Angels Fallen (26 page)

“General, our surveillance ha
s tracked them to within 20 kilometers of the Millville airport,” the Commander said. “It looks as though their intentions are still the same, to declare an emergency of some type, enabling them to land at the Millville airport in lieu of Newark International.”

The General shot him a quick glance. “Commander, are you positive we can catch them before they off-load their cargo?” 

“General, I am willing to stake my life on it,” he replied, expertly fingering his Uzi machine pistol. 

The General n
odded. “Commander, you are well versed in the embarrassment we suffered in France.” 

“We will not let you down, sir,” the Commander replied. “The men are all familiar with the repercussions
; confidence is high.”

“Right you are commander. Proceed to your jump stations.”

“Newark tower, this is Boeing N7364,” Eian said
calmly. “I have a problem with my left landing gear indicator. I am requesting a touch-and-go at Millville airport for a down- verification prior to our landing at Newark.”

“N7364, are you declaring an in-flight emergency?” The Newark tower operator
responded, knowing full well that Newark had some of the best capabilities for handling any possible aircraft emergencies.

Eian had to maintain the
simple appearance of a faulty landing gear indicator. The last thing they needed was the Newark Tower operator ordering him to change his plans. Eian had his own agenda. No matter what happened, he was landing at Millville.

“Negative,
Newark. We are requesting to deviate from our original flight plan for a touch-and-go at Millville for a landing-gear-down confirmation. We think a good jolt on the runway’s surface will provide a green indication for us to proceed on to Newark.” 

“Roger that
, N7364.  Steer to 197, maintain altitude and contact Millville Tower on frequency 2786. Good luck, and contact us on channel 1482 prior to your reentering the pattern.”

“Thank you,
Newark.” Eian said.  He leaned over quickly dialing in frequency 2786 before calling the next location.

“Millville Tower, this is Boeing 7
77 flight N7364 originally en route to Newark International, requesting a touch-and-go for faulty gear-light indicator.”

THE MILLVILLE TOWER
normally lay quiet at this time of day with most of the earlier traffic in the area having been small single-engine aircraft whose owners were out trying to hone their flying skills. None were usually present in the pattern after 4:00 p.m., creating a void until the dinner crowd started flying in from Philly around 7:00 or 8:00 p.m. The “crowd” usually consisted of a few planes flown by middle-aged men trying to impress their girlfriends or wives by flying them to dinner at a local restaurant.

Morris Thompson sat in the
Millville tower trying to enjoy his own dinner, a microwave meal his wife packed for him before he left home.
How many times can I eat Salisbury steak?
He pushed it away from in front of him, gravitating toward the vending machine.  He searched his spare change when the call from Eian’s aircraft came in requesting an emergency touch and go.

Finally, a little excitement aro
und here. Don’t receive too many heavies in this place.
He placed his change back into his pocket.  His snack would have to wait.

“Roger that
, N7364. Would you like emergency services standing by?”

“Negative,
Millville Tower. Should be a nice and easy touch and go.”

“Roger that,
N7364, you are the only traffic in the pattern. You are clear on runway 11 for a straight-in approach,” Morris said.  He decided to be cautious and place a call to the Millville Volunteer Fire Company as a precaution. Located only a half-mile from the perimeter of the airport, they could be on the main runway in a matter of minutes if needed. 

Eian provide
d a thumbs-up to Jim and Dan before replying to the tower operator. “Roger that, Millville Tower, I have a visual on the airport runway lights.”

Eian pause
d for a few seconds before the next phase of his plan, contacting Millville Tower once more. “Millville Tower, this is N7364. I would like to request a deviation from my earlier request for a touch and go. I require a full stop for five minutes to perform a quick visual-gear check. Our left gear-down light just illuminated indicating a full-extended condition. I want to visually check the gear-down switch on deck.”

“That’s affirmative
, N7364. You are requesting a full stop for a gear check,” Morris said. “The airport’s wide open at this time. You may perform your check on the ramp to the west side of runway 11.”

“Thank you,
Millville.  N7364 over and out.”

