Lawrence A. Colby
The Devil Dragon Pilot
"The eagle that chases two rabbits catches neither."
List of Characters
John Abbott — CEO of Corning, Incorporated, Corning, New York
Reggie Bryant — CEO of Gulfstream Aerospace Corporation, Savannah, Georgia
Calvin Burns — Principal Deputy Director, Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA), Washington
He Chen — Lieutenant General, People's Liberation Army Air Force
Jason Cohen — Executive Assistant to Deputy Director Calvin Burns, DIA
James Collins — Special Agent, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Washington Field Office
Vic Damone — Supervisory Special Agent, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Assistant Legal Attaché, U.S. Embassy, Beijing, China
Robert Dooley — Intelligence Officer, Defense Intelligence Agency, Washington
Bai Keung — First Lieutenant, People's Liberation Army Air Force, Aide-de-Camp
Daniel Kisendahle — Secretary of Defense, Pentagon, Washington, DC
Wu Lee — Pilot, Captain, People’s Liberation Air Force, China
Emily Livingston — Economist, International Monetary Fund; UK citizen
Matthew McDevitt — Admiral, U.S. Navy, U.S. Pacific Command, Combatant Commander
Lance Monterey — U.S. Consulate Officer, U.S. State Department, China
Liu Nie — Captain, Co-Pilot, People’s Liberation Army Air Force, China
Gabe Peoples — Captain, U.S. Navy, Commanding Officer, SEAL Team Eight
Tiffany Pinkerton — Captain, U.S. Air Force, B-1B Lancer Co-pilot, Ellsworth AFB
Jeff Reid — Lieutenant Colonel, U. S. Air Force, Watch Officer, Buckley AFB, Colorado
Chris Sans — DIA Employee, Overseas Assignment
Mark Savona — China Aircraft Analyst, Defense Intelligence Agency, Washington
Chad Stevens — Vice-President and Engineer, Shell Oil Corporation; father of Ford Stevens
Ford Stevens — Captain, U.S. Air Force, B-1B Lancer pilot, Ellsworth AFB
Chuck Waters — Captain, U.S. Navy, Commanding Officer, USS Abraham Lincoln
Prologue
Air Force Chief Master Sergeant Tommy Connolly of South Boston, Massachusetts, a Southie, was on his day shift at the Buckley Air Force Base Operations Center in Colorado, eating a turkey on wheat. Listening to electronic dance music through his Beats earbuds hidden under his much larger headset, he had his ears on his music, and his eyes on the flat panel screens. Connolly was supposed to be paying attention to his array of widescreen flat panel monitors on his console, but instead, he was waiting for his favorite song to start. He was a member of a U.S. Air Force Operations Watch Team that monitored the earth for intercontinental and submarine missile launches using space satellites. As he searched inside his lunch bag for dessert, a white flash rapidly appeared on his screen out of the corner of his eye. Connolly quickly ripped the earbuds out and slipped his black-colored Bose headset back on his ears.
Connolly turned his head for a moment and took a swig from his soda can, took a long, solid stare at the screen, then went back to eating his lunch. The flashes came again, lasting about two seconds in length, then disappeared. What the hell is this? That’s unusual, he thought. No other indications were present. Not a missile warning, missile track, airspeed data, or any of the usual flight data that was frequently displayed by a somewhat routine missile launch.
A few more seconds went by, and the flashes appeared on the screen a third time. This time, it lasted about five seconds in length, then died off again. “Well, ain’t dis a wicked pissah…,” Connolly said out loud, questioning the billions spent on the complex heat detection system.
He leaned forward in his seat, adjusted himself to get comfortable, and moved the drink off to the left. With his right hand, he worked the mouse, scrolling in and out of a variety of settings on the satellite software. Connolly then wiped the moisture from his palm and onto his flight suit pant leg.
Connolly again saw the robust and lengthy white flashes this time, and at first, thought all the flashes might be software errors since last night’s update. Looking at an overlaid map image of central China northbound to Mongolia over a satellite feed, he leaned forward yet again towards the screens. He sat on the edge of his black wheeled, cushioned seat, staring intently at the displays.
“Whe-rah-ya, missile?” he said out loud to no one.
A few seconds more, he bit his lip, and waited patiently while staring at the map. Nothing happened. He thought perhaps the light show of flashes had ended because all was calm. “God damn software must have corrected itself.” Still no movement on the screen, so he again went back to finishing his lunch.
Before Connolly knew it, the bedazzling light display started, and it didn’t stop. His screen suddenly filled with flashing warnings and rapidly filled with all sorts of indications of an airborne Chinese missile. Data such as airspeed, magnetic direction, color codes, heat temperatures and depicted routes of flight were filling the screens. One screen even displayed weather in the vicinity, such as air and ground temperatures, dew point, cloud cover, wind direction, and atmospheric pressure. His screens were alive and signaling that something was amiss in China.
“CONTACT!” he yelled.
His headset and microphone, connected to the Operations Center floor communications, came buzzing with loud, pulsed audio tones and alarms. No question now, as the first flashes he saw were most certainly not an error, and whatever he was looking at was making its presence known. At this point, the unidentified target was being automatically tracked by the sophisticated, complex, and expensive software.
“Connolly’s here’s, sir. We gotta frickin’ wicked flash. We got contact,” he calmly, but loudly, announced over the intercom. “She’s already flying. Tracking target.”
The massive, two story Satellite Operations Center facility at Buckley AFB, home of the 460th Space Wing, operated the nation’s Space-Based Infrared System, known as SBIRS, as well as its older brother, the Defense Support Program, known as DSP. These families of satellites were America’s early warning satellite systems that could detect missile, spacecraft, large earth-based fires and nuclear explosions, using sensors from space that could detect infrared emissions nearly anywhere on earth. Chris Connolly was part of a much larger team of U.S. Air Force and Air Force Reserve personnel that monitored the world, relaying the raw information to the 16 intelligence community agencies, Missile Defense Agency, Combatant Commanders, and Pentagon, as well as the White House.
“What do you have, Sox?” asked the floor supervisor, Lt Col Jeff Reid, of the 2nd Space Warning Squadron, using Chief Connolly’s nickname derived from his love of his Boston Red Sox baseball team. Wearing an olive-colored flight suit full of Velcro patches and zippered pockets, Jeff Reid sat in a leather chair at the center of the room elevated a bit higher than the rest of the men and women monitoring the world’s launches. At a glance, it could be confused for Captain Kirk’s chair on the bridge of Star Trek’s Enterprise. The room, about the size and height of a high school gymnasium, was dimly lit and cool with air conditioning to keep all the information technology equipment from overheating. From Reid’s position on the Floor, he was also able to see each of the individual watch stander’s monitors from a large set of wall screens in the front of the room.