ANDREWS AIR FORCE BASE
WASHINGTON, D.C.
After the mission briefing explaining what it was Compton expected from the security man, the cryptozoologist, and the engineer on what their duties were to be once they joined with Jack and the others, none of them were feeling very perky after the supersonic flight from the western United States to Washington. Master Chief Jenks was beside the hangar, throwing up his early morning breakfast. Charlie Ellenshaw would wince every time the engineer heaved. He shook his head as he turned to face Jason Ryan, who was saying farewell to the second pilot to have flown them from Nellis Air Force Base in Nevada to the East Coast. Those two aircraft and the speed at which they got to Washington were the reasons for Jenks’s upset stomach. Ryan looked from the second pilot, after shaking his hand, to the F-15E Strike Eagle he had used to fly the master chief supersonic over the continental United States. The double-seat fighter had made life rough for Jenks. As for Ellenshaw, Ryan had learned that nothing of a mechanical fear ever entered into the cryptozoologist’s mind.
Ryan slowly pulled his flight suit off, and Ellenshaw did the same. He looked at Jenks and smiled.
“Ready for round two, Master Chief?”
Jenks wiped his mouth and then unzipped his flight suit. “What do you mean?”
At that moment, a large hangar door started to slide open. The bright sunshine of the dying evening illuminated an amazing sight as the giant aircraft was rolled out of his hidden lair.
“Oh, shit,” Jenks mumbled. “You flyboys and your damnable toys.”
“Wow,” was all Charlie could manage.
Ryan, disappointed that he wouldn’t be flying on this leg of their journey, was just as stunned as his companions when he saw the supersonic bomber as it rolled free of the hangar. The B-1b Lancer bomber was an evil-looking aircraft if Ryan had ever seen one. Its sleek design made her identifiable to any aggressive nation that this bird meant serious business.
“Gentlemen, our ride awaits. We should be in England in under two hours.”
Over the sound of the Lancer’s engines spooling up, they once more heard Master Chief Jenks as he again dry heaved in anticipation of another record-setting flight—this time over the Atlantic.
LOS ANGELES–CLASS ATTACK SUBMARINE USS HOUSTON
NORTH ATLANTIC
The closer Houston got to the hurricane’s eye, the calmer the seas became. That was the break they had been waiting for as Captain Thorne looked at the video screen whose picture was being provided by their own periscope. Technically, he was in command of this maneuver, and he was watching with fear etched on his face as the Aegis battle cruiser USS Shiloh fought the diminishing swells as they battled with the somewhat calmer eye of Hurricane Tildy. He watched nervously as the eight-man rigging team had scrambled aboard the derelict Russian vessel Simbirsk. The team had successfully managed to get the tow cable attached with only one moment of sheer terror involved when one of the Shiloh’s crewmen almost went overboard when one of the larger swells of green sea had swept over the deck of Simbirsk. Thorne exhaled as did most crewmen on the bridge as the two ships were finally mated.
“XO, send out the order again to Captain Johnson on board Shiloh. The riggers are not to enter the interior of the ship. They are to await our team arriving from England.”
“Yes, sir.”
Thorne turned back to the video monitor and spied the activity aboard the Russian ship. It looked as if the cable had been strung and the Shiloh began the slow move from the perimeter of Tildy to its exact center. The eye of the hurricane would protect them well enough if the course of the bad weather didn’t suddenly change. He saw on the monitor the powerful turbines of the Shiloh spring to life. His eyes went to the other two escorts as they took up station in front of and behind Shiloh.
“Okay, let’s button her up and observe. Chief of the Boat, take her down to two hundred and get us on a pace with our surface assets.”
“Aye. Give me ten degrees down bubble and bring her up to four knots.”
The command was passed, and Houston once more went deep. Thorne took the 1 MC mic from the stanchion.
“To all crew, this is the captain. For the duration, we will be running silent. We fully expect company on this little foray, and we don’t need to let them know that we are here. Sonar, conn.”
“Conn, sonar,” came the reply.
“I fully expect any visitor to come from the northeast. They may have a submerged asset accompanying them. Keep your ears sharp, no surprises.”
“Conn, sonar, aye.”
