Wu went through the aircraft systems in his head, as he did in his when he was a test pilot student. Nearly every aircraft he was a student on or flew, had the same five core systems that made it fly, and the Devil Dragon was no different. They were known in the pilot community as HEFOE, and pronounced ‘he-foe.’ HEFOE stood for hydraulics, environmental, fuel, oil and electrical systems, and any one of them could take down an aircraft, especially if the system emergencies were combined.
Wu looked down inside the cockpit at all the gauges, the moving map display that showed where they were exactly over the earth, then at the clock. HEFOE. HEFOE. Wu repeated it a few times to himself, and thought hard about generating a solution while airborne. Got it!
“Coming right,” Wu said. This was Liu’s cue to look out the window and clear air traffic. It was very doubtful that anyone else was up this high, but nevertheless, the procedure was to look.
“Clear right,” Liu said.
Wu was absolutely sure to observe were Liu physically put his head to look, to actually see where his eyes were scanning when he cleared them for the turn. He was comfortable with where Liu’s head placement was, because it was crucial for what was about to happen next.
Ford was belly down in the tall grass and ditch, and was sure no one could see him. The tall grass was key, plus he was in a lower elevation on the airfield that protected him from both the light wind and from being seen. Just to his right was a large, flat metal grate that allowed water to drain off the runways and into the city sewer system. Connecting to this section of the airport were the same large cement half-pipes and tunnels used to transport drainage water from the far end of the airport to where Ford was.
Ford used the starlight and ambient light from the hangars and city to inspect the metal grate, and he touched it to check out its strength and weight. Ford straddled the steel, and was able to lift the top of it off with both his hands, and take a look inside down into the dark hole in the ground. It had steel rung steps cemented and built into the sidewall, and appeared to lead down below into an underground sewer system. Maybe if he needed to escape and evade, this hole might work, however, there was no reason to descend down further. It looked like a superb location to stash and hide his parachute and wing suit, though, and he arranged the gear so he could dangle them downward from the first rung. He felt the steel rebar step with his hand, embedded into the concrete, and jerked it hard to ensure it was solid, and it was. Ford then slipped out of his black wing suit, which now smelled like ox dung, and hung it up from the step. He also took his balled up black parachute and let it hang down into the drainage hole, tying it on the first rung as well. Ford moved the steel grate cover over back to its original position, and was satisfied with the concealment part. Now came the wait. Ford made a mental note that if Wu ran long and into the sunrise and daylight hours, he might have to make the sewer hole a temporary home.
Ford squatted down and returned to his belly down position from moments earlier. He made sure his P226 handgun was on safe, as well as the HK416 rifle, and that both were clean from dirt and mud. He strapped the rifle back to his back and the handgun in leg holster, ensuring that each weapon had a round in the chamber and were ready to fire, if needed. As he slipped the P226 into his holster, he could hear in the distance the faint sound of multiple police sirens. They were getting louder with each passing second, and he crawled back up to the mound to look around to see if they were heading in his direction. Wearing his olive drab flight suit, he was still pretty camouflaged, so he felt comfortable blending in. Shit, they are coming over here. Police cars? he thought. What the hell? Can someone see me?
He watched two white police sedans with flashing blue lights race in his direction. Ford was definitely pissed-off, and frankly, shocked, they could be coming for him. He was confident no one could have seen him, but there they were, coming in his direction. The first police sedan passed his hiding area completely, and Ford could tell that at their rate of speed, this first police car was not coming for him. This white sedan whizzed right by. Ford let out some air, and was a bit more relaxed.
The second police car seemed to be a potential problem, though. This second sedan was not as fast, and did pass him, but stopped about 50 feet in front of him, and sat. Fuck! Ford thought, and immediately scurried down the incline to the steel grate where his items were hanging. He quickly pulled off the steel grate with both his hands, and laid it next to him so he could pull it over himself as he crawled down into the hole and stood on the rungs. Ford then pulled the grate over his head to hide.
Ford was angry and shook his head in amazement. All this way and now I’m going to get locked up in a Chinese jail by some airport cops? he said to himself. No frickin way.
“Coming back left,” Wu announced, and looked to the left to clear himself, “clear left”. He brought the jet back to the east, just comparing the turn rate and capability at their speed of 540 knots at 75,000 feet. It was always good for them to write down their maneuvers for the engineers, but in this specific case, it was for show only. Only Wu knew no one would see this data, except the Americans. Wu looked at the digital map again on the dashboard, and saw how far east they were progressing, so he put in the final turn to the right to head south, the turn that would start the beginning of the end.
“Let’s get some speed on her today. Open her up. See what we can get, Liu. Ready?” Wu asked. Wu figured this is the final flight, and he had nothing to lose. He wanted to go out on top, his rules, his experience, and this was it. Right now.
“We’re clear straight ahead. Go.”
Wu pushed the throttles forward into afterburner, and all four engines pushed them into their seats. There were no reference points by looking out the windows, but by the airspeed and Mach indicators, they were hauling the mail.
“Mach 1.7. 1.9. There’s 2.0. Keep her going.”
The jet hummed along across China, smooth as silk, with Wu taking in the view and the speed. For today, he was going to be the fastest man alive.
“Mach 2.6. 2.8. 3.1. Faster than a bullet now, Wu. Keep going. Don’t sneeze with your hand on that stick or we’ll disintegrate in the atmosphere.”
“Yup. Still going strong. Will do.”
“Approaching Mach 5. Unbelievable. This jet is something else. Stand-by… stand-by… there it is. Mach 5.0! Wu, that’s about 3,000 miles per hour.”
At this speed, it would take Wu at least 180–200 miles to do a simple turn. He was already determining the location and speeds to get the jet down, but did want to relish in their accomplishment.
“Yeah, Liu. Pretty cool,” Wu said casually, but on the inside was screaming with joy. God damn that was fun!
Wu brought the throttles down towards idle and let Devil Dragon slow down a bit. It would take a solid few minutes to not only slow, but change altitudes since they were so high up. Looking down at the airspeed, Wu saw they were already down below Mach 2.0, which was what he was scanning for. The jet continued to slow down, and Wu wanted to get slower to make the plan happen.
“Clear right?” Wu asked, as he prepared to turn the jet.