The pilot slowed the lumbering aircraft to 140 knots,
dangerously near the stall speed for the type of aircraft,
in order to facilitate the parachutists who would be attempting to jump from the rear of the aircraft. Any speed above 140 knots would possibly push the jumpers off course. Once the pilot was satisfied with his speed and altitude, he radioed back from the cockpit to General Parker in the rear of the aircraft. They were ready.

Four men dressed in black Ninja-like uniforms
rose in unison from their canvas-webbed seats in the galley area. They walked through a narrow door in the tail section that led down to the rear exit hatch. 

“Al
l right, gentlemen, this is for the big money. Good luck,” General Parker said to the men as they stepped willingly into the night’s darkness at 1,500 meters.

The
four men free-fell to 500 meters before activating their Sentry-modified parachutes. The Sentry-modified chutes allowed the user to essentially steer the chute, allowing a person, depending on the crosswinds at a certain location, to land within several feet of their objective. From 500 meters, it turned out to be a quick ten-second tight corkscrew maneuver with a near perfect landing 100 meters to the rear of the now- parked 777 aircraft.

Upon landing, they expertly gathered up any evidence of their illicit landing on American soil,
a first for British combat troops since 1814
.

“Welcome to
America,” the commander said aloud to no one in particular.

“All right, people, no time for chatter. Let’s slide this container into the truck,” Eian yelled, looking at his watch.  “We have three minutes before Newark starts asking questions about our location.”

Eian had to yell
over the loud whooshing sound of the aircraft’s auxiliary power unit (APU), a small jet engine used exclusively for ground power. He helped the men maneuver the three-by-four-foot pallet into the Ford pickup truck for Jim. The truck had a modified lift consisting of four hydraulic auto jacks installed in its rear to handle the pallet, allowing it to be gracefully lowered into its bed. 

Eian now turned his attention to Sean and Colin, his new crewmembers. Distant friends from youth, fresh out of prison for armed robbery, they needed the quick cash this job would provide.

From his experience of traveling the US/European route, the U.S. customs’ inspectors casually waved through any planes bound from the European continent. Just a cursory check was the usual status quo. They were more keenly focused on the South American routes due to the notorious drug traffic trade, that and the fact that they were spread thin due to a hiring freeze.

“I need you two boys up in the cockpit for take-off,” Eian said before turning back to Jim and Dan. “And I will see you gentlemen in a few weeks wh
en we divide the big cash:  ‘til then.”

“Good job, Eian, ‘til
then, my friend,” Dan said, shaking Eian’s extended hand, shaking it vigorously, patting him on the back with the other. “We are going to have one hell of a poker game. I might even let you win a hand or two. Now get the hell out of here,” he shouted above the whine of the APU.

Dan’s reflexes were still in prime condition considering the events that had transpire
d over the previous 48 hours.
Of course, the ten cups of coffee didn’t hurt
.  Something about the situation didn’t feel right.  His grandmother called it “Irish beforehand.” 

Dan ta
pped his pocket out of reflex. His weapon was still safely in its place.  Glancing to the rear of the aircraft, he noticed something moving on the tarmac.  His “Irish beforehand” was clearly working. The hairs on his neck rose. His heart raced. Its confirmation came quickly with several black-clad figures appearing out of the darkness brandishing weapons.

“Damn it, gentlemen, we have company, four fi
gures with weapons toward the rear of the aircraft.”

“Jim, go up front and start the truck. We have to get the hell out of here,” Dan said, extracting his Beretta 9mm in response, quickly checking its ammunition status.

“Eian, close this aircraft door and get the hell out of here. We’ll see you in a few weeks.”

Eian saluted Dan in the aircraft’s doorframe before turning to yell up to the cockpit. “Sean
and Colin get back down here. We have trouble brewing.”

COMMANDER ROBINSON LED HIS
three fellow SAS troops in their race towards the B737 aircraft, stopping a mere 50 meters from its rear to reassess the situation.

“Sergeant Major, when we are in range
, concentrate your weapon fire on the truck just in case our birds of prey are trying to off-load and flee.”

Turning
to face his other two commandos, he said. “We will split into two groups. Jennings and Astor, I want you gentlemen to assault the aircraft from the port side over the wing entrance. The Sergeant Major and I will move to the starboard side of the truck.

Remember, we cannot screw this one up, gentlemen. Safeties off and I’ll see you after the mission. Cheers.”

