise; McFadden had a permanently reserved 0845 tee time. Rank Hath Its Privileges.
"I've just spoken with Secretary Beiderman," General Naylor began. "CentCom has been tasked with neutralizing the stolen 727, which, as you all know, has been located at an airfield, Zandery, in Suriname. Secretary Beiderman made it clear that he wants this done as quietly as possible."
He looked around the conference table and had a sudden tangential thought.
I'll be damned. Here's my chance to zing McFadden. And I almost blew it.
"Let's see," Naylor asked, innocently, "who's junior?"
"I guess I am, General," Brian Willis of the FBI said. "But I'd really like to defer to someone in uniform."
"I associate myself totally with my learned colleague," Lawrence Fremont of the CIA said.
There were chuckles. General Potter said, "Cowards!"
"I guess you're next up on the totem pole, right, Lou?" Naylor asked.
"Only because the Navy refuses to appropriately acknowledge my talents," Admiral Warley said.
"Okay, Lou. How do we handle this?"
"The first thing that occurs to me is putting an umbrella over the coast of Suriname, and, if this plane tries to go anywhere, we force it to return to Suriname."
"And if it refuses to return to Suriname?" Naylor asked.
"Take it out, General," Admiral Warley said.
"Anything else?"
"The umbrella is Step One. Step Two, in my judgment, would be to send McNab's people in as backup in case the CIA is unable to quietly neutralize the airplane on the ground. I'm presuming you're already working on that, right Larry?"
"I don't want to give the wrong impression when I say, 'Sure we are,' " Lawrence Fremont of the CIA said. "We are, but I understand we have a one-man station there-he's the guy who made the visual confirmation-and there's not much he can do by himself. I'm sure help is on the way. No telling, frankly, how long that will take."
"Thank you, Larry," Naylor said. "And now we will hear from the next-senior officer, General Potter. Is there any doubt in anyone's mind that he will not suggest sending in the Peace Corps to reason with these people?"
There were chuckles.
"I agree with Admiral Warley that we send in McNab's people:"
"Why am I not surprised?" Naylor asked.
"But not with his priorities. I think McNab-Gray Fox-has the experience to deal with this sort of situation. If you order it done quietly, that's what you'll get."
"That's it?" Naylor asked.
"Yes, sir," General Potter said. "It looks like a no-brainer to me."
"And General McFadden?" Naylor asked.
"I really have nothing to add, General," General McFadden said.
Is he saying that because he's miffed at me? Or because there's really nothing to say beyond what's already been said? Potter's right, this is a no-brainer.
"Okay," Naylor said. "Everyone seems agreed that we should send General McNab's people-we're talking about Gray Fox to neutralize the airplane-and as soon as possible put fighter aircraft in the area-not entering Suriname airspace, of course, but over the Atlantic outside Suriname territory in case the airplane takes off. Whereupon, they will intercept it and order it to return to Zandery. If they fail to comply, they will shoot it down. That about it?"
He looked around the table. When his eyes met those of Admiral Warley, Warley said, "The Rules of Engagement, General? Are we going to give the pilots the authority to take the airplane down or do you want them to ask for permission? And from whom?"
General Naylor looked at General McFadden.
"Al?"
"When I heard the CIA had found the 727," General McFadden said, "I ordered an E-3*^ (3) down there. The nearest one was refueling at Guantanamo. They said it would take thirty minutes to get it in the air. That was about thirty minutes ago. So it's probably wheels-up. It's about eighteen hundred miles from Gitmo down there. At a little better than five hundred knots, figure three hours twenty minutes. I also ordered up two KC-135s out of Barksdale. Љ Both are wheels-up, one headed down there and the other to Gitmo, where it will be on a ten-minute runway alert. I also have a four-plane flight of F-15s on a ten-minute runway alert at Eglin. ј
"Worst possible scenario: The 727 takes off in the next few minutes, whereupon we scramble the F-15s at Eglin to intercept. The intercept point would be about 150 miles south of Miami, a little south of Cuba. They could either order it to land at Gitmo or shoot it down.
"The decision to do either would be in the hands of the pilot. For obvious reasons that's risky. But there's no other way to go until we get the E-3 there and up and running.