“Yes, sir?” Wu asked.
“I got my eye on you, Lee. Something isn’t right,” Chen said to him.
“What’s that, sir?” Wu asked. He could smell alcohol. Again.
“I don’t know. You have been acting strange lately. I am usually right,” Chen said, as he rubbed his chin. He then shook his head from side to side. “When you land, you come see me. I want to talk to you about this jet. We are at a crucial point in the flight test being complete and the politicals and Generals want a final flight test report. Weapons testing is next. You are to generate a final written report on the performance of this jet soon. Liu helps. I approve it. You understand?” Chen told him.
“Yes, sir. I will make myself available,” Wu told him, just to get him off his back.
“You go,” Chen said, waving his arm from the nose of the jet to the flight line, making a gesture of ‘get going’ with his hand. “LEE. I’m not taking my eyes off you.”
Wu turned around for the last time, knowing he would never see Lieutenant General He Chen again. He walked back towards the Devil Dragon in silence and without a smile. Wu reviewed the years of flying there, the opportunity to take up fast machinery among the clouds, up in the air…but to also suffer the harassment by someone who was a miserable, son of a bitch micromanager, and an unstable raging alcoholic. Wu would not miss him, nor this suffering communist country. Then, another idea hit him, and Wu cracked a mischievous smile. He might have cancer and be fragile, but if he could pull this one off, it would be the ultimate screw you message to Chen. Wu knew since he wouldn’t see him ever again, he might as well do this one last deed. This last act, unrehearsed and off the cuff, would be the ultimate revenge on his way out the door.
Wu took out his notebook from his flight suit pocket, and walked back inside to the maintenance office. He pretended to look at the computer that stored the flight records, hours, and engine information. Then he pretended to look for a prior flight plan, calmly scurrying around the quiet office. What Wu was really hunting for was Chen’s coffee cup. It was always located near his General Officer hat, cell phone, and red covered notebook, and it was the Aide, Lieutenant Keung’s job, to fill it and keep it warm. Found it!
Wu was sure no one was looking. He casually glanced around again, noticed that he was just about alone in the office, with the only other person being a young Airman clerk typing at the far end of the office. The Airman’s back was turned to Wu, and the timing would never be better than at this very moment. Down in the right pocket of his flight suit, Wu again located the small bottle of eye drops, unscrewed the cap, and unloaded the rest of the bottle into the steaming Lieutenant General Chen coffee cup. The eye drop bottle was now completely empty, and he was sure of it, squeezing has hard as he could to get out every drop. It was his last feat of rebellion, and he was blissful.
Part 7 — Execute
Entering China Airspace
“We have a fucking problem? What is it?” Ford asked, replying back to Lurch.
“Beijing Center says they are landing to the south at Beijing Airport. We are north, and that means it’s a near straight shot in to the runways. Damn it to hell. That means they will never vector us around to the south, and we’ll never fly over Tianjin,” Lurch said.
“Umm, yeah, that’s an issue. Huh… okay. Ahh. My recommendation is… that when you get handed off to Beijing Approach, you either hope for a runway change, or, just ask to be vectored to the runway we need and do a circling approach. Pick one of their 50 something STARs. Tell them you need it for company training. A check ride,” Ford suggested.
A STAR was a standard terminal arrival, a highway in the sky to align aircraft up to specific runways for landing.
“Yeah. Excellent idea. Yup. That sounds good. We’ll try that,” Lurch said, turning his head again back inside the cockpit. Andrew nodded his head yes in agreement. “Good idea, kid.”
A circling approach allowed the flight crew to use both the instruments inside the cockpit and visually outside, then at a certain altitude and location near the airport while seeing the airport runway, the pilots could steer the aircraft by circling around to the other runway to land. You had to have the weather clearance, meaning nearly no clouds, or at least higher clouds above the ground level. Ford’s idea meant the jet could approach the Beijing Airport from the north, then do a circling approach, and steer around in a circle and land. It was a completely normal request, and shouldn’t turn any heads with the radar controllers.
“What’s the weather at Tianjin?” Ford asked.
Andrew had already printed it out on a little flight printer they had in the cockpit. He turned and handed it to Ford so he could read it.
“Thanks. Good enough for a jump,” Ford said. He re-read it, acknowledging the cold temperatures, the mist, and the clouds in the area. Sure wasn’t Savannah. Not an issue, but definitely chilly.
“Thirty minutes till drop window, Ford. I’ve got the smart phone out for the ramp. Looking good,” Lurch said.
Ford shuffled up and shook the pilot’s hands, and passed his thanks again.
“We are depressurizing soon, so going on oxygen up here. Give me a thumbs up when you are on yours,” Lurch said.
“I’m already on the air!” Ford yelled back. Ford took off the little aircraft oxygen mask and slipped on his helmet. He then connected the mask to his helmet with the two bayonet clips that attached the mask to his face. The mask covered his nose, from the top of the bridge, and around his mouth, making a tight seal. His oxygen was flowing, and had a good hose connect with the G650ER oxygen system. It was another mod that Robert at Gulfstream made so that Ford didn’t burn up all his own portable oxygen. As Ford lowered his clear visor, he gave the thumbs up to Andrew and Lurch.
His ears popped as the cabin depressurized, and Ford read the altitude both off his wrist and the in-flight entertainment monitor. They were descending at about 900 feet per minute, a bit faster than the standard 500 feet per minute, but nothing cosmic. Ford looked outside and saw the setting sun to the west, and kept his breathing calm and regular. He closed his eyes to focus. He focused on his breathing again, in through in nose, hold, out through his nose.
“FORD! TWO. MINUTES.” Andrew yelled from up front through his clear, plastic mask. “RAMP. COMING. DOWN!”
Ford disconnected from the aircraft oxygen system and switched to his personal oxygen tank. He had a good blow of air and the portable bottle was in the green. Ford gave another thumbs up.
Lurch looked at his smart phone on the right console, sitting and waiting to transmit its signal. He had the app open and hit the green button for the ramp to lower. He pressed it with his thumb. Nothing happened. He looked at the antenna coverage for Wi-Fi in the jet, and it had no coverage bars. Lurch could not believe his eyes. What the heck was going on? he said to himself. No mother Wi-Fi bars! That would mean the ramp could not lower!
Ford turned his head from the cabin and looked up front, and he saw Lurch leaning over the center console in between the two pilots. Ford thought that was weird. What was he doing? Ford then saw him drop the phone.
Lurch sat there for a moment, then unbuckled and got out of his seat. He looked at the phone again, and saw he had full bars while closer to the middle console where it sat on the floor. The different position in the cockpit enabled the Wi-Fi signal to reach without an issue. He sat back down, buckled in, and hit the green button. The whir of the motors were heard, pumping life into the pistons and gears on the ramp, and the frigid air from outside seeped into the cabin as the rear cabin seats began to move.