Jacques shrugged his shoulders and finished off his cup of coffee.
“Herman, bring my victim,” Louise called out.
Jacques set his empty cup on the table, and strode over to Louise.
“Sit down at the console next to me, pull on the gloves and the helmet, and give me a sound check.”
Jacques picked up the helmet from the pilot’s seat, placed it on his head, and sat down. He adjusted the microphone, and said, “Sound check, one, two, three . . .”
“I read you loud and clear,” Louise replied. “Put on the gloves.”
Jacques pulled on the gloves, which he guessed were Bluetooth capable like the helmet, and rested his hands on the two trackballs.
“You will fly a simulated mission while I will monitor, and modify, the conditions as we progress. Since you’re unfamiliar with the controls, I’ll allow you a few minutes to learn their functions. Your hands and fingers are all monitored and provide control over most functions, such as flight and firepower. The track balls can be used together, or singly, to control turns, dives, climbs, etc. Are you following me?”
“Yes.”
“Our simulator flight controls are our own innovation called, D’Tech. We plan to incorporate D’Tech into our next generation drones. Call up your preflight check with your left thumb. Tap twice, fast.”
Jacques double tapped his left thumb against the track ball and a set of preflight procedures popped up on the video monitor in the center of his console.
Jacques began to methodically run through the preflight checks. The checks allowed him to discover what all the finger movements and trackball characteristics would do when exercised.
“Are you familiar with the dashboard readouts and console layout?”
“Yes, you’ve set up a modified P-51.”
“Very good. Have you ever flown a P-51?”
“I have.” Jacques stepped through the instructions, gaining confidence in his ability to operate this unique simulator.
“You’ll find the simulator does its best to function as close to a real P-51 as possible.” She looked him once over. “You seem too young to have flown a P-51.”
“I was only able to enjoy a couple of hours in one, through an aircraft enthusiast friend.”
“Report,” Louise ordered.
“Checklist complete, but we’re not ready to fly. The wing tanks are empty, and there’s a warning light on the belly bomb. Plus, I haven’t been mission briefed.”
“Excellent, I usually flunk most candidates at this point in the exam, because they missed one, or more, of those points. Double tap your left pinky to get your mission plan.”
Jacques tapped his pinky and read the mission plan to bomb a munitions factory in Berlin. “I assume a single tap will provide me with flight diagnostics in case of some system fault.”
“Very astute, but don’t get cocky. I see I’ll have to up the ante on your test. The warning light went ‘off ‘and the fuel gauge indicated the fuselage and wing tanks were full. Jacques selected the fuselage tanks to be used first, due to the P-51’s tendency to exhibit an unstable CG in flight when they were full. He assumed the sophisticated simulator would take this into account.
“You can switch the controlling hands, to right or left, or use both, on the track balls. The D’Tech technology recognizes the precise positions of your hands and all ten of your fingers simultaneously, and can read your finger and hand movements to within a spatial accuracy of nominally less than a millimeter, the sensitivity can be adjusted up or down by opening and closing your left fist. Pretend you are in the cockpit of a P-51, and fly it accordingly. The simulator responds to your controls with all of a P-51D’s capabilities and limitations, fast, but not too fast, agile but with the appropriate limits on climb, dive speeds, etc. This simulator can simulate a wide variety of aircraft, but we have chosen the P-51D for you today. When we start our mission, pull down the visor in your helmet and you can have a 360º view of your surroundings, by shifting your look direction and turning your head.”
“Like an owl,” Jacques joked.
“Like an owl,” Louise repeated, but did not laugh. “I’ll give you thirty minutes to take her up, try out the controls and then land her, before we begin, so you can familiarize yourself with the controls. Proceed.”
Jacques pulled down the visor and was pleasantly surprised with the clear view of a simulated flight line. “Request permission to taxi for takeoff.”
“Permission granted,” Louise replied.
