Grant and Morgan were shoved into the cart, and they motored away.
As the cart passed the main food court, a shout called out to them. When the cart didn’t slow, the shout became a scream of bloody murder. That finally got the officer to stop.
“What the hell is going on now?” he said.
Fay ran over to them waving her arms, dashing around to the driver.
“I need their help,” she said, breathing hard.
“Do you know these people, ma’am?”
“They’re friends of my granddaughter. What’s going on?”
“We caught them after they beat two men to the point of unconsciousness. We’re taking them to the security office. You can meet us there.”
The officer’s radio squawked. “Moline, where are you?”
“Moline here. We’re at the food court near the Heli Center.”
“We’ve got a major problem with the spaceplane demo. They lost contact with the pilot, and then he just took off.”
Grant felt his stomach sink. Colchev was already on his way up.
“That’s what I’m telling you!” Grant said. “The spaceplane is being hijacked.”
“And for all we know, you’re in on it. Now shut up!”
“Moline,” the voice on the radio said, “get over to the flight ops and see if you can give them a hand.”
“We’ve got suspects in custody.”
“Damn it! All right, bring them back here. I’ll get someone else.”
Moline put the radio away. “Ma’am, we have to go—”
Fay jabbed the muzzle of a Glock pistol against Moline’s rib cage, taking care to keep it out of sight of passing patrons. “No. You let them go. Now.”
Moline snickered at the seventy-five-year-old. “Is this a joke?”
“Do I look like a comedian?” Fay said with a deadly serious stare. Moline’s smirk faltered.
“Fay,” Morgan said, “where did you get that?”
“Tyler gave it to me. You didn’t think I would be the only one to come here unarmed, did you?”
Grant supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d want her own weapon after the way she handled that shotgun in New Zealand.
When Moline hesitated, Fay poked him with the Glock. “Don’t make me shoot you.”
Moline nodded at the other officer, who unlocked Morgan’s cuffs and then Grant’s.
“What do we do with them?” Morgan said, retrieving their weapons and the officers’ guns as well.
Grant looked around and saw a row of Port-a-Potties on the other side of the food court. “Over there.”
As inconspicuously as possible, they put the two officers into the potties and locked the doors with the handcuffs. The men might scream for help, but it would take time for anyone to get them out.
“Good job, Fay,” Grant said.
“I had to do something. Tyler and Jess are on that plane.”
Grant and Morgan looked at each other in confusion, then back at Fay.
“Are you sure?”
Fay nodded. “They were wearing spacesuits, so when I was watching them get out of the shuttle bus, I thought they were the crew. But then I saw the shorter one put up her hands in the ‘V for victory’ sign.”
“I don’t get it.”
Fay’s words came out in a gusher. “In New Zealand if you do the sign palm-out, it means ‘victory’. But if you do the sign palm-in, it means ‘screw you.’ You know, like giving the finger. Well, the shorter one gave the palm-out version to the crowd, but then she definitely gave the palm-in version to the two men on either end. Then when I saw the taller man put his hand on her hip to escort her to the plane, I recognized their walks. It was Tyler and Jess. Now they’re on board the plane with that madman. You have to help them!”
“They must have the Killswitch on board,” Morgan said. “How long until they launch the spaceplane from the carrier?”
Grant had read up on the Skyward on the flight there. “If the pilot climbs hard, they can be in launch position in fifteen minutes.”
He could see Morgan doing mental calculations. She shook her head. “Not enough time. The closest air base is in Madison. Unless they scrambled right now, they won’t be able to get here in time to …” She glanced at Fay. “… to force them down.”
Grant shook his head. “You’re right. Who knows how long it’ll take to convince them that there’s enough of a threat to send up the fighters.”
“What about the fighters here?” Fay said, pointing at the T-38, whose portable start cart was already attached. “They could go up and find the spaceplane.”
