by Fritz Galt
But May’s plane was heading for the line of chalets where Brad stood. He could see straight into her air intakes. Lightning flashed through the sky and cast a dark shadow across her helmet. Another jet from her team adroitly changed direction and began firing on her!
From the opposite side of Brad’s field of vision, the Russian Sukhoi fighter was attempting to land, but suddenly pulled a U-turn. For a moment, it flew backward like a cobra in a defensive posture.
Glitter started falling from May’s plane. Was it hit? He hadn’t heard an explosion.
All along the row of chalets, people began to duck for cover as a blanket of metal pieces fell from the sky. Then he understood. May was dropping chaff. The Chinese attacker launched another heat-seeking missile that screamed under her fuselage and headed directly for the barbeque pit in front of a large Pratt and Whitney engine. The resulting explosion sent fragments flying down the row of chalets. There to celebrate their industry, many would become victims of their own inventions.
May and her pursuer disappeared behind the fireball, and Brad looked around for the remaining plane, Jade’s jet. It was nowhere in sight.
Amidst the smoke, burning buildings and pandemonium, a space rocket rose from a portable launch pad. The resulting smoke temporarily obscured the runway where the Spitfire was attempting to land. Above all the chaos on the ground and in the air, the rocket arced gloriously toward the heavens.
Chapter 8
Dramatic clouds accumulated over Paris as May raced away from Le Bourget Airfield with Liang on her tail.
Straight ahead, a cloud of angry hornets spiraled toward her. It was the Blue Angels, unaware of her presence. They were performing barrel rolls directly at her. She blinked nervously, and to her astonishment a line of cannon fire spouted from her wing guns directly at the American jets. How had she done that? It sent the Americans peeling away from each other in an impromptu hydra maneuver.
She looked down and focused on railroad tracks leading into the city. Should she follow them away from the airfield? She blinked again. Then she felt a shudder as a rocket released from under a wing mount. She had just deployed an air-to-surface missile. Moments later, she flew over a section of railroad tracks that ripped apart under her 150-kilogram payload.
Someone had armed her plane! And with her smart helmet, every turn of her eye redirected the crosshairs, and every blink sent out either cannon fire or a missile. Liang had given her what she needed for self-defense, before he shot her out of the sky.
Well, that would not happen. She reached for the afterburners. Maybe she could put some distance between her and her pursuer.
“I’m right beside you,” a female voice crackled over the headset.
May looked to her right just in time to see Jade’s plane pull up to her wingtip.
“I’ve got live ammunition,” May warned her.
“So do I,” Jade said. “Let’s take Liang out.”
May hit the afterburner, and a high-tech dogfight ensued in the skies over Paris. The sequence of events played out calmly in May’s mind, however harrowing it might have appeared from the ground.
The small hills surrounding Paris became terrain that she could hug to escape Liang’s radar. Fortunately, there were few high-rise buildings in the city. And the major boulevards were wide enough to accommodate her wingspan. Then suddenly, the Arc de Triomphe stood out before her.
She took a deep breath and tilted up on one wing. A second later, she buzzed straight through it. The sound of her engine boomed briefly off the interior of the structure.
Meanwhile Jade took the tactical step of covering her. Jade took potshots at Liang as he chased after May. Liang’s effective use of flares prevented Jade from scoring a hit. Several vendors along the Seine, however, lost their bookstalls to Liang’s flares.
May took advantage of Jade’s distraction to circle out over the city. Soon, May was heading back toward Liang. She could hide behind the radar shadow of the Eiffel Tower only so long. Soon he would come barreling around it and meet her head-on. She increased her power to minimize the time his missiles had to lock in on her. Simultaneously, she headed straight at where he would appear to eliminate any heat signature for his missiles to lock onto.
He came around the tower firing a rocket. May banked hard toward the structure. The warhead changed direction abruptly and slammed into a spot near the top of the tower. It blasted several iron stanchions away. Oh, no. There were people up there.
In the shadow of Paris’ toppling crown, May banked back toward her attacker. She would have to strike him before he destroyed any more of the city. She braced for a head-on collision, closed her eyes and held the stick firm. The sudden bow wave of his plane tried to push her away, but she resisted.
A moment later…nothing happened.
There was just the boom of his engine against her underbelly.
She opened her eyes. Liang had barrel-rolled into an inverted position. It was a standard aerobatic maneuver. And the choice of a coward.
The top of the Eiffel Tower was falling down upon her. People tumbled from the observation platform to certain death. With power to spare, she kicked on her afterburners and pulled a sweeping turn away from the crippled landmark.
Tears formed in her eyes and began to blot out her vision. She fought off the urge to blink the tears away. Her strafing had already endangered too many lives. “Liang, what are you doing?” she shouted in Chinese into the mike.
“I was passing through town,” came his playful response.
“Did you have to kill a few hundred people in the process?”
“There is only one person that I need to eliminate.”
May didn’t need to ask who that was, for her radar picked up his plane at her exact location. The two blips had merged into one.
“Don’t look up, baby,” he said coolly. “I’m on top of you.”
He had managed to loop down and around on top of her. His belly nearly scraped the top of her canopy.
