Dancing with the Dragon (2002) (13 page)

Grunewald, an unsmiling man with facial scars and a crew cut, was the commanding general of Marine Corps Air Bases Eastern Area/MCAS Cherry Point. His manner and rugged features belied a dry sense of humor and an absolute devotion to the Marines under his command.

"Come in," Grunewald said, walking around his desk and shaking hands with Scott, then Jackie.

"Have a seat." He motioned toward two chairs in front of his desk. "I have to tell you, that was quite an arrival."

Grunewald returned to his chair and sat down.

"Yes, sir," Scott said in a subdued voice. "Most of our landings aren't quite that spectacular."

The general pointed to a long table behind them. "I believe that piece of airplane belongs to you."

Jackie and Scott turned to see the Bonanza's blackened and mangled nosewheel and strut lying on a blanket on the table.

"My ordnance diposal unit tells me a bomb did that."

"Well, sir," Scott said, "we were as surprised as everyone else--believe me, it wasn't pleasant."

"I have no doubt."

Scott focused on the general's eyes. "I'm just going to have to be a lot more careful during my preflights."

Grunewald shifted his gaze to Jackie, then back to Scott. "I don't know who or what you're involved with and I don't want to know. My orders came straight from SecDef, which, I don't need to tell you, is extremely rare. However, after watching your spectacular arrival, I have to know if I need to increase base security while you're here for training."

"That might be a good idea, sir," Scott said.

The general mulled over the advice. "Captain Dalton, you know the threat facing you better than I. What do you suggest?"

"Increased gate security, including checking all vehicles for stowaways and bombs. Also, the entire perimeter of the base should be patrolled around the clock."

"Anything else?"

"Your Marines should be heavily armed. The people who put the bomb on my airplane are well equipped and ruthless." "Terrorists?"

"We aren't sure yet. I'd say they're more like hired killers."

Grunewald's expression remained unchanged. "As I understand this, after you requalify in the Harrier, we need to send two of our trainers, along with a support team, to Miramar. Is that your understanding?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you have any idea how long my jets will be there?" "No, sir."

"How about a guesstimate?"

"I'd say fifteen days, maybe less."

"Well, good luck to you," Grunewald said, rising from his chair to hand Scott a set of car keys. "We have transportation for you. It's the white four-door Chrysler directly in front of the building."

"Thank you, sir."

"Our pleasure. If you want to check into the BOQ, and then go over to 203, I'll call the CO and let him know you'll be there in about what--thirty to forty minutes?"

"That sounds great, sir. Who's the CO?"

"Lieutenant Colonel Reggie Warrington."

"Reggae Reggie?" Scott asked, and then stopped himself. "I apologize, sir, but he was one of my flight instructors when I transitioned into the Harrier."

"No apology needed. Everyone calls him Reggae--one of our best."

Grunewald shook hands with both of them. "Be careful." "Thank you, sir," Scott said. "I'll try to take better care of your planes than I did of mine."

A slow smile crossed the general's weathered face. "Make damn sure you do, captain."

"Yes, sir."

Grunewald pointed at the table. "And take that wreckage with you."

Scott grabbed the twisted nosewheel and strut while Jackie picked up their singed, foam-stained luggage. Once they were outside, Scott loaded the nose gear in the trunk of the Chrysler and turned to Jackie. "Since you flew us here, I'll see if I can get us safely to our quarters."

"Is that a slam?"

"No. Besides, Hartwell gave me quite a bit of information, and I need your undivided attention."

"There you go again."

"What?"

"I can drive and listen at the same time."

Scott tossed her the keys.

When they drove away from the general's headquarters, Scott gave Jackie directions to the BOQ.

"First off, you were right," he began.

"About what?"

"There weren't any fingerprints on the note card from Z Y." "Did you really think there would be?"

"No, but you always have to check. New subject?"

"Go."

"Our friend Merrick Hamilton was kidnapped by two guys masquerading as FBI agents."

"Kidnapped?"

"Yes, and one of them was Oriental."

"Do they still have her? Is she okay?"

"No, they don't have her, and, yes, she's fine. The real agents arrived at the hotel about thirty minutes after Merrick walked out of the lobby."

"The bogus agents must have been monitoring her calls."

"That's right. The FBI found two bugs in her room, one on the phone and one in the bathroom. When she was talking to us, the bad guys were listening to every word."

"Was she injured?"

"No--in fact, she's in better shape than one of her abductors." "What do you mean?"

"She strangled him."

"Killed him?"

"That's right--graveyard dead."

Scott filled her in on the details leading to the encounter with the California highway patrolman.

"Where's she now?"

"Under the protection of the FBI. Her parents live in Denver and the FBI has stashed her in a top-notch hotel there."

"Good," Jackie said, genuinely concerned about her fellow aviator. "She needs protection until we can figure out what's going on.

Scott nodded. "We'll stop and visit her on our way to California--get the story directly from her. Maybe she has some information or minor detail that we wouldn't get otherwise."

"What about her obligation to the navy?"

"Hartwell has made arrangements for her to be placed in a temporary reserve status for the time being."

"Does she know about Lou Emerson?"

"Yes. The whole story was revealed when the FBI interviewed her in California. She didn't take it well."

"She's had a rough time."

"Let's hope it's over," Scott said. "She's been through enough." "Anything else?"

"Well, not surprisingly, the FBI found evidence of foul play in the death of CliffEarlywine. According to the coroner, and the FBI investigators, Earlywine was killed by blunt trauma to the back of his head. The medical examiner believes the injury that killed him was inconsistent with the type of accident he had."

