Somehow Jake had a hunch Wiley could handle it. With all his eccentric behavior, the old man did seem capable of the physical challenge, not that it mattered. Kaplan and Wiley were the only ones capable of flying the gliders. They were both required for the mission.
The Delta recon team, the funny platoon Kaplan called them, had done their job. Chase left as soon as Jake and Wiley arrived. He told Jake he was returning to Sana’a and planned to pack up his squad for the return to Oman where another special assignment awaited their special skills.
Wiley signaled for Jake and Kaplan. “We don’t have much time so let me fill you in on what’s about to happen.”
Four crewmen from the C-130 started hand-towing the two black gliders toward the end of the runway. The darkened end of the runway abutted a road that ran along the waterfront. Very few cars traveled the road at this hour. With the exception of the approach lights to Runway 8, that end of the airport was a black void.
“If you’ll look to the north you can see an approaching aircraft.” Wiley pointed to the white light in the distant sky. “That’s our tow pretending to be on a training flight with a student pilot and a flight instructor. The plane will land facing us, turn around on the runway, and takeoff in the opposite direction. When it does, we’ll be in tow.”
“What about the tower?” Kaplan asked. “They’ll see us. They’ll see the gliders go right past the tower. We’ll be made.”
“Got it covered.” Wiley said. “When the aircraft turns around, we have less than three minutes to be in the air and out over the water where it’s dark. So when I tell you to move, move fast. Get strapped in and ready to roll. My men will handle the hook-ups. Jake, you’re with me. Understood?”
“Understood.” Jake said.
“I hope you know what you’re doing.” Kaplan said.
“Oh ye of little faith.” Wiley grinned. “Watch and learn.”
† † †
Two air traffic controllers in the control tower at Aden International Airport watched the small single engine training flight enter a right downwind leg for a landing on Runway 26. The request made, for training purposes was to roll out at the end of the runway, turn around, and takeoff in the opposite direction. It was not the norm, but neither was a training flight in Yemen. Training flights routinely asked air traffic controllers to accommodate out of the ordinary requests, traffic permitting, for the purpose of flight training.
The absence of other aircraft in the vicinity of the airport prompted the air traffic controller to issue a combined clearance. “Runway 26, cleared to land. Runway 8, cleared for takeoff.”
With the clearance in hand, the small high-wing aircraft followed perfect traffic pattern procedures, turning on final approach for Runway 26. The aircraft landed just past the numbers and made the long rollout toward the opposite end.
As expected, the air traffic controllers observed the small airplane spin around on the runway and come to a full stop. As soon as the aircraft stopped, the unexpected happened.
The runway lights and electrical power for half the town of Aden failed. The airport was plunged into total darkness. A few headlights from distant cars traveling along the highways were the only lights visible. The aircraft’s lights were no longer visible either.
“Takeoff clearance cancelled.” The chief controller yelled into the microphone. “Takeoff clearance cancelled.”
The radio was dead.
It took three minutes for the back-up generators to power up the control tower. Equipment began to glow as it came back to life. Runway lights grew brighter. A minute later all power was restored in Aden.
The chief controller scanned the length of the runway and taxiways, expecting to see the small aircraft. The runways and taxiways were empty. He scanned the surrounding skies.
Nothing.
The training airplane had vanished.
He picked up the phone.
† † †
“How the hell did you pull that off?” Kaplan asked into his voice-activated headset. The old man had surprised him with his creativity. He never thought of killing the power to the airport
and
the town.
Wiley replied. “I called in a favor.”
Kaplan watched the pilot of the tow aircraft cut all the aircraft’s lights the moment the runway went dark. The pilot’s instructions from Wiley were to keep the aircraft stationary on the middle of the runway and wait for the bang on the fuselage—the signal from the ground crew that the gliders were set.
With the entire area dark, Kaplan watched the ground crew move the two gliders into position behind the tow aircraft, attach each with a detachable rope roughly two hundred feet in length. One behind the other in tandem. After the slack had been removed from the towlines, one of the ground crew ran to the idling aircraft and slapped his hand on the fuselage then ran clear.
By the time the lights came back on to the airport and town, the three aircraft were far enough over the water to avoid visual detection.
