by Daniel Wyatt
“ZULU TWO-FOUR-THREE TO ZULU TWO-FOUR-FOUR. THE TWO ON THE RIGHT ARE YOURS.”
“ROGER. EASY MEAT.”
Les let the Fly-by-Wire computer kick in. He no longer had to control the actual flight of the Hornet using stick and rudders. The FBW allowed Les to be free of any distractions and to concentrate on the targets. With one touch of his thumb on the stick, he adjusted the weapon select switch down. Two AIM-7 Sparrow missiles were ready for launching. The right DDI and HUD now displayed the Sparrow mode. The computer sorted through the targets. Les only had to pick and choose. Two left. With the stick, he lined up the pointer on the left radar dots one at a time. He had lock-on. With his forefinger, he fired the first radar-guided missile.
“FOX ONE,” he announced to Tiger, signifying that a radar-guided Sparrow was launched. Then the second missile. Fox Two. In his headphones, he heard Tiger give the verbal signals for his own launches.
* * * *
MARY JANE
Paul Lunsford, in his bombardier nose position, saw four fiery trails speeding towards a line of clouds.
“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” he screamed into the intercom. “COMMANDER, DID YOU SEE THAT?”
“I SAW IT!”
“WHAT ARE THEY?”
“ROCKETS. I DON’T KNOW.”
“WAIT, THERE’S FOUR BOGIES. SPREAD OUT. TWELVE O’CLOCK. LOOKIT THOSE ROCKETS MOVE!”
In seconds, all four targets exploded, one after another, the burning debris plummeting towards the water of Ise Bay.
Inside the cockpit, Clayton and Loran exchanged shocked stares, too stunned to speak. Lunsford did that for them.
“DID YOU SEE THAT! SON-OF-A-BITCH! OUR LITTLE FRIENDS DIDN’T HAVE TO MOVE. THEY FIRED THOSE ROCKETS AND SHOT DOWN FOUR BOGIES. HELL, I’M GLAD THESE GUYS ARE ON MY SIDE.”
Ainsworth saw Les’s F-18 through the navigator’s window. He was confused. Fighters weren’t supposed to escort Mary Jane over Japan. This wasn’t part of the mission. They were getting in the way. Who were these fellahs with the twin-engined fighter planes with no props and weaponry so advanced that they could knock aircraft out of the sky before the pilots could even see them?
“NAVIGATOR TO COMMANDER.”
Ainsworth turned to Dwight Marshall, who had called up Clayton on the intercom.
“I HEAR YOU, NAVIGATOR.”
“ALTER COURSE TO THREE-ONE-ONE ON MY SIGNAL, COMMANDER.”
This was Ainsworth’s cue. The turning point at Ise Bay. Never mind the fighters. He nervously felt for his pistol beneath his Mae West and flight gear and took a few steps towards the cockpit, only a few feet away. He stopped directly behind Clayton just as Marshall gave the signal for the turning point at the very end of Ise Bay.
“IT’S COMING. HOLD ON. HERE WE ARE. ALTER COURSE TO THREE-ONE-ONE, COMMANDER.”
“TURNING THREE-ONE-ONE.”
Before Clayton could bank the Mary Jane to port, Ainsworth yanked the gun from beneath his flight gear and shoved the barrel against the back of Clayton’s neck. The commander tried to pivot his head and look behind him, but Ainsworth pressed the barrel harder.
“Don’t turn around!”
“Ainsworth, what yuh doing?”
“Shut up, and listen to me.” Ainsworth stepped back so that he could see Loran, Clayton, and the others in the next compartment through the bulkhead opening. “Forget that heading, commander.”
“Why?”
“We’re not going to Kyoto. You have a new compass heading. Three-three-six.”
“I hope this is a joke.”
“It’s no joke. Start turning to three-three-six. NOW!” Ainsworth stuck the gun even deeper into Clayton’s skin.
“Take it easy!”
“Turn!”
The commander banked the bomber onto the new heading and leveled off, then asked, “Where we going?”
Ainsworth grinned. “Vladivostok,” he replied, hoarsely. “That’s in the Soviet Union, in case you don’t know.”
“That’s at least six hundred miles away!”
“Three hours and we’ll be there.”