He double pressed the left foot pedal releasing the wheel brake, and pressed down on the right foot pedal to advance the throttle. He ‘S-walked’ the P-51 from its parking place to the end of the runway, then with brakes set, ran through the flight controls one last time before he set the flaps to 15º. “Request permission for takeoff.”
“Permission granted.”
Jacques advanced the throttle and roared down the runway. At 170 mph he rotated the simulators’ roll ball to simulate pulling back on a stick, and the simulated P-51 leaped into the simulated air with almost human like enthusiasm.
After the many combat hours he had flown a P-51, it was a shock to simulate pulling back on a stick requiring about 25 pounds of force, by rotating a roll ball, but Jacques was nothing if not adaptable. The lack of deafening Allison engine exhaust noise was a plus, though. Jacques took her up to 4,000 feet in the airspace set aside for training, then went through all the hand and finger movements to control flight. He executed an inner barrel roll, turns, climbs, dives and stalls. Once he felt comfortable with the controls, he radioed. “Foxtrot 21, requests permission to land.”
Louise replied, “Permission granted for runway 300, wind 10 knots from 270º.”
“Roger, Control.”
Jacques flew a normal landing pattern and touched down with the wheels gliding into contact with the runway. He taxied to the spot he had left 30 minutes earlier and parked.
Louise said, “Would you like to take a break?”
“I’m ready to go when you are Ma’am.”
“I am not a Ma’am. You may call me Miss Arnot.”
Jacques could feel the annoyance in her response. “Yes, Miss Arnot.”
“I’ll monitor and record every move you make. If you crash, or commit any mission failure, you’ll fail the test. We don’t take the time to do repeats in our section. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Do you need to review your mission plan again?”
“No, Miss Arnot.”
“Do you have any questions?”
“No, Miss Arnot.”
“Good Luck.”
Jacques checked all the critical gauges once more. “I need my fuel topped off from the practice session.”
Louise did not respond verbally, but the fuel gauge needle moved to ‘full.’ Jacques knew Louise was going to throw monkey wrenches into his machinery as the mission played out. He took off and climbed to 15,000 feet on a heading of 175º at 400 mph, and leveled off. He knew one P-51 would not attempt a bomb run by itself in real combat, but this was a test of his piloting skills, not of a real world scenario.
When he was within a few minute’s flight time to the target, the sky became filled with the sights and sounds of anti-aircraft cannon fire, with cannon noises and bright flashes of explosive shells. Before the ground fire could zero in on his position, he banked hard to the left, dropped down to 5,000 feet, and circled back to a position one mile prior to where the attack occurred. He dropped down, and came in over the trees to his estimated position of the cannon. He spotted a clearing ahead, and running at 300 mph fired his wing mounted machine gun at the cannon and crew. He continued on, did a barrel roll at the end of the clearing, turned 180º, and repeated his attack. When he reached the edge of the clearing the second time, he was confident he had taken out the threat.
He turned back to 175º, and continued on at the same altitude, since the target was only a few minute’s flight time ahead. The next patch o
f clearing revealed a large factory which Jacques recognized as the target from the mission plan. He raced ahead to drop his only bomb onto the target, and took more anti-aircraft fire from a gun turret on the top of the factory. He fired his machine gun at the turret and dropped the bomb. The factory went up in multiple explosions that rocked his craft, simulated by his pilot seat heaving violently to, and fro, and side to side. A blaze of fire and smoke engulfed his video. Jacques flew the P-51 by the seat of his pants. He veered off to the left and reached for the sky for shrapnel avoidance.
Once clear of the factory inferno, he checked his gauges and controls, and discovered to his dismay that his rudder and left aileron were damaged. He would have to limp back to base. He adjusted the elevators, and surviving right aileron in an attempt to maintain the required course of 355º for the return, but Louise complicated the scenario with a strong variable crosswind. He had barely enough fuel to return to base, but he had to take a chance and increase his altitude, and maybe avoid the crosswind. After struggling with the controls while climbing at 1000 feet per minute he was rewarded with a slight tailwind at 20,000 feet. What was Louise up to now? he wondered.
