Brown, Dale - Independent 04 (41 page)

 
          
On
Major Kestrel’s radarscope, it appeared that he had , every one of the military
planes in his airspace—and he needed them all, because it also seemed that all
the flakeoid pilots, bad radios, garbled transmissions, incorrect assumptions,
and lost flight plans were rattling around in his assigned sector. Last night,
the first full night of the new emergency flight rules, was the worst—but now
it was dawn and the wrong decisions, rule violations, confusion, and just plain
dumb-shit moves still showed no signs of letting up.

 
          
“All
Tiger units, all Tiger units, this is Tiger Control with a poll of the air
defense units,” Kestrel began. Satellite communications downlinks allowed him
to speak with units many miles away as if he were orbiting right over them.
“Tiger 100.”

           
“Tiger 100, all units in the green,
all units acknowledge HOLD FIRE command,” Colonel Witt at Dallas-Fort Worth
Airport responded.

 
          
“Tiger
200.”

 
          
“Tiger
200, all units in the green, all units acknowledge HOLD FIRE,” the battalion
commander at Houston-Hobby International reported, which also secured
Houston-Intercontinental Airport. The poll continued with all of Kestrel’s
assigned units at
New Orleans
,
Memphis
,
Little Rock
,
Oklahoma
City,
Tulsa
,
Jackson
, and
Springfield
. Not all of these locations had Patriot
missiles stationed there, but all had at least two Avenger-Stinger units and
one HAWK missile unit, all controlled by Kestrel in the E-3C AWACS.

 
          
“Well,
everybody’s in place, and it looks like we survived the night all in one
piece,” Major Bill Kestrel told Admiral Ian Hardcastle and Lieutenant Colonel
A1 Vincenti, as they observed the progress of the emergency operation. Since
Dallas-Fort Worth was one of the busiest in the nation, and since Cazaux’s last
attack in
Memphis
was not far away, it was a logical target,
and a lot of planning, personnel, and hardware had gone into defending it. It
was the perfect place to watch how the system was running— and the perfect
place to watch potential problems occur. “But I’m seeing signs of pilots
testing the system already.”

 
          
“What
do you mean, Kid?” Hardcastle asked.

 
          
“It’s
a pilot thing, I believe,” Kestrel replied, giving veteran F-16 pilot Vincenti
a mischievous smile. “Airline pilots need to be on time—their jobs depend on
it—so they stretch the rules, probe the boundaries of the new authority. See*
here’s a good example.” Kestrel reduced the range on his scope to show better
detail. “This USAir flight from
Little Rock
is a 757 and he thinks he owns the sky.
He’s an hour late, but so what?—everybody in the system is at least an hour
late. But he’s real cranky. First, he won’t stay on the Blue Ridge Four
Arrival—he wants vectors to runway 35 Left final. We closed 36 Right and 35
Left, the runways closest to the terminal, so naturally that’s what this bozo asks
for. ATC says no, we want him out to GACHO intersection, fifteen miles out, and
we want him on the ILS glideslope.

 
          
“Now
he’s really pissed, and he’s making mistakes. He’s screaming onto the localizer,
going like a bat out of hell. He’s cutting the corner, see?—he’s never going to
reach GACHO intersection. He’s still going 250 knots, which is legal but not
very smart since he’s got about a ninety-degree turn coming up in a few
seconds. Ninety-nine-percent chance he’s a good guy, but he’s doing bad-guy
stuff. I got no choice.” He hit the intercom button to his Senior
Director—although the Senior Director was sitting right beside him, the
intercom call alerted the entire crew to what he was doing—and said, “Active
scramble on target ID uniform-seven-one-one-three, two F-16s. Continue the
hold- fire on all batteries but tell Tiger 124, 125, 146, and 148 that ID
number U7113 is a possible hostile. Tell Tiger 112 that a 757 will be flying
real close from the east. I want all units to hold fire—don’t get excited to
see that idiot barreling in.”