Clayton grunted. “You’re a Russian agent, aren’t you. I suppose your real name isn’t Ainsworth?”
“That’s right. I am Russian,” Ainsworth replied with a Russian accent for the first time. “My real name is of no concern to you. Just fly. My country wants this bomb.”
“Why?”
“Why? Are you crazy? We can rule the world with it.”
Clayton glanced over at Loran. Both seemed calm.
“One bomb can’t rule the world, Ainsworth. We’ve got more.”
“No, you don’t, commander. I know the Manhattan Project inside and out. I infiltrated it, along with a few others. You Americans won’t have another atomic bomb ready for at least six months, maybe a year.”
“What if we refuse to fly this bird to Russia?”
“I can fly it myself. I can easily deal with both of you and take this ship and fly it to the Soviet Union.” Ainsworth glanced over his shoulder. Neither Emerson, Marshall, or Brown had made a move.
“Then why don’t you?” Clayton said. “I don’t think you’ve ever flown in your life.”
“Shut up! Any wrong move and you get it in the back of the head.”
“OK, OK.” Clayton could see it would be wiser to keep things as calm as possible. “How are we expected to land with a fully armed atomic bomb aboard? It could go off and kill us all. Then you wouldn’t have anything, pal.”
“I know what you’re trying to do, dammit. You... you think you can try something when I’m back in the bomb bay disarming Fat Baby. Well, I got news for you. I still have the red plugs. I never did replace the green ones. She’s not armed.”
Clayton knew he had to keep Ainsworth talking. “What about those two fighters following us? Once we’re over the Sea of Japan, they might take some action.”
“Who says they will?”
Clayton had to agree. What to do now? He was beginning to believe that Ainsworth — or whatever his name was — was acting on his own. A Russian conspiracy couldn’t be behind such a kooky plan. Ainsworth had to be nuts!
* * * *
KYOTO
“Toshika, am I glad to see you.”
David and Walker met Toshika in the front lobby.
“This is Ensign Walker.”
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Walker said, cordially.
“Ensign,” Toshika replied. “What’s this all about, you two?” she asked, red-faced, visibly annoyed. “I came as soon as I could. I’m afraid it wasn’t easy getting away. The traffic is horrible.” She shot a stare at David. “Why couldn’t you tell me over the phone?”
“Security, ma’am,” Walker said.
David put his hand on her shoulder. “I wouldn’t have asked you here if it wasn’t important. Believe me. We need you to speak to the colonel for us. He has some information we need. Besides, he keeps asking for you.”
She seemed to relax. “What information?”
“He knows the codename for the Kyoto atomic mission.”
“This again? I told you, David, don’t listen to the colonel.”
David took a breath to control his sudden anger. “There were three missions. This has been confirmed. OK. Confirmed. My father’s bomber, the Mary Jane, really did carry an atomic bomb. I have been ordered by the US Navy to find the codename for the mission. I don’t know why, but it must be found. They need it and I need your help because I can’t get through to the colonel.”
“I see,” Toshika replied, after a long silence. “OK, let’s go. But I have to warn you. Today could be one of those bad days.”
Chapter fourteen
It was a single projectile
Charged with all the power of the universe.
An incandescent column of smoke and flame
As bright as ten thousand suns
Rose in all its splendor...
It was an unknown weapon,
An iron thunderbolt,
&
nbsp; A gigantic messenger of death
Which reduced to ashes
The entire race of the Vrishnis and the Andhakras
...The corpses were so burned
As to be unrecognizable.
Their hair and nails fell out;
Pottery broke without cause,
And the birds turned white.
the ancient Sanskrit writings of Mahabharata
* * * *
JAPAN
“ZULU TWO-FOUR-THREE, THIS IS A WIDE BOMB RUN. MARY JANE IS OFF COURSE.”
Les looked down at the northern coast of Japan. The white caps of the Sea of Japan blinked ahead. Tiger was right. Clayton was drifting off course, unless he was going to take a wide bank over the water and head south to the target. But that would leave the bomber over enemy territory for too long.
“LET’S JUST STAY WITH HIM, TIGER.”
“ROGER.”
