The Lazarus Moment (11 page)

“Agreed,
but Sergeant, this won’t be a rescue operation, this will be a recovery.”

Red felt
his chest tighten as a wave of dismay raced through his body, the thoughts of
his friends dying almost overwhelming.

“I
understand. What do you need from us?”

“Get
your team together, just in case.”

“We’re
ready now, Colonel.”

“Then
get your asses in the air.”

Cockpit, Air Force One

Over Mozambique

10,000 feet and dropping

“Something just happened!”

Colonel
Mitch Lacroix stole a glance at the controls, the source of the excitement from
his co-pilot. Controls were lit up, panels that were once dead beginning to
show information. “Restart the engines!”

“I’m
already on it, but there’s nothing. All I’ve got is engine status, but no
control.”

“Shit!”

“I’ve
got our altitude. We’re at ten thousand feet and dropping fast. We’ve got less
than ten minutes.”

Lacroix cursed,
looking at the now functioning fuel gauge. “Have you found a landing spot?”

“Negative,
nothing. It’s all goddamned jungle for as far as the eye can damned well see,
no airports, no roads, no nothing.”

“So
we’re screwed,” muttered Lacroix. He glanced at the gauge again. “If we hit
we’re going to go up like Hiroshima. Dump the fuel.”

Pliner
hesitated a moment. “Once we do that, there’s no going back, even if we get the
engines back. We had sixty-two tons, we’ve burned fifteen of that. In less than
ten minutes we’ll be dry.”

“Exactly.
If we hit with all that fuel we’re a fireball. We need to start dumping now if
we have any hope.”

Pliner
exhaled loudly, a frown creasing his face. He nodded. “You’re right.” He leaned
forward, looking out the windows. “Where’s our escort?”

Lacroix leaned
forward, looking to the port side. “I’ve got one here, he’s clear.”

“Mine
too. Dumping fuel.”

Lacroix made
the sign of the cross.

“May God
have mercy on our souls.”

Main Deck, Air Force One

Over Mozambique

6,000 feet and dropping

Senior Airman Jane Harrison straddled the aisle, her feet firmly in
place, one hand gripping a seatback as she surveyed the clearly terrified
passengers, mostly press and presidential staff. She didn’t blame them. She was
terrified too, though she had been trained to deal with these situations, and
no matter what was going to happen, there was no way she was going to her death
failing in her duty.

“Can I
have your attention, please!” Several heads turned, others kept talking in a
panic. There was no working intercom, so everything had to be done without the
benefit of technology, repeated several times. She repeated her plea.

“Everyone
shut up and listen to the lady!”

Jane
smiled at the man, the crowd silenced. “Thank you! I need everyone to secure
all your belongings otherwise they could become projectiles and injure someone.
Once your belongings are secured, strap yourself into your seat. Just as we’re
about to land, I’ll signal for you to assume your crash positions. Bend over at
the waist and put your head between your knees, placing your hands over your
head or hooking them under your knees.” Several people assumed the position
immediately.

Good.
It will keep them from causing trouble.

“When
the plane comes to a complete halt, emergency lighting will guide you toward
your nearest exit. Note where they are now.” She pointed to each exit, heads
swiveling, those in the crash position rising slightly to take note. “A member
of your flight crew will open the emergency doors, but in the event they aren’t
open, follow the instructions on the doors to open them yourselves. The emergency
slides will deploy automatically. Slide down, one at a time, then get as far
away from the plane as you can to avoid being injured should there be an
explosion.”

Somebody
yelped.

Get a
grip, there’s going to be explosions.

“If you
are injured, identify yourself so someone can assist you. Follow these
instructions and you
will
survive.” She paused, all attention now firmly
focused on her. “You have two minutes to secure your belongings, then I want
everyone strapped in.”

A flurry
of activity erupted as she turned, heading for her own chair. She sat down,
looking over at Airman Jennifer Ross. Jennifer smiled weakly at her. “Do you
really think we’re going to make it?”

Jane
frowned, shaking her head.