DAN FIRED SINGLE SHOTS
at the fast approaching figures forcing them to take cover on the tarmac for the moment. “Let’s get this truck the hell out of here, my friend,” he said to Jim. “We have company and it’s not the local police. They would have identified themselves by now, cutting off any possible escape route with a hundred cars surrounding us.”

Jim struggled to locate the keys to the truck, fin
ally locating them overhead stuck in the driver’s visor. “Who the hell are they?” he said, bullets now impacting the side of the truck with soft, dull thuds as they struck. He hastily stuck one key after another into the ignition before finding one that brought the truck to life with the roar of its eight cylinders.

Dan ducked behind the safety afforded by the wooden containers, they offering some protection from the SAS bullets that seemed close to finding their mark. “FBI or SWAT would also have also identified themselves. No doubt thieves got wind of this little operation. Get this rig the hell out of here before we are dead on arrival.”

The van suddenly swerved from side to side as Jim tried to get control of the rapidly moving vehicle.

Dan held onto the truck with one hand, with the other firing at the dark clad figures.

“Who in the hell are they?” Jim yelled back once more.

Dan reloaded his weapon. Satisfied, he peers above the crate at what appears to be only two figures versus the original four, they still firing blindly at the truck from an ever-increasing distance.

Jim slowed the truck to negotiate the curve that announced the airport’s exit, now searching for the main road.
“Jesus, that was close,”
he said to himself in the empty cabin of the truck.

Dan squeezed his way into the truck
’s cab, sitting in the passenger’s seat. “We are heading for a gas station about two clicks up this particular road,” he said, looking in the truck’s mirror for anything suspicious that might be following them.

“I just hope Eian and his friends are okay back there,” Jim said. “
There were a lot of fireworks going on back there.”

“Eian
’s a big boy,” Dan replied, reloading his weapon, “he can handle himself.”

Thick d
roplets of blood marked Eians’ course on the aircraft floor as he weaved his way forward, rushing to close the forward service hatch, the last door before he could ready the aircraft for take-off.  Checking the area outside the door, he couldn’t believe his luck when he found two SAS men kneeling on the ramp no more than 25 meters away, firing at Dan and Jim. Eian positioned his weapon against the doorframe, his Uzi coughing out a short burst, immediately killing both Commander Robinson and the Sergeant Major.

Eian turn
ed to Sean and Colin, both having made their way down to the cargo hold when they heard the first shots being fired.  “Sorry, boys, but you missed the action,” he said, a smile creeping onto his face as he fought the obvious pain in his wounded arm. “Sean, go back upstairs and make sure nobody entered the aircraft from the topside. These gentlemen,” pointing to the now lifeless bodies on the ramp, “most likely have friends. Colin, I want you to close this access door and secure it for flight. We are getting the hell out of here.”

PRIVATE JENNINGS AND CORPORAL
Astor took advantage of the confusion on the opposite side of the aircraft, scaling up and onto the aircraft’s port wing, entering the aircraft through its emergency over-wing door.

Positioning themselves on opposite sides of the a
isle, they moved forward toward the cockpit area.

SEAN SCALED THE
aluminum steps from the cargo hold, reaching the top of the steps as Private Jennings and Corporal Astor were moving toward his position.
Damn it!
Sean cried aloud as he caught a short burst in the upper torso from Corporal Astor, killing him instantly. 

In the cargo area, Eian turned in time to notice Sean’s feet protruding from the top of the steps, him obviously dead.
The topside of the aircraft was compromised
.

He realized he was dealing with professionals. Eian decided to make his way back to where Colin
still struggled to close the aircraft’s door. Eian caught Colin’s attention with a slight tap to the shoulder, yelling above the still whining APU. “I think it’s time to retreat out of here and allow these buggers to meet their fate.”  He brandished two grenades. “I want you to go over on the side of the tarmac. Once you’re safely in place, you can provide me with covering fire.  I’m going to give these buggers a real surprise by dropping these grenades by the plane’s center fuel tanks.”

Colin fingered his own weapon, wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into. “You didn’t warn me about the possibilities of a firefight, Eian. You told me to simply drive the truck here, load some goods, and hop o
n the plane for a 30-minute ride to Newark.  A total of four or five hours work and I would get five grand, real easy. This is going to cost you extra, boy.”

