“Gregg?” Hunt’s voice weak and slurred. “I was afraid I’d never see you again.”
“It’s okay. We’re together now, that’s all that matters.”
“No, Gregg. Listen. Khan’s…planning an attack…in France.”
Her speech was slurring again. She’d gone through waves of coherence and incoherence ever since they left Hajjah. “Isabella, you can tell me later. Save your strength.” Kaplan said.
“You…don’t…understand. You have…to stop…”
“Shh. It’s going to be okay. You can tell me later. There’s nothing we can do about it right now anyway.”
“There’s something else I want to tell you, need to tell you. She paused several seconds. “I…I—.”
“I know, Isabella.” Kaplan whispered. “Me too.”
CHAPTER 35
J
AKE WAS TROUBLED by the last thing Wiley said. “What do you mean, ‘ditch?’ I thought you had this all worked out.”
“I do.” Wiley paused. “More or less.”
“More or less? Care to explain?”
“Like any mission, there’s always a level of uncertainty.” Wiley gave the glider a gentle course correction to the left. “You’ve heard the old adage ‘if all goes according to plan.’ In case you didn’t notice, very little has gone according to plan. We spent way too much time repairing Mr. Kaplan’s glider.”
Wiley held up his wrist and pointed to his watch. “It’s already 6:30 local time. The sun’s been up for thirty minutes. This rendezvous was supposed to happen under the cover of darkness. By now, our connection has had to move back offshore for fear of being spotted. The last thing we can afford is an international incident. This is a country we’re not supposed to be in and this mission is not sanctioned. It doesn’t exist. We might end up ditching in the Red Sea.”
“What about Isabella?” Jake asked. “She’s still weak and not up to something like that.”
“Not a lot of options, Jake.” Wiley said. “We knew the risks when we agreed to this mission. We’re all expendable.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what is the plan?”
Wiley continued. “Our original rendezvous was on a little sandy island just off the coast called Al Bodhi. We had seventy-six miles to travel from Hajjah. No problem, plenty of altitude.”
“And now?” Jake asked.
“Al Bodhi offers no protection. It’s a flat sandy island with a lagoon in the middle.” Wiley explained. “Under the cover of darkness, we could have landed, unloaded into a skiff and met up with another larger boat farther out in the Red Sea.”
Wiley banked to the left. Jake noticed the coastline of the Red Sea stretch in both directions beneath them.
“Al Bodhi’s off to the right.” Wiley said. “Now we have to go about thirty miles farther to the Al Zubayr Islands. The archipelago is full of scuba diving sites. Our rendezvous will be on the backside of a volcano across from Saddle Island. Our transport is disguised as a live-aboard dive boat equipped with a medical bay and two medics.”
“I see it on the GPS.” Jake said. “Can we make it?”
“I’m confident we can.” Wiley said. “But if you haven’t noticed, Mr. Kaplan has been losing altitude at a greater rate than us. He will have trouble making it to the landing site. And even if he does make it…”
“What?” Jake said. “Even if he makes it, what?”
“The Zubayr archipelago is not soft and sandy like Al Bodhi. It’s hard and rocky and unforgiving. If he makes a landing like he did in Hajjah, they’ll both be injured. Or worse.”
“What about that thing we did going into Hajjah?” Jake said. “You know, uh…ridge soaring. That’s it. Where we climbed a few hundred feet.”
“Problem is, Jake, we’re over water. No updrafts over water, especially this early in the morning. We took advantage of the winds in the mountains to gain extra altitude. Now we have no mountains and no land.” Wiley paused. “As far as ridge soaring, Mr. Kaplan will have to make it to the northernmost island in order to get the first and possibly only chance at ridge lift and even then—”
“Even then.” Jake interrupted. “It might not be enough.”
“Exactly.”
Jake didn’t say anything for the next thirty minutes. Wiley explained the situation to Kaplan and he said he understood what had to be done, including the consequences of failure. Jake knew Kaplan would be extra cautious with Isabella on board. Even though Jake didn’t like it, he knew Kaplan had strong feelings for her. But there was something else eating away at him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, though.