He was going to crush her mid air.
The image of her American boyfriend flashed briefly through her mind. She had to survive this. Brad needed her. She executed a tight half-roll. With one wing pointed straight down at the city, the other wing etched a deep gash into Liang’s fuselage.
She reached for her ejection button. With two tiny explosions, the canopy blew off and then her seat ejected from the cockpit. She was sent into an onrush of air, parallel to the ground that was a mere hundred meters below.
The seat separated from her at once. Her parachute opened automatically. She felt a neck-breaking jolt on her torso as the fabric caught the wind.
Impaled by her jet, Liang’s plane started a slow, awkward listing to one side. Then, through her visor, she caught a third plane zooming into view. A missile converged on Liang, and his aircraft burst into flames. That set off the ordinance still onboard May’s jet. The two wounded aircraft plummeted to earth in a final unholy union.
Jade tipped her wings in salute and turned back to Le Bourget.
Test pilots often pushed their aircraft too hard. Airplane manufacturers and purchasers appreciated that fact. It would take some time for the French to reach the mistaken conclusion that their capital was under attack and they should scramble Mirage jets to patrol the skies.
Liang had created a serious diplomatic incident. Collateral damage was severe. But France’s biggest wound would be to her pride. Someone would have to pay for the security breach and the toppled landmark. But in the long run, the Chinese would profit handsomely from the sale of J-10 fighters.
May’s parachute took her into a cloud of black smoke. Metal debris rained down from above and singed her uniform. She flipped her visor back and sucked in the damp breeze. At least she had survived.
Why had Liang come to Paris? He wasn’t part of their team. He wasn’t even in the military any longer. He was a businessman, far from the political circus in Beijing. And what had he hoped to accomplish by killing the formation’s
leader and trying to shoot her down?
Why had he come roaring back into her life? And why did he want her dead?
She was drifting over a narrow street with cars parked on both sides. It looked like a quiet neighborhood, one of those romantic little nooks that characterized much of the City of Lights.
She drifted over a small courtyard. Yes, she would set down there. She tugged on the strings to spiral back over the open space. Closer to the ground, it became clear that she had misjudged the size of the courtyard. It was smaller than she had thought. She became aware of tables and people eating there.
With a final tug, she reined the parachute in and came to a perfect flat-footed landing. The silky white fabric settled down on the pavement behind her. As trained, she unfastened all her buckles and stepped out of her harness. She rolled up the lines and fabric and collected it in a ball under one arm.
Kneeling, she became aware of the sweet smell of pastries and a break in the chatter. She pivoted around. She was no more than ten meters from a long table where a bridal party sat. A pyramid of multicolored dough balls constituted a traditional French wedding cake.
She stood in her smoking flight suit, removed her helmet, and stared at the bride in her white lace dress. Behind them were steps leading up to a church. It was such a beautiful, life-embracing moment, she found herself breaking into tears.
And then rain began to fall.
Chapter 9
Back at Le Bourget, Brad’s heart still palpitated wildly. Embers from chaff and airplane parts singed his hair and skin.
He had kept an eye on May’s jet for as long as possible. But the sleek wedge had disappeared over the treetops with her wingman in hot pursuit, strafing her all the while. The lead jet that had exploded smoldered in the grass at the far end of the airfield, and Jade’s plane, the last in the formation, had flown off to defend May.
“What in the world is going on here?” His voice was muffled. He tried to move, but couldn’t. Earl’s fleshy torso had landed on top of him. “Skeeter, could you get your stomach off my head?”
Earl slid off, and Brad became aware of the terrifying sounds ricocheting off the grandstands and hangars. An emergency siren had gone off, and several fire trucks were rushing out to the downed Chinese jet. Additional medical teams were arriving at the chalets that were set ablaze by the explosive missile fired from the air.
On the runway, a jumbo jet landed with a roar, and the Blue Angels buzzed the airfield, seeking permission to set down.
Brad rose to his knees and shook his friend. “Did you see what happened to May?”
“The turd in the PLA plane shot the lead jet down,” Earl said, “then took off after May and Jade.”
What a relief. May hadn’t started all the shooting.
But she was still in trouble. How could they learn what was happening?
Earl reached down for a slice of Peking duck and sucked on it. Beyond him, Brad’s Chinese hosts were busy attending to one of their young female servers who had a piece of metal lodged in her upper chest. None of the gruff old men felt it appropriate to touch her, nor did they see the need to avert their gaze.
Brad saw the jumbo jet roll to a stop. Finally the Blue Angels zipped in one after another. Lastly, French Mirages scrambled to protect the capital’s skies.
The control tower stood opposite them. Surely air traffic controllers would know the fate of May’s plane from the blips on their radar screens. But he couldn’t cross the runway to get to them.
Where was CNN when he needed it?
“Follow me.” He dragged his friend to his feet. “Let’s head for the end of the runway and wait for their planes to land.”
They stumbled through the flaming wreckage. It was a scene of agony and despair and ruined meals. He didn’t dwell on any of it. His only thoughts were of May. If he ever saw her shining eyes and smiling face again, he would whisk her away to a place where weapons did not exist.