“Chief of the Boat, as soon as we settle in, I want Houston to belly up to the Simbirsk and get real cozy with her underside. I figure it’s a good place to hide. To the rest of the crew, we will be deep for the next hour, so let’s get some hot food in our bellies and some rest.”
As the deck angled sharply downward, the crew of USS Houston knew they wouldn’t have the appetite for the hot food nor the rest the captain had just ordered.
Apprehension of Russian warships bearing down on them through the raging temper of Hurricane Tildy had dulled their sensations of hunger and weariness.
EVENT GROUP COMPLEX
NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE, NEVADA
Dr. Niles Compton waited outside the classroom. He looked at the digital clock in the hallway and then felt Will Mendenhall beside him. Niles nodded at Will and then gestured by his nod toward the classroom directly across from the one he was standing next to. Will went, and he too waited.
A soft chime sounded, and the classrooms along the long and winding corridor opened, and associates of the Group exited. The military and civilian personnel smiled and conversed in soft tones until their eyes fell upon the director. It was as if high school students suddenly came upon the principal. Most hurried past with a worried glance back. Will Mendenhall smiled at the effect the director had on the newer people. He was rather intimidating with his eye patch and glasses that covered only his good eye. He was scary before with just the knowledge of his brilliance; now, it was both his appearance and his brain.
Niles waited until the classroom was empty and then strode inside. Sarah McIntire was there putting her teaching materials into a briefcase when she saw the director walk in.
“What brings you down to level eighteen, Doctor? A little brushup on geologic formations?”
Niles placed his hands into his pants pockets and smiled. “Unless it has something to do with the cave system around us caving in, I’ll leave the expert stuff to you.”
Sarah smiled and then snapped the clasps to her case closed.
“You have a minute?”
Sarah tilted her head, and then a curious look crossed her face. “Don’t tell me Jack’s already in trouble,” she said as she left the classroom and stepped into the elevator.
Compton smiled just as both Will and Anya Korvesky stepped inside. Anya was also carrying her teaching aids in a case on her Introduction to Surveillance 101. She looked at Sarah with the question written on her face.
“Level seven, please,” Niles said to the Europa-controlled elevator.
All three waited while Niles watched the digital display of the floors passing by when he suddenly stopped the elevator’s progress. The air-cushioned ride stopped.
“Look, Virginia had to know because of her position as AD, so she was brought in on a loop the president wanted kept to a minimum. I wanted to tell all three of you the truth of what’s happening, both in the North Atlantic and of our suspicions in Russia. Jack and his team have been diverted to the situation I referred to in the Atlantic; reasons will be explained later. I wanted to explain this to you because for the next day or so, I will be working with Dr. Morales on a research assignment ordered directly by the president involving suspicions with our Russian friends. I will not have the time to take with you three asking questions. Yes, the assignment Colonel Collins is on is dangerous. They will be in harm’s way. You’ll just have to trust me when I say it will be explained when this is all confirmed. For now, leave Dr. Morales alone to his work. Bite the bullet. Personal relationships aside, this is business of the most serious time.”
Sarah started to say something, but Niles cut her off by ordering the elevator to continue. Sarah got the hint and shut up. The doors opened, and Niles stepped out without a word, and the doors closed again. The three occupants stood there not knowing what had just happened. The elevator started to move downward on its silent, air-cushioned ride.
“Well, I guess our boys are in trouble again,” Will said.
“And we were left out of the loop.”
Sarah looked at Anya. “Is there some light you can share on what the director was referring to when he brought up the Russians?”
Anya shook her head. “Wasn’t my area of expertise, and getting anything out of Mossad, as you know, is difficult at the best of times. No, I have nothing.”
“All I know is Jason and Charlie are now moving to the East Coast by supersonic transport,” Will replied.
“And?” Sarah said, looking at Mendenhall.
Anya smiled. “He’s mad because he doesn’t get to play with the other kids.”
Will frowned and hit the floor button instead of using the voice command.
“You’re damn right I am. Bastards.”
HER MAJESTY’S NAVAL BASE (HMNB)
PORTSMOUTH, ENGLAND
The sun was an hour away from broaching the skies to the east when Jack, Carl, and Henri were driven to the farthest reaches of the British naval base at Portsmouth. The United States Marine guards were silent as they pulled up to a large dock area. Jack glanced back at Carl when they saw the inordinate amount of navy shore patrol. It was also noticed that none of these patrolmen had their standard sidearms and nightsticks. They were fully armed with British-made L85A2 IW standard assault rifles. Collins counted no fewer than thirty-five of the naval security men. The marines remained quiet and offered nothing other than a “Good morning” to the three men as they stepped from the American-made Humvee.
