Stephen Coonts - Combat

“ … ardi here, Terry. You read me?”

“Affirmative, Chainsaw. I guess you know our situation?”

“I understand you have four A-4s on a SinkEx for a Malaysian freighter hauling nukes, that a couple of Chinese A-4s are looking for them, and one or two Flankers are involved. Right?”

“That’s right. As yet we haven’t found the target, Tony. Now, I’m not worried about the Chinese A-4s ’cause that’ll be a straight-out gunfight that my guys will win. But the Flankers …”

“Concur. They’re the threat. Terry, I’m launching two Hornets right now with a couple Toms several minutes behind them. I’m also trying to get an E-2 up, but that’ll take longer. Probably too long.”

“That’s okay, CAG. Just be sure they know that they shouldn’t shoot any A-4s. The odds are seventy-five percent that they’re friendly.”

“Consider it done. Chainsaw, out.”

Peters turned to Odegaard and Mei. “At least there’s something going right. Now if …”

“Bridge, Radio.” It was Robbins’s voice.

“Rob, what’ve you got?”

“LA Center has been in touch with Dougherty Field at Long Beach. Between them they’ve got a plot on two low-level fast movers headed offshore.”

Peters’s eyes widened. “Send it!”

“Papa One, this is Santa Cruz . Over.”

Delight’s pulse spiked. God, I hope they have something for us . “Papa One here. Go.”

“Pure, this is Rob. Listen, amigo, LAX and Long Beach both got fixes on two low-level fast movers. They’re feet wet at Anaheim Bay.”

Delight did the geometry in his head. From El Toro, the Chinese Skyhawks had to overfly the Seal Beach naval weapons station and the wildlife refuge. They’ll get FAA violations fershure , Delight mused. He pressed the mike button. “Roger, Robo. I’m northbound.” He paused for two seconds. “Break-break. Papa Three from Lead. Over.”

“I heard it, Lead.” Ostrewski’s voice came through crisp and clear. “We’re inbound.”

“Papa Lead, Robo here again. The bogies are climbing, orbiting the area around Island Chaffee. Your signal is Gate.”

“Roger.” Delight glanced over at Thaler, nodded briskly, and shoved the throttle almost to the stop—“through the gate” as it was known in the propeller era. Almost immediately Thaler called, “Lead, gimme a percent.” Delight nudged off a skosh of throttle to allow his wingman to keep up.

In a fast climb, Delight led his section toward one of the four small islands in San Pedro Bay. He marveled that Penang Princess could have come so far so soon, apparently to drop anchor virtually within sight of the pier from which Santa Cruz had sailed the night before. Subconsciously checking his A-4’s vital signs, he began thinking ahead in time and space.

Let’s see … if they’re climbing, it’s because they want to intercept us before we roll in. They’ll be waiting at twelve thousand feet or higher, probably a little south of the ship . He punched the button again. “Papa Three, Lead.”

“Three here.”

“I’m going in high, Oz. If you see we’re engaged, ingress below the fight. We’ll buy you some time.”

“Three copies. Out.”

On the bridge of his hijacked aircraft carrier, Captain Terry Peters rubbed his chin, staring north into the Los Angeles Basin’s perennial smog and haze. Emotionally he was split between his friends, airborne and about to engage in an old-fashioned gunfight and dive-bombing attack, and his wife, who was — what? He began allowing himself to consider the possibility that he might no longer have a wife.

“Captain?” Odegaard was at his side.

Peters was startled by the intrusion. He visibly flinched. “Yes?”

“Well, sir, Mr. Mei and I were looking at the chart. The only way the Princess could have got this far north was if she’d been running about three or four hours ahead of schedule. I mean, there wasn’t a specific arrival time, but it was a pretty narrow window if they were going to off-load as planned.”

Peters felt himself growing short-tempered. “Yeah. So what’s your point?”

“Well, sir, presumably the Chinese didn’t have time to divert the freighter because they only learned about us this morning. And they couldn’t follow their original plan because they know that their leased facility at Long Beach is compromised. But here they are, still one step ahead of us. That means, either they intentionally built this fudge factor into the equation, or …”

“Or what?”

“Or they planned to transfer the nukes to other boats all along.”

Peters shook his head as if avoiding a nettlesome insect. “What are you saying?”

Mei stepped forward. “Captain, we don’t know how long the Princess has been offshore. It is possible the backpacks are not aboard her anymore.”

Peters slumped in his chair, chewing on his thumbnail, pondering the prospects of his watch officers’ assessment. He felt that he should have considered the likelihood himself, and he knew why he had not. Jane, where are you?

Finally, he shook his head. “Negative, I don’t think so. Otherwise, there’d be no reason to scramble the A-4s and cap the freighter. We’ll know more once Zack gets a visual.”

Odegaard was dubious enough to press his point. “Skipper, I think we’re obliged to notify the Coast Guard or the harbor patrol. At least they could board the Princess and …”

Peters shot a laser glance at Odegaard. “No, absolutely not! If the nukes are still aboard, the crew is bound to resist, and there’ll be casualties. And if there’s a patrol craft alongside, more innocent people will get killed. No, Mr. Odegaard. We have to play it out.”

Odegaard’s eyes widened. “You mean, you’d order the attack even with a Coast Guard vessel right there?”

“I mean that Zack Delight and Ozzie Ostrewski will hit their target unless I call them off. And I won’t do that.”

“Captain Peters, I wish to object. I still think we have options to …”

“Noted. Log it, and I’ll sign it. You too, Mr. Mei.”

The Chinese officer. exchanged glances with his American counterpart. “You mean, Captain, you are accepting full responsibility?”

“It goes with the territory, son.”

Peters swung his chair outboard, slightly surprised to find that he cared very little about what happened to Penang Princess. Jane’s face came to him at the same time as Robbins’s voice.

“Terry, I’m still in Radio. I’m hitting Baker Channel.”

Psycho Thaler’s voice was high-pitched in alarm: “Bogies, one o’clock high!”

Zack Delight had seconds to decide his tactics. Psycho’s call told him all he needed to know — the Chinese had altitude on him. He could split the section, relying on his A-4F’s superior performance to hold off the hostile Juliets while Thaler bombed, but Delight was the one with flares to deceive heat-seeking SAMs. Or he and Thaler could jettison the two tons of weight penalty they each carried, shoot it out with the bandits, and buy time for Ostrewski and Vespa. Four Mark 83s could sink the ship, but six or eight offered far better prospects. Then there were the Flankers to consider …

I’ll never get this chance again, he realized. A pure guts and gunfight; no radar or missiles . “Two, I’m engaging. ID the target and attack.” Delight quickly unlocked the drum on his gunsight, dialed in thirty mils, and locked the lever. At one thousand feet range his sight reticle now subtended thirty feet, slightly more than the wingspan of an A-4. He double-checked his armament switches even as Thaler acknowledged, “Dash Two is in.”