by David Archer
Neil and Marco looked at each other, and Marco shrugged. Neil turned back to Noah. “Boss? Can you fly a plane?”
Noah nodded his head. “Yep,” he said. “My grandfather taught me when I was a kid.”
Neil’s eyes went wide, but he only nodded. “Oh. Good. That settles that, then.”
“Relax, Neil,” Noah said. “It’s like driving a car, it isn’t something you forget. And considering the alternative is being stuck in China for the rest of our lives, which wouldn’t be very long, I think it’s the best chance we’ve got.” He had his phone in his hand, and held up a finger to tell Neil to wait while he dialed a number. The call was to the pilot of the Gulfstream, and was very short.
“This is Ross Duncan,” Noah said. “Under the circumstances, it looks like I’m going to be finding another way home. I think you should go ahead and take off on your flight plan, but if you happen to stop by Hanoi, you might run into some old friends.”
“I’ve always wanted to visit Hanoi,” the pilot said. “I suppose it would be okay if I made a short stop over there?”
“That would be absolutely fine,” Noah said. “Have a nice flight.”
He ended the call and put the phone back into his pocket. “Okay, that part is all set. Now, if McDermott can get us to the plane…”
Marco, who was sitting beside Neil in the rear-facing middle seat, suddenly grinned. “You mean that McDermott?” He pointed out the back window, and Noah turned in his seat to look.
Sure enough, McDermott’s truck was right behind the embassy limo. He gave a short wave when he saw Noah looking out the back, then pointed ahead. Noah turned and looked forward, and saw that they were about to enter the two-and-a-half mile long tunnel.
As soon as they were inside the tunnel, McDermott gave the truck its throttle and whipped out to the right, pulling alongside the limo. As soon as it was beside the rear passenger door, a sliding door in the box of the truck opened and Davidson stood there motioning for them to transfer.
“Here we go,” Noah said. He opened the passenger door and swung it wide, and Davidson leaned out of the truck and grabbed hold of it to keep the wind from blowing it shut. He looked at Noah, who was climbing out and holding onto the door.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he yelled over the echoing sound of vehicles in the tunnel. “This is as close as we can get. Send one of the men over first, to help the girl.”
Noah nodded and pointed at Marco, who immediately got to his feet and started climbing out the door. He managed to keep one foot on the doorsill of the limousine while stretching the other leg out to the truck, then grabbed the side of the truck and pulled himself in. As soon as he had done so, he turned and leaned out again.
Noah motioned for Sarah, and she nervously stood and held onto him while reaching out for the hand Marco was extending. She let out a squeal when Noah lifted her free of the car, passing her bodily to Marco, who wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her inside. He set her on the floor, then leaned back out and yelled for Neil.
Neil, whose legs were the longest part of his body, simply stepped from one vehicle to the other. It took very little assistance from Marco to get him into the truck, and then it was only Noah still on the car. He reached out and grabbed Marco’s arm with both hands and kicked off at the same time, leaping from the car into the truck. Davidson slammed the passenger door shut on the car, then closed the door on the truck.
“That’s what we do for fun around here,” he said with a grin. “Mac says things might get a little lively at the airfield, so we brought you some toys to play with.” He pointed at a box on the floor of the truck, and Noah saw three of the little silenced submachine guns.
“Weapons?” Noah asked. “Are we likely to need them?”
“It’s possible,” Davidson replied. “Shek Kong is used as a military airfield during the week, and not too many people have permission to fly out of it other than on weekends. Because of our security work, we can get away with it, but if their security or any of the soldiers were to see you, things are going to get pretty nasty in a hurry. We operate on the philosophy that it’s better to have a gun and not need it than to need it and not have it.”
“Yeah,” Marco said, “I operate on the same philosophy. Gimme one of those!”
Neil had grabbed the box, and passed one to Marco, then started to hand one to Noah, but he shook his head. “Give it to Sarah,” he said. “I’ve got to get into the plane and get it started, or we’ll stand a snowball’s chance of getting out of here alive. Speaking of which, do you have the key to the plane?”
