"Ward. Don’t forget to pick up the Beaver," Beth replied from the kitchen.
At least someone got my jokes. I hoped Beth and I would be able to share jokes for many years to come. But all that depended on what might happen later today.
Back in the Pilot and on the road again, my mind was processing logistics. I had a pretty good idea of what I wanted to do. But I hadn’t studied WWII bombers as part of my Agency training. There were some variables to be dealt with.
At the airport, the crowd had thinned considerably. The show was over except for the bomber rides. There were a surprising number of people willing to pay $500 for a rough ride in a piece of outdated technology. But I suppose the nostalgia is a strong draw.
I grabbed my duffle bag from the passenger seat and strode through the entrance, which was no longer being monitored for interlopers. The show was over, after all.
I hunted down Gunner. His security people were still on station, though some had been repurposed to metal detection and checking IDs. He was leaning against the brick wall of the terminal building, observing the joyriding assemblage.
He saw me approaching.
"All quiet on the western front," he remarked.
"Glad to hear it."
"All passengers have checked in for the B24 flights. They only take eight sightseers up at a time. Unless we get some latecomers, which I doubt, the last flight should be about 6:30. I’ve saved you a seat."
"Thanks, Gunner. By the way, I need to bring this bag on board with me." I lifted the duffle in his direction. "And it won’t make it through a metal detector."
I gave him apologetic.
"Great! Can’t you ever do things the easy way? What’s in there… never mind. I don’t even want to know."
"Can you get me in? Bag and all?"
"I’ll arrange it somehow. Now if you don’t mind, I’ll continue my work."
"Thanks a million, Gunner!"
It was only 3:00. I had some time. I’d better eat and drink now. I wasn’t going to get a chance later.
The hot dogs were passable. The Diet Dew quenched my thirst. I also ate a soft, salty pretzel with cheese to fill in all the gastrointestinal cracks. After eating, I bought two more 24-ounce bottles of Dew and put one in each of my large front pockets.
Then I was off to the terminal to do some computer research on the B24. I wanted to see pictures, diagrams, operating specifications, whatever I could find.
Preparedness, you know. Godliness, you know.
To my disappointment, there were multiple configurations of the B24 interior. I couldn’t find a schematic for the exact plane sitting on the runway. By 5:00, I had learned all I was going to get from the computer. I went outside.
As I’d expected, the line for the B24 ride was still twelve or fifteen people long. The B17 had concluded its tourist duties, as had the B25. Both planes were maneuvering for a spot at the gas pump — 100 Octane, low lead. The crews would fill up the tanks and secure the planes before grabbing dinner. They’d no doubt depart the airport at 8:00 and 8:15, as per their flight plans.
I moved outside for some fresh air. A bench was available on the runway side of the terminal. I sat there, duffle in my lap, and watched the B24 load, taxi, takeoff, land and unload. Twice.
There were still six people left for the last ride of the day. Some of them must not have been in line when I counted. On the previous two flights, I had made note of the boarding procedures. Passengers were ushered into the large plane by climbing up a set of portable stairs and ducking through the rear hatchway.
Gunner came over and sat on the bench beside me.
"Okay. It’s all set. I’ve talked with the ride security folks and the crew. While the other passengers are being metal-detected, you and I and one of my deputies will walk to the back of the plane, and you’ll just hike right up the stairs like you’ve got a job to do. Then stuff the duffle somewhere so none of the passengers will get nosey. Got it?"
"Where do I go again?"
"Oh, shut up!"
The Al Qaeda tactical team had arrived at their final destination near the airport by 2:00 Sunday afternoon.
First, they laid out some traps, alerts and countermeasures, just in case someone should approach their position. It was unlikely that anyone could sneak up on them, especially with a guard posted. But this team was professional. They were prepared.
Next, they set up various electronics. Radar equipment. Sound gear. Several video vantage points — both optical and infrared. Two of the guerillas crawled even closer to the runway. Preferred shooting lanes were established. The airport layout was just like their African model. Al Qaeda intelligence had been flawless.
They had already changed out of their weedy camo suits and into more functional, operational attire. They placed weeds or leafy branches as needed to provide superior camouflage. Then two returned to the willowy grasses lining the main channel adjacent to the airport, leaving the third on watch. They re-checked their weapons and ammunition. Finally, they tested electronic communications. Everything worked as per its design.
Let the infidels try to stop them. They were ready. They were skilled. And they were lethal. But for now, they would wait and watch.
CHAPTER 47
When the B24 landed and discharged its eight passengers through the rear hatchway and down the portable stairs, the three of us headed for the back of the plane like we were supposed to be there. While Gunner and the other deputy appeared to check the hatch and adjust the steps, I trotted up and into the plane.
I found a stowage box and opened it. Empty. I placed my duffle carefully into the box and closed the lid. Perfect fit.
A crewman appeared at the top of the stairs. "All set?" he asked, tossing me a noise reduction headset. I gave him a thumbs up and stood as much out of the way as I could, given the confines of the plane.
As the other passengers filed aboard, the crewman handed out headsets to each of them and showed them their seating options — floor or bench, at various locations throughout the plane. Only the nimble chose to scramble through the crawlway, located between the bomb bays, to the front part of the fuselage. The rest of us sat in the back.
We each had an original equipment, khaki tan seatbelt for our laps. I found both ends of mine, latched them, and pulled the belt tight. The crewman helped others secure their belts.
Presently, the crewman gave us the same speech he had delivered to every group this afternoon. The history of the aircraft. Its significance to the Allied effort in winning WWII. He ended with some rules to be observed during the flight.
"You will remain seated during takeoff. When it is safe to move around, you will hear a horn. At that time, you may release your safety belts and move about the plane.
"You will note that there are openings in the sides of the plane where the machine guns stick out. There is also a gun turret in the rear, which you may enter. You may attempt to shoot the machine guns if you wish. They have been disabled.
"This craft has a top speed of nearly 300 knots. So please, do not stick your head, hands, feet or any body part you hold dear, outside of the airplane.
"When we are ready to descend for landing, you will hear another horn. At this time you must promptly retake your seats, fasten your safety belts and prepare for a crash landing. The landing gear haven’t been very reliable today, and if we need to ditch, we don’t want y’all to get injured."
He looked at me and winked. The rest of the passengers turned a little green.
"Okay. Please put on your headgear and we’ll be on our way."
That concluded the presentation.
Even through the headset, I could hear the B24's engines rev higher. Gradually, we started to move.