Текст книги "The Battle for New York"

Автор книги: T. I. Wade

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

The general ran back to the idling AC-130 Gunship and it immediately began its way to the southern end of the runway for take-off. Preston turned to the other arrivals and watched in amazement as the medics took Will Smart off, looking dead to the world and asleep on a stretcher. The two Smart kids ran up and gave him a hug, with Maggie close behind, before she followed her husband into the medical tent from Seymour Johnson, erected only an hour earlier. Carlos disembarked next with a short Chinese gentleman behind him and two Chinese ladies. The group walked up to greet Preston as Jennifer hopped out of the forward door and ran to give him a hug.

“I’ve got to shower and get out of here. I’ll be ferrying in troops for the rest of the day,” she gasped and ran off toward the hangar, as Ghost Rider raced by, lifted off the runway and headed north. Within seconds the gunship was a speck in the sky, chasing after Buck.

“Preston, this is my Chinese friend, Lee Wang, his wife Lin, and his daughter Ling,” Carlos introduced everyone. Preston shook hands with his new guests and suggested that since Martie had cleaned all the sheets, they could sleep in Jennifer and Sally’s room. “We are exhausted,” shared Carlos. “I was told that the soldiers will unload our gear. Ask them to put all the stuff in the hangar out of the way. Lee and I have been awake all night and I need at least another six hours of sleep. There is a single bed downstairs. Shall we get it up to the third room for Ling?”

“Good idea,” nodded Preston. “I don’t know if Buck and Barbara are coming back this evening, so I guess I’ll have to give their room to the Smarts, we ran out of sleeping places several sets of visitors ago and it’s going to be cramped tonight.” Carlos suggested that he would sleep in his old room for the time being and then downstairs if it was needed. Preston concurred.

Preston helped the soldiers unload all of Carlos’ equipment out of both Tom and Jerry. He quickly recognized what Carlos was up to when he saw what was being taking out of the aircraft. While they were unloading, a freshly showered Jennifer returned, and with her crew from the house, she took off for Seymour Johnson.

Preston silently hoped that nobody else would appear that needed lodging. He had asked Jennifer to see if the base had any forms of room dividers—walls, doors, partitions—and at least a dozen new beds. They were running out of room.

*****

The chairman was alone in the board room. He had hardly left it since he had pressed the red buttons three days ago. He was being briefed by his team from downstairs.

“We have not had one transponder out of the airfield in North Carolina for 24 hours now, Comrade Chairman,” reported one of the