"They're probably glad to get rid of Austin." Palmer chuckled, thinking about Brad's attack at Phuc Yen.
Austin gave Nick a cold, do not say anything else look.
"At any rate," Stanfield said, "this project, which is apparently centered around getting the MiG information out to fleet pilots ASAP, originated in the White House."
"What about our fictitious identities?" Brad asked. "When, where, and why are we going to need them? I know we are dealing with the CIA, but are we going to be taken prisoner by our own military?"
Stanfield glanced down at his flight boots, then back to Austin, and sighed. "Hollis assured me that we would understand… at the appropriate time."
That ended the conversation and left them as perplexed and uncertain about the future as before.
Brad had made reservations for Leigh Ann at the Hotel del Coronado on the peninsula across the bay from San Diego. He wondered about the wisdom of having her here under these circumstances, and with Allison in the picture.
When the C-1A began its descent, Palmer gave Austin a curious look. "Brad, why do you suppose Allison has been so friendly to us?"
"Probably because you charmed the hell out of her," Brad answered without cracking a smile.
"No, really."
Austin contemplated the question. "It was her first day in town, and we turned out to be nice guys. She doesn't seem concerned that we aren't in her social or economic stratum."
Palmer remained quiet until the landing gear was lowered. "You know, I think Allison has the hots for you."
"That's not going to be on the program," Brad replied, giving Palmer the safe sign like a baseball umpire. "Allison is your type, not mine."
The Trader touched down with a bark from the tires and turned off the runway at midfield. The pilots taxied to the hangar, then shut down one engine while the passengers exited the aircraft. After Spencer greeted the foursome and led them to the hangar's light trap, the CIA pilots started the engine and rolled toward the runway. They would return to Miramar before sunrise.
When the group of men entered the brightly illuminated hangar, they stopped and stared at the dazzling silver plane. Stanfield, who had seen the MiG before it had been completely assembled, took the lead.
"Go on, look it over," he encouraged, "because I'm going to be flying it in less than two hours."
The first rays of daylight were beginning to dim the stars when Grady Stanfield climbed into the cockpit of the MiG-17. Since the barren airfield was not equipped with landing lights, Grady would slowly taxi up and down the strip until the sun crept above the mountains.
Having previously spent several hours sitting in the MiG, Stanfield was familiar with every switch, control knob, and gauge in the fighter. He settled into the cramped ejection seat, connected his restraints, then double-checked the fasteners.
The armament crew was having difficulty fitting the American cannons into the MiG, so they had temporarily replaced the original guns with lead ballast. Stanfield had the men check the security of the lead retainers while he donned his helmet. Spencer and Hank Murray climbed the short ladders on each side of the cockpit to offer last-minute advice to the pilot.
Clutching a cup of steaming-hot tea, Brad stood next to Nick and a small group of technicians who had assembled the airplane. Lex Blackwell walked out of the flight-gear equipment room and leisurely strolled out to the F-8 Crusader parked next to the MiG-17.
"It seems incongruous," Brad mentioned to Palmer, "to see the two fighters on the same ramp."
"You're right," Nick replied while he compared the two airplanes. "I was trying to envision a Fox-4 sitting on the tarmac at Kep, or Phuc Yen."
While Blackwell preflighted the chase plane, Spencer and Murray climbed down from the edge of the MiG's cockpit. They stepped away from the fighter while Stanfield started the afterburning Klimov turbojet. After the engine had stabilized at idle, the makeshift power cart was unplugged and towed to the edge of the ramp.
Brad and Nick followed Spencer and Murray to an aircraft radio that was mounted in the hangar. The landing strip did not have a control tower. A speaker on the wall allowed everyone to hear the conversations between Stanfield, Blackwell, and the project officer.
Grady added power and the stubby-looking fighter moved straight ahead, then shifted from one course of direction to another. A moment later the MiG came to an abrupt halt as Stanfield's laughter reverberated from the speaker.
"This is like stuffing a marshmallow into a piggy bank."
The American fighter planes had hydraulically operated control systems, while the MiG-17 had pneumatically actuated controls for taxiing. The Communist pilots had to continuously thumb a switch to activate the compressed air to maneuver on the ground.
Spencer raised his microphone. "You look like you need a sobriety test."
"I think," Grady responded while he nudged the power up, "the hardest part of flying this sled… will be keeping it going straight until we reach the speed to rotate."
Brad and Nick laughed quietly to themselves, prompting a remark from Hank Murray.
"I wouldn't laugh too hard." He curled his lip. "We'll be watching you soon."
Palmer caught Brad's eye as Murray walked out to the ramp. "I wonder if the captain is always that pleasant, or if this is just one of his happier days."
"Don't worry about him," Brad responded, watching the paunchy engineer. "We've got our jobs to do, and that doesn't include placating him."
Stanfield made a number of high-speed taxi runs while the sun peeked above the distant mountains. The day promised to be clear and warm.
Blackwell followed a jeep to the runway, then taxied to the end and swung into position for takeoff. Returning from the opposite end of the strip, Grady brought the MiG to a stop on the right side of the Crusader. He and Lex talked with Spencer while the jeep driver and his observer drove the length of the runway. They stopped twice to allow the spotter to pick up debris that might be sucked into the inlets of the jet engines.
When the jeep cleared the runway, Grady keyed his mike. "You ready, Lex?"
"On the roll," Blackwell replied at the same moment he released the brakes and shoved the throttle forward.
The F-8 leaped ahead, then rapidly accelerated when Blackwell selected afterburner. The Crusader's Pratt & Whitney turbojet left a trail of white-hot flames as the sleek fighter blasted down the field. Lifting off the runway, Lex snapped the landing gear up and pulled the aircraft into a steep, climbing turn.
Stanfield taxied into position, said a silent prayer, then eased forward on the MiG's throttle and selected afterburner. He frantically thumbed the steering valve until he was going fast enough to use the rudder pedals. Once enough air flowed past the vertical stabilizer, Grady could control the MiG without the awkward switch.
Holding his breath, Stanfield eased back on the control stick. The nose rose slightly, but the aircraft was not ready to fly. Feeling a moment of indecision, Grady thought about aborting the takeoff. He darted a look at the engine instruments and pulled the stick into his lap.
The MiG vibrated before it lifted from the runway. He waited until the airspeed exceeded 140 knots before deselecting the afterburner. As per agreement with Spencer, Grady left the landing gear down for the duration of the test flight.
Brad watched the chase plane smoothly rendezvous with the MiG as Stanfield banked to circle the field. The first flight was designed to check all the controls and switches, except the landing gear. Stanfield wanted to remain over the field at an altitude high enough to make the runway if he had a flameout.