The three found themselves looking around at the mass of personnel but, with the heavy roll of fog in the area, couldn’t see anything much beyond the pier they stood upon.
“Colonel Collins?”
Jack turned at the sound of the voice. A tall man in a green flight suit stood with a clipboard in his hands. He saw the Union Jack in a lighter shade of green on the man’s shoulder. Next to him were two other men dressed similarly. These two carried four large duffel bags.
“I’m Collins,” Jack said as he stepped forward.
“Sir, I am Flight Lieutenant Daniel Killeen. These are for you and your men, Colonel.”
The two men standing next to the Royal Navy officer stepped forward and handed three duffel bags to Henri and Carl. One other they sat next to Jack.
“I believe we were able to accommodate everything that was requested by your State Department.”
Jack exchanged another look with Carl. The mention of the State Department was a surprise. They quickly deduced that Niles was running a game on somebody. It was the never-ending song and dance in regard to covering up anything and everything about the Event Group. Jack knew it was wise not to comment on the observation. He leaned over and unzipped the bag at his feet. His brows rose as he spied the contents.
“The M4s and ammunition are from the stores of USS Breckenridge. She’s a destroyer escort visiting Portsmouth. My boss says your boss felt you would be more comfortable with American arms rather than British.”
“No offense meant,” Everett said as he lifted one of the small M4s from the bag and examined it.
“None taken, Captain.” The Royal Navy man then reached back, and one of his men slipped a parcel into his hand. “Also, this was forwarded through your embassy for delivery to you. I have instructions that say to tell you it’s a gift from a Dr. Morales.” A confused look crossed the officer’s face. “He states you may need Marilyn Monroe’s advice at some point. He said in his instructions to you that it is a closed-looped system and is not attached to the rest of her body. I hope you understand what that means, because we, sir, do not, which was obviously intended.”
Collins smiled as he took the larger-than-normal laptop computer from the British officer.
“Thank you. It does make sense.”
“I’m beginning to believe that kid knows his stuff,” Carl said as he and Jack again exchanged amused looks.
Lieutenant Killeen looked at the wristwatch under his rolled-up sleeve. “The other members of your party will be arriving shortly. They are currently en route from London. It seems at least one of the new arrivals was extremely unhappy about their flight accommodations thus far.”
“Jenks,” both Carl and Jack said simultaneously.
“Yes, I believe that was the name your air force crewmen claim. They seem not to like that man very much.”
Henri opened a duffel and pulled out a black Nomex BDU. He held it up to Collins with raised brows.
“Relax, Colonel, you’ve always looked good in black,” Everett said as he placed the M4 back inside the first bag.
The thump of heavy rotors broke the still of the morning. The fog parted as the British officer again looked at his watch. “Right on time.”
Jack, Carl, and Henri watched as a United States Navy Seahawk helicopter, the naval version of the army’s Blackhawk, slowly pushed the fog away and settled down to the ancient wooden pier. They heard the loud cracking and popping as the large helicopter and her extreme weight taxed the ancient dock. Collins was beginning to wonder just how far out in the boondocks they were if the pier was that old. Someone didn’t want others to even know they were there, or didn’t want prying eyes to see something the British wanted kept hush-hush.
With the four-bladed rotors still turning, the sliding door on the port side opened, and an angry Master Chief Jenks hopped out, pushing the crew chief’s helping hands away. He removed a cold cigar and was about to chew the young man’s head off when Jason Ryan jumped out and got in between them. He was followed by a purely thrilled Charlie Ellenshaw, looking ridiculous in a blue flight suit that had been supplied to him by the US Air Force. Ryan waved at the waiting trio and then gently nudged the angry master chief forward.
Ryan saluted Collins and then shook hands with both Henri and Everett.
“So, how was your little flight?” Jack asked as Charlie joined them.
“I’ll tell you how it was.” Jenks lit a fresh cigar and then angrily looked at Collins. “At times that air force jockey flew so low I thought we hit several seagulls.”