There was tension between Kaplan and himself. They had been close friends, even confidantes when they first met in Savannah, Georgia earlier in the year. Kaplan had been involved, from an air traffic controller’s standpoint, in an aircraft accident investigation. Early in the investigation Jake suspected it wasn’t an accident but the result of sabotage. As Jake unraveled the truth, he exposed his own boss as a conspirator. But worse than that, Jake uncovered Kaplan’s long-time girlfriend as an accomplice. Maybe Kaplan held that against him.
The same event that took the life of Jake’s fiancée also took the life of Kaplan’s girlfriend. But her death was fast. She died on the spot, in front of Kaplan. Jake’s fiancée, on the other hand, lingered in a coma for days, began to recover and then without warning died. It’s possible, even probable, that Kaplan blamed Jake for her death too.
At some point, Jake knew, he’d have to make amends. He wanted to have that opportunity.
At some point, but not right now.
CHAPTER 36
K
APLAN SAW THE Zubayr archipelago island chain stretch out in front of him from north to south spanning fifteen miles from end to end. He counted fourteen islands. The northernmost island a tiny dot even from his low altitude of three hundred fifty feet. The glider in front of him a half a mile and at least another hundred fifty feet higher had just passed the first island.
The second island in the chain was much larger, maybe three quarters of a mile by half a mile, with a large peak in the middle. The ripples in the waters of the Red Sea indicated a strong wind from the south. He knew this was his best chance, maybe his only chance, to gain back some precious altitude—at least enough to carry him further down the archipelago. The question in his mind, how much altitude could he gain before he lost the lift from the peak? A question soon answered when he saw Wiley make a climbing left turn gaining several hundred feet before turning south toward the rendezvous point.
The jolt from the updraft caught Kaplan off guard. He rolled into a gentle turn and spiraled upward, making sure he kept the glider inside the updraft. Kaplan’s altimeter climbed ever higher. Now he was faced with a choice, follow the chain of islands, hopping from one to another adding extra miles to his route but remaining close enough in case he needed to find another ridge to steal altitude from. Or, make the straight line shot to the rendezvous point like Wiley did but it left him vulnerable over the open water.
Wiley told him his prototype gliders were rated at slightly better than a 60:1 ratio. He ran the rough calculations in his head.
Piece of cake.
Kaplan lost the updraft at exactly a thousand feet, turned to the south and followed Wiley’s glider on a direct line toward the rendezvous point. Halfway across the span of open water he realized he’d made a mistake in his calculations as his altimeter passed through six hundred feet. Coupled with a headwind slowing his progress across the water and the extra drag from the jammed retractable engine, he wasn’t getting the 60:1 glide ratio Wiley bragged about.
Not even close.
† † †
Jake studied the island in front of him as Wiley finessed the glider closer to the landing spot. The island had a large volcano crater on the eastern side, blown out to the southeast from a previous eruption. A column of steam rose from within its center. Wiley’s landing spot was west of a smaller crater on a plateau next to the western shoreline. Jake noticed all the islands in the Zubayr archipelago were littered with craters, all of them black and barren, but this large crater was the only one that appeared active.
As they approached the landing site Jake could see the blackened earth covered with thick vegetation.
And rocks.
Lots of rocks.
A large boat was anchored just west of where Wiley was preparing to land. A large red and white dive flag was mounted on top. Two skiffs were beached on the western shore and two figures stood by each.
“Is that our welcoming party?” Jake asked.
“Yep. Two crew, two medics.” Wiley said. “Turn around and see how Kaplan’s doing, will you?”
“He’s back there a good ways, maybe a mile.” Jake said. “He looks a little low.”
† † †
Kaplan watched the glider in front of him kick up a cloud of black dust as it touched down. Four figures scurried toward the glider as Wiley and Jake popped the canopy and crawled out. Two men pulled the glider toward the skiffs, a distance Kaplan estimated at fifty, maybe sixty feet.
“Isabella, are you buckled in?” Kaplan asked.
“Aren’t we a little low, Gregg?” Hunt asked. “I don’t know much about flying but we look like we’re too close to the water.”
“We are low. It’s going to be close.” Kaplan said. “Hold on tight.”
