Don Brown - The Malacca Conspiracy

Diane decided that she was not ready to go.

Not yet.

There was too much to live for.

It was time to pray.

Again.

Econo Lodge

Fifteen miles south of Philadelphia

8:52 a.m.

Mohammed was sprawled spread-eagle on the queen-sized bed, and had just begun to doze when his chirping cell phone sent him into a string of curse words. Only one person knew the cell number, which had been especially set up for this mission.

“Yah.”

“Execute mission. Now.”

“Now?”

“Yes. Change of circumstances. Execute now.”

Mohammed sat up on the side of the bed. “Understood. I’m on my way.”

SH-60B Seahawk (“Tomahawk 2”)

Over Bogor, Indonesia

7:53 p.m.

He had practiced the maneuver dozens of times. Most of his practice had come over the friendly confines of the giant marine base at Camp Pendleton, in Southern California.

The theory was to disengage the main rotors of the helicopter, and then, after an initial drop, much like falling on the steepest dip of a mammoth roller coaster, air would whip into the chopper’s rotors and guide it safely to the ground. That was the theory anyway.

But this was reality. Lieutenant Bill Cameron was now piloting his aircraft in a foreign country, under combat conditions, at night, after his aircraft had taken at least an indirect hit from what was probably a stinger missile, and having to force a landing in terrain that he was wholly unfamiliar with.

Because of the fuel leakage, he would lose power in just a matter of seconds.

This was no drill.

Quickly, his mind went through the mental procedure check. As he continued his last-second climb, which would give him more room to maneuver on the way down, he repeated the verbal procedure that he had drilled into his mind hundreds of times.

“Practice engine failure. Go. Lever down. Right pedal. Establish sixty knot airspeed for autorotation…Needles split. Maintain sixty knots. Rate of descent sixteen hundred feet per minute. Begin the flare at sixty feet from ground. Nose in the air. Pushing the cyclic forward to level the aircraft. Touchdown while maintaining heading with pedals.”

He watched as the altimeter passed thirty-two-hundred feet. Still rising, but only for a few more seconds. At this altitude, once the engine failed, he would have about two minutes before the Seahawk hit the ground.

Where and how they hit the ground, and where they wound up, were in the hands of God.

Inside the cargo bay, where the SEAL team was strapped in, the hum of the helicopter’s engines and rotors seemed normal enough, providing the illusion of a false sense of security. Brave SEAL warriors gazed at one another with hard looks of stone, as Diane clutched Zack’s hand, praying silently that their lives would not end. Zack and Captain Noble both looked amazingly unflappable, as if unconcerned with the entire situation.

And then…

The engine sputtered. Then coughed. Then recovered. Coughed again. Sputtered. Recovered. Then two more consecutive sputters. The chopper wobbled a bit.

Then…silence…The eerie sound of air whooshing around the helicopter.

For a millisecond, the world stood still, as if they were perched motionless on the edge of a cliff. Then…

Their stomachs leapt through their throats as Diane held her breath and closed her eyes and clenched her teeth to fight the primordial urge to scream.

The chopper was a free-falling rock, plunging helplessly through the dark skies.

And then…a braking sensation…as if a parachute had deployed to slow their mortal plunge.

Diane opened her eyes. Brave, rugged SEALs were visibly exhaling…for now.

The helicopter was falling, but no longer in a free fall. Still, it felt like they were falling fast enough that when they hit the ground, the end might come.

“Okay, listen up,” Captain Noble spoke up. “When we hit the ground, the good news is that we’re highly armed, we have handheld GPS devices, we have an ability to communicate, and although there are only a few of us, we’re still better trained by far than anyone the Indonesians can throw at us.

“They’ll be looking for us, but we’ve got the advantage of darkness, and we own the night.

“We’re gonna spread out in teams of three, avoid detection, and try to make contact with headquarters. Try to ascertain our new orders.”

More wind wisped across the fuselage, as the chopper continued to drop.

“They may want us back in Jakarta. They may want us to head to the coast. Whatever, be ready.” He glanced over at Diane. “You okay, Commander?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Everybody with me?”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’re with you, sir.”

“Very well,” he said. A solid confidence resonated in his voice. “Hang on tight.” He eyed them all. “It’s going to be a rough ride down.”

In the cockpit, Lieutenant Cameron glued his eyes to the airspeed indicator, which at the moment was showing ninety knots. “Too fast. Too fast,” he said aloud, and pulled back slightly on the cyclic stick. The chopper’s nose flared slightly, and the airspeed indicator started dropping.

Eighty-five…eighty…seventy-five…seventy…

“Come on, baby.”

Seventy…

“Slow down. Slow down.” He feathered the stick back a quarter of an inch. He had to get the speed down if they were to have any chance of surviving the impact. But this was a potentially dangerous maneuver. If he slowed the chopper too much, they would stall out and fall quickly to the earth like a rock.

Seventy…sixty-five…sixty…

“Hold there.” He pushed the stick a bit forward. “How’s it looking out there?” he asked his copilot.

“Dark,” the copilot said.

“One day, they’ll invent night vision goggles that work from this altitude,” Cameron muttered, as he looked down over the dark landscape, searching, somehow, for a landing spot. Sporadic lights dotting the darkness were off the left and right. But the area just in front of the rapidly descending helicopter was a dark chasm.

Perhaps it would be a rural area, which could be ideal for an emergency landing. Or perhaps wooded or rough terrain, which could be disastrous.

The altimeter crossed under sixteen hundred feet. Fifteen hundred feet…Fourteen hundred feet. The ground, whatever was down there, was moving up fast now. Cameron picked up the microphone, opening a speaker to the cargo bay.

“SEAL team members. We will be on the ground in about one minute. Brace yourselves. It could be a rough landing.”

Cameron checked his watch. Less than one minute to impact.

Only God could control their fate now.

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven…”

Zack looked over and saw Diane whispering the Lord’s prayer. Lord, if you pull us through this, I’m going to ask her to marry me. He put his arm around her and pulled her close to him.

“Thirty seconds to impact.”

Twenty seconds,” the copilot said, as Lieutenant Cameron looked feverishly out the windshield for something…anything…praying that they would miss trees, power lines, rocks, and buildings.

“Ten seconds.”

Altitude eighty feet…seventy feet…sixty feet.

“Now,” Cameron said, pulling up on the cyclic.

The helicopter’s nose rotated forty-five degrees to the sky, revealing a bright canopy of stars, then leveled out as they dropped.

THUD.

Cheering erupted from the cargo bay.

Lieutenant Cameron exchanged glances with his copilot, who exhaled, then broke into a smile.

Thank you, Jesus,” Diane whispered under her breath.

Zack reached over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.