Wings of Steele - Destination Unknown (Book 1) (10 page)

■ ■ ■

Maria
stuck her head into the cockpit between Jack and Brian. "I've
been
getting
a tremendous amount of interference on the scope and nav systems,
but there seems to be a weather front ahea..." It was at that
moment she glanced up and gazed through the moisture streaked
cockpit windshield. "Saint Mary..." she whispered, "it's
even bigger than I thought..." She realized they were headed
straight for it, which made a chill run through her body. She rubbed
the goose bumps off her arms. "You're not going through that,
are you?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Jack
never fond of discussing his decisions once he'd made them,
especially when
he
was unsure of the outcome himself. "You got a
better
idea?"

"Going
around
it
,
immediately comes to mind!" she said, waving
her
hand expressively.

Not
that he was truly pissed, but his voice and composure turned to a
controlled
calm,
he spoke in a low, controlled voice. "
Well.
..
thanks to yo
ur
fucking buddy Paulo
and the keystone cops, we had to make a
hot
exit
,
not to mention changing routes. We don't have the
fuel
to go around it."

Brian
remained silent, he knew better than to intervene. Besides,
Jack
was right, if not for her, they wouldn't be in this mess... or would
they? He decided, he would have to think on that some more.
Maria
returned silently to the navigator's table, tears of frustration
burning
in her eyes. She hated to cry and fought her emotions. Right then
she hated him. She cut herself off in mid thought, wiping the tears
from her eyes to focus on the radar screen. At the age of
twenty-five, she still hadn't learned to fully control her emotions.

"
JAAACK
!"
The scream took him by surprise, a quick glance told him
the
copilot too. The frantic girl stumbled over the dog as she scrambled
back through the cockpit opening. "Jack..." she was
breathless and as white as a ghost, "two bogies, moving fast!"

Bogies?
The thought that flashed through his mind was that it was a military
term... He decided he didn't have time for contemplation right now
and put the thought aside.
"Where?"
he fired at her.

"Directly
behind and high, about two thousand feet up, twenty miles
out
and closing."

"What
do we do?" asked Brian, jumping in.

"I
don't know..." he turned back to Maria. "How fast?"

She
shook her head, "Real fast! About triple our speed!"

"That's
around Mach One! Shit, shit, shit!" he said in a growl,
pounding
his
fist on the control yoke. "They gotta' be military, damn!"

"Kinda
rules out runnin' huh?"

Jack
looked at Brian. "Yeah, I would think so, unless you have a
jet
engine hidden up your sleeve."

Brian
shrugged. “Think they're ours?”

Steele
shook his head, “Doesn't matter whose they are, it's still
probably bad news for us...”

Maria
went back to the scope. She was having a hard time reading
the
radar because of the distortion on the screen from the storm. "The
scope... I can't find them... Wait! There they are. They're about a
mile out, they're just pacing us now... damn this interference!"
She tried to adjust her avionics. "Sorry, I just lost them
again."

"See
if you can tell what they are, or who they are." Jack
envisioned
being
shot down without warning, and if that was the case, he preferred to
go down fighting, no matter how futile the effort. "Ok, don't
panic, we still don't know what they want," he said, rubbing
his chin in thought. "Maybe they're just curious... I hope."

■ ■ ■

They
could see it now, quite clearly in fact. There was no
mistaking
that twin tail section. They had found the B25.

"Ok
Mad Dog, reduce speed I want to hang back here for a bit."

"Roger,
Pappy." Mike eased the throttle back to stay in formation with
his wing leader.

Smiley
switched frequencies. "Blue One to STC, we have a
positive
visual contact with the B25."

"STC...
Roger that, Blue One. Good job. Proceed with caution, we will
vector
additional birds to your location."

"Roger,
STC, Blue One out."

The
old warbird looked rather majestic, flying through the clouds
below.
"Damn, Pappy, that thing's in beautiful shape. She looks brand
new."

Smiley
had noticed that too and for some reason that seemed odd and
out
of sync with the circumstances. He looked at the mountainous clouds
looming in the distance, and the heading they were on. "Mad
Dog, we want to corral these folks before we reach that weather out
there."

"Roger,
Pappy. Just tell me what you need me to do."

"Ok
kid, hang on my port-stern quarter and keep an eye on that gun
turret.
If it moves give me a shout, then get the hell outta' the way."

"Roger,
Pappy... by the way, I'm getting some real distortion on my radar.
How's yours?"

Smiley
looked down and the picture was so distorted he couldn't
read
it. "Yeah, mine too. Must be coming from that weather out
there. Let's corral these people and get the hell outta' here.
Follow my lead kid." He proceeded to search for the radio
frequency being used by the B25 as he eased up alongside her.

■ ■ ■

"Jack,
look at the gauges," Brian's voice was calm, if not a bit
curious.
Jack switched his gaze to the dash to see the gauges doing strange
things indeed. The closer to the storm front they got, the crazier
the electronics and instruments behaved.

