W. Griffin - By Order of the President

"That's good, for a change."

"It's fragmentary, sir, but:"

" 'Fragmentary' means you have only a part of it, right? Why does that worry me, Fred?"

"Sir, F-15s intercepted the missing 727 over the Atlantic:"

"Oh, shit, McNab couldn't neutralize it? That's:"

"Sir, Colonel Torine, who went to Mexico with Castillo?"

The president nodded.

"Sir, he's flying it. That's confirmed. The F-15s are escorting it to MacDill, in Tampa."

"I know where MacDill is," the president said. "Do we know-really know-that Colonel Whatsisname is flying it?"

"Yes, sir. That's been confirmed. They should be in MacDill in about two hours."

"Keep me posted," the president said and then changed his mind and picked up a telephone.

"In exactly fifteen minutes, get me General Naylor at CentCom," he ordered, hung up, and turned to Beiderman. "Maybe in fifteen minutes there will be more than fragmentary information. Have you told Natalie or Matt?"

"That's next, sir. Them and the DCI."

"Why don't we let Matt Hall tell the DCI?" the president said. "Tell Matt to tell him after I hear from Naylor." Yes, sir.

"Christ, I wonder how much of Costa Rica is left after McNab pulled this off? That's probably why we only have 'fragmentary' information."

"I asked General McFadden about that, sir. He doesn't know about collateral damage. He's not in contact with Colonel Torine or General McNab. General McNab's having communication problems again."

"I almost wish you'd have waited until you knew more," the president said. "But, of course, if you had, I would be all over you for not telling me earlier. Thanks, Fred."

"Sir, if we have the airplane, it's not going to crash into the Liberty Bell."

"I was just thinking the same thing. What about Major Castillo?"

"Nothing on him yet, sir."

"Yeah, I know. Our information is fragmentary. Tell Matt and Natalie, please, Fred, and then stay available."

"Yes, Mr. President."

[FOUR]

MacDill Air Force Base

Tampa, Florida

1710 10 June 2005

"Costa Rican Four-Oh-Seven, you are cleared for a straight-in approach to runway two-seven. The altimeter is two-nine-niner, the winds are negligible. Be advised there are a number of ground vehicles on either side of the runway. You are directed to stop on the runway at the end of your landing roll and to shut down your engines at that time. You will receive additional instructions at that time. Acknowledge."

"Fuck you," Colonel Torine said to a dead microphone and then pushed the TRANSMIT switch. "Oh-seven, I have the runway in sight."

He pushed the INTERCOM switch.

"I did remember, didn't I, Mr. Copilot, to put the wheels down?"

"Gear is down and locked, sir," Castillo reported.

"Well, then, let's see if we can't get this tired old bird on the ground without too many pieces falling off."

Ninety seconds later, Colonel Torine said, "Well, the thrust reversers seem to work. Now, let's see if the brakes do."

The second half of the runway was lined with vehicles, bright yellow fire-fighting vehicles, ambulances, wreckers, bulldozers, and Humvees-a large number of Humvees-all equipped with. 50 caliber machine guns, all of which were trained on Costa Rican 407.

"I expect this is the modern version of the tumultuous welcome Roman legionnaires got when they returned to Rome after having vanquished the savages in far-off places," Torine said as the 727 began to slow very suddenly.

Torine threw the master buss switch.

"I wonder if it will ever fly again?" he asked. "The last flight of an airplane is always a little sad."

"Why won't it fly again?" Castillo asked, then, "Do you think we should try to get this crap off our face before we go out there and wave to the fans?"

"Jesus, I forgot all about it. Hell no, leave it on. It'll give them something to talk about."

He unstrapped himself and stood up and then gestured to Castillo to precede him from the cockpit.

When Castillo opened the door, now waving Torine ahead of him, movable stairs had been rolled up to the front door. When he stepped onto the platform at the top, he saw that their reception committee consisted of three high-ranking dignitaries: the secretary of homeland security, the Honorable Matthew Hall; General Allan Naylor, USA, the commanding general of Central Command; and his deputy commander, General Albert McFadden, USAF.

Behind them was about a platoon of Air Police, half of them mounted in Humvees.

Colonel Torine saluted as he went down the stairs. Naylor and McFadden returned it.

"Jake, is that thing liable to blow up anytime soon?" General McFadden called.

"It may collapse of old age, sir," Torine replied, "but blow up? No, sir, I don't think so."

Castillo followed him down the stairs. As soon as his feet touched the runway, one of the Air Police, a major, headed for the stairs.

"I don't think you want to go in the airplane just yet, Major," Castillo said and stepped into his path.

The Air Police major gave him a withering look, examined Castillo's flight suit, and snapped, "Please step to one side, Mr. Shine."

Charley remembered that in addition to the grease on his face, he was wearing Shine's flight suit.

Since I was, before this happened, a major (promotable), I probably outrank you, you pompous shit. But fuck it.

He made an After you, Gaston bow to the major and stepped out of his way. The Air Police major ran up the stairs.

Castillo saluted Generals Naylor and McFadden. They returned it.

"I can't tell you how delighted I am that you pulled this off," Matt Hall said. "Welcome home, Charley. Colonel Torine."

"The president has asked me to convey his congratulations to you both," General Naylor said. "He is also concerned with collateral damage to the airport. I therefore think we should go somewhere where you can make a preliminary after-action report and then see about getting you cleaned up."

"A fuel truck, sir, burned at the airport," Colonel Torine said. "That's about the sum of it."

"There were no casualties?" Naylor asked, surprised.

"None on our side, sir," Castillo said. "And none on the bad guys' that we left at the airport."

"I don't understand," Naylor said.

The Air Force major came down the stairs, looking a little pale. He walked quickly to Generals Naylor and McFadden and softly told them, "There are four bodies on the airplane!"

" Sir," Castillo said, "may I respectfully suggest that you get Colonel Torine's after-action report first? I don't believe I will have anything to add to that, sir, and I really need thirty or forty minutes in the Black Hawk right now."

"What for, Charley?" Matt Hall asked.

"I don't think you want to know, sir," Castillo said.

"Yes, I do," Hall said.

"There's a few details I have to clean up, sir:"

"Those bodies?" Hall asked.

"Matt, I don't think you want that question answered," General Naylor said. "Colonel Torine, if you'll come with us, Major Castillo will join us just as soon as he can."

He gestured toward an Air Force Dodge Caravan.

"Major," General McFadden said to the Air Police officer, "I'm sure you were mistaken when you thought you saw bodies on the aircraft."

"Hey, Charley," the pilot of the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment Black Hawk said after the helo was loaded and its wheels left the ground, "where we going?"

"Sightseeing, Tom," Castillo said. "How about someplace along Alligator Alley where I could see some really hungry gators? The more, the better."

"I know just the place," the pilot said and banked the bird southeast toward the Everglades.

[FIVE]

Room 14B