Once again Kaplan was staring ahead at a glide path that was too shallow—too low. He noticed the shoreline as they approached the landing site. The black sand ended abruptly several feet from the water’s edge then leveled out. Covered with vegetation and small rocks, the landing site was far from ideal. That is, if he could even make the landing site.
He kept the glider lined up on the same line Wiley used. The black sandy beach rapidly approaching. The water even faster. Wiley had incorporated a three setting flap system, each signified by a catch when the flap handle was pulled. Kaplan pulled on the first notch of flaps.
Better.
The glider slowed and the glide path angle improved. Kaplan pulled on the second notch of flaps.
Much better.
We might just make it.
Kaplan relaxed a little. He hadn’t realized until that moment just how tight his grip was on the controls. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants.
He pulled out the last notch of flaps. His glide angle improved again. Momentarily. Drag caught up and his airspeed slowed. Kaplan lowered the nose to compensate and kept his airspeed just above a stall, that moment when airflow over the wings was insufficient to maintain lift, and the aircraft stops flying.
That moment came as Kaplan’s glider was twenty feet from the black sandy beach. The glider skipped on the shallow water and onto the beach where it dug in nose first. Water and black sand sprayed across the canopy. The four-foot lip from the beach to the plateau that Kaplan was aiming to clear was approaching faster.
“Hold on.” Kaplan yelled.
The glider dug into the black sand deeper as the glider slowed. The nose of the glider caught the lip with too much forward speed.
Kaplan heard Isabella Hunt grunt as the glider came to an abrupt stop. He felt the pain of the harness straps digging into his chest, shoulders, and waist. Then came a feeling he didn’t recognize. The glider was still moving, rotating forward. And upward.
“Whoa.” Hunt screamed. “We’re going over.”
The glider stood on its nose. Kaplan stared at the ground, harness pulling against the weight of his body. What seemed like an eternity to Kaplan, was only two seconds. Then the glider fell backward onto the beach.
“Remind me never to fly with you again.” Hunt said.
“Any landing you walk away from is a good landing.”
† † †
Jake was the first person to reach Kaplan’s glider. By the time he opened the canopy, both crew and medics had arrived.
“Another nice landing, I see.” Jake said. “Will you give me lessons?”
“Very funny, smartass.” Kaplan reached his arm out to Jake. “Give me a hand, will ya?”
Jake pulled Kaplan out of the glider while both medics attended to Isabella Hunt.
“We need to get her to the boat.” One of the medics said.
The two crewmembers gently removed Hunt from the glider and carried her to the nearest skiff. One of the medics walked up to Kaplan. “Are you injured?”
“Only my pride.” Kaplan said. “Go. Take care of Isabella, please.”
Jake helped Kaplan unload Wiley’s equipment from the glider. One of the two crewmembers returned to the glider after the skiff left with the medics to take Hunt to the larger boat anchored three hundred feet from shore.
After everything was removed from the gliders, Jake, Wiley, and Kaplan loaded the remaining skiff and were taken to the larger boat.
The Toymaker
was a one hundred twenty-five foot yacht that resembled a live aboard dive boat in every way. The dive deck was equipped with a full complement of tanks, wetsuits, masks, and fins.
“The Toymaker?” Jake laughed when he read the name painted on the transom. “Seriously?”
“What?” Wiley grinned. “I’ve been a certified scuba diver since I was thirteen. This is a very versatile vessel with many uses above and beyond just a dive boat. Inside you’ll find all the comforts of home along with some ‘specialized’ equipment. I designed the hull myself. In the right conditions, she’ll do forty-five knots.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Jake noticed the men onshore tying the two gliders together with ropes, one behind the other. “What’s to become of your sailplanes?” He pointed toward shore.
“I can’t allow them to be retrieved.” Wiley explained. “They are unique and the technology is classified. We’ll be boarded in Djibouti and I can’t run the risk of them being discovered and us being tied back to the explosion in Yemen. There is a trench in the sea floor about five hundred yards south of here. We’ll tow them to the trench and scuttle them to the bottom.”
“A trench?” Jake asked. “How deep?”
“I’ll drop them at about 600 meters.” Wiley said. “About two thousand feet.”