by Fritz Galt
Chapter 33
For Jade Wang, piloting the world’s most highly evolved business jet was a pleasure. With the Cessna’s take-off weight under 26,000 pounds, she had been able to reach a cruising altitude of 43,000 feet in less than fifteen minutes. The twin pod-mounted Rolls Royce engines on the sides at the rear of the fuselage were efficiently propelling them along at .92 Mach, just shy of the speed of sound.
She took her eyes off the flight management system and looked through the cockpit window. The sun was fading quickly behind them, and she was piloting the foursome into the pink edge of night. Somewhere ahead, a commercial transcontinental jetliner was taking Liang and Dr. Yu back to China. Her mission, as she saw it, was to beat Liang back and be waiting for him with the army.
In order to jettison take-off weight, she had asked the pilot and co-pilot to exit the aircraft. She had been relieved when May arrived to make it a two-person crew.
Although she had never flown the Citation X before, she did know the basic parameters within which the bird flew. And they were extraordinary. Maximum certified altitude: 51,000 feet. Maximum speed: Mach 0.93. Maximum range: New York to Paris.
However, those were only under ideal circumstances. There were several practical limitations that she should not overlook. The primary tradeoff was speed vs. range. They could fly at near supersonic speed, or they could fly a long distance. But she needed both if they were going to reach Shanghai before Liang.
She punched several numbers into the flight director system, an array of five large LCD screens. She took her eyes off her calculations and turned to May in the co-pilot seat.
May had been watching her run the numbers and nibbled on her bottom lip. She was probably calculating the options in her head.
Jade reviewed what she knew. A typical jetliner traveling at top speed would take approximately ten hours to fly from Paris to Shanghai. Chances were Liang had an hour’s lead-time on them, so from the time she and May took off from Le Bourget, they had to reach their destination within nine hours.
The Cessna could fly ten percent faster than a commercial jet normally flew, and that could make up the difference.
However, they were burning up fuel like mad. If she wanted to achieve maximum range, she would have to slow down to Mach 0.82.
But the maximum range was 6,100 kilometers. She turned to her air mile calculator. The distance between Paris and Shanghai was 9,300 kilometers.
She would have to refuel, but couldn’t afford to refuel twice. If she didn’t adjust her speed soon, the number of places to refuel would drop significantly. She checked the map. At the current speed, they would have to refuel somewhere short of Baghdad, 3,867 kilometers from Paris, then fly on at reduced speed to Shanghai.
If she slowed down to Mach 0.82, she could reach Kabul, Afghanistan, 5,616 kilometers away.
May must have been thinking along the same lines. “You need to refuel somewhere between Iraq and Afghanistan.”
She rolled her eyes. “What other airports are there?”
May checked the map and reported back. “There’s Tehran, Iran.”
Great. So she would have to land in Iraq, Iran or Afghanistan. She reached for the PA mike and pressed the transmit button. “Brad, we have a problem.”
She experimented with her articulated crew seat while he roused himself and staggered to the flight deck.
“Yeah? Wassup?”
“If we’re going to catch up with Liang and beat him to Shanghai, we can only afford to refuel once.”
“And you need a credit card,” he said.
“Yes. But first, we need a place to fill up.”
“This is the Middle East. They’ve got plenty of oil.”
“You’d think,” she said.
May took over. “Brad, we have three options: Baghdad, Tehran or Kabul. You choose.”
Brad scratched his head. “This isn’t friendly territory, you know.”
“What do you mean?” Jade said. “We’re flying the Chinese flag.”
“I hadn’t considered that. But do we have Chinese credit cards?”
“Decide fast,” Jade said. “I have to adjust speed if we need to go all the way to Kabul.”
He poked his head between the two pilots. “You got a phone up here?”
Jade reached for the Aircell satellite telephone and handed it to him.
“Much obliged.”
He disappeared with it into the rear, and she occupied herself by lifting the coffee out of her cup holder and taking a sip.