 
          
Kestrel
pointed to his scope. “See that? He’s blown through the localizer inbound
course, still going like a bat out of hell—good thing he’s not running up
someone’s ass. Now watch.” Kestrel pointed to a spot at the top of his scope,
and sure enough, a white rectangle with the words
emer
appeared and began blinking. “They all do that—they argue, get
excited, make a mistake, then realize what they’ve done and squawk emergency.
Look, he’s practically into Naval Air Station Dallas’ airspace, overflying the
Patriot missile site. Jesus ...”

 
          
“So
what can you do?” Hardcastle asked.

 
          
“I’ve
got no choice, Admiral,” Kestrel said. “But it ain’t gonna fly. Listen . . .”
He pressed another button on his communications panel: “Dallas East Approach,
this is Tiger Control, that
USAir Flight
,
ID
U7113, is in violation. I need him kicked
out to Scurry VOR until we can get a fighter visual ID .. . affirmative, U7113
... deviated more than two miles off assigned course within twenty miles of
Dallas-Fort
Worth
Airport
.” Hardcastle and Vincenti could hear the
approach controller, and he did not sound happy at all. “I’ve got two F-16s
airborne from NAS Dallas now, and I’ll declare him MARSA with the USAir flight
at this time ... I know he’s declared an emergency, Approach, but he’s in
violation, he
still
hasn’t gotten
back on the localizer . . . what’s your controller number, ma’am? . . . fine,
my commander will call your supervisor. Request you advise that flight that he
is an air defense item of interest and that if he violates the flight
parameters again, he will be fired upon without further warning ... yes, damn
it, I’m serious. Tiger out.”

 
          
He
clicked over to another channel with an angry stab on the button: “All Tiger
units, this is Tiger control, ID U7113 has declared an emergency and is being
cleared to land on runway 31 Right at Dallas-Fort Worth. Interceptor units are
airborne from NAS Dallas. At DIVVR intersection, repeat, at DIVVR intersection,
all Hawk and Avenger batteries are released tight, repeat, at five miles out,
all Hawk and Avenger batteries are released tight.” He switched channels again,
this time to the VHF GUARD emergency frequency, which was linked to a repeater
station near Dallas-Fort Worth Airport: “Attention all aircraft, attention all
aircraft, this is the United States Air Force airborne defense controller
Tiger, we have an air defense item of interest landing on runway 31 Right,
Dallas-Fort Worth Airport, warning, do not violate your flight clearances or
you may be fired upon in the interest of national security. Repeat, all
aircraft, do not violate your flight clearances or you may be fired upon
without warning. Tiger out.”

 
          
Kestrel
turned to Hardcastle and Vincenti and said, “Okay, gents, I’ve just given the
order for the short-range air defense systems to open fire on the inbound 757
if he strays more than a mile off course within five miles from the runway,
more than a half-mile within two miles of the extended runway centerline, or
more than one thousand feet toward the terminals within one mile. Meanwhile,
the F-16s will try to join on him or orbit nearby until he’s turned off the
runway. This jet jockey is screwing up by the numbers, and now he—and his
passengers, don’t forget—are looking down the barrel of about twenty-four
missiles and two F-16 Fighters with missiles and guns of their own. Just plain
stupid. He can die at any time between now and about two minutes from now, and
you’ll have a major disaster on your hands.”

 
          
It
was a very tense wait as they watched the final two minutes of the approach.
The F-16 fighter joined on the 757 when the airliner was about two miles from
touchdown: “Tiger Control, Tango X-Ray-311 flight, target looks clean, no open
panels or devices, wheels are down. I see passengers in the windows. Looking
good ...” There was a short pause as the F-16 pilot configured his own plane
for landing. He would fly to the right and above the airliner as long as he
could, away from the Hawk and Avenger missile units arrayed between the runway
and the east terminals of
Dallas-Fort
Worth
Airport
. “Control, -311 going around.”