Suddenly, tracers flew by, barely missing the F-18s. Les glanced behind. Two prop-driven fighters — Zeros for sure — were bearing down. More tracers, then the Zeros shot past, directly underneath. There didn’t seem to be any hits. The Zeros banked to the far left and began to turn to starboard more than two miles out.
“LOOKS LIKE ANOTHER ATTACK COMING UP ON OUR SIX, TIGER.”
“YEAH. LET ME TAKE A CRACK AT ’EM.”
Les considered the request. They just couldn’t hang underneath the Mary Jane and hope that no Jap ammo found its mark. If either he or Tiger, or the Mary Jane for that matter, were shot down, no one would return intact to 1990. They had no choice.
“GO BOUNCE ’EM, TIGER. MAKE IT QUICK AND GET BACK HERE.”
“ROGER.”
Tiger eased away from the bomber, shoving the throttles forward.
Les watched and changed frequencies. “ZULU TWO-FOUR-THREE TO HAWKEYE THREE-SIX. ZULU TWO-FOUR-THREE TO HAWKEYE THREE SIX.”
“I HEAR YUH, LITTLE FRIEND.”
“DON’T MOVE. THE ZEROS WON’T BOTHER YOU ANYMORE. THEY’RE DEAD MEAT.”
“SAY AGAIN. DEAD WHAT?”
“NEVER MIND. JUST STAY WHERE YOU ARE.”
Watching the Zeros banking, Tiger cut in front of their intended path by several thousand yards and pulled the stick towards him. The F-18 climbed into the sky, almost straight up. After 3,000 feet in a vertical climb, he whipped the fighter over and came in 2,000 yards behind the Zeros. The Zeros — making a run for it — banked off in opposite directions. He then raced between them at a speed of more than Mach 1. He banked to port and felt the G-forces build against his body. He tensed his stomach and leg muscles. The G-line on the HUD climbed to 6-G before he leveled the fighter and came up again from behind, this time at less than 500 yards. The two fighters were forming up again, only thirty yards apart. He throttled back to give them some lead.
Tiger flicked a button on the column to call up the Air Combat Maneuvering mode, in particular the Boresight mode. He pointed the nose at the left Zero. The HUD displayed a twenty-degree horizontal and vertical search and locked up the targets one at a time. He pressed the weapons select switch on the column to the down position. Sidewinder mode. Two heat-seeking missiles waiting. The noses of the Sidewinders were so sensitive to any type of heat that they would relay a constant rattle into the pilot’s headphones once he lined onto another aircraft. Tiger heard the rattle. He squeezed the trigger on the stick. Two heat-seeking missiles on their way.
He banked severely to starboard.
* * * *
Inside the Mary Jane, most of the crew, including Clayton and Loran, saw the two bright explosions.
Ainsworth stood amazed. “That’s incredible!”
It was Clayton’s chance. He grabbed the controls and yanked them hard to the left, then to the right. Ainsworth, the only one not strapped in, flew across the cockpit. His head banged against the back of Clayton’s seat, but he still managed to hold onto the pistol. Loran unstrapped himself and jumped at Ainsworth, punching him hard on the mouth. They struggled for the gun, four sweaty hands in death lock. The two rolled over and over.
“Come on, Four Eyes, give it up!” Loran screamed while on his back, Ainsworth on top of him.
Before they knew it, two shots fired upwards into the fuselage.
“Watch it!” Clayton shouted over his shoulder. “Butch, get in there!”
Butch Emerson joined in to help, but two more shots exploded. Emerson was able to grab the gun and with Ainsworth holding it, and pointed the barrel into Ainsworth stomach. Emerson pulled the trigger.
Twice.
Ainsworth slumped on his back to the deck, his stomach bleeding. Emerson struggled to his knees and fired the pistol once more directly into Ainsworth’s chest.
“Bastard!”
“Easy, Butch, he’s dead.” Loran took the gun from Emerson. “Thanks.”
Smoke and the smell of cordite filled the air. The cockpit began to cool off quickly.
“We’re losing cabin pressure!” Clayton cried out. “Paul!” He pointed upwards with one hand, hanging onto the wheel with the other. “Plug up the holes!”
Lunsford grabbed some clean rags he had kept at his station and jumped into the cockpit.
“COMMANDER TO NAVIGATOR. I NEED A COURSE TO LAKE BIWA.”
“GIVE ME A SECOND, SIR.”