“No good,” Morgan said. “The T-38 is a trainer. It’s unarmed. All the planes here are. Besides, without orders from their chain of command, they wouldn’t do it.”
“You could,” Grant said.
“Me?”
“You were a fighter pilot. Can’t you fly that?”
Morgan looked at the T-38 again and then back to Grant. “You’re serious?”
“What other choice to do we have?”
Morgan pursed her lips in thought before she finally nodded. “You’re right. Come on!”
She sprinted toward the T-38, leaving Grant to pull Fay along behind her.
The trainer’s pilots were standing next to the jet talking to a patron. Morgan pushed the man out of the way.
“Captain, I’m a federal agent. I’m commandeering your airplane.”
The baby-faced pilot smiled at her and then started laughing hysterically. He turned to his subordinate, a lieutenant. “Hudson, did you put this pretty lady up to this?”
The puzzled lieutenant joined in the laughter and shrugged.
“I don’t have time for this,” Morgan said, pulling out her pistol.
The pilots got quiet fast.
“I’d listen to her,” Grant said.
“What the hell is this?” the captain said.
“I don’t have time to explain, and you wouldn’t believe me anyway. Give me your helmet.”
“The hell I will.”
She looked up the stairs leading to the cockpit. “That’s okay. It must be in the cockpit. Is your plane prepped and ready to fly?”
“You’re taking my plane over my dead body.”
Fay pulled her pistol and pointed it at him. “That might happen, son. Because my granddaughter is a hostage on the spaceplane that took off. Now give this woman the keys or whatever she needs, or I’ll shoot you myself.”
“This is truly a matter of national security,” Morgan said. “There is an EMP weapon on board the spaceplane. If it reaches launch altitude, the entire US infrastructure could be destroyed. I’m a former F-16 pilot, and I’m going to bring them back down before that happens. Understand?”
“What’s your call sign?”
Without hesitation, she said, “Buster.”
Despite the situation, Grant couldn’t help a slight smile. He was quite sure that Buster stood for “Ball Buster”.
The captain frowned at her. “I’ll fly up myself if I get confirmation about this.”
“No time. Fay, keep an eye on them.”
Morgan ran up the stairs. Grant dogged her footsteps. At the top she turned to see him right behind her.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“What if you get vertigo up there? I’ve got a helicopter license. I can’t take off in one of these things, but I could keep the stick steady if you black out.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“Are you willing to bet the future of the country on that?”
She pursed her lips.
“I know what you have to do up there,” Grant said. “If they won’t land, there’s only one other way to bring them down.”
“That’s why I don’t want you there.”
“That’s my best friend we’re talking about. If you have to ram them, I want to be there to make sure Tyler doesn’t die in vai
n.”
She paused, wrestling with the decision, but he could tell she knew he was right.
“Okay,” she said grudgingly. “Get in the front seat. I’ll fire up the start cart.”
As Grant climbed in and squeezed into the pilot’s helmet and parachute, she ran back down the stairs and gestured frantically at Fay, who waved her gun at the two pilots when they didn’t respond quickly enough. Morgan ran back up the stairs and got in the rear cockpit seat.
“I told Fay to get the pilots to release the start cart once the engines are powered up. She’ll also get them to retract the stairway.”
They closed the canopies and strapped in. Grant kept his hands off the controls. The instrument panel was ten times more complicated than the light helicopter he flew.
The engines rumbled to life. He cranked his head around. The APU was pulled away, as were the stairs and wheel chocks. He gave the V-sign to Fay, palm out. She returned the gesture.
Grant thought they didn’t build them that tough any more and had to correct himself. The woman sitting behind him was the real deal, too.
Morgan released the brakes.
“Time to intercept?” Grant said.
“Can’t say. Even using afterburners, it’ll be close.”
Morgan informed the tower to clear all air traffic because she was taking off no matter what the controller said. A minute later the T-38 screamed down the runway, and Grant wondered if he’d ever touch the ground again.