“Not a
chance.”

Lower Deck Server Compartment, Air Force One

Over Mozambique

4,000 feet and dropping

Lennox’s fingers flew over the keyboard, he working several
terminals at once, as was Cornel. They were making progress, of that there was
no doubt, though there were so many systems that had to be installed in order
to get the engines to function there just wasn’t enough time.

We’re
not going to make it.

His
fingers paused for a moment as he pictured his wife and daughter in the hands
of the monsters that were about to succeed in murdering almost one hundred
souls.

Tears
filled his eyes.

I’m
so sorry!

He glanced
over his shoulder at the South African, the security team holding him at the
entrance, McNeely shouting at him, demanding he tell them how to fix the aircraft.

It was a
waste of time.

Even if
the man knew, which he was sure he didn’t, there just wasn’t enough time left
to do anything about it.

“Hey,
get back to work!”

He
glanced over at Cornel, wiping his eyes clear. “There’s not enough time.”

“Keep working!”

“We’re
going to die!”

“Keep
working! We’re almost there!”

There
was a shout at the far end and Lennox’s head whipped toward the sound. His jaw
dropped as he saw the South African charging toward him, his eyes filled with
desperation and fear, as if their succeeding meant more than him just failing.

Two
shots rang out, the man stumbling then dropping, his head hitting the metal
grate of the deck, his eyes staring at Lennox.

Why
did you do it?

He knew
why
he
had, but why had this man? Were his motivations as strong as his?
As pure as his? Was the man doing it for politics? Religion? Family?

Cornel grabbed
Lennox by the shoulder, whipping him around to face him. “Now they’ll never
know you helped. Now get back to work!”

Lennox
nodded, the realization that Cornel was right spurring him forward, his fingers
flying faster than before. The machine to his left beeped and he slid his chair
along the rail to the keyboard, his heart leaping in excitement. “It’s ready!
You?”

Cornel slid
down a terminal and nodded. “On three! Three… two… one… now!”

Lennox
hit the button to activate the just installed software.

Restoring
hope.

The
distinctive whine of engines powering up resulted in cheers from the others.
McNeely rushed forward. “What just happened?”

“Engines
one and four are back online!” replied Cornel.

“What
about the other two?”

“We
don’t need them, two’s enough!” Cornel continued to work as did Lennox until he
glanced at the display beside him.

“Oh
shit!”

Cornel slid
up beside him as Lennox pointed at the display. “What?”

“They
dumped the fuel!”

Cockpit, Air Force One

Over Mozambique

1,000 feet and dropping

“Jesus! Stop the fuel dump!”

Lt.
Colonel Pliner leapt for the control, flicking the switch, cutting off the
dump. Colonel Lacroix glanced at the fuel gauge then back at the engine
readings, one and four alive and kicking for the first time in over 25 minutes.
He looked at the trees below as he began to apply more power and pull them up.

“It’s no
use.”

He glanced
at Pliner, the man’s voice subdued. “What do you mean?”

Pliner
pointed at the fuel reading. “Less than a thousand pounds.”

Shit!

“If I
hadn’t ordered the damned dump, we’d be surviving this thing.”

Pliner
shook his head. “You did the right thing. There was no reason to believe the
engines would ever come back, not with what the guys told us.”

“Are we
gonna be okay?” asked Senior Airman Jane Harrison, her voice excited as she
threw open the door, cheers echoing behind her.

Lacroix shook
his head, killing her smile. “No. We’re out of fuel.”

Tears
filled Jane’s eyes for a brief moment as she gripped the back of Pliner’s
chair. She inhaled, nodding firmly. “I’ll let everyone know.”

“Thanks,
Jane.” Lacroix reached out and grabbed her hand. “I’m sorry.”

She
smiled unconvincingly, then pulled away, closing the door behind her, the
jubilation of the passengers cut off, their ignorant bliss about to be as well.