"How did he arrive at that conclusion?"

"Earlywine's car ran off the road and plowed into a ravine. It never turned over and the damage wasn't severe enough to kill anyone, plus the airbags worked as advertised."

"Scott, why do I have a feeling Hartwell Prost isn't telling us everything he knows?"

"Because he hasn't been telling us everything."

Jackie turned into the BOQ parking area and abruptly stopped. "This had better be good, especially after surviving an explosion and a crash landing. Start talking and don't leave anything out--not one little tiny item."

"Hartwell convinced the president that we needed to know everything, including the classified information."

"Well, let's have it. I've trusted you to tell me everything you know about every operation we've worked together--no secrets."

"There aren't any secrets. Hartwell told me what he could over the phone before we went into General Grunewald's office. He wants to meet us in Denver and give us an up-to-the-minute brief on the whole picture. After our chat in Denver, he's going to Seattle, then he'll join us in San Diego for the Phantom operation."

"Yeah, that'll be a circus."

Scott glanced at a small group of Marines jogging along the road. "I'll tell you exactly what Hartwell told me. The Japanese AWACS that crashed, the article in USA Today . . ."

"Yes."

"Besides the flight-crew report of being harassed by an unidentified object, and the eyewitnesses on the trawler, our recon spacecraft have photographic and radar images of a blacked-out, stationary ship near the crash site."

"At night?"

"Yeah, they caught the ship in the flash of the explosion." "Very interesting."

"I thought so."

"Where's the ship now?"

"It's headed toward the Strait of Korea. It's a Chinese cargo ship named Chiang Hai-ch'eng."

"Chinese," Jackie said with a thin smile. "That is interesting." "It sure is--after what we've experienced."

"Are the Japanese going to get involved?"

"They're going to protest, as usual, but that's about it."

"What about the response from the White House? Are we going to pressure the Chinese for an explanation?"

"Well, from what Hartwell said, one of our frigates or destroyers is going to intercept the ship and request the master stop his vessel for consensual boarding. If the captain declines, I don't know what's going to happen next, if anything."

"Maybe we've caught a break." Jackie glanced at her watch. "We'd better pick up the pace and get out to Miramar."

"One other thing. Our Learjet will be here at fifteen-thirty, and the SEALs will be here at seventeen hundred."

"Super--I feel better already."

"The SEALs are from the Naval Special Warfare Development Group."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. DEVGRU is the SEALs' top-of-the-line counterterrorist unit. They used to be known as SEAL Team Six."

"How did we rate the avant-garde?"

"You know Hartwell."

"Yeah, everything is going to be first cabin with built-in redundancy."

Jackie opened her door. "Well, things are finally looking up." "That's the way I see it."

"What are we going to do with the nose gear?"

"Well, unless you want to bronze that little beauty," Scott said with a sly grin, "I don't have any use for it."

"It might make a nice yard ornament for your retirement home in Pensacola," Jackie suggested. "You know, mount it between a couple of pink flamingos."

"Yeah, what a wonderful reminder."

Beijing, China

A bright yellow moon was beginning to rise when the China Xinjiang Airlines ATR-72 twin turboprop climbed away from Beijing Capital International Airport. It turned on course to Shanghai, a major seaport situated on the coast of the East China Sea.

All sixty-six seats aboard the airplane were occupied, with seven extra passengers sitting in the aisle. Although it violated the airline's safety regulations, powers on high had authorized the carrying of the seven men at the last moment before boarding.

Captain Zhou Chan smoothly adjusted the power and settled in for the flight to one of China's burgeoning airports.

Once the regional airliner was at cruising altitude, Captain Zhou and his first officer, Ts'ao Yat-sen, enjoyed snacks they had brought on board with them. They discussed the recent changes in company management and the anticipated addition of five new airliners in the next four months. That would mean promotions and better pay for some pilots.

Approaching the city of Lianyungang, located on the coast of the Yellow Sea, copilot Ts'ao made a radio call to the air traffic controllers.

Zhou studied the darkness of the sea. He could pick out a few lights on the water, but most of the sea was inky black.

Ts'ao excused himself to use the lavatory while Zhou studied the flight plan for the next leg of their trip. He was about to return it to his chart case when suddenly the cockpit was flooded with a bright, bluish-white light.

At the same instant, shrieks of anguish and terror could be heard coming from the passenger cabin. He looked toward the left wing and froze. A huge object with brilliant bluish-white lights was flying in close formation with the turboprop.

Ts'ao scrambled back into the cockpit and slammed the door. Zhou banked sharply to the right; at the same time he frantically called the air traffic controllers. The screams coming from the passenger cabin continued as Zhou completed a course reversal and rolled wings level. Ts'ao was strapping into his seat when the bright object joined them on their right wing.

Terrified, Zhou overreacted and banked so steeply to the left that the turboprop rolled over on its back and the nose fell through in a shallow, high-speed dive.

"I have it!" Ts'ao said, grabbing the controls. Using the primary flight instruments, the former aerobatic instructor continued the roll to the left until the airplane was once again wings-level and upright. With Zhou's encouragement, Ts'ao applied smooth G-forces to slowly bring the nose up level with the horizon.

Ts'ao was surrendering the flight controls to Zhou when the object slashed past the cockpit, then pulled straight up and disappeared in a sea of brilliant stars. Frightened and astounded by the encounter, Ts'ao was talking with the air traffic controllers when the object reappeared and made a steep, head-on dive at the airliner.