Now came the tricky part, avoiding the authorities. Was this really happening?
GUAM
By mid-afternoon, the Super Stallion crew brought Robert Shilling, General Cameron, and Captain MacDonald back to Agana, Guam. When they stepped off the helicopter they could see for themselves that the winds had increased and the skies had grayed over.
“Matilda’s getting closer,” Cameron said, scanning the threatening skies.
Les was already at home by the time his father and Cameron had arrived by a US Navy staff car. Gail, Les, and Edna met them on the front steps.
“Where’s Denise?” Cameron asked Gail about his wife.
She motioned towards the kitchen. “On the phone. A long-distance call came through from the States.”
Flustered, Denise appeared in an instant.
“Denise, what’s wrong?” Cameron asked her.
“It’s my sister, Mary. She just had a heart attack and is in hospital in San Francisco.”
“Will she pull through?”
“They think she will. But she may suffer some lasting effects. Phil, we have to see her on the way back.”
“Of course,” Cameron agreed. “But for now, we have to stay on Guam with the Shillings until this typhoon blows through. I can’t desert now. You know how it is.”
Les wouldn’t hear of it. “It’s too dangerous to stay, General Cameron. There are flights leaving the island every day. The best thing is to get on the next one out of here.”
“I can’t leave, Les. I wouldn’t feel right. You understand, dear,” Cameron said, appealing to his wife. “Bob and I have talked it over. We are going to ship you and Edna somewhere safe and we’ll come later. In fact, go on to San Francisco now.”
Denise smiled, hugging her husband. “I understand.”
“Sorry, Les,” Robert said, taking Cameron’s side, “we’re here to stay. You’ll need help. Somebody has to stick around. The whole island can’t be vacated.”
MARY JANE
Captain Clayton waved his flight engineer to come over to the cockpit.
“Yes, sir, captain.”
“We’re over a hundred miles from the coast and should be out of enemy fighter range shortly. Of course you realize what you have to do, do you?”
Emerson nodded. He knew, but he didn’t like it. “I have to reverse the whole procedure and disarm the bomb completely.” He looked down at his hands to the loading checklist he had retrieved from Ainsworth’s pockets.
“Can you do it?”
“I don’t know for sure. I’m no explosives expert. That was Ainsworth’s field, not mine.”
“How about the two of us figure it out together, OK?”
“OK, captain. I’d appreciate that.”
In another twenty minutes, Clayton dropped the bomber down to 9,000 feet. Then he left the flying to Loran as he followed Emerson into the bomb bay.
Squatting at the front of the bomb, the two studied the checklist by the light of the flashlight. Emerson opened the toolbox.
“First off,” Clayton said, “we’ve got to pull those red plugs out.”
“Right.”
“Then we have to disconnect the firing lines and the explosive charge. Right?”
“Seems so, captain.”
“Let’s go.”
JAPAN
Two hundred feet from the ground, Tiger watched helplessly as what appeared to be a brown army truck drove along a road several miles to his left. Fortunately, it was moving away from him. Had they not seen him? Below was a forest, which was good… and bad. The forest would hide him for a time — perhaps for a long time — from his pursuers. But it also contained sharp branches that could spear through him during the descent. Off to the right, more than a mile, was an open field. Beyond that some buildings, surrounded by colorful gardens.
The trees were coming up fast. Tiger braced himself. He aimed for a slight opening between two trees.
He closed his eyes. He heard and felt a thunk that jolted his body. He had stopped. He couldn’t feel the ground beneath him. He opened his eyes to find that he was hanging three feet from the ground, his parachute tangled to the top of a tree. What luck! All he had to do was loosen the parachute clip and jump to the ground. He looked up and pulled the parachute through the branches and left it lying there.
Taking a deep breath, he started running towards the open field.
MARY JANE
Clayton and Emerson climbed from the hatch. They were both sweating, but they had done it. The bomb was disarmed.
“What should we do with Ainsworth?” Emerson asked, closing the hatch door.
“I don’t know. Drop him in the hatch and let him go out with the bomb. He’s dead anyway. Get someone to give you a hand.” Clayton returned to the cockpit pilot seat.
A short time later, Emerson tapped Clayton on the shoulder. “He’s in, captain.”
“All right, Paul, open it up!” he yelled to the bombardier.
“You bet, sir.”
For a second time that day, Lunsford hit the bomb bay toggle switch and again he heard the vibrations of the bomb bay doors opening.
In the tail, Gabriel Schwartz saw Ainsworth’s body fall clear, along with the bomb. Geez, Fat Baby was huge, he thought.
“COMMANDER TO TAIL GUNNER. WHAT DO YOU SEE?”
“THE BOMB AND AINSWORTH ARE BOTH OUT, SIR. YOU CAN CLOSE UP THE BOMB BAY.”
Schwartz continued to watch. He saw the bomb splash the water, followed by Ainsworth’s body. Schwartz pressed his intercom button. “TAIL TO COMMANDER. FAT BABY JUST HIT THE WATER AND MADE ONE GOOD SIZE SPLASH. I SEE AINSWORTH’S BODY FLOATING.”
Dwight Marshall quickly made a longitude and latitude notation in his log on where the bomb had been jettisoned.
Clayton wiped his face with the back of his hand and smiled at Loran. “THANKS, TAIL. COMMANDER OUT.”
USS MIDWAY
Commodore Prentice readied himself to leave the bridge. Commander Cross met him near the console.
“Commodore,” he whispered so that no one else would hear. “I thought I should let you know that communications picked up some more intermittent signals, if you know what I mean.”
“What kind of signals?”
“A lone aircraft. Two hundred knots. Angels nine. Fifty miles southeast of our present position and heading one-seven-zero. It’s on our radar now. I didn’t want to say anything on the intercom. I thought I should contact you in person.”
“Good,” Prentice whispered back. “Are you saying it’s the Mary Jane?”
“Yes, sir, I am. What should we do?”
“Have you established radio contact?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Don’t! We’re heading back to port. We already lost a damn good navy pilot. Ignore it!”