Jack's
eyes widened. "I've got an idea, it just might work too."
Brian
had a strange feeling he wasn't going to like this, in fact, he was
almost positive.

Fritz
distracted the pilot before he could speak. The Shepherd was
obviously agitated, excited even, standing with his front paws on
Jack's thigh to see out the window, fidgeting and whining. The pilot
ran his hand across the dog's head, rubbing his ears, trying to keep
him calm. The Shepherd, enjoying the attention, remained still.
"See? Even he feels it."

Brian,
who had been watching the dog, looked past him out over the
port
wing. "We've got company," he pointed calmly. Jack looked
left to see a Navy F18 Hornet, barely fifty feet off the Sweet
Susie's left wingtip. Above and to the left of him was yet another
F18.

"Christ,
he's got missiles," muttered Jack. The pilot
of
the closest F18 gave a wave, then in sign language conveyed to Jack
that he wanted their radio frequency. Jack glanced ahead to the
looming storm front, trying to gauge their closing speed. Steele
held up fingers for numbers. "I gotta' stall," he told
Brian and Maria, who was kneeling next to Fritz. "That front's
our only chance."

"I
was afraid he was going to say that," groaned Brian.

The
fighter pilot found the frequency and amidst the noise and
interference,
identified himself to the crew of the B25. "Hello B25, can you
hear me?"

Jack
keyed the mic, "Yes I can, what can I do for you?" His
voice
was friendly and calm. He glanced at the horizon, they were so
close. Stall...
stall
,
he thought. His body tingled all over, although quite a unique
feeling it was somehow familiar - he tried to put it out of his
mind.

"I'm
Lieutenant Commander Paul Smiley, United States Navy..." he
pointed
to
the other F18, "that's my wingman, Lieutenant Mike Warren. We
are off the aircraft carrier Shenandoah and have orders to escort
you back to San Juan airport." The pilot's slow, calm voice,
with its hint of southern accent, made it an almost appealing
proposition. Jack could tell this man was a true professional,
completely comfortable and confident. He could also see the row of
victory badges painted on the fuselage under the cockpit canopy.
This was a man who could seriously ruin your day, if so inclined.
Commander Smiley continued, "I will ask you to totally comply
with my instructions, if you attempt to evade or take any hostile
action, we
will
shoot you down. Do you understand?"

Jack's
mind was racing. "Yes, Commander..."
stall,
he thought.
"Commander,
I have just one problem..." the three planes entered the
fringes of the weather front and visibility was closing in rapidly,
"I don't have enough fuel to return there." In reality,
this was close to the truth. “I do, however, have enough fuel
to reach the coast...”

"Stand
by B25... Negative, come to a heading of zero-nine-nine."
Smiley seemed
totally
calm and under control.

Jack
smiled to himself, this guy needs to get out of this soup too...
probably to call for redirection. Hell, with all this static
interference, they could barely communicate plane to plane and they
were within spitting distance of each other.

He
had one trick up his sleeve, and the timing had to be just right.
When compared to the Hornets flying off his starboard wingtip, the
B25 was about as maneuverable as a flying grand piano... but there
was such a disparity between the flight envelopes of the B25 and the
Hornets that Jack hoped the playing field just might tilt in his
favor.

He
was trying to see if the F18s were flying with their flaps
deployed... dammit, he couldn't tell through the dwindling
visibility.

"Please
repeat, Commander Smiley, we could not copy." Jack needed
just
another second or two, their only chance...

"Jack..."
Maria grabbed his shoulder, startling him, "the radar
screen
and nav system just went completely blank..." He shot a glance
at the gauges, some were bouncing uncontrollably, others had
flatlined, completely dead. He hoped the systems on the two F18's
were suffering the same problems. “Before they quit, I saw two
more bogies...”

■ ■ ■

The
Lieutenant Commander tried without success to re-contact the B25
flying
beside him, hell, he could barely reach Warren's aircraft. He was
trying to decide what to do, he couldn't even reach the ship for
assistance. This was undoubtedly the weirdest weather he had ever
seen, and it was quickly getting worse.

"Pappy,
can you hear me?"

"Yeah
kid, go ahead."

"Pappy,
I just lost my radar and all my navgear, my readouts are
scrambled...
shit, I can't even tell how much fuel I've got left." Warren's
voice was filled with uncertainty, possibly fear.

Hell,
losing all your electronics could unnerve even a veteran pilot but
Smiley needed his wingman to keep a clear head.
"Yeah,
me too, but don't worry kid, we'll be ok. Just chill out and
hang
onto my tail." His voice was calm and soothing.

"Ok,
Pappy." Warren concentrated on keeping visual contact with
the
tail of Smiley's F18, gathering mettle from his wing leader's
confidence.

■ ■ ■

Jack
could still see Smiley's F18 off their port wing, although
a
little farther out than before. A strange observation suddenly
presented itself. For such a large storm front, there was no wind,
none... not only that, but there was no rainfall either... just the
moisture held aloft in the clouds. Jack had no time for lengthy
consideration, but he decided this was worth a mental note.