Davidson chuckled. “You’re talking about an airplane that belongs to a security company, parked at an airport maintained by the Chinese military and patrolled by Hong Kong police. The key is in the ignition switch. Trust me, nobody would bother trying to steal that airplane.”
Noah looked at him. “That’s exactly what I’m about to do,” he said. “How close can you get us?”
“We planned this out,” Davidson said. “I’m gonna climb up in the cab with Mac, and when we get to the airfield, he’ll pull right up to the plane. We’ll get out and move the wheel chocks and unstrap it like we always do, and then Mac will actually start it up. Once you hear the engine running, you wait two minutes and then come out fast. We’ll try to have the truck blocking anybody’s view, so hopefully you can get into the plane without being seen, but be ready just in case. While you’re getting into the plane, Mac will hide in the truck. If the three of you keep your heads down, you look enough like Mac from a distance that nobody will pay much attention as you taxi toward the runway. The tower speaks English, so you shouldn’t have any trouble there, just remember to identify the plane as niner-niner-Charlie-Zulu. As soon as you are in the air, I’ll climb back in the truck like I always do and drive away. Sometime tomorrow, we’ll notice that somebody stole our plane and make a report.”
Noah nodded his head again. “That sounds like an excellent plan,” he said. “How long before we get there?”
“About five more minutes,” Davidson said. “The road into the airport is rough, by the way, so you might want to sit down. I’m going up front now.”
He opened a small sliding door and squeeze through into the cab of the truck, then closed it behind him. A couple of minutes later, the ride did indeed become very rough. It lasted another minute or so, and then the truck came to a stop.
It was almost 15 minutes later when they heard the Cessna engine, a seven-cylinder radial, thunder into life. It sputtered and backfired for nearly 30 seconds before it finally settled into a smooth idle. Noah was counting seconds in his head, and when he hit 120, he snatched open the side door and bounded out of the truck.
McDermott smiled as they passed one another, and Noah held the aircraft door open while Sarah, Neil and Marco hurried inside, then climbed in himself and took the right front seat. A headset with microphone was hanging on the control yoke and he put it on. A moment later, Davidson banged on the side of the airplane and waved, then sauntered over to the truck and climbed in behind the wheel.
Noah keyed the microphone. “Tower, this is Cessna niner-niner-Charlie-Zulu, requesting permission for takeoff.”
There was a moment of staticky silence, and then a voice came through the headphones. “Niner-niner-Charlie-Zulu, permission granted. You are number three for takeoff, you may taxi to position.”
“Niner-niner-Charlie-Zulu, Roger,” Noah said. He grasped the throttle and eased it forward slowly, and the airplane began to roll. Using the tail wheel that was connected to the rudder, he steered the airplane across the tarmac and lined it up behind an army airplane and one that belonged to the Hong Kong Aviation Club. The military plane suddenly powered up and started rolling forward, and the club aircraft moved into the next takeoff position.
As soon as the military plane was in the air, the club plane powered up. Noah gave the Cessna throttle again, and swung the plane around to face into the wind on the runway.
“N
iner-niner-Charlie-Zulu,” came a voice through the headset, “takeoff clearance is denied. Return to parking and shut down your engine.”
Noah glanced quickly over to where he had left McDermott, Davidson and the truck, and saw that the truck was no longer there. There was, however, an army vehicle driving quickly toward the runway, and he knew he had only a second in which to make a decision. He glanced at Sarah in the seat beside him, hunched down so that she couldn’t be seen through the windows, and then looked forward to the windscreen.
He shoved the throttle all the way forward and the big Jacobs engine suddenly sounded like a locomotive. He released the brakes and the plane began rolling instantly, then leaned back and yelled, “Unpleasant company coming!”
Neil was sitting right behind him, and he popped up to look through the window. The Army truck coming toward them had several soldiers in it, and some of them were pointing guns toward the airplane. Neil shoved the window open and stuck his gun’s muzzle out through it, flipped the switch to auto, and squeezed the trigger.