Suddenly all the destruction around him was caught in a blue flash. Lightning illuminated alarmed faces and cast deep shadows. A clap of thunder boomed overhead.
Raindrops began to hiss in the flames all around him.
Earl grabbed him. “There’s a J-10!”
Brad turned to look. One of the Chinese jets was making an approach. He broke into a full sprint. He passed the U.S. Navy demonstration squad taxiing back to their hangar.
He had a good pair of legs. In fact, he was a born runner, and he was waiting at the edge of the grass when the Chengdu J-10 sloshed through a puddle to a halt.
“It’s Jade!” Earl cried behind him.
Brad peered through the bubble of the cockpit. Sure enough, the pilot removed her helmet and a short wave of hair fell free. She needed a minute to steer the bird away and make room for the next plane to land.
But no additional planes appeared through the downpour. Brad watched and waited while Earl loped after Jade.
The sudden emptiness of the sky had a numbing effect on Brad. His breathing turned shallow, and his chest barely moved. His heart seemed to come to a standstill. The escalating patter of rain on his head and shoulders no longer marked time.
Earl shouted a greeting through the howl of Jade’s engine as it wound down.
At last, Brad swung around to see what they were doing.
Jade had raised the canopy and was unbuckling herself. Earl had climbed halfway up the rungs to meet her.
“Where’s May?” Earl shouted.
Jade lowered a leg over the edge of the cockpit and climbed down.
Brad approached the pair on feet that felt like cement blocks.
“May got shot down by Liang,” Jade reported to both of them. “But I saw a parachute. I think she’s safe. I don’t know if there was a second parachute.”
Brad’s heart began to revive, beat by beat. May could still be alive! But the mere mention of Liang’s name brought on an ominous feeling. He had read newspaper accounts about Liang in Shanghai. The likelihood of anyone, even May, escaping him was slim if he resumed his killing ways.
Gloom fell over him. He was destined to deal with Liang forever. Furthermore, depending on what Liang chose to perpetrate next, whether it be destabilizing the world economy, upsetting a presidential election or destroying armies, the world was certain to undergo another period of strife.
Earl turned back to him. Excitement was written all over his face. “Did you hear that? There was a parachute!”
Brad acknowledged with a slight nod. It was hard to smile when his entire world was unraveling before his very eyes.
Okay, maybe May had survived. But for how long? As rain pelted down even harder and obscured his view, he began to see more clearly.
He would have to call his father.
Chapter 10
May wrenched her eyes off the nuzzling newlyweds, and the groom who had his hand up the bride’s dress. They were the only ones in the bridal party not to notice her dramatic arrival by parachute. She didn’t want to destroy the moment, but the rain did. In the panicked moving of tables into the vestibule of the church, she was left alone in the middle of the courtyard.
She would have to disappear as well, before Liang came back with an assault rifle or stiletto.
She found a set of dumpsters and recycling bins at the rear of the courtyard and dumped her helmet and parachute in there.
Next, she stepped out of her orange jumpsuit and threw it away. Her jeans and white blouse were rapidly becoming saturated by rain.
A covered carriage entrance marked the way out of the courtyard. She stepped into the short, dark passageway just as a pensioner emerged from the building, umbrella in hand. Before the door swung shut, May slipped into the lobby.
The ground floor housed several small offices. A spiral staircase ascended the entire core of the structure. Maybe with a bird’s-eye view, she could see where Liang’s plane had gone down. She began to climb the marble steps, worn smooth from centuries of use.
The last half-flight took
her to a fifth floor and left her at a tiny entrance to two apartments. There were no windows to the outer world.
She knocked on one door. It opened slightly and a strong-featured woman with iron gray hair peered out.
The woman looked her up and down. “Oui, madame?” Behind her in a tiny foyer appeared a pleasant-featured young woman and a wary young man.
“I am a-sorry to be trouble,” May said in English, aware that her wet appearance and lack of French might put them off.
But the young woman intervened and flung the door wide open. “Pardon, maman,” she said, and nudged her mother out of the way. “Are you the Chinese pilot on TV?”
Holy Mother of Mao, she was in the news? Upon further reflection, it only seemed natural that a dogfight over the city would attract attention.
“That is me. I need a telephone.”
“Naturellement,” the daughter said, and stepped aside to allow her into the apartment.
May glanced around. In one direction was a bedroom with a small window facing the courtyard. The other way led to a cozy living room with a balcony on the front of the building. “May I look outside first?”
The young man remained dubious, but flattened against the wall to let them pass. The mother shook her head and aimed for the kitchen where soup was boiling.
May took an instant liking to the daughter, whose blonde hair was gathered by a ribbon behind her neck, exposing a frank expression and amiable eyes. French doors opened onto the balcony built into the mansard roof. May poked her head out and scanned the skyline. Rain prickled her skin.
She made out a trail of black smoke rising from a nearby park. That would be the remains of her jet. How lucky that it hadn’t landed in a crowded area. She checked the skies for any aircraft, but saw and heard nothing.
“A second plane crashed on the Boulevard Raspail,” the young woman offered helpfully.
“Was anyone hurt?”
“Nobody on the ground was injured,” the woman said. “Thank God.”