As per Wiley’s instructions, the pilot of the tow aircraft flew straight for exactly three minutes, turned to a heading of 020 degrees for exactly two minutes before turning inland. Kaplan matched each maneuver. His anxiety about flying soon left him. The controls were light and responsive. Although he knew it was dark, the night vision display unveiled everything as if it were daylight. He saw several boats scattered across the open water pulling all-nighters to bring in as big a catch as possible.
“We’re not out of the woods yet.” Wiley said. “It’s roughly 350 kilometers to Hajjah—we disconnect from tow at three hundred.”
“Miles, please.” Jake said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve used kilometers. How many miles?”
“Jake, you better get used to kilometers. But miles it will be for tonight.” Wiley said. “215 miles to Hajjah. Roughly a 185 miles to disconnect.”
“Why aren’t we out of the woods?” Jake asked.
“Very soon Yemen’s army personnel will detect the tow aircraft.” Wiley explained. “They might or might not launch to find out why it left Aden after the power outage. And without running lights. I don’t imagine the authorities will be too happy with our pilots.”
“I thought the Yemen army was an allied force.” Kaplan said.
“Officially, maybe.” Wiley explained. “Reality is a whole different matter. Many leaders, or at least several of the top-ranking officials in the Yemen army are in cahoots with al Qaeda terrorists. Never trust Yemeni leaders. Yemen is overrun with al Qaeda. The leaders are paid off.”
“What if they do launch?” Jake asked. “We’re sitting ducks up here.”
“Depending on when they launch depends on which course of action we take. If they launch too soon, we disconnect and scrub.” Wiley said. “Otherwise we play it by ear.”
Disconnect and scrub? Did Kaplan hear Wiley right? He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let Wiley pull the plug. They had to save Isabella.
He had to save Isabella.
CHAPTER 26
J
AKE DIDN’T LIKE blind trust and Wiley wasn’t being forthright in sharing his plans. Maybe Wiley didn’t trust him or was afraid he’d look bad if he had to change plans at the last minute. Or maybe he was just winging it as he went along. Either way, Jake didn’t like being left in the dark.
Bentley apparently trusted Wiley and Jake trusted Bentley’s judgment, even if Bentley had sent him into exile. An exile induced by himself.
In the Navy, he was a planner and an analyst. And he was damn good at both. He knew he had a gift. A gift he developed at an early age when his father taught him to play chess. Requiring him to predict his opponent’s play at least four moves ahead honed his skills as a strategic planner. By the 6
th
grade, he was winning chess tournaments. He developed insight into things many others didn’t grasp—except Wiley. The old man was smart, too smart. As difficult as it might be, Jake had to trust Wiley.
If the Yemen army launched early, would Wiley indeed abandon Hunt? She might not even be alive. He wondered how Kaplan would handle that. Abandoning Hunt? The possibility she was already dead? Jake knew his friend was tough but he also knew if the rescue was abandoned, Kaplan wouldn’t handle it well.
His thoughts were interrupted when Kaplan asked a question.
“When do we know we are passed the abandon stage?” Kaplan asked.
“It’s an hour and a half to disconnect if all goes according to plan.” Wiley spoke like a team leader, an air of authority in his voice. “Our first objective is to get north of Taiz, that’s where the first launch would originate. There is nothing in Aden. If they launch while we’re south of Taiz, we have no choice but to scrub the mission. There is no backup. We can’t stay attached and we can’t make it to Hajjah. If we can get to the 150-mile mark, there is a possibility of success. I have a backup plan but the element of danger escalates to the point where I don’t know if it’s worth the risk.”
“It doesn’t matter what the risk is.” Kaplan said. “If there is a backup, I say we use it.”
“Last resort only.” Wiley said.
Jake thought he sounded irritated with Kaplan. Then Wiley surprised him.
“Jake, take the controls.” Wiley said.
“Sir, I have no idea what to do.” Jake protested.
“Take them. Now.” Wiley commanded. “I’ll explain everything to you.”
The next hour went by fast. He didn’t have to do much while the gliders were still in aero tow. Except when they talked, it was relatively quiet. Only air noise passing over the glider. Kaplan was silent. No more questions. Jake suspected Kaplan was getting a refresher on the controls while Wiley was instructing him.
