Jackie frowned. "Sir, it won't take long for those who oppose the U.S. to realize that our carrier planes are grounded at night."
"I know. The president wants to keep this, ah, situation as quiet as possible for as long as we can. In order to solve this mystery, we're going to use every resource we have, including your assistance."
"How about launching some satellites with teeth?" Scott suggested. "We need an overview of the carrier battle groups and reconnaissance aircraft like Cobra Ball."
"The president and the National Reconnaissance Office happen to agree with your way of thinking. The air force is going to launch two Orion SIGINT spacecraft into geosynchronous orbit — one over the Eastern Pacific and one over the Western Pacific."
Hartwell looked at his briefing notes. "After the satellites are safely parked, they will monitor communications from the Sea of Okhotsk, Japan, North Korea, China, Indonesia, the west coast of Canada, the U.S., Mexico, and the western fringes of Central America. They will operate in harmony with our other spacecraft to provide continuous eavesdropping over most of the Pacific Ocean."
Hartwell folded his notes. "Scott, I've arranged for you and Jackie to have access to the FBI, CIA, NRO, and NSA. If there is anything you need, including military assets, they will be at your disposal."
Prost handed each of them a piece of paper. "These are the names and private telephone numbers of the contacts at the various agencies."
Scott and Jackie immediately recognized the names of the directors of each of the government bureaus listed.
"If you have any problems, don't hesitate to contact me. The president wants answers, and as usual, he wants them yesterday. Whatever it takes, find out what we're up against."
"Yes, sir," Scott said.
Zachary tapped on the door and hurried into the library. The perpetual smile was missing.
"Mr. Prost, Secretary Adair is on your secure line."
"Thank you."
Hartwell rose and walked to the desk phone as Zachary left the room and closed the door. Jackie and Scott sat quietly while Prost took the call. He mostly listened, then swore softly as he placed the receiver down and turned to his visitors.
"The air force lost a B-2 near Guam. According to the crew of a KC-10 tanker, the bomber was maneuvering into position to refuel when a bright, bluish-white object flashed into view and circled the planes. According to the boom operator, fifteen to twenty seconds later he saw a bright flash and the Spirit of Mississippi blew up, completely disintegrated in a huge fireball. The tanker pilots said the object streaked out of sight in a matter of seconds."
"Does the press know about this?" Jackie asked with some alarm.
"Not yet, as far as we can tell, but they'll know very shortly. It's hard to hide the loss of a two-and-a-half-billion-dollar stealth bomber, especially when foreign intelligence teams keep track of the whereabouts of each one of our B-2s. Later this evening, the Air Combat Command at Langley is going to confirm that a B-2 was lost during a show-of-force training mission to Guam."
Prost cast his gaze at the floor. "According to SecDef, why it went down is going to be left to official investigators. The tanker crew, which has been confined to their quarters at Andersen, has been ordered not to say anything about the crash to anyone."
Hartwell's voice was barely audible. "We have to resolve this crisis before we have a worldwide panic envelop us."
Scott remembered Cliff Earlywine's tape and reached into his jacket pocket. "Sir, sorry to interrupt, but this is the tape I was telling you about."
"Yes," Hartwell said as he eagerly reached for the miniature tape. "Yes, indeed."
"Sir, I'd appreciate it if we could keep Mr. Earlywine, the reporter who made the tape, out of the loop for his sake."
"As far as anyone is concerned, I received it in the mail — anonymously."
"Thank you, sir."
Hartwell rose from his chair.
Jackie and Scott followed his lead.
"We'll be in touch soon," Scott said.
He and Jackie shook hands with Prost and walked toward the door.
"Be careful."
"Yes, sir," Scott said. He reached for the door handle and then hesitated. "By the way, sir, I do have one special request."
Chapter 7
After leaving Prost's estate, Scott skillfully negotiated the heavy traffic on Interstate 95 as they drove south toward Washington, D. C. Glancing at a line of dark thunderstorms, he was anxious to get his glossy red Ferrari back in his garage in Georgetown. An uncommon car, Scott's GTB Spider had made its first public appearance in the original movie version of The Thomas Crown Affair.
With two phone calls, one of which was to President Macklin, Hartwell Prost had set in motion the ingredients to fulfill Scott's special request. It was the foundation for a daring plan to solve the mystery behind the series of deadly crashes.
Scott couldn't wait to return to the Marine Corps Air Station at Cherry Point, North Carolina. Cheerless Point, as it was referred to by many of those individuals stationed there, was the home of VMAT-203, the AV-8B Harrier readiness-transition training squadron. The U.S. Marine Corps had been instructed to requalify former Capt. Scott Dalton in their two-seat TAV-8B Harrier trainers.
Pleasantly surprised by Dalton's bold initiative, the president and Prost endorsed the scheme and imposed two conditions. Only a small coterie of people would know about the operation, and if anything happened to Scott and Jackie, they would be remembered as having disappeared while conducting personal business in South America. To authenticate the cover story for the White House, the Agency would leave a trail leading from Scott and Jackie's home to Venezuela.
As always, regardless of the type of operation, Jackie and Scott would go in sterile. No form of identification or identifying jewelry or clothing. In addition, all articles of clothing and footwear had to be free of identifiable tags or logos. As far as the White House and U.S. government were concerned, Dalton and Sullivan were aviation consultants.
While Scott was requalifying in the TAV-8B, Jackie would be receiving a thorough indoctrination to prepare her to fly in the back-seat of the unique attack aircraft. Also known as the Jump Jet, the Harrier is designed to land and take off vertically like a conventional helicopter, then fly at speeds in excess of six hundred miles per hour.
"I'm having a problem with your plan," Jackie said.
"Would that be the expendable part of the operation?"
"Lucky guess."
"That's why we get anything we want, any support we need, plus a huge infusion to our retirement portfolios."
"If we pull this off without being incinerated."
"We're going to be just fine, trust me."
"Let's see, where have I heard that expression before? Oh, yes, our last operation — when we were involved in two helicopter crashes and an aircraft ditching, in the space of one week."
"Hey, everyone has things go sour now and then."
"Sour? That's your definition of an ongoing disaster?" Scott braced for the inevitable backlash.
"Why didn't you discuss this harebrained idea with me before announcing your plan to Hartwell?"
"It just came to me as we were about to leave."
"Oh, no, no, n000. That didn't just fly out extemporaneously. You had thought it through and decided not to discuss it with me. Why?"
"That's not true."
"I've been laboring under the illusion that we're a team."
"We are a team — a good one. I had thought about the idea, but it didn't really gel until Todd Justice told us he thought his flight leader could have been struck by a laser."