The only thing he managed to hit was the front grill of the truck, but the radiator obliged him by blowing the hood open on the vehicle. The cloud of steam made it impossible for the driver to see, and most of the soldiers fell off when he slammed on the brakes.
“YAHOO!” Neil yelled, and Marco echoed him. Sarah only looked back and stared as the tail of the airplane lifted off first, and then Noah pulled back on the yoke a few seconds later and they were in the air. The airfield was surrounded by trees, and Noah leveled the plane off just a few feet over the tallest ones, then made a slow turn toward the southwest.
“You can sit up now,” he said. “All we’ve got to do is stay low and hope the sky stays overcast. The clouds are dark and low, so as long as I stay under radar, we should be able to make it.” He took out his phone and told Siri to show him how to get to Hanoi, then adjusted his course by the compass enough to be pointed in the general direction.
The Cessna 195 was one of the legendary workhorses of aviation. Built between 1947 and 1954, it was still considered a classic and one of the most reliable airplanes ever designed. It could cruise at 170 miles per hour easily, and had a range of 800 miles. With room for a pilot and four passengers, Noah could not have asked for a better aircraft for the purpose he had in mind.
From Hong Kong to Hanoi was about 550 miles, most of it over rugged, mountainous terrain. Noah kept his eyes on the altimeter and the horizon, but the darkening skies made it very difficult to be sure he was going to clear the trees and ridges ahead. Finally, he decided to keep the altimeter at 1800 feet, and watch as closely as he could for anything looming toward them out of the darkness.
“I can’t believe we haven’t been shot down,” Sarah said after they’d flown for a couple of hours in silence. “They’ve got to figure our stealing this plane is related to what happened out at that safe house. Wouldn’t they have military planes out looking for us?”
“I’m sure they do,” Noah said. “I’m hoping that thunderstorm just over our heads is going to make it difficult for them to find us, but I’m still trying to stay under any ground-based radar. If one of their military planes gets a lock on us, however, there’s probably not much chance we’re going to get away. This thing just isn’t fast enough or maneuverable enough to outrun bullets or missiles.”
Sarah grinned at him. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it, Babe,” she said. “I’m a big girl, I can take the truth.”
Noah shrugged. “Just telling it like it is,” he said. “We’ve got about another hour to the Vietnamese border, and after that we might not have to worry so much. I don’t think China wants to start any border wars at the moment.”
Noah felt her fingers brush his cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “I didn’t think to say thank you before now, but thank you for coming for me.”
Noah looked at her. “My world isn’t right without you,” he said again.
TWENTY-FOUR
A loud roaring noise suddenly burst onto their senses, and a few seconds later something big and fast flew over their heads. A Russian Sukhoi fighter jet banked to the right, and Noah knew instinctively that it was coming around for the kill.
“They found us,” he said, his mind racing. “Okay, listen, we got one shot, and it’s got to be a good one. Marco, Neil, get your guns out the windows. When he comes around, he’s going to be trying to line up for a kill shot, and I’m going to be doing everything I can to keep him from it. I don’t have any way to know when he gets a radar lock, so the minute I think he’s lined up on us I’m going to roll this baby over and throw it into a diving reverse. That’ll give you a few seconds to fire, and all I want you to do is put as many bullets as possible in front of his plane. Don’t try to hit him, just let him fly into them. And if this doesn’t work, then I want you to know that I’ve never felt closer to anyone that I do to you guys.”
Sarah and Marco were watching the jet through the left-side windows as it circled wide and came around behind them. “He’s coming up behind,” Marco said. “Say when, boss, we’re ready!”
“Sarah, watch him the best you can and tell me when it looks like he’s coming right in behind us.”
“He’s close,” she said, holding onto Noah’s seat as he threw the plane into a series of dips and wiggles. “There, I think he’s right behind us.”