 
          
“Control,
this is Tiger-148, I’ve got a visual on the target,” reported one of the
Avenger ground units, stationed at the approach end of the runway and tracking
the airliner all the way on a telescopic infrared camera. “He’s looking good,
wheels and flaps down . . . Control, the target has touched down ... Control, I
see thrust reversers and spoilers, looks like a normal rollout... Control, he’s
turned off onto the high-speed taxiway one-north, moving onto taxiway 21 ...
Control, security units are on the scene. Request permission to disengage.
Over.”

 
          
“Attention
all Tiger units, this is Tiger Control, all batteries hold fire, repeat, all
batteries hold fire. Target ID U7113 is down. Tiger Control clear.” Kestrel
slid off his headset after telling his Senior Director he was going off the air
for a few minutes, then motioned to Hardcastle and Vincenti toward the back of
the AWACS plane: “I gotta take a break.”

           
Hardcastle and Vincenti followed
Kestrel to the galley, where Kestrel hit the lavatory and stayed in there for
what seemed like a long time. When he finally emerged, his face still damp from
the water he had splashed on it, he slugged down a couple of antacid tablets
with a grimace. “It’s gonna be a long day, I can see that now,” he muttered.

 
          
“Very
good work over there, Major,” Hardcastle offered.

 
          
“That
routine happens about twice, maybe three times an hour, gents,” Kestrel said to
Hardcastle and Vincenti, as if he hadn’t heard Hardcastle’s compliment. The
strain really showed. “The pilots declare an emergency, and all our rules go
out the window. All the air traffic controllers want to do is get these guys on
the ground, so they clear them for landing before we can check them out. It’s
wearing my crews down real fast, and this is only the second day.”

 
          
“But
aren’t your crews accustomed to this?” Hardcastle asked. “You’ve got some
Desert Storm veterans on your crew. In the
Middle East
you were flying thousands of sorties a day,
controlling hundreds of aircraft.”

 
          
“In
Desert Storm, and in most controller situations, most of the targets on the
scope are good guys, and we’re on the lookout for the bad guys,” Kestrel
explained. “Here,
every target
is a
potential bad guy, right up until he turns off the runway after landing.
Furthermore,
all
of our ‘bad guys’
are flying right toward the spot that we’re assigned to defend—and we have to
let them!
That’s pretty unheard-of in
the AWACS game. We’re used to playing on a much bigger scale—here, most of the
real tense action occurs close to the ground and close to the defended spot,
where if something goes wrong we don’t have a lot of time to react—”

 
          
“Nothing
personal, Major, but I’d rather burn out a few AWACS crews rather than see
Cazaux bomb another terminal,” Vincenti said. “Air defense is a shitty game,
but we gotta play it.”

 
          
“I
hear you, Al, and I can’t argue with that—it’s our job and we’re going to do it,”
Kestrel said. “I’m getting an ulcer because some flyboy wants to land five
minutes earlier than his buddies—fine. But I wonder if that pilot realizes that
if he does so much as wag his wings toward the terminal when he’s on final
approach, sirs, one of those kids riding in the Avengers is going to pull the
trigger and send two Stinger missiles into an airliner full of civilians. It’s
something you guys from
Washington
are going to have to deal with if this thing drags on and a mistake
happens. Either we turn up the heat and catch this Cazaux bastard right away,
or you’ll have to tighten up the rules a bit more, before we start flaming a
lot of innocent Americans.”

 
          
“We
can’t do much about the tactical situation,” Hardcastle said. “We can nail the
pilots busting the rules or declaring an emergency in order to circumvent the
rules and get on the ground faster, but for the time being I don’t think
Washington is going to want to hear any more plans to restrict air traffic any
more than what we’re doing right now. I’d like to see the FBI take off the kid
gloves and beat the bushes a little harder for Cazaux, but I believe they’re
working as hard as they—”