FIFTY-SIX
Although the Lodestar carrier plane shaded the sun, Tyler had an expansive view of the horizon for 180 degrees around him thanks to the unorthodox window design. If he were prone to acrophobia, he’d be catatonic by now.
Tyler explored the limits of his restraints, but it was no use. The bungees were too tight to get any leverage against the belts. Zotkin had been very thorough, taking everything Tyler had on him, including his Leatherman.
He breathed in the smell of the Skyward’s interior through the slit in his helmet, a scent that smelled oddly like a car fresh off the factory floor, no doubt due to the newly installed upholstery. The tiny hole kept him from suffocating, but it did nothing to cool him down. He was already drenched with sweat.
Judging by their climb angle, he guessed they would hit the fifty-thousand-foot launch altitude in another five minutes.
“You okay?” Tyler whispered to Jess so that he wouldn’t be heard over the muted engine noise. He could see her struggling to no avail.
She gave him a plaintive look. “We’re going to die, aren’t we?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“What can we do? I’m trussed up like a turkey. Can you get out?”
“I’m trying.” He pulled again. This time he was able to move his arms up just a little. He tried twice more, but he’d reached his maximum range of motion. Unless he could figure out a way to loosen the belts, he was stuck.
Colchev had stripped out of his original flight suit and was now getting into the Icarus suit. It was somewhat bulkier because of the attached parachute and small oxygen tank. If Tyler could somehow break free, he’d at least have the advantage in mobility.
In situations like this, Tyler had one rule: doing something was better than doing nothing. He’d start by talking. He found it helped to get inside the mind of his enemy.
“I know what you’re planning to do, Colchev. You’re going to leave the Killswitch on here and jump out. Won’t work. We’ll both be in freefall. You’ll just float next to us outside the spaceplane until the bomb explodes.”
“Wrong.” He didn’t elaborate, but Tyler didn’t really think he was that stupid. Colchev was probably going to do it the other way around, dumping the Killswitch overboard once the timer was set, then using the rocket to put some distance between him and the explosion before bailing out.
At least that’s how Tyler would do it.
“Are you sure Icarus even works?” he asked.
“It was designed by top Russian engineers.”
“That’s what I mean.”
Colchev smirked at him. “Don’t forget that we were the first country into space. First satellite. First cosmonaut. First space walk. And now America rides on Russian rockets to the space station. I trust this parachute more than I trust this spaceplane.”
Tyler tried a different angle. “You can’t shoot us in here, you know. The bullets might rip through us and penetrate the hull.”
“True. If you’re worried about how you’re going to die, I’m planning to make it easy for you. Instead of letting you scream in terror as the disabled Skyward plummets back to Earth, I’ll just leave your suits unplugged from the environmental system. When I decompress the ship, you’ll fall unconscious and simply fade away. Much more pleasant.”
‘That’s very kind of you.”
“I’m not a monster.”
“Even though you’ve killed a dozen people already and you’re planning to kill thousands more?” Jess said.
“Soldiers are given medals for killing men while trying to take some godforsaken hill somewhere. I killed men on the way to resetting the global order. Which is more justified?”
“Yeah, you’re a regular hero.”
“One country’s villain is another’s hero. George Washington may be a hero in America, but to the British he was a vile traitor. If the colonies had lost the war, the city of Washington would be named Kingsville. It will be the same with me in Russia.”
“Colchevgrad?” Tyler said. “Not very catchy. There’s one other thing I’ve been wondering. How did you know about the cave on Easter Island? You didn’t have Fay’s relic to guide you there, but somehow you ambushed us.”
Colchev looked at them in amazement. “You really don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“About Dombrovski.”
“I know Dombrovski was the one who made the connection to the Nazca lines.”
Colchev shook his head and chuckled. “You Americans can keep secrets. Dombrovski was the one who originally brought the xenobium from Tunguska to the United States in exchange for asylum. He’s the one who created Project Caelus for the US Air Force. That’s why he was trying to find another source of xenobium.”