He found out soon enough, he was losing fuel. At the current rate of loss, he still might not make it back to base, and if he did he would have to land on the first attempt. Louise was providing flight conditions so stringent that only a skilled aviator would have a ghost of a chance.
The tail wind would help him get to the airstrip, but would work to his decided disadvantage when he had to land without conducting a normal flight pattern to come in upwind.
Jacques estimated that a glide slope of 2000 feet per minute would put him at the end of the runway in nine minutes, if he could eke out nine more minutes of fuel. Even having to fly the aircraft at an awkward angle to compensate for the rudder damage, it looked like he would make it to the end of the runway, until he saw that Louise had added simulated damage to the oil system with oil pressure dropping, and engine temperature rising.
Jacques made it to within 200 feet from the end of the runway when the engine froze. He took advantage of the remaining altitude to extend the glide, even as the P-51 wanted to drop like a stone. With only feet remaining to the end of the runway, he pulled the nose back to almost stall position, but the P-51 hit the ground like a sack of doorknobs a mere few feet from the end of the runway, and started to careen right, then left, as Jacques struggled to straighten out its roll path.
Jacques let the aircraft roll to a stop on the gravel at the side of the runway, and waited for Louise’s next trial by fire. He felt a tap on his helmet and removed it.
Louise stood next to Jacques’ pilot seat dressed in a body hugging flight suit. She smiled a natural smile, showing all her perfect teeth, and said, “As much as I hate to admit it, you far exceeded my expectations. Congratulations.”
Jacques removed his gloves, which had become sweaty inside, and his helmet, which had done the same, and stood. He realized that Louise was nearly six feet tall, and one of the most beautiful women he had ever met. “Thank you, you’re an excellent task master.”
“I do my best to select only the best.”
Jacques wondered if there was more meaning to her use of ‘select’ than just the flight test.
“Given your flying skill, I assume you’ll ace the written exam, but you have to take it anyway. Herman will administer the exam, then he’ll give you the Type 1 test, when, and if, you pass the Type A Test. Good day and good luck.”
Herman approached the two, and said, “Come with me, Roland. Would you like to take a break?”
“No, I’m good for now, maybe in between the two written tests.”
Herman walked toward the conference table.
Jacques turned to Louise, who was shutting down the simulation consoles. He admired her sleek physique as she bent down to turn off the machines, “Thank you, Louise. I hope to see you again.”
“So do I.” Louise looked into Jacques’ eyes, her clear green eyes indicating a sincere hope to continue their relationship. She turned to leave, and Jacques followed her intriguing hip swaying walk, until he heard Herman call out, “Roland, I’m ready.”
Jacques realized his ogling was too obvious, and replied, “Coming.” Jacques completed the two-hour expertise test in one hour and twenty minutes. The comprehensive test covered the gamut for every license possible from propeller to jet, from multi-engine, instrument, and helicopter to commercial airline pilot. Jacques found the exam easy. He wrote the calculations for some of the more involved questions by number, on the blank pages at the back of the booklet. He had provided the calculation details for each flight problem, so that the grader, Herman, could see how he had solved each problem.
He had been challenged one time when he took an exam, because he had answered every question perfectly and the tester claimed he must have cheated. He did not want to come under the same kind of scrutiny on this exam. He tucked the manual flight calculator in the pocket of the booklet and handed the package to Herman.
Herman took a seat at the conference table and graded the exam, while Jacques drank another cup of coffee. He handed Jacques the personality test and two number two pencils, and said, “No one has ever received a score of 100% on the written flight test before, and in record time.”
“How long am I allowed on this exam?”
