Code-5 (Adventures of a Baby Boomer Book 1)

by Thomas Shaw

  The guards, hearing the commotion, reacted immediately, bursting out of their little wooden structure. They had been derelict in their duties of guarding the airplane and thought someone was there checking on them. They moved toward the hangar where they thought the noise had come from but saw no activity. Suddenly one the solders held up his hand. Putting his index finger to his lips he signaled his buddy not to say a word and pointed to the door that was ajar in front of them. They approached the door cautiously. One soldier dropped to his knee and leveled his rifle at the door. The other soldier stood with his back against the hangar and with a quick motion, spun around and kicked the door open.

  Nothing happened.

  ***

  Several long seconds passed before the soldier that had kicked open the door cautiously stepped inside with his weapon held at the waists. There was a flash of light as Donny turned the light switch ON and OFF in less than half a second.

  Donny kept his eyes focused on the doorway as he had been instructed to do. In less than a second after the light went off the latent image of the soldier standing in the door appeared on the retina in Donny’s eyes, even though he was staring into total darkness. Donny heaved the heavy steel bar toward the latent image with all his might. Without being able to see a thing, Donny heard the steel bar penetrate skin and bones followed by a blood curdling scream. He immediately dropped to the floor as the room was illuminated by the blaze of fire spewing from the end of the AK-47 in full automatic. Bullets tore through the wooden shelves and debris was flying everywhere.

  Just as suddenly as it started… it stopped.

  The kneeling soldier jumped up and ran toward the small out building.

  Donny cautiously approached the door to find the soldier lying on his side with the breaker bar grotesquely sticking out of his chest. He was dead. He reached down and felt around the soldier’s waist until he found his sidearm. It was a Navy Colt .45 semi-automatic.

  “Kick the door open and neutralize the other subject,” SAM said, in her innocent female way.

  “What about his automatic weapon?” Donny said, with trepidation, “He’ll cut me to pieces.”

  “I counted the spent rounds,” SAM said calmly. “He only has four bullets left.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Donny said under his breath as he kicked open the door. At that moment he heard the panicked voice of the soldier yelling into the microphone in this make-shift radio room.

  “The Americano is here… The Americano is here!”

  When he heard the door bust open, the Mexican soldier grabbed his AK-47 swung around and instinctively pulled the trigger. Four rounds chattered out and the bolt automatically locked back.

  His clip was empty.

  For a brief second their eyes met, and then Donny pulled the trigger three quick times. The bullets impacted his chest, throwing the soldier back against the table. Four more quick rounds sent a shower of sparks and debris from the radio. Donny dropped the pistol on the ground as he made his way quickly back into the hangar.

  This time he turned the light switch ON and left it on. For the first time, he could see the outline of the sleek, black Learjet with its oversized engines. Donny walked over to the plane and placed his hand on a special location of its underbelly… the side door opened automatically.

  He quickly moved under the wing toward the front of the plane. The big hangar doors were only a few feet away. He put all his weight against the center door and pushed as hard as he could. The door slowly started to move on its rollers.

  Minutes earlier SAM had watched the troop carrier, via satellite imaging, as it passed the turnoff to the private airstrip and had continued toward Taxco. About one kilometer past the turnoff, the troop carrier suddenly stopped.

  “Stop!” the Colonel shouted to his driver. “Did you hear that? I thought I heard machine gun fire,” the Colonel said, opening his door and looking out into the night. Just then his radio crackled to life… “The Americano is here – The Americano is here!”

  Seconds later he heard… Ker-pow, Ker-pow, Ker-pow.

  Three quick reports echoed across the field. It seemed to be coming from behind them.

  Ker-pow, Ker-pow, Ker-pow, Ker-pow.

  Four more quick reports broke the silence. This time the Colonel was sure. The sounds of a semi-automatic pistol were coming from behind them and off to the left. The Colonel quickly opened his map and determined his location, moving his finger back and then to the left; it stopped right on the private airstrip.

  “Turn around,” he ordered. “We’ve got him.”

  As the troop carrier struggled to turn around on the narrow highway, it was soon going full speed toward the airstrip. The Colonel was excitedly reporting his position and the knowledge that they had found the American, who was apparently trying to escape in an airplane.

  Back in the hangar Donny had opened the four main doors allowing the plane to egress. He quickly climbed aboard, placing his backpack in the overhead compartment then closing the door behind him.

  This Learjet had been modified with a fighter style joy-stick mounted on the right side of the plane. Donny moved into the right seat normally occupied by the copilot but in this plane it was especially designed for the pilot.

  SAM instructed Donny to start the engines immediately, he could strap-in while he was taxiing to the runway. She knew they only had seconds before the troop carrier would cut off their attempted escape.

  “Number 1 turning… starting number 2,” Donny said, not realizing the urgency of the situation.

  Seconds later Donny said; “Here we go,” as he pushed the throttles forward.

  ***

  The plane seemed to strain forward but didn’t move. Donny throttled back… rechecked his emergency brakes then throttled up again. Again the plane strained forward but didn’t move.

  “SAM, we’ve got a problem,” Donny said, speaking into the empty cockpit. “I’m not moving.”

