Don Brown: The Malacca Conspiracy

Over St. Charles, Maryland

5:25 p.m.

Hornet 1, Andrews Control.” The call was from air traffic control at Andrews Air Force Base, just outside of Washington.

“Andrews. Hornet,” LCDR Billy Belk responded.

“Hornet, be advised we have a report of a small craft taking off out of Winchester, Virginia, suspected to be target. Go to two-five-hundred feet and divert toward Arlington. Execute loop pattern over Fairfax County until further orders. Your orders are to shoot down anything flying in the area that is not US military.”

“Andrews. Roger that. Go to two-five-hundred, divert to Arlington. Shoot down anything flying.” Belk pushed down on the stick; the Hornet dove at an angle. The altimeter responded.

Five thousand, forty-five hundred, four thousand, thirty-five hundred, three thousand…

The jet leveled at twenty-five hundred feet as it roared over the Potomac River, near Mount Vernon, the home of George Washington.

Belk looked down. The winding Potomac was glistening under the stars, as if peacefully oblivious to the war that was about to take place in the night sky above it.

Beechcraft Bonanza Aircraft

Above the Loudoun/Fairfax county line, Virginia

5:33 p.m.

Salaam looked down and saw the suburban streetlight sprawl that was Fairfax County. So far he had spent ten minutes in the air in an FAA-imposed no-fly zone. Still undetected.

They were now passing over the small town of Centerville, just inside the Fairfax County line. Salaam pulled back on the power and slowed the airspeed slightly, to one-nine-zero knots. Then he steered the yoke slightly to the left, bringing them on a due easterly course of zero-nine-zero degrees.

Just five more minutes to glory! Soon the lights of Washington would be in his view. Praise be to Allah!

US Navy F/A-18 (“Hornet 1”)

Over Fairfax County, Virginia

5:34 p.m.

The look-down, shoot-down radar was sweeping the airspace below the jet. Still nothing.

Commander Belk put the Super Hornet in a large, circular loop over central Fairfax County. He surveyed the horizon, searching desperately, as if he could visually pick out a dark plane somewhere, down there, against the sea of a million lights on the ground.

Still he had to try something. The sweat from his forehead had spread now to his whole body, drenching the inside of his dull green jumpsuit.

He had to find his prey fast and make the kill, or Washington was gone.

Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep!

Contact! The look-down, shoot-down radar had spotted an aircraft below!

“Andrews! Hornet! I’ve got contact! Preparing to fire!” Belk reached down to fire one of his Sidewinder missiles.

The screen went blank.

“Where’d he go?” Belk looked down. “Come on, baby!” Nothing.

“Andrews. Hornet. I’ve lost contact! Bogie last spotted headed zero-nine-zero degrees, due east toward Washington.”

“Hornet, keep looking!”

He had to think fast. He turned the jet directly toward the Potomac River and pushed on the thrusters. If he could circle over Washington, head back over Virginia, and somehow find him and cut him off before he reached the river, then maybe…just maybe…he could get off a shot before it was too late.

Beechcraft Bonanza Aircraft

Above Virginia

5:35 p.m.

Anwar had moved to the back of the plane, his hand already on the nuclear trigger, and ready to press it at Salaam’s command once they crossed the Potomac.

Down below, Salaam saw the cloverleaf intersection of Interstate 66 and Interstate 485 coming into view.

And then, in the distance, he saw it!

The Washington Monument, basked in spotlights, rising in the night above the American capital! This could not be happening. To have been so favored by Allah and to have been chosen for such a great mission.

Salaam’s heart was jack-hammering so fast that he could not control it. He turned the plane’s nose directly at the monument and increased his airspeed to two hundred knots.

US Navy F/A-18 (“Hornet 1”)

Over Washington, DC

5:36 p.m.

Commander Belk swung the jet in a loop over the National Mall and looked down at the Washington Monument, the US Capitol, and the White House. He pointed the plane to the Virginia side of the river, and within a matter of minutes had crossed the river again and was flying over Arlington Cemetery, still searching.

From there, he turned the plane to the northwest, flew toward Marymount University, where he looped over the Potomac again, and turned south headed back toward Arlington Cemetery.

Beechcraft Bonanza Aircraft

Over Arlington, Virginia

5:37 p.m.

They flew east and low across Arlington, with Marymount University just below them. Now, sights of Washington just beyond the river lay out like a great feast before them.

Salaam pressed down for more airspeed. The dome of the Capitol was just behind the Washington Monument. It was only a matter of seconds until the greatest attack in the history of the world. And his death would be to the glory of Allah!

US Navy F/A-18 (“Hornet 1”)

Over Arlington, Virginia

5:38 p.m.

Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep!

“Contact! Contact! Please don’t let it be too late!”

Somewhere out there, the Hornet’s fire control radar had locked onto a target. Belk’s heart raced as his thumb depressed the Fire Missile button. A single Sidewinder missile dropped from under the right wing and shot out into the night.

A moment later…

BOOM!

Shockwaves rocked the night air.

Belk jerked the stick to the right, banking the jet at a steep angle. He looked down and watched the blinding fireball plunge down toward the Potomac.

“Andrews. Hornet. We’ve got a direct hit on an intruding aircraft. Be advised bogie is down in the Potomac. Looks like splashdown just north of Roosevelt Island.”

There was a pause in communication, as Belk brought the jet down to one thousand feet for a better look. A great fire on the river was illuminating the bridge spanning Rosslyn and Georgetown. Outbound traffic on the bridge was slowing down, onlookers gawking at the fire.

The plane had fallen in the water less than one mile from the White House. Billy Belk allowed his shoulders to slump, relieving the tension that had gripped him moments earlier.

“Hornet. Andrews. Roger that. Good shooting. Your nation is appreciative tonight. Go to ten thousand feet. Return to base for debriefing.”

“Andrews. Hornet. Roger that. I’m coming home.”

The White House

Three months later

The Rose Garden was a blur of colors and a montage of the sweet scents of an early spring morning in Washington. Yellow, red, and white tulips were just beginning to bloom amidst gardenias, daffodil, jonquil, and some flowers that Diane did not recognize.

Across the lush, green grass just outside the West Wing, Diane stood at parade rest, her hands folded in the back of her service dress-blue uniform and skirt. Zack stood next to her, at the end of the line, also at parade rest. Next to her on the other side stood Captain Noble and the entire SEAL team, also in service dress blues. At their sides, the SEALs wore their ceremonial battle swords, which glistened brilliantly in the morning sun.

All this against the unseasonably warm Washington morning made for a gorgeous panorama of deep colors, with blue, red, white, and green meshing into bright tapestry against the pink blooms on saucer magnolia trees on the White House lawn.

“Attention on deck!” Captain Noble ordered. Diane and her colleagues jumped to erect attention.

A voice came over a loudspeaker. “Ladies and gentlemen, the president of the United States.”