“This exam has no time limit. I’ve never taken it myself. Only four people have ever been given all three exams in one day. You, Louise, a man named Gustav, and Katherine, the Baron’s daughter. Louise and you are the only ones to pass the flight exam and the expertise exam the first time. The Baron’s daughter passed the flight exam, but only after three tries with no obstacles thrown in her path. Just between you and me, Louise gave you the most difficult flight test that can be wrestled out of the simulator, and I doubt if either her or Gustav could have passed.
“Where is Gustav?”
“He doesn’t work with us anymore.”
“If he was such a hotshot why would he leave?”
“I don’t know. He left early on.”
“What about you?”
“I took the fight test and barely passed, and didn’t have Louise do everything possible to flunk me. I did nearly as well as you on the expertise exam, but I needed the full two hours. I wasn’t given the personality survey. I don’t think I’m on the Baron’s close associate list. So, good luck, I don’t know what the test is supposed to show. When you’re done, I seal the booklet and answer sheets in a special envelope, and turn it over to Katherine, the Baron’s daughter. I think she grades it personally.”
Jacques accepted the Type 1, Psychological Profile Survey, and broke the seal. He knew what the Baron was looking for from the Select binder Serena and he had photographed in Kurt’s apartment, but how much of a monster was the Baron looking for? Jacques did not want to overplay his hand and come across as some sort of psycho.
Somehow he needed to come across as a potential Select candidate, with the traits the Baron would desire in his inner circle. A superior, amoral, pro-environment, non-religious, attitude which would motivate him to help the Select wrest the world from the non-worthy. Serena and Desiree’s analysis of the Select mission and history from the binder did not provide a clear cut description of the Select’s racial biases, although their experience with the Brandt’s and Heinrich revealed a superior attitude to non-whites and religious peoples.
Perhaps the Baron, who wanted world domination like the Nazis, but despised the Nazis, leaned more to individual superiority, rather than strict racial, or religious superiority, as a criterion for worthiness. He wanted the best of the best, mentally and physically, somewhat regardless of skin color or creed. Jacques answered the questions, and potential subtexts, with these considerations firmly in mind. The survey took him over an hour, during which time Herman busied himself with paperwork.
“Herman, I’m done.” Jacques closed the booklet and handed it to Herman. “What do I do now?”<
br />
“I think you’ve done a lot for one day. Go home and rest. Human Resources will call you in a couple of days and let you know one way or another. The Baron must have an important position in mind to subject you to the three elite exams, the intense flight exam, the most difficult expertise exam, and the Baron’s own level of psychological profile.”
“You mean there is more than one level?”
“Of course. You should feel honored.”
“I am. Well, thank you, and have a good rest of the day. Perhaps we shall meet again.” Jacques shook Herman’s hand. He noted Herman’s ID badge had what looked like an electronic chip embedded in the plastic, and several access code markings along the left side of his picture. Jacques had little hope of forging a badge.
“I have to escort you out of the hangar.”
When they reached the hangar door they shook hands and parted ways.
Twenty Two
After spending the late afternoon relaxing, and studying his dossier by the indoor pool, so he would be able to provide all the facts of his cover life without mistakes, Jacques burned the pages over the toilet in his room and flushed them down. He assumed his every move was being watched, his phone calls monitored, his internet activity and email read, so until he completed this mission he had to be Roland Jacques Armand.
He went to the hotel restaurant and indulged in an Augustinerbräu beer during his meal of bratwurst and sauerkraut. Jacques wasn’t a German food fancier, but he did love their beer. The Augustiner brothers, monks, began brewing beer in 1328. The brewery had been owned by The Wagners since 1829, and Augustinerbräu was the pick of Munich’s beer drinkers, probably because the brewery had a private well to draw their special water from 700 feet beneath the ground.
He ate alone and sat in a corner of the restaurant sipping his glass of after dinner port like a recluse, when a tall, buxom, attractively dressed woman about 30 years of age, sat at the bar and glanced over at him.
The Noble Mercenary Page 22