  SAM quickly ran through a check list. Brakes… check. Emergency brakes… check.

  There was a pause, and then SAM said “Did you remove the chocks?”

  [Chocks are blocks of wood used to keep the tires from rolling backward or forward while being stored.]

  “No,” came back the simple answer.

  “I’ll pull them right now,” Donny said, not feeling the urgency from SAM.

  “We don’t have time,” SAM immediately replied.

  “Go to full throttle at once,” SAM ordered.

  In Quantico the technical team was frantically looking at the stress limits of their modified Learjet. “SAM what are you doing… you’ll rip the engines off the plane. We’ve never static tested these engines at full throttle!” Dr. Merrill yelled.

  The roar of the engines was clearly coming through the sound system as Donny pushed the throttles to full power.

  “SAM, we’re moving a little bit, but I think we have a bigger problem; the hangar is on fire.” Donny’s voice had moved up a couple of octaves.

  Donny was right; sparks and bits of burning debris were flying over the cockpit. The jet blast had ignited the back wall of the hangar and the flames were moving up into the rafters. He quickly moved the throttles to idle.

  SAM was busily making calculations; then stopped and said in a calm voice. “On my count, go to full throttle and full afterburner.”

  “Are you NUTS?” Dr. Merrill yelled, “It will rip the engines right off the plane!”

  “Three, Two, One, ignite!” SAM ordered.

  Donny had removed the guards off the afterburner igniters, pushed the throttles to maximum thrust and flipped both switches at the same time.

  The afterburners roared to life causing tremendous vibrations throughout the airframe. The immense power from the jet engines pushed the jet forward, splintering the chocks that were blocking the tires. The huge blast of energy incinerated the back wall, blowing it completely out, causing the roof to collapse just as “Black Gold’s” tail cleared the flaming infern
o.

  Fortunately SAM’s calculations were precise.

  Only moments earlier the troop carrier had turned down the dirt road toward the hangar which was now only a hundred meters ahead.

  “Remove the canvas,” ordered the Colonel to his troops, “then lock and load.”

  The loosened canvas covering blew off the top of the troop carrier, landing in the dust boiling up behind them.

  “Shoot to kill,” ordered the Colonel, as he pulled out his own sidearm. The Colonel turned to his driver. “Turn behind the hangar so we can come up on the left side giving us a clear shot if he gets that far.”

  Just as the driver turned behind the hangar he noticed something strange. There was smoke pouring out between the cracks in the siding just ten feet from where he was.

  It was the last thing he would ever see.

  Without warning the back of the hangar suddenly ignited into a giant fire ball that came at them with such force and super-heated temperatures that the troop carrier and all its contents burst into flame. The vehicle was knocked over, rolling several times until it landed upside down, exploding with extreme violence from its ruptured fuel tanks. The temperature coming out of the jet engines was so intense that it literally vaporized everything in the troop carrier except the heavier metal pieces.

  These men never felt a thing.

  22

  Outside of Mexico City…

  The two Russian pilots had been on high alert since the reported robbery at the Castaic mansion. They had no idea what had been stolen but could sense the urgency because the Mexican military was involved at the highest level.

  Lieutenant Boras Zimmer had elected to sit in the cockpit of his MIG-29 while he waited for his orders. Zimmer was a recent graduate from the elite Russian military branch similar to the American Top Gun program. He had just turned 28 years old and was over confident in his flying skills to the point that it often aggravated Major Bukhara, his commanding officer.

  Lieutenant Zimmer was sleeping soundly when his commanding officer nudged his shoulder.

  “We have our orders,” the Major said curtly. “Light up your MIG, I’ll brief you while we taxi to runway two-five.

  The adrenalin rush brought Boras out of his sleep and he was instantly alert. His years of training kicked in as he became one with his powerful aircraft.

  In less than five minutes the MIG fighter jets were heading for their departure runway. The military base they were using was about 45 miles Southeast of Mexico City.

  Boris’ headset crackled to life.

  “When we get airborne turn to heading 210 degrees, climb to 10,000 feet and maintain military formation,” Major Bukhara said in his, take charge, manner.

  “We are on a heading that will take us toward a town called Taxco where we will be looking for an aircraft that may be heading north toward the United States. I just received information that it might be a Learjet,” the Major said with trepidation. “I have no idea what’s going on… but when we find this plane we have orders to shoot it down.”

  There was silence for several long seconds.

  “Shoot down an American Learjet. You can’t be serious,” the Lieutenant said. “Isn’t that how they start wars?”

  “We have our orders. I want you to arm your air-to-air missiles and do it now,” the Major demanded.

  “Missiles are hot,” replied the Lieutenant.

  Flying at over 500 miles an hour, it only took a few minutes to reach Taxco. As they approached the area Major Bukhara took the lead. “Throttle back to 300 miles per hour, drop down to 7,000 feet, and maintain a standard two minute turn until further instructions.”

  Both pilots were monitoring the military frequency and heard the urgent message. “The Americano is here… the Americano is here!”

  Major Bukhara banked his plane steeply to get a better view of the darkened terrain below.