The jolt of caffeine stimulated further considerations. “What if President Qian doesn’t stop Liang?” she asked May in Mandarin.
May shot her a look. “Brad’s father called Beijing. Qian assured us that he would stop Liang when he landed.”
“On what grounds?”
May stared at her in disbelief. “Liang killed two people in Paris, one a Chinese pilot. He kidnapped my father, a prominent scientist. Liang is a wanted man.”
“According to us. But what does our government know of these charges? Are they sufficient for the military to detain him? And I don’t think we have an extradition treaty with France.”
May’s intense eyes narrowed even further. “I will call Qian personally,” she decided.
Just then Brad returned with the phone.
“Good news. Baghdad welcomes us with open arms.”
“And loaded arms, too.” She keyed “Baghdad” in and waited for the coordinates to appear. 33.14 N and 44.22 E. The computer flashed new figures on the screen. They could proceed at maximum speed on a more southerly route and arrive in less than an hour. She locked in the autopilot.
“Okay. And how will we refuel?”
“My dad is working it out with the military. Don’t worry about that. They’ll be expecting us.”
“I wonder if the control tower operates on the commercial frequency,” she said.
“Like I said, they’ll be expecting us.”
“The Americans or the Iraqis?”
Meanwhile, May took the phone. “Take your seat and fasten your seatbelt.”
Dutifully, he headed back into the cabin.
“I’ll call President Qian,” May said, switching back to Mandarin.
Jade glanced across the cockpit and watched her copilot dial Qian’s number and wait. From where she sat, she could only hear half of May’s conversation with the President of China. It was not difficult getting through the red tape that protected the man from the public; after all, May’s name opened doors anywhere in the country, and the switchboard knew that she was a personal confidant of the president. But getting the point across was proving more difficult.
“You have to stop Liang Jiaxi. He is wanted in France.”
That didn’t do the trick.
“He killed two men. We are morally obligated to stop him.”
Again, May reacted with disappointment. Then she tried the personal approach. “He has captured my father.”
Once more, stern resistance.
May was close to tears. “Liang tried to kill me in Paris. He shot down another pilot. If I hadn’t ejected, I would have been killed, too.”
That worked.
May brightened and thanked the country’s leader politely.
She put the phone away with a gentle touch. “He will have the local battalion commander waiting for him in Shanghai.”
Jade licked a trace of coffee off her lips. With that settled, she could concentrate on the upcoming descent into Baghdad. Would the battalion that received them be any friendlier?
Chapter 34
“What are you thinking?” Liang asked Dr. Yu as their commercial jetliner departed from their layover in the Persian Gulf. The cabin lights had just dimmed in Business Class, but the old man kept his reading light on.
“I can’t sleep,” Yu said, and tugged on his white threadlike beard. “I’m so excited about finding Shangri-la.”
“What do you expect to see there? Dancing virgins?”
; Yu shrugged. He looked tiny in his oversized seat. “One can’t really tell from the literature. The view of a frog at the bottom of a well is limited.”
If the anticipation of seeing Shangri-la was so great for a man being kidnapped, it would be even greater for those who paid to see it.
Liang unfolded the sheet of paper that he had been carrying for Yu. “This says that you can’t partake of the rejuvenating waters of Shangri-la. What do you suppose that means?”
“Rejuvenating is a vague English term. It could mean anything from preventing ageing, to making you young again.”
Liang was happy with his stage in life. “I’m young enough. But you look like you could use a little help.”
“You can be unspeakably rude,” Yu said. Then he examined Liang more closely. “So why exactly do you want to go there?”
“Ah, my plan. I will turn Shangri-la into a little tourist attraction.”
Yu shrank back in horror. “A Buddhist Disneyland?”
“No, I said a little tourist attraction. Only for the most wealthy clients. I will charge vast sums of money, ransom entire countries if I can, to offer their leaders a one-way ticket to paradise.”