Noah wrenched the yoke to the right and then yanked back on it all at the same time, causing the plane to stand on its right wing tip, and he caught a glimpse of tracer rounds flying past as he did so. “Now!” he shouted, and both Neil and Marco squeezed the triggers on their guns and prayed that their aim was true. They emptied both fifty-round magazines, and then Noah cut the yoke to the left and hauled back again. This time he eased the yoke back to the right, and they saw the jet fly past them once more.
There was a difference, though, as its right engine was trailing black smoke. As they watched, that engine seemed to explode, and then the plane was spiraling toward the ground. Noah followed it just far enough to be sure that it crashed, then checked his compass reading and got back on course for Hanoi.
“Geez, we hit him!” Neil said, his voice full of surprise.
“Maybe,” Noah said. “I think it’s more likely a few of your bullets got into the path of his induction fans and got sucked in. His left engine did a pretty good job of blowing itself to bits. That’s the kind of thing that happens when little pieces of metal end up in places where they’re not supposed to be.”
“Don’t spoil it,” Neil said, “we got him! That’s the important part, right?”
“Absolutely. In the history books that will unfortunately never be written,” he said, “there would be an interesting paragraph about Marco Turin and Neil Blessing, the only men ever to shoot down a supersonic fighter jet with slightly overpowered handguns from inside an antique piston-powered airplane. Remind me to make sure that’s included in my report, so you guys can each get a copy of it.”
“Why do we need a copy?” Neil asked. “Hell, we know we did it!”
“Exactly,” Noah said, “and you’re not going to be able to resist telling people, but do you really think anyone’s ever going to believe you without documentation?”
There was silence from the backseat for a moment, and then Neil slowly leaned forward and looked closely at Noah. “Boss? I think you just—I think you just made a funny.”
Noah blinked and looked at him. “I did?” he asked. “I actually thought I was being pretty serious.”
“Whatever,” Marco said. “I’m having enough trouble getting my heart to slow back down. If another one of them shows up, we’re dead, you know that, right?”
“Forty more minutes to the border,” Noah said. “Personally, I’d be saying whatever prayers you can think of.”
“I already am,” Sarah said. “Our father who art in heaven…”
“Hallowed be thy name,” Neil and Marco joined in.
They flew on, with Noah straining his eyes to
see anything that might be ahead of them, but it seemed everything that might’ve gotten in the way was at least low enough to let him fly under his 1800-foot ceiling. He kept glancing at his phone, checking the time, and then Siri startled them all by announcing, “Welcome to the Socialist Republic of Vietnam.”
They looked around, but there was no sign of further air pursuit. Sarah leaned over and kissed Noah on the cheek, and Marco grabbed Neil into a hug, then rubbed noogies on his head. “Ow!” Neil yelled, and he elbowed Marco in the ribs to make him let go. “Stop that, dammit, I don’t like that!”
Siri guided Noah to the airport at Hanoi, and he was able to raise a tower operator on radio.
“Hanoi Tower, this is niner-niner-Charlie-Zulu out of Hong Kong,” he said. “We’ve had instrument malfunctions and have gotten lost, we’re just lucky we found you. I’m getting low on fuel and request permission to land.”
The confused operator came back a moment later. “You get lost in Hong Kong, end up in Hanoi?”
“Yeah, something like that,” Noah said. “Look, I really need to put it down. All I want to do is get my compass fixed and buy some fuel, then I can go back home, okay?”
There was another hesitation, but then the operator replied again. “Okay, niner-niner-Charlie-Zulu, you land now. You no leave airport, you buy gas, you take off. Okay?”
“Okay,” Noah said, “niner-niner-Charlie-Zulu, Roger that. Turning for final approach now.”
Noah lined the airplane up on the runway, and lowered his flaps as he reduced throttle. He came in a little fast, not being sure what the actual stall speed was on the old Cessna, but the runway was long and he had no trouble easing its speed down until the tail wheel settled onto the runway. He turned the plane around and taxied toward the terminal, but then they spotted the Gulfstream sitting off by itself.
