27
Jake and Alexandra had met with the Taiwanese intelligence officer, Lin, at the Saigon International Airport private charter area. The two women had nearly come to blows again, and Jake wondered if they would ever trust each other after Lin and her people had shot at them, forcing them to jump into that Singapore river, and then the fight between ladies later. The more troubling encounters, though, included the shootings in Bangkok and Cambodia. But Jake had acted as the peace maker, separating them at the tarmac before they all got onto the Gulfstream jet. Sometimes it might be fun to watch a chick fight, but Jake knew that both women could be quite dangerous. So the outcome could have led to broken teeth and cracked ribs at a minimum. Nobody wanted that.
Now, cruising at 35,000 feet above the South China Sea, Jake was finally relaxed to the point of dozing off. He was nearly as sedate as he had been since his departure from the fishing excursion in Costa Rica.
He opened his eyes and noticed Alexandra sleeping across from him in her plush leather seat.
Lin, on the other hand, was wide awake. She had just come from the cockpit carrying a headset, which she plugged into the console of her own seat and then sat down. Her expression was one of concern. She pulled down the mic and spoke into it.
Jake pulled out his cell phone and remarkably had a couple of bars. They must have been traveling close to land. He looked out the window and saw only water. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
Now Lin swiveled her chair and looked out her window. Her expression seemed more concerned when she turned and continued to talk into the mic.
Getting up from his chair, Jake wandered over to Lin and sat across from her. He glanced out the window and saw what she had obviously observed. It was a Russian-made Su-27 Flanker B jet fighter. But the markings were that of the People’s Liberation Army Air Force from the People’s Republic of China. Which made the aircraft a Chinese-built Shenyang J-11. Same plane, different missiles.
“What’s going on?” Jake whispered to Lin.
She nodded her head toward the aircraft. “Chinese aircraft says we are flying in restricted airspace.”
Jake looked out the window again and still saw nothing but water. “Isn’t this international waters?”
“Yes. There are some small islands that are claimed by both China and the Philippines. But we are clearly not over those islands. This is bullshit.”
He almost laughed when she said that last word. Then he watched as she spoke Chinese into her mic. Next, she pulled out her cell phone and started typing in a long sequence of numbers. She waited for a moment, clicked off the mic, and talked into her phone as she looked out the window again.
The Flanker was doing just that, flanking them, sticking to them like an extra appendage. Looking closely, Jake could see that the aircraft had fully-armed air-to-air missiles on wing pylons. He also knew that the jet had a 30mm single barrel cannon with at least 150 rounds, any one of which could knock them out of the sky. Not a healthy prospect, considering the Gulfstream couldn’t outrun or outmaneuver a Mach two-plus fighter jet. They were sitting ducks.
Lin looked extremely disturbed with whomever she was talking with on the cell phone. She got off the phone and simply shook her head.
“What’s up?” Jake asked her.
“My people can’t help,” she said with no resolve.
“Why not?”
She hesitated, perhaps trying her best to translate from Chinese to English. “They can’t inflame the situation.”
Jake pulled out his phone and called Kurt Jenkins, who could barely hear him through a bad connection. Despite the communications problem, Jake was able to explain his situation. He knew that there had to be something the American government could do, if they wanted to, but that would take time. And he didn’t think they had time. Jenkins said he would do what he could, but he wasn’t making any promises. Now Jake must have looked as frustrated as Lin.
The Taiwanese officer clicked on her mic again and spoke quickly into it.
Jake looked out the window and saw that the Chinese aircraft was gone. “Did it take off?” he asked Lin.
She shook her head vehemently. “No. It’s behind us.”
He thought quickly about his days in Air Force intelligence. What did he know about this aircraft or air operations? Most of his information was old.
“Go into a full dive,” Jake finally said. Then he strapped himself in with the seatbelt and looked over to make sure Alexandra was also belted. She was.
“What? Why?” Lin also put on her seat belt.
“Just do it.”
Lin relayed what Jake told her to the pilot. Whatever she said or how she said it, the pilot did what she said. The Gulfstream went into a steep dive toward the ocean.
Jake looked nervously toward Lin. “He knows not to actually crash, right?”
She nodded and hung onto the sides of her chair.
Alexandra woke up suddenly, looking around for what was going on. “What the hell,” she yelled at Jake.
He quickly told her the situation.
“Great,” Alexandra said. “And it was your idea to crash us?”
“Not exactly.”
Now all kinds of buzzers and alarms were going off in the cockpit. Oxygen masks popped out from the overhead. Jake looked out the window and knew they wouldn’t need oxygen if the pilot didn’t pull up soon.
Lin continued to speak into the headset mic. Then, unexpectedly, she took off the headset and handed it to Jake.
He was confused.
“Put it on,” she said, just as the Gulfstream went from a full dive into damn near a full climb.
Jake put on the headset and listened.
“Is this Mister Adams?” a man asked in the headset. It sounded like a southern accent.
“Yeah. Who’s this?”
“Lieutenant Commander.” Pause. “Just call me Warhawk Two. From VFA-97.”
Jake thought about his knowledge of the Navy and realized this was an F/A-18E Super Hornet pilot out of Lemoore, California. He had heard that the aircraft carrier USS Ronald Reagan (CVN-76) had been deployed off the coast of Taiwan following the escalation by the Chinese.
“Warhawk Two,” Jake said into the mic. “Any way you can get this Chinese Flanker off our ass?”
“Roger that.”
By now they had gained altitude and were heading toward normal cruising. Jake looked out the window and saw the Chinese aircraft off to the left side. Then, suddenly, a salvo of tracer rounds flew past them.
The Flanker shook and banked hard left. Warhawk Two zipped by them like a bat out of hell and then also banked hard left and picked up the Flanker.
“What’s going on?” Alexandra said, getting out of her chair and rushing to peer out the window behind Jake.
“We’re getting to watch one of our Navy Super Hornets take on a Chinese fighter jet,” Jake said. “It’s fucking amazing.”
The two aircraft were in a steep dive, the Hornet right on the tail of the Chinese aircraft. Then they banked hard left and went out of view. Jake took off the headset and hurried to the right side of the Gulfstream. Then, without warning, he saw a second Super Hornet on their right side cruise up slowly. Jake went back to get the headset and then sat back into his original chair and plugged into the console.
This time the voice was a woman’s. “Adams?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jake answered.
“This is Wrangler,” she said. “I’ll be escorting you toward Taiwan, along with Warhawk Two, once he gets done draining the Flanker of fuel.” She had a moment of unprofessionalism as a slight giggle escaped.
“Thank you, Wrangler,” Jake said.
“Just like the Navy bailing out the Air Force,” the pilot added.
Someone, probably Jenkins, had given the Navy pilots one small item of a personal nature on Jake. Every military member was much more likely to come to the aid of a fellow brother or sister in arms.