Yu sat back, looking largely relieved, though concern still registered on his face. “Once I find Shangri-la, I expect you to let me go and keep your promise not to harm my daughter.”
“Of course,” Liang said. Words were cheap, and so were lies. If Yu blabbed about the location of all the presidents and captains of industry, then Liang’s scheme would no longer be secret. He didn’t wish the old guy ill, but he couldn’t afford to release him into the world again.
The document stated that its bearer would become the next kalika to rule Shangri-la. Okay, so he couldn’t partake of the waters, but that would be a small price to pay. With Yu out of the way, Liang would become the ruler with power to control who came and went.
But he shouldn’t drop his firecrackers before they were lit. He had to ensure a safe arrival in China first.
He put the document away and ate from a cup of warmed nuts. Then he reached for the airfone tucked inside his armrest. He slipped a credit card through the handset and punched in a Beijing telephone number.
“Wei?” came a discreet voice.
“Comrade Peng,” he began in Chinese. “I have Dr. Yu on Air France flight 112 from Paris to Shanghai.”
“I know,” Peng said in his low-key, professional way.
Peng would keep track of such things. “What else do you know?”
“I know that the two pilots I sent you in Paris were kicked off their plane by Jade Wang, May Hua and the two American boys.”
Liang nearly choked. So May and Jade were hot on his trail. He turned to Yu. He would have to eliminate Yu and the four others as soon as he found Shangri-la.
“Furthermore,” Peng went on, “President Qian has ordered troops to arrest you in Shanghai.”
He ground his teeth. So even his grandfather was disloyal. He turned to Yu. “What is the closest major Chinese airport to Shangri-la?”
Yu thought about it. “Probably Kunming.”
Kunming was the capital of China’s ethnically diverse province of Yunnan.
He returned to the phone and kept his voice low. “I want you to redirect this flight to Kunming. Have General Chen of the Southern Command meet us there. He can guarantee safe passage.”
“General Chen is in Chongqing,” Peng reminded him. “But I will make sure he gets there in time.”
“Good.” He had confidence in Peng. But as he sat back in his leather seat, he didn’t feel so relaxed. It was hard to rely on others.
There was one more thing that Peng could do for him. “I want you to have May and Jade arrested as soon as they reach China.”
“How can I do that? May is a favorite of the president.”
Peng didn’t have to remind him of that. But a murder had been committed in Paris. And the French police were seeking a mixed race couple at the airport. “I want you to check with Interpol. My guess is the French are seeking their arrest.”
“I will check. If there is an arrest warrant, I will have it sent to General Chen. But wait a moment…”
Several seconds passed as Peng’s fingers flew over a keyboard.
“I’ve been tracking May and Jade’s plane,” he came back. “They have requested a refueling stop in Baghdad.”
“Don’t we have assets in Iraq?”
“Not Chinese, but we’ve got friends among various groups, security contractors, even airport operations. After all, we need the oil.”
Ah yes. He thought back to the good old days when Saddam’s oil-for-food sales had meant cheap oil for China. “Contact Baghdad. They can blast May and Jade out of the sky. They’ll never know what hit them.”
“Right away,” Peng said. “After that, I must get on the phone to Chongqing and have your flight redirected to Kunming.”
“Fine. I want clearance to land and a friendly reception.” And he hung up the phone.
He could count on Peng. As the point man in Liang’s military network, Peng had the authority to direct troops and flights. But did he have time before they landed in Kunming?
What choice did he have?
He sucked on a cashew and ruminated over his potential for success. He had Peng arranging a safe arrival. He had Yu, who could get him to Shangri-la. What was Beau Buford doing? Massaging his list of invitees to Shangri-la? It was time to set him in motion.
So he placed a call to his compatriot’s mobile phone.
“Ri-. I mean, Smi-. I mean, Buford here.”