“Project Caelus?” So Colchev had additional information about Dombrovski’s secret project that Kessler hadn’t shared with them. Colchev must have had access to the records that the Soviets stole.
“It’s funny how we know more about it than you do,” Colchev said. “Dombrovski was obsessed with two things: Project Caelus and his second wife, Catherine. I suppose she became his fixation after the death of his first wife and daughter in Russia, but then Catherine died as well. Every morning he would visit her grave and then go straight to his lab.”
“Was Dombrovski a Russian spy?”
“No, he hated the communists. But we had someone in his lab who was sympathetic to our cause. That’s how we got possession of his notes. We’re the ones who torched his laboratory. We sabotaged his plane. We thought we had everything, including a photo of the xenobium in its Nazca hiding place. Dombrovski documented its existence but didn’t attempt to remove it because he hadn’t figured out how to do it without the chamber collapsing.”
“He planned to return to retrieve it,” Tyler said, “but the Soviets killed him before that happened.”
“We were going to complete his task,” Colchev said. “The old Soviet files had photos of the wood engraving, but Dombrovski died before we could find out the location the map was referring to. All we knew was that the xenobium was at Nazca. Then when I saw the video of Fay and heard her say, ‘Rapa Nui leads to xenobium,’ I thought she possessed the Nazca specimen. When I realized that wasn’t the case, I went to Easter Island to claim whatever clues were there for myself. You just happened to beat me to it. I set off the other Killswitch to keep you from following me.”
Tyler pulled at his restraints. “And yet here we are.”
Colchev strapped up the final piece of the Icarus
suit. “At least you’ll die for your country. Maybe they’ll even name a monument after you. I know they will name one after me in my country.”
Colchev put his hand to his ear and nodded.
“We’re nearing our departure point, lady and gentleman. You’ll be dead in a few minutes, so I’ll bid you farewell. As for me, destiny awaits.”
He walked back to the pilot’s seat and buckled in.
As Tyler continued trying to stretch his seat belts, he made one promise to himself.
He wasn’t going to die sitting on his ass.
FIFTY-SEVEN
Morgan had stopped talking, and that’s what worried Grant the most as he kept his hand on the T-38’s control stick. Being a trainer, the jet was easy to fly, but all he could do was follow a straight line or make minor adjustments in their heading. He needed Morgan for anything more complex, and the two-minute vertical ride to thirty thousand feet had brought on a fierce bout of her vertigo.
He thought she was okay until they nosed over and leveled off. It was bad enough for him, the blood pooling in his head from the negative g’s, but for her it must have been overwhelming. She told him to keep hold of the stick and then went silent.
Thanks to chatter on the radio, they had enough info to vector in on the Lodestar. It was fifteen miles away climbing at two thousand feet per minute. At their closing speed of mach 1.2, the T-38 would rendezvous with it before the Skyward was in position for launch.
Ground control continued to try to raise the Lodestar on the radio without success, so they had requested the Air Force to scramble two F-16s to intercept it. Their ETA was another fifteen minutes, far too late to do any good. The T-38 was the only plane in range to intervene. Although ground control was also trying to reach Morgan and Grant, they maintained radio silence.
The situation reconfirmed for Grant that the Killswitch was on the Skyward. If there had simply been a communications malfunction, the pilot would have returned to Oshkosh. The only explanation was that Colchev was making his attempt to detonate the weapon in the ionosphere, causing a doomsday scenario for the American infrastructure.
Grant was sick at the thought of being responsible for Tyler and Jess’s deaths. He wracked his brain for any other option, but he kept coming up empty. If they simply made a warning pass or attempted radio contact with the Lodestar pilot to threaten him, Colchev might launch before the T-38 could intercept even if the Skyward weren’t at the optimal altitude. They’d only get one pass at bringing the carrier down. This had to be a sneak attack.
The Roswell Conspiracy tl-3 Page 31