“From my understanding, we’ve lost more B-1s to bird strikes than enemy fire,” Everett said with a smile.
“The flight was good, Colonel,” Ryan answered quickly while looking at Jenks in a successful attempt at shutting his complaining down. “The master chief, like myself, I fully admit, doesn’t like anything he’s not in control of.”
“What in the hell does the air force know about control? That jock was all over the sky!”
“Jenksy, my understanding is that the B-1B Lancer not only had to hide from Russian eyes, but it also had to avoid a little thing called Hurricane Tildy,” Jack said as he started to distribute equipment.
“While almost doing double the speed of sound. It was quite a ride,” Jason said as he accepted a Nomex commando BDU from Everett.
“Yes, positively thrilling,” Charlie agreed as he looked at his new commando BDU. Again, his eyes widened with pure delight.
“Gentlemen, please, we are now officially behind schedule. You may prepare and dress aboard our transport.”
The six men looked around at the rising fog, confused as to their mentioned transportation. And again the British flight officer looked at his watch.
“Ah, listen. Here she comes.”
A whine pierced their ears. The old pier they stood upon shook and rattled, and even more ancient nails popped free of the grip they had at holding the old wood together. Suddenly, an earsplitting sound erupted from the sky, and they all felt the heavy downdraft as a large craft penetrated the remaining fog. The four jet engines easily evaporated the veil of fog closest to the wooden pier as the strange-looking aircraft started to settle.
“My God, I thought she was just a rumor,” Ryan said as he allowed the black Nomex suit to fall back into the open duffel.
“We hope the Russians have a similar way of thinking,” the Royal Navy officer said as he watched the fifty-five-foot airframe settle onto her extensive undercarriage. It looked like a larger version of the American-built Boeing V-22 Osprey VTOL, the vertical takeoff and landing system designed for the US Marine Corps. Instead of propellers, this version held four turbofan jet engines for each engine stanchion at the far edges of the tilt-wing craft. These started to wind down as the newest version of the amazing machine landed.
Jack looked at Ryan, who stood amazed. The aircraft was black and had a Royal Navy bull’s-eye emblazoned in even blacker paint along her fuselage. As she settled, a rear ramp slowly started to open.
“Gentlemen, this is your ride into the Atlantic,” Killeen said as he also examined the aircraft. “This is a joint venture between your Marine Corps and our Royal Marines. There are only four like it in the world—two here and two at Camp Pendleton in California. They are all still going through testing. This one is assigned to us. I give you the V-25 Night Owl. She’s capable of carrying seventy-five fully equipped commandos and introducing them into hostile theaters of war with stealth and speed. She is capable of supersonic flight with her swept-wing delta design. She is one amazing piece of equipment, I can assure you.”
The six men exchanged uneasy looks, and it was of course Jenks who had to voice the concern they were all feeling.
“Okay, that’s a good speech. Now, tell us how many copies have you lost in her testing phase.” Jenks stared at the officer and puffed on his cigar.
“Six.”
Jenks just nodded. “If my engineers had a success rate like that, we would have been out on our asses faster than—”
“Okay, Master Chief, we get it,” Jack said, eyeing Jason as if Jenks’s outburst was somehow his fault.
“Gentlemen, I assure you we will get you to your destination … alive.” Lieutenant Killeen smiled as he slapped the master chief on the shoulder, which elicited a scowl, and then gestured for them to board the amazing-looking aircraft. “Your magic carpet awaits.”
“I remember when the navy actually used ships. Wasn’t that a freakin’ novel time.”
They all smiled as Jenks turned and left for the boarding ramp.
“As much as I hate to agree with that foul little man, I myself have serious reservations about flying into a hurricane with that thing,” Henri said as he too followed Jenks.
Jack swallowed as the V-25 Night Owl started to spool her four wing-mounted engines up. Carl leaned into Collins.
“You okay?” he asked. “Did you bring your music?”
Collins shook his head.
“Well, I’m sure we can dig something up.”
Jack swallowed again as he watched Charlie, Ryan, and Jenks board the Night Owl. Everett took both duffel bags in hand and then gestured for Jack to go ahead.
The assault upon a ship that had become even more famous than the specter of the famous ghost ship the Flying Dutchman was under way.
Tildy’s circling winds were now over 155 miles per hour.