“We’re shut down for all but emergencies and specifically authorized nights until we get Air Force One in and out of here.” The two men were standing in the control tower, both exhausted from the extra preparations for the high-level flights that were coming in.
“I don’t know,” the head ATE said.
“Some V.I.P from the mainland. I got a personal call from General Dublois telling me to give this flight top treatment and direct clearance.
It’s not on the list of authorized flights, but I’ll take General Dublois’s word that it’s authorized.”
Given that General Dublois was the Air Force Chief of Staff, the head security man for the airfield knew he wasn’t going to argue. He watched as the unmarked Learjet rolled to a halt and a large limousine with darkened windows pulled up next to it. An old man was escorted down the short flight of stairs and into the waiting car, which immediately took off, heading for the gate to adjacent Pearl Harbor.
“Are there any other authorized unauthorized flights coming in?” the security man asked sarcastically. He wondered who the old man was to rate such high-class treatment and why the Lear didn’t come into the international airport, which would have been just as easy.
“That’s the only one I know of,” the head ATE said.
“I think I’m going to go home and get a couple of hours of sleep.
Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.”
CHAPTER 21
“It’s a damn zoo out there,” Stewart said as he carried in a pizza that had just been delivered downstairs.
“The President is arriving soon and everyone is going crazy.”
“Can I make a call?” Boomer asked.
“To whom?”
“To the person who got me the information on the submarines and the inflight refuel of the combat Talon.”
“Go ahead, but put It on speakerphone so I can hear,” Stewart ordered.
Boomer punched in the number for Maggie’s car phone, and Skibicki answered on the first ring with a gruff hello.
“This is the Boomer. You got anything new?”
Skibicki knew when to be direct and to the point. “The Sam Houston, the Special Ops sub, just turned away from the Glomar Explorer and the SHARCC. It’s heading for Pearl and it’s moving fast. If it keeps up its present speed it will be off shore by this evening.”
“What are you up to?” Boomer asked.
“I’m going to check out Pearl tonight,” Skibicki said.
“Are you safe where you are?”
“So far. I keep moving and I haven’t been to the places they’d expect me.”
“Anything else?”
“No. Maggie’s worried about you, and she hasn’t heard anything from Major Trace.”
“All right. Tell Maggie I’m fine. Out here.” Boomer hung up.
“What does that mean — the sub coming toward Pearl?”
Stewart asked.
Boomer grabbed a slice of pizza and devoured half the piece, thinking as he chewed.
“I don’t know. Maybe The Line is afraid their plan for the C&C exercise has been uncovered and they’re going to backup plan B, which involves Pearl itself. Maybe stand off with the SDV, swimmer delivery vehicle, and pop off a Mark 32 Standoff Weapons Assembly — which is fancy Navy talk for blowing the shit out of the Arizona Memorial with a big-ass torpedo while the President is on board, or maybe hit the launch carrying him out there — even The Line might think twice about destroying the memorial.” As he spoke. Boomer realized he had stopped adding modifiers such as “if” to his speech. Since he had come to Stewart he had to believe in this plot until he was proved wrong.
“They think they can get away with that?” Stewart asked, shocked at the concept.
“The only thing these people care about is not getting caught,” Boomer said.
“They can blame it on the Ukrainians, the North Koreans, or the Chinese — hell any shit-ass terrorist organization.” He pointed at the newspaper lying on the coffee table.
“You’ve seen the article in there about the Iraqis protesting our downing that Ukrainian bomber.
They do have a few submarines. I wouldn’t be surprised if the damn Navy doesn’t have one or two Iraqi subs captured in the Gulf War that they’ve stashed to use as a blind for some sort of operation like this.”
“Pearl’s secure,” Stewart said obstinately.
“I was just out there.”
Boomer laughed sarcastically.
“Hell, Pearl’s the most un secure place you could think of right now.
You don’t get the picture do you?” He didn’t wait for an answer.
“You’re not dealing with some psycho writing threatening letters here.
You’re dealing with professionals trained in these kind of operations.
Infiltrating Pearl and taking out the launch with the President on it, with the equipment these people have, is a piece of cake. And you can be damn sure they know every single security measure you have planned, since you probably briefed the chief of security at Pearl.
Correct?”
Stewart didn’t answer, and his pizza grew cold on the paper plate in front of him. He’d be glad when the President and General Maxwell arrived. This soldier was correct. He was way out of his league and he didn’t like it one bit.
He’d received word a little while ago that the two bodies discovered at Kaena Point had still not been identified, and not only that, but that someone had tried to claim them using government ID. Only the fact that Stewart had called earlier had kept the officer in charge of the case from turning them over. The men who had shown up for the corpses had disappeared. That made the threat of a plot all the more real.
“The President will be here within the hour,” he said.
“We’ll figure out what to do then.”
At Hickam Field, as soon as the President and his party debarked. Air Force One was rolled off the tarmac into a secure hangar. An outside security cordon of Air Force police moved in around the building while the normal four man Secret Service detail set up shop inside, securing the interior doors of the hangar with sensors — they themselves were the final line of security on board the plane itself.
In the sky above the airfield, another specially equipped plane circled once before making a final approach. The modified Boeing E-4B was one of four in the Air Force inventory — specially designed as a post-attack command and control system code-named Looking Glass.
Right now, it was serving as a ride for the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. It touched down and was immediately met upon stopping by a limousine. The chairman and the rest of the service chiefs exited and were driven to their quarters at Pearl Harbor where they would be staying for the duration of the ceremonies.
The E-4B was directed to a parking place adjacent to the hangar holding Air Force One. Another security blanket of Air Force police was unfolded and placed over the E4B.
The chief of security at Hickam, an Air Force full colonel, breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t often they received two V.I.P flights in one day. He was glad that they were all safe.
Trace heard the words as if from a great distance, echoing through her skull.
“You’ve got a fever. I’ve put you on antibiotics. Your leg has also been set. Just take it easy and rest.”
She tried to blink to clear away the film of haze that covered her eyes but had no success. A large dark figure-she assumed it was Harry; the voice sounded like his — was leaning over her.