Both nervously eyed the steps leading to the topside of the aircraft.

“It’s like friggin Vietnam around here,” Colin yelled back.

“Relax, you will still get your fiver with a bonus, but let’s get the hell out of here first. Dead men can’t get pai
d. Now take up a position 50 meters from here.” 

A quick shove from Eian sufficed as Colin dropped out of the aircraft, limping slightly from his fall as he quickly moved towa
rd cover.

PRIVATE JENNINGS AND CORPORAL
Astor finished their topside sweep of the aircraft, cautiously starting down the stairway leading to the darkened cargo hold. From their vantage point, they could see the hold contained three individual compartments for separating various types of cargo. A narrow passageway on each side allowed access to the rear of the aircraft.

Corporal Astor detected movement in the rear of the aircraft. “We have someone in the third hold,” he said, moving carefully to the bottom of the steps. “
A flash grenade should stun them. I’ll break to the right and you take the left side.  On my command, ready…”

EIAN COULD SEE THE COMMANDO’S
dark image at the bottom of the steps. The timing couldn’t be more perfect, rolling his grenade toward the center of the aircraft as he jumped out of the aircraft’s door, running like a fox from the hounds and toward where Colin lay in wait.

“GO,” CORPORAL ASTOR SAID
, tossing the stun grenade into the aft cargo hold, closing his eyes, covering his ears, and opening his mouth to minimize the effects of the impact. The stun grenade exploded three seconds after he had pulled the pin, a blinding luminous flash followed by a thunderous bang intending to momentarily blind and stun the intended victims.

They moved rapidly into position, breaking to the left and right respectively, quickly slipping past the first empty cargo hold.

Corporal Astor was the first to see Eian’s grenade.

The shrapnel laden explosions punctured the aircraft’s interior, consuming the entire aircraft in a fireball that rose up a hundred feet in announcement.

Eian’s grenades had evidently blown over the center fuel tank,
as intended
.

COLIN HELPED EIAN UP FROM
the concrete ramp, the force of the explosion having tossed him as if he were a rag doll.

“Jesus, Eian, what the hell did you do?” he said. “I thought you were just dropping a couple of grenades to knock off the boy’s topside,
not destroying the whole friggin plane.” Colin looked about the immediate area in case additional attackers still lurked.

“Well
, now, the whole damn plane is history, isn’t it? Eian said. “Let’s get the hell out of here before we attract any more unwanted attention.” He glanced over toward the airport tower.  “Don’t look now, but here comes the emergency response team. Let’s move our position. How much money do you have?” he said, moving toward the same fence line that Jim and Dan had escaped through minutes before.

“I have five bucks,” Colin replied, trying to keep pace with his sprained ankle, a gift from Eian when he was pushed from the aircraft.

“And I have ten, so we have a lousy 15 lousy bucks between us,” Eian said, holding tightly onto his flight bag. “Maybe we can hitch a ride to Philly?”

“Just a minute there, Eian,” Colin said. “What about my five grand you owe me? I was promised five grand upon completion. Let’s have it so we can split up and make a run for it.”

Colin looked menacingly at Eian, advancing towards him. “You have it in that bag or what?”

“You’re being a real pain in the ass, Colin, you know that? You can’t wait, can you? We have a burning plane right behind you
, and I just killed four people in a span of five minutes. Don’t you think this might be a bad time to inquire about your money? You are a real jerk, you know that? No, you know what? Here, take your damn money.” Eian extracted a bundle of cash throwing it at Colin’s feet.

The aircraft in flames behind them created a surreal scene as Colin stood looking down at the cash. Eian extracted the Beretta from his jacket pocket, pointing it at Colin
. “And I owe you this too, you…” he said. “Pick up your money so I can say I paid you with a clear conscious before I administer some Irish justice.”

“Eian, come on
, man, I was just kidding. I knew you were going to pay me. Don’t do it, man,” Colin pleaded, now on his knees.

“Good
bye, Colin,” Eian said, placing two well placed bullets to Colin’s head. “You couldn’t wait till we got to Philly?” 

Eian quickly gathered the money from Colin’s lifeless body before disappearing into the airp
ort tree line and freedom.