“Okay,
let’s find a place to land,” he said, banking her slightly to port. His expert
eyes surveyed the terrain below, the thick trees offering not even a glimpse of
the jungle floor. He was about to bank to starboard when he spotted something.

A smile
spread across his face.

He
pointed. “There!”

“Where?”

“There!”

Pliner
rose from his seat and stared. “Are you nuts?”

“It’s
been done.”

Pliner
grinned as he opened the cockpit door to warn everyone.

“Then
let’s do it.”

Lower Deck Server Compartment, Air Force One

Over Mozambique

500 feet and dropping

Dawson stared up the stairs to the cockpit, then turned to the
others. “Did he just say what I think he said?”

Niner
shrugged. “Always wanted to try that.”

“Bullshit,”
rumbled Atlas. “Nobody in their right mind wants to try that.”

“No one
ever accused me of being in my right mind.”

“That’s
true.”

McNeely
rushed down the aisle toward them. “What’s going on?”

Dawson
turned to the man. “We’re landing on a river.”

“Are you
kidding me?”

“Jesus
Christ!” McNeely turned toward the techs and security staff in the server compartment.
“We’re landing on the water. Is there anything else you can do here?”

Cornel shook
his head. “No, there’s no more time.”

“Okay,
then everyone out, it’s a goddamned coffin down here.”

Dawson
pushed the others by him then ceded the right to take up the rear to McNeely,
rushing up the stairs after the others. A flight attendant jumped from her
seat, shouting directions at them as everyone strapped in. She pushed Dawson
into a seat. He glanced out the window and cursed.

The
trees were so close it was if he could reach out and touch them.

“Assume
crash positions!” shouted the flight attendant as she rushed back to her own
seat. Dawson looked for his men, spotting Niner and Atlas across from him,
Spock two rows back. They exchanged looks, looks they had exchanged before when
they thought they were going to die. But they had always made it out.

Not
this time.

Something
hit the underside of the plane.

Someone
screamed.

Setting
off a panic.

Dawson
bent over, hooking his hands over his head.

And
thought of Maggie and the visit she’d receive from the Colonel in the next few
hours, with the letter he had left for her, just in case.

You
made me a better man.

Operations Center 2

CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia

“Oh my God!” cried Sonya Tong, Leroux collapsing in his chair as
they all watched the footage in one of the CIA’s state of the art Operations
Centers. The images, transmitted by one of the Super Hornets escorting Air
Force One, were choppy, but the audio was clear.

“Castlekeep,
this is Eagle One, Air Force One is down, I repeat, Air Force One is down!”

The edge
of a fireball, the roiling flames and smoke in black and white no less final,
appeared in the frame as they continued to listen.

“Eagle
One, Castlekeep, is she intact, over?”

“This is
Eagle One, I don’t know, repeat, I don’t know. I don’t have a visual on the
fuselage, but I do have a fireball. I repeat, I do have a fireball, over.”

“Any
sign of survivors, over?”

“Negative,
I’ve got zero visual on the aircraft, only flames. Be advised, I’m bingo fuel,
I repeat, I’m bingo fuel, over.”

“Roger
that, Eagle One. Proceed to rendezvous control point for refueling, rescue
teams are on their way, over.”

Morrison
motioned to cut the audio, turning to Leroux. “Do we have any eyes in the
area?”

Leroux
looked at Child who shook his head. “A bird will be overhead in three minutes.”
Child hesitated then continued, his voice cracking. “Is there really any
point?”

“What do
you mean?” asked Morrison.

“I mean,
there’s no way anyone could survive that, right? They’re all dead, right?” Child’s
voice rose as he spoke, panic taking over as the young man dealt with death for
probably the first time. Leroux stepped over to him, doing what Morrison had
done for him the first time.

He put a
hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Just focus on your job and you’ll get
through this.” Child nodded and Leroux looked at the rest of his team. “And
that goes for all of you. We have a job to do and what just happened doesn’t
change that. Air Force One is down, the President may be dead, but the people
responsible for it are still out there and it’s our job to find them, catch
them, and bring them to justice.”