"Find someplace to land. We've got to get them in." Mitchell watched tracers make a pattern around Riley and Chong and pass by the helicopter.
"We can't. There's no time. Pull them in!" Lassiter responded.
Mitchell was astonished. "How the hell are we going to pull them in? I've got only two healthy bodies back here!"
Long turned to Lassiter. "I'll take the controls. Go back and help them."
Lassiter unbuckled and climbed over the seat, back to where Hoffman and Comsky were struggling with the left rope, pulling it up inch by inch.
Chong felt his rope jerk. He looked up and saw someone hanging over the edge of the deck, signaling him to separate from Riley. He tapped Riley and pointed up. Riley let go.
Long glanced to her right and saw the Chinese helicopters closing rapidly. She was flying at only seventy knots with the two men dangling below. She also had to stay 150 feet above ground level to keep from slamming the men into the earth. She looked around, trying to think of something to do.
Baibang was running out of airspace. He now had the intruder on his screen heading east. Two Z-9s were closing rapidly on it from the east. He ordered the third Z-9 to also start an intercept vector to the north. As he finished giving that order, his radio crackled again.
"This is Tiger Flight leader. I've got the intruder on tracking radar. Preparing to fire."
"Those fast movers are on top of our bird. We need to do something now."
The young operator who had been tracking the action looked up at Colonel Ehrlich. "I can do something, sir. Give me a few seconds."
At an altitude of a thousand meters, the J-7's tracking radar easily picked up 579. The lead pilot armed a pair of missiles — Chinese copies of the Russian AA-2 Atoll. His hand paused over the guidance switch. The AA-2 missile under his left wing was guided by a built-in infrared heat seeker. The one under the right wing was guided by radar homing using the plane's radar.
The pilot chose the left missile. Since his target was so slow moving, he'd pass by too quickly to keep his tracking radar on it. He got on the radio and ordered his wingman to do the same.
Only one thing to do, Jean Long decided. She banked left, straight toward the onrushing helicopters. By doing this, she reduced both the amount of time they would have to fire and the Blackhawk's silhouette.
The pilot of the lead J-7 yelled over his radio, "Fire." Two Atoll missiles leapt forward, one from each aircraft.
The 579 was moving at 70 knots, the two Z-9s at 125 knots. The Blackhawk closed the five-hundred-meter gap between them in three seconds. The Z-9 pilots had not anticipated this maneuver and were able to fire only a quick, poorly aimed burst from their miniguns before the Blackhawk shot past them. The Z-9 pilots stared in amazement at the two men suspended below the aircraft.
The Atolls made up their electronic minds immediately after leaving the wings of the J-7s. They went for the hottest targets available.
"Jesus Christ!" Chong closed his eyes as the two helicopters approached and roared by. He was dangling only ten feet from the edge of the deck. The night sky lit up and the force of the two explosions buffeted his body and the Blackhawk.
"Tiger Flight leader. This is Yanji Control. You just shot down two of ours! The intruder is still moving southeast."
The Tiger Flight leader swore. So much for infrared. This was his first time in combat and his first time firing live missiles. He wouldn't make that mistake again. He didn't have a choice now anyway. As the J-7s completed a sweeping turn and started their second run, Tiger Flight leader called his wingman. "Fire your second missile on radar guidance. Launch five kilometers out and slow to just above stall speed to keep your radar tracking."
His wingman acknowledged.
Ehrlich stared over the operator's shoulder at the image of the J-7s closing again on the 579. He didn't know what had just happened, but there were two fewer Chinese helicopters and 579 was still flying. He didn't think the Blackhawk could survive another encounter with the fast movers. "Whatever you're doing, we need it now," he said to the radar operator.
"Just another second, sir." She was furiously working her computer keyboard.
"Now!" Tiger Flight leader ordered.
His wingman's thumb closed on the firing switch in concert with his. Two more Atoll missiles were launched.
Chong was pulled into the cargo compartment. Staring out, they could all see the burst of flame and the twin streaks of light, as two missiles came screaming toward them.
The AWACS radar operator punched the "Enter" button on her keyboard. "That should do it."
Mitchell and the rest of the men in the cargo compartment watched mesmerized as the two missiles closed rapidly. Then, suddenly, they both veered off. One flew almost straight up into the night sky. The other turned down and impacted with a roar into the ground. Chong turned to help the others begin pulling in Riley. He noticed, for the first time, that the right side of his uniform was covered with blood.
The Tiger Flight leader stared at his tracking screen in confusion. The clear image had dissolved into meaningless clutter.
"Yanji, this is Tiger Flight leader. We're switching to guns. Give us a vector back to the target. All our tracking radars are down. Over."
The flight leader reached over to his console and flipped the arming switch for the 30mm cannons mounted in the wing roots on either side of the plane. The other pilots did the same. Firing fifteen hundred rounds a minute, the cannons would make short work of the intruder.
"Roger, Tiger Flight leader. I'm going to loop you around to the west so you can come at the intruder from the rear. Turn right to heading one eight five zero mils."
Baibang grabbed his other handset. "Wolfpack Three, this is Yanji Control. Over."
The remaining Z-9 came on the net. "This is Wolfpack Three. Over." "Wolfpack Three. Turn on a heading of zero eight zero zero mils. The J-7s are going to do a gun run. I want you to head for where the intruder would cross the border, just in case. Over." "Roger. Heading of zero eight zero zero mils."
With Chong's help they had Riley halfway up. Chong could feel no pain or discomfort. Nor could he see any sign of a wound other than his blood-soaked uniform.
Jean knew they were running out of time. The border was five minutes away and the coast was twenty minutes farther. The fast movers were zero for two, but sooner or later they'd get their act together. She didn't have any tricks left. As soon as they got the last guy in, she'd drop down and try to outmaneuver them.
"Maintain one eight five zero mils. Over."
The Tiger Flight leader acknowledged Yanji Control.
"Jam the ground radar in Yanji, too," Ehrlich ordered.
They pulled in Riley, and Chong now knew where the blood had come from. "Jesus Christ. Look at him!" Chong grabbed Comsky and pointed. Riley's uniform was completely soaked with blood. As Chong unsnapped the team sergeant from his harness, Comsky immediately began searching for the wound.
It wasn't hard to find. Riley must have been hit just after they were picked up. Two rounds had punched small, neat holes in his lower right stomach. The trajectory of the rounds had carried them through his body and out his upper right back. The exit wounds were a mess of torn flesh and bone. Pulling bandages out of the aircraft's first-aid kit, Comsky worked desperately to stop the flow of blood.
Jean Long had 579 back down in the trees. The two jets flew by just above their stall speed at two hundred knots. She couldn't understand why they appeared to be searching for her visually. Why didn't they just use their radars?