The media outlets were offering a menu of breaking news stories every few minutes. The deadline from Beijing was rapidly approaching. Panicked by the impending disaster, and knowing what had happened in Hawaii and Alaska, millions of Americans were trying to get out of major cities and vacation centers like Honolulu.
Gridlock, worse than any seen before, had set in at U.S. airports, and the crowds were growing at a rate that was alarming. The scene was the same in cities in China. Millions of people were vacating their homes, businesses, and hotels to escape the looming nuclear exchange.
The hotels in Beijing, Shanghai, and many other cities were rapidly emptying. After all the years of the Cold War Era, and then the horrors of nuclear proliferation, the genie was finally out of the bottle and all bets were off.
When the E-4B lifted off from Andrews AFB and climbed into the blue sky, Cord Macklin looked out the window at the unbroken chains of automobiles and then turned to Prost. "The freeways are packed — worse than any rush hour I've ever seen."
"They'll be at a standstill before too long."
The secretary of state placed his phone receiver down and looked at the president. Brett Shannon's puffy eyes were red and sad. "Still no change, Mr. President."
"Keep trying."
Chapter 32
"Kilo Hotel," the Hawkeye systems operator said in a frantic voice, "break left — break left!"
Scott immediately snapped the jet into a port turn and pulled as many Gs as he felt the well-built airplane could stand.
The moonlight was so bright the Chinese pilots would be able to see the white Lear from quite a distance.
Straining to see behind him, Scott keyed the radio. "Who's on me?"
"You have two bandits on your tail — the Hornets are jumping them!"
"Tell 'em not to take any coffee breaks."
"Copy."
In knife-edge flight and bleeding off airspeed, Dalton unloaded the airplane in the same profile and went negative G for a few seconds, then again pulled hard into the turn. He was hoping the Chinese pilots might see the Learjet drift out of their sight and snap their fighters over when the corporate jet was going the opposite direction.
With his head twisted around, Scott finally saw the camouflaged bandits closing from his eight o'clock. The brilliant moonlight had become Scott's worst enemy. An air-to-air missile flashed close over the top of the Lear and corkscrewed toward the ground.
"The MiGs are on us!" Scott radioed as he looked out the window. He saw the twinkling flashes coming from a MiG-19's 23mm cannons.
Scott sharply pulled the nose up and did a displacement roll, then lowered the nose and proceeded to sideslip the airplane in a near ninety-degree bank. One of the MiG19s slashed past the Learjet so close that Scott and Jackie felt the fighter's wake turbulence.
Dalton neutralized the flight controls and then rolled into a steep. face-sagging 360-degree turn. "What do you have out your side?"
"We have a shooter coming in high from our five o'clock," she said, tightening her seat belt and shoulder straps. "Break right — break hard right!"
Suddenly, 23mm cannon fire ripped through the leading edge of the right wing. Seconds later, another missile shot past the nose of the Lear.
"That was close!" Scott snapped the airplane into knife-edge flight and pulled hard into the attacker. He could clearly see the pilot's helmet when he flashed overhead.
"Reverse!" Jackie said, seeing the MiG pull up in a steep climb. "Reverse and go for energy!"
"Who's flying this airplane?"
Using negative G-forces, he abruptly unloaded the plane, then snapped the Learjet over to the left and pulled into a steep, tight descending turn. Leveling off close to the ground, he began skidding, slipping, and yawing the jet right and left while constantly changing altitude and direction.
"One down and one to go," the Hornet flight leader radioed.
The Chinese wingman fired his last missile at the Learjet. It flew straight into the right engine and exploded with devastating results. Scott and Jackie felt the powerful impact and immediately reacted to the warnings in the cockpit. Jackie was going through the engine-out checklist when Scott caught sight of the F/A-18 Hornets. He saw the telltale wisp of smoke from the air-to-air missile the Hornet flight leader had fired.
"Come on, guys," Scott said, watching the missile track toward the closing F-8-II. The seconds seemed to last forever before the second Chinese fighter exploded in a spectacular fireball and plummeted into a valley, cartwheeling across a narrow dirt road.
"He nailed him — fantastic!" Dalton told the Hawkeye operator, and glanced at Jackie. Drained from visceral emotion and high G-forces, she was temporarily speechless.
"Kilo Hotel," the systems operator said in a calmer voice, "Hornet lead confirms your six is clear — turn on your lights."
"We're eternally grateful," Scott said as the jet's exterior lights highlighted the plane. "Would you be kind enough to ask the Hornet drivers for their drink orders?"
"Will do."
The Hornets coasted up on each side of the Learjet.
"Kilo Hotel, Dambuster One and his sidekick are dedicated tequila drinkers Jose Cuervo."
"Tell them they can each expect a case," Scott said, giving the flight leader a circled-thumb salute.
The Hornet pilot gave Scott a hearty thumbs-up and broke away with his wingman to fall in behind and above the Learjet. They would escort the damaged civilian plane to the carrier.
"Kilo Hotel," the Hawkeye systems operator said, "our team downed one of the other Gomers, but one got away."
"Good shooting. Thanks for everything."
"We do our best."
Jackie went back to the cabin to check the right engine and returned to the cockpit. "The engine is gone."
"Yeah, I know it."
"No, I mean it's gone — not on the airplane — blown completely off."
Scott shook his head in disbelief. "Bombardier Learjet, you folks definitely build a fine airplane."
They remained quiet, watching for the first sign of the East China Sea while their pulse rates slowly returned to normal. After they went feet-wet south of Songcheng, Scott was surprised at how rough the open water was. From his vantage point, the endless troughs and towering waves stretched as far as the eye could see in the moonlight. He studied the angry whitecaps. The foaming crests blew horizontally from the tops of the waves. Trying his best not to show his concern about the sea conditions, he turned to Jackie. "You've been awfully quiet."
"Yeah," she said, and raised an eyebrow. "I'll be a lot more talkative when we're on board the carrier — if we get there."
"Don't give up yet."
"I'm not giving up, you know that, but I am concerned about landing on the ship in these conditions."
"Boat."
"Okay, boat — whatever."
"Jackie," he said with the aplomb of a seasoned carrier pilot, "they've been conducting air operations tonight — it's an aircraft carrier."
She gave him one of her "serious" looks. "How many years has it been since you landed on a carrier — in a conventional aircraft, not in a Harrier."
"Hey, it's like riding a bicycle, like flying a plane."
"You're talking to another pilot — don't try to snow me."
"Relax," Scott said, looking at the churning ocean. "The worst is over."
"Sure it is." She concentrated on ranking the ten best restaurants she had experienced, followed by the ten best movies she had seen. It was a mind game she played when she wanted to distract her thoughts from what was sure to be a less than pleasant experience, but it wasn't working this time. Finally, the carrier seemed to levitate from the illusory, moonlit background. "I see it — straight ahead!"