  “I think I see something.”

  He was almost four miles away but it was clear that something was on fire. The flames had completely engulfed the wooden structure and lit up an area a hundred yards around it. As they flew over the carnage they both could see the remains of the troop carrier off to one side of the burning building. It was ablaze as well.

  Major Bukhara radioed this information back to base. He was about to turn and make another pass when his radio informed him that there was a plane flying at a very low altitude and high speed about 25 miles north of their current location.

  “Come to heading three five zero,” Bukhara ordered, initiating an immediate pursuit. “Throttle up to 800 miles per hour and maintain 3,000 feet AGL. He must be flying under the radar because nothing is being reported. I’ll maintain 10,000 feet to see if I can get a bigger sweep with our Look-Down radar.”

  Both MIG’s banked sharply to the north with a loud roar from their engines, and within seconds they were flying at 800 miles an hour.

  Minutes earlier, Donny had escaped the collapsing hangar by a matter of seconds. With full power and full afterburners, Black-Gold had pushed thought the chocks and was out on the tarmac trying desperately to make the 20 degree turn necessary to bring him in line with the runway. The jet leaned hard to the left but within a few seconds was on the center line. A few seconds later he was airborne.

  As he pulled back on the fly-by-wire controls to gain altitude, SAM instructed him to maintain 500 feet above ground level by using his night vision instrumentation and reduce power to maintain 600 miles per hour, keeping his speed just under supersonic.

  SAM gave Donny a heading that would bring him directly toward El Paso, Texas. He had secured his seat belt and was just beginning to drink the special electrolyte mixture they had stowed on the plane days earlier, when he heard SAM urgently issue new instructions.

  “Throttle up to 900 miles per hour immediately and maintain current altitude and heading.”

  Flying this low at subsonic speeds in the dark was hard enough, but at 900 miles per hour Donny needed to rely on SAM for additional terrain input.

  10,000 feet above…

  “I’ve got him,” Major Bukhara said like a fisherman when he hooks into a ten pound bass.

  “He’s about 20 miles ahead of us, going supersonic.”

  Both Russians instinctively pushed the throttles up and hit their afterburners at the same time. Within seconds the MIG’s had passed through Mach 2 and were closing the distance on their newly acquired target. Ninety seconds later Boras reported that he also had him on radar.

  “I just ran a signature ID on this plane, but it came back as an – unknown,” Bukhara reported with bewilderment. “I don’t think it’s a private jet, not at those speeds.”

  “I’m getting a tone. Do you want me to take him out?” Boras said with excited confidence.

  A few seconds passed… “Take him out,” the Major ordered.

  Just as Boras was about to squeeze the trigger, SAM instructed Donny to throttle back to 600 miles an hour and make a 90 degree turn to the left. Immediately Donny was in a crushing 9g turn for the few seconds he needed to break the radar lock from the MIG.

  “I lost it,” Boras said as he immediately throttled back and banked hard to the left in full pursuit.

  SAM quickly instructed Donny to throttle up to 1,200 miles per hour. Once again Don pushed the throttles up and hit the burners. The immense thrust crushed him back in the specially designed seat as the plane shot forward.

  By the time the big MIG made the turn, Donny was 20 miles ahead and pulling away.

  “This is no Learjet,” Boras said as he watched the blip on his radar screen move to its outer range.

  With a rush of adrenalin, Boras pushed his Russian fighter up to maximum power. The chase was on.

  Seconds later…

  “I’ve got a tone,” Boras announced excitedly.

  When he pulled the trigger this time, two of Russia’s newest air-to-air missiles streaked into the night leaving a pure white contrail as they locked on to their target.

 
After making her final calculations, SAM instructed Donny the throttle back to 600 miles per hour which drove everyone in Quantico crazy as they watched the missiles quickly close the gap on his plane.

  “On my count make a 10g turn to the right and come to heading three, six, zero and maintain 400 feet AGL.

  “Three, Two, One, Now,” SAM said in her normally calm manner.

  Donny jerked the control handle hard to the right and pulled back as he scanned the instrument panel. The g-meter was just indicating 10g’s when he felt the shock wave from the explosions behind him. The two Russian made Archer air-to-air missiles were traveling at over 3,000 miles per hour and about 300 yards away when Donny made his 10g turn. The computers onboard the missiles were just making their course corrections when both impacted the canyon wall with a huge explosion.

  ***

  SAM had skillfully guided Donny into the south end of Copper Canyon, a terrain formation similar to and somewhat larger than the Grand Canyon in Arizona.

  SAM flashed a note on the technician’s screens in an effort to help them see what she was planning.

  [Copper Canyon is a group of canyons consisting of six distinct canyons in the Sierra Tarahumara in the southwestern part of the state of Chihuahua in Mexico. The overall canyon system is larger and portions are deeper than the Grand Canyon in neighboring Arizona.[1] The canyons were formed by six rivers which drain the western side of the Sierra Tarahumara into the Rio Fuerte and empty into the Sea of Cortez. The walls of the canyon are covered with copper/green colored layers of boulders and rocks left over after the rivers finished carving these canyons.]