“You had better be careful,” Liang said, switching to his more rudimentary English.
“I’m careful enough,” Buford growled. “Are you there yet?”
“I will be soon,” Liang replied. “But it’s not too soon for you to start sending people over.”
“When will you be ready?”
He created a rough mental timeline. He and Yu might need a couple of days to get to Shangri-la and set up operations. “Have your clients fly to Beijing for official visits in the next day or so. I know how long it takes to set these visits up. They can fly from Beijing shortly after they arrive.”
“That’s fine by me,” Buford said, laying on the accent. “I’ll get on the horn and start shipping ’em over.”
Liang hung up with a grin. Things might have started out rocky in Paris, what with his fighter jet getting shot down while he tried to eliminate May from his life forever. And it hadn’t been his intention to kill a man for directions to Shangri-la. Furthermore, Jade’s having foiled his attempt to leave with Yu by private jet had delayed matters. But he had been able to adjust and his scheme was still sound, a bulletproof way to gain more riches and power.
And May and her pretend-scholar boyfriend would fly straight into the teeth of the Iraqi resistance.
Chapter 35
Having made the decision to refuel in Iraq, Jade could focus all her attention on Baghdad.
First, where was the airport? For that, she looked around the cockpit for a laptop. Yes, there was one. The Chinese Air Force, from whom Liang had borrowed the aircraft, was eagerly embracing new technology. And one important change was to ditch the traditional pilot’s flight bag full of navigation charts and loose-leaf approach plates and replace it with automatically updating computers.
“What’s the airport identifier?” She shoved the laptop toward May.
May pressed several keys. “It’s BIAP.”
“Thanks. Find the approaches.”
Half a minute later, “Got them.”
May read the flight route off the Electronic Flight Bag while Jade entered the data into the flight computer. Seconds later, the approach information to Baghdad was loaded into the airplane’s navigation system.
She turned the laptop around to face her and clicked on details of Baghdad International Airport. Among the many facts, she learned that the airport was at a scant 110 feet above sea level. What a flat country.
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br /> Next, she needed the runway layout. Soon the display showed an H-shaped airfield. There were two parallel landing strips, one longer than the other and a terminal complex built between the two. In a few minutes, she would radio the tower to identify herself and request a runway for landing.
And most importantly, she needed a security report. Sure Sullivan could clear her to land and refuel, but could they suppress gunfire from the ground?
Few commercial liners landed in Baghdad. Even the American military didn’t keep planes on the ground. It was strictly an in and out city. Furthermore, she recalled that the Americans maintained a protective perimeter around the airport. But how wide was it? For that, she had only one source to turn to: the radio.
She thumbed her mike and identified herself to Baghdad air traffic control.
“Baghdad, this is Citation 349 Charlie,” she began, using the plane’s tail number for identification. “Request clearance for an approach to your landing runway.”
“Roger, Citation 349 Charlie, this is BIAP,” a voice said with a heavy Arabic accent, pronouncing BIAP as buy-op. “We see you on radar. Proceed direct to the IAF. Cleared for the approach and landing at Baghdad.”
Jade stared at the distances between the Initial Approach Fix and Final Approach Fix shown on her flight display. The final leg of the flight path had her descending aggressively over 10,000 feet in the space of five miles.
They were asking her to drop directly over the airport and land at high speed. The security perimeter must be tiny.
“Citation 349 Charlie,” came a distinctly American voice over the radio. “This is the U.S. Air Force military command at Baghdad International Airport. We request that you do not, repeat do not, attempt landing at this time. Do you copy?”
What was this? Conflicting orders from the same airport?
She glanced at her copilot. May looked puzzled.
Jade pressed the mike. “Baghdad Tower, please confirm clearance to land.”
A short static erupted over the airwaves and the Iraqi-accented voice returned. “Roger, Citation 349 Charlie. This is Baghdad Tower. You have clearance to approach and clearance to land.”
