Executive orders - Tom Clancy [154]
Dropping like a rock, the petty officer on the main scope reported. Better pull out soon, fella.
Target is a Gulf-Four business jet. We show him one-six-thousand and descending rapidly, Valetta advised.
Thank you, that's about what we have. We are standing by.
What gives? the captain asked, dressed in khaki pants and a T-shirt. The report didn't take long. Okay, get the rotor heads woke up. Next the commander lifted a growler phone. Bridge, CIC, captain speaking. All ahead full, come right to new course-
Two-seven-five, sir, the RADAR man advised. Target is two-seven-five and eighty-three miles.
New course two-seven-five.
Aye, sir. Coming right to two-seven-five, all ahead full, aye, the officer of the deck acknowledged. On the bridge the quartermaster of the watch pushed down the direct engine-control handles, dumping additional fuel into the big GE jet-turbines. Radford shuddered a bit, then settled at the stern as she began to accelerate up from eighteen knots. The captain looked around the capacious combat information center. The crewmen were alert, a few shaking their heads to come fully awake. The RADAR-men were adjusting their instruments. On the main scope, the display changed, the better to lock in the descending aircraft.
Let's go to general quarters, the skipper said next. Might as well get some good training time out of this. In thirty seconds, everyone aboard was startled into consciousness and running to stations.
YOU HAVE TO be careful descending to the ocean surface at night. The pilot of the G-IV kept a close eye on his altitude and rate of descent. The lack of good visual references made it all too easy to slam into the surface, and while that might have made their evening's mission perfect, it wasn't supposed to be that perfect. In another few seconds they'd drop off the Valetta RADAR scope, and then they could start pulling out of the dive. The only thing that concerned him now was the possible presence of a ship down there, but no wakes were visible before him in the light of a quarter moon.
I have it, he announced when the aircraft dropped through five thousand feet. He eased back on the yoke. Valetta might note the change in descent rate from his transponder, if they were still getting a signal, but even if they did, they'd assume that after diving to get airflow into his engines, the better to achieve a restart, he was now trying to level out for a controlled landing on the calm sea.
LOSING HIM, THE controller said. The display on the screen blinked a few times, came back, then went dark.
The supervisor nodded and keyed his microphone. Radford, this is Valetta. Juliet-Alpha has dropped off our screen. Last altitude reading was six thousand and descending, course three-four-three.
VALETTA, ROGER, WE still have him, now at four thousand, five hundred, rate of descent has slowed down some, course three-four-three, the CIC officer replied. Just six feet away from him, the captain was talking with the commander of Radfords air detachment. It would take more than twenty minutes to get the destroyer's single SH-60B Seahawk helicopter launched. The aircraft was now being pre-flighted prior to being pulled out onto the flight deck. The helicopter pilot turned to look at the RADAR display.
Calm seas. If he has half a brain, somebody might just walk away from this. You try to splash down parallel to the ground swells and ride it out. Okay, we're on it, sir. With that, he left the CIC and headed aft.
Losing him under the horizon, the RADAR man reported. Just passed through fifteen hundred. Looks like he's going in.
Tell Valetta, the captain ordered.
THE G-IV LEVELED out at five hundred feet by the RADAR altimeter. It was as low as the pilot cared to risk. With that done, he powered the engines back up to cruising power and turned left, south, back toward Libya. He was fully alert now. Flying low was demanding under the best circumstances, and far more so over water at night, but his orders were