The silence was interrupted by a steady tone. Wiley spoke to the pilot of the tow aircraft, “Give me maximum climb rate. We have ten, twelve minutes tops before we disconnect. I need all the altitude you can give me.”
“What’s happening?” Kaplan took the words out of Jake’s mouth.
They’ve launched four aircraft from Taiz. Their speed implies helicopters.” Wiley said. “We’re at mile one thirty now, not far enough but we’ll go for it anyway. Listen carefully, if we don’t do this exactly right, we’re all dead.”
† † †
Five minutes later Jake was startled by another alarm tone in the cockpit.
“That’s not good.” Wiley said. “They just launched fighters from Sana’a. Time for us to say goodbye to our tow. Gregg? Are you ready?”
“Let’s do it.” Kaplan said.
“Remember don’t light up until you see me light up. Heading 3-3-0 and do not exceed 120 knots. It’ll seem like you’re going straight up.” Wiley said. “Oxygen nose clips on. Got it?” Wiley asked.
“Got it.” Kaplan said. “Oxygen on. Ready to go vertical.”
“Jake, hold on tight here we go.”
“Mr. Wiley? Won’t the fighters see our jet exhaust or heat signature?” Jake asked.
“Not with my custom exhaust shroud.” Wiley explained. “Unless they’re directly behind us, we’ll be invisible.”
Jake couldn’t see Wiley’s face, but he was sure the old man was smiling.
Wiley seemed to be enjoying the adventure. The thrill. He didn’t disconnect, he waited. The fighters got closer. Jake squirmed in his seat. According to the electronic screen, ten miles and closing.
“Sir, shouldn’t we disconnect now?” Jake asked.
“Not yet.” Wiley said. “Let them get closer. We need to eke out as much altitude as we can before we break away.”
Five miles and closing.
“Sir?” Jake wanted to question Wiley’s judgment. Maybe the old man was, in fact, too old.
The fighters were at three miles and closing when two bright flashes appeared.
“Missiles.” Wiley shouted. “Disconnect, disconnect.”
They had reached an altitude of 10,430 feet when Kaplan disconnected from Wiley’s glider. Wiley released Kaplan’s towline then disconnected from the tow aircraft.
“Jake, turn to heading 3-3-0, nose up, activate JATO bottle on my mark.” Wiley sounded off in perfect cadence. “Now.”
Jake was slammed against the back of his seat from the sudden increase in thrust and acceleration. The JATO rocket, an acronym for jet-fuel assisted takeoff, was a system designed to provide overweight aircraft with additional thrust for takeoff. Wiley’s adaptation was a sixty-second burn of a single small rocket bottle that would automatically jettison after burn.
“Nose up, nose up.” Wiley commanded Jake. “Speed 120, no faster. Control your speed with your angle of climb—it’s very steep.”
“Roger that.” Jake replied.
“Kaplan? How you doing back there?” Wiley asked.
“I’m right on your tail.” Kaplan shouted. “Behind and to the left. Whoa, what a ride.”
The two gliders climbed higher and higher.
The sky grew bright below them followed by the reverberation of the explosion, louder than the JATO rockets.
“I can’t believe they shot down the tow plane.” Jake yelled. “We just got those two killed.”
“Collateral damage.” Wiley said.
“Who were they?” Kaplan asked. “Yemenis?”
“No. I’m afraid not.” Wiley lowered his voice as the JATOs burned out and automatically disconnected from the gliders. “The young men were from the Delta unit you worked with in Sana’a. Bentley had trouble finding local pilots so they volunteered. They understood the risk, I explained it to them personally.”
“Son of a—” Kaplan started.
“Nose over slightly.” Wiley interrupted. “We have a mission to complete. Best glide speed. Stay on heading. We have 55 miles to go. Even with the tailwind, it’ll take nearly an hour. We are, oddly enough, right on schedule. Gregg, I need you to stay focused.”
“I’m focused. I’m focused.” Kaplan said. “Just really pissed off.”
“No more pissed off than I am.” Wiley said. “Like I said earlier, you can’t trust the Yemenis.”
Jake looked at the altimeter, 19,670 feet above sea level. With a landing elevation of 5700 feet, they had roughly 14,000 feet to lose in 55 miles.
He did the calculations in his head.
They weren’t going to make it.