Lunsford saw two holes a few inches apart above the commander’s head. He ripped one of the rags into two pieces and rolled up one section. In thirty seconds, he had both holes plugged firmly. “There,” he said.
“I can still feel cold air,” Clayton said. “And it’s getting harder to breath.”
Loran agreed. He got down on his knees and checked each side of the fuselage. “There — to the right of my seat. Two holes.” He could see that the bullets had just missed the intercom jack box by inches.
Ripping another piece of rag in half, Lunsford handed one piece to Loran, who shoved it in place. The temperature began to rise and breathing became easier.
“That’s more like it,” Clayton said. “Thanks, guys.” He saw Emerson searching through Ainsworth’s pockets. “Butch, what are you doing?”
“Trying to find the red plugs, sir. Here they are,” he said, holding them in his hand. “All three of them.” He showed them to his skipper. “I guess I’ll be the one to put the little buggers in.”
“Get ready,” Clayton encouraged him. “But wait, the bomb bay is unheated and unpressurized. You’ll have to release the pressure in our compartment so that you can open the hatch. We have no choice but to insert the red plugs at high altitude because we can’t afford to drop down 20,000 feet. The Japs will swarm all over us.”
“I understand, sir.”
“Hurry, damn it!”
“I’m going.”
“NAVIGATOR TO COMMANDER. I GOT THE FIRST TURNING POINT FOR YOU.”
* * * *
Through light cloud, Tiger saw Les and the Mary Jane at three o’clock, three or four miles off. They had changed direction and were back on the bomb run. He pushed forward on the throttles to catch up, banking slightly a few degrees to starboard.
“ZULU TWO-FOUR-THREE, THIS IS ZULU TWO-FOUR-FOUR. TARGETS DESTROYED.
“ROGER, ZULU TWO-FOUR-FOUR. I HAVE A VISUAL OF YOU.”
Tiger was only three hundred yards off now. Then... the bomber and Hulk both disappeared.
* * * *
KYOTO
Toshika stood beside the wheelchair and shook the sleeping Mason by the shoulders. “Colonel.”
Mason opened his eyes, looking up at her. “Toshika, is that you?”
“Yes, it is, colonel.” She found a chair, smiled, and sat awkwardly. “Did you enjoy your breakfast?”
“No, it was terrible.”
Toshika grinned. “Come now, it couldn’t have been that bad.”
“It was so!”
Toshika knew it was no use arguing with him. “Colonel, is it true you were an officer in the United States Air Force during World War II?”
“Yes... it is true. I was in S-2.”
>
“S-2?” Toshika whispered to David in his direction.
“Intelligence section, ma’am,” Walker said.
“Intelligence, is that right, colonel?”
The colonel nodded at Toshika’s next question. She reached out and held his hand. “Colonel, was there really a third atomic mission called on our country? I want the truth.”
It took Mason a long time before he responded. Finally, he said, “It’s top secret. I promised President Truman that I would never tell anybody who didn’t need to know.”
“But you told David and me yesterday.”
Surprised, he answered, “Did I?”
“Yes, you did. David’s father knew the crew of the Mary Jane, the bomber that you said had left its base to bomb Kyoto with a plutonium bomb.”
Mason stared off, glassy-eyed. “Something went wrong.”
“What went wrong?”
“I can’t tell you. I promised President Truman.”
“Truman’s been dead for years. You don’t owe him anything. What was the codename, colonel?”
“I can’t do it.”
“Do you remember it?”
“Yes, I do. With that codename I had power. The entire Army Air Force was at my beck and call. A mere mention of the name could cancel the mission, even make the Mary Jane turn around in mid-flight.”
“Please tell us the codename, colonel,” Toshika pleaded. “The US Navy needs it. Nothing will happen to you, honest.”
David stepped forward, red-faced. “OK, that’s it. Colonel, let’s finish this thing right here. I’m sure the US Navy doesn’t want to waste anyone’s time. This isn’t a game. The navy pulled me out of bed at five this morning to get the codename from you. Now tell us the damn codename. Now!”
“David, please,” Toshika said. “Colonel, listen to me. We’re not leaving until we get the codename. So tell us. Truman won’t roll over in his grave. He’d understand. We want it!”
