Meng was somewhat surprised that his mind could still function on
the task at hand while his emotions tore at him. His son was dead— the son he had never told the Americans about when he'd come to them in Hong Kong twenty-three years ago. If he had told the intelligence officer that he had family back in China, they would never have accepted him. He would have been sent back. This lie was the foundation upon which Meng's freedom and career had been built.
Even having the picture on his desk had been risky. He'd always been afraid that someone would ask who they were and he would have had to lie. It seemed such a trivial thing now that they were both dead. He would no longer have to lie.
Riley was working on the tactical plan for the actual assault when Hossey entered the isolation area and signaled to both Mitchell and him.
"I've got the staff officer from the aviation unit that will be flying the exfil birds. He's in the operations center, and I don't want to bring him in here because he has no need to know your mission. He's got what he needs to answer your questions."
Hossey led the way to the op center, where an army captain wearing a flight suit and a green beret was waiting. Riley was immediately annoyed. The least the idiot could have done was to wear a nondis-tinctive uniform, Riley thought. Between the Talon being rolled into a hangar on post and this guy showing up, any North Korean spies— who were surely watching the air base — were probably curious about what was happening. Security and espionage were two very serious subjects between the two Koreas.
Hossey didn't bother with introductions. There was no need for the pilot to know who they were. Riley could see the velcro on the man's flight suit where he had removed his patches. Despite that, Riley had no doubt that the man was from the 1st Special Forces Group aviation detachment — the yellow flash on his beret signaled that. God save me from pilots who think they're hot stuff, Riley thought. Even though this pilot isn't Special Forces qualified, he gets to wear the Green Beret because he is assigned to a Special Forces group. A Green Beret aviator must be the ultimate in cool at the o club bar, Riley mused bitterly.
Rambo and Top Gun combined. But this wasn't an o club bar, and it was obvious that the aviator didn't know the first thing about mission security.
"Afternoon, gentlemen. The colonel tells me you have some questions about the mission my men are supposed to fly for you."
Mitchell let Riley take the lead. "Sir, I don't have a warm fuzzy feeling about this exfiltration. Can you tell us who the pilots are going to be?"
"We're going to be using four of my own. Men with extensive flying experience. Both primary pilots have more than a thousand hours of blade time in the Blackhawk."
"Are we going to be able to meet with them for coordination prior to infiltration?" Riley asked.
"I'm afraid not. The aircraft are already in place at the forward launch site at Misawa Air Force Base in Japan. If you need to give them any information, I'll relay it. You've got the frequencies, call signs, and recognition signals. We've got your pickup zones, both primary and alternate. What more do you need?"
"Well," Mitchell intervened, "we haven't had much luck with helicopters. We'd just feel a little more comfortable if we could talk to the pilots."
"What's the problem? Maybe I can answer it for you."
Mitchell pointed at the chart in the man's hand. "The first question we have is that from Misawa to the target area and back is a little long for a UH-60 to be flying. I know you all have thought of that, but we'd like to know what the plan is."
The captain unrolled his chart and laid it on the table. The four of them gathered around it. "The operational range of the UH-60 is two hundred and sixty nautical miles on internal fuel. We're going to put four external tanks on the outside of the birds on pylons above the cargo bay. These will increase the range to a total of one thousand and ninety nautical miles. A straight shot from Misawa to your pickup zone is eight hundred and fifty-one nautical miles. As you've noted, the aircraft aren't going to be able to do the round-trip without refueling.
"Additionally, they're not going to be flying straight in and out. We've planned a low-level route over land, avoiding the known radar, that we figure will add around fifty to a hundred miles each way. To accommodate that, on the way in they'll refuel off the U.S. Navy frigate Rathburne, which will be located here at checkpoint 2, in international waters in the Sea of Japan. Topping off there will give them enough fuel to make the trip from the Rathburne to your pickup zone and back. On the return trip they'll refuel again on the Rathburne and fly you back here to Osan. We're also ready to fly on a twenty-four-hour weather delay if the primary exfil day doesn't go."
The captain rubbed his chin. "The only tricky part is going to be the weight. With four full external tanks, a Blackhawk can't lift any cargo. We figure that the aircraft will have burned enough weight in fuel by the time they get to your pickup zone to just be able to put six men with no equipment aboard each bird. Even then it's going to be real close to the weight limits."
Riley interrupted him. "What if only one bird makes it? Are you telling me I'm going to have to leave half my team behind?"
"That's the way it is, Sergeant. With that much fuel the helicopter can lift only so much weight. You could fit all twelve of your people on board with no problem, but the bird wouldn't lift. It's a trade-off we've had to make."
Captain Mitchell and Riley were not at all happy. Mitchell stood up. "What you're telling me is that there's no backup. How many aircraft do you have over at Misawa?"
"Just the two."
Captain Mitchell wasn't satisfied. He knew from his wife's stories that helicopters were terribly prone to being down for maintenance. "What if one breaks down? There's no latitude here for any problems."
"That's not my decision." The captain didn't seem too concerned. "We've got only the two anyway. There are no more." The aviator smiled at them. "What's the big deal? We haven't even gotten the offset mission yet. Maybe the training area will be closer and we won't have to put on so much fuel; then we'll be able to put all twelve of you on one bird."
Hossey jumped in with both feet before Riley or Mitchell could. "Captain, you have a problem, and that problem is your attitude. As far as I know this mission is real, and your men will be flying to that pickup zone in China. If you're thinking this is a game, you've got your head up your ass, and you'd better pull it out."
The captain quickly realized he had made a mistake. "Yes, sir. I want to assure you that both birds are up now and I can damn near guarantee that they'll be up for this mission. They were test flown last night and both worked fine. We're not going to crank them again until it's time to go."
Mitchell wasn't buying it. "Why can't you get other army or air force helicopters to back you up?"
"Like I said, both birds will lift. Based on the enemy threat, we feel we can't get more than two birds into the airspace anyway. Putting more aircraft on the mission will just increase the chances of being detected."
Hossey decided to intervene. "All right. I'll contact the SFOB at Meade and ask for helicopter backup, but I doubt that we'll get it at this late notice." He turned to the aviator. "I hope you tell your men to take this seriously. Until we find out different, this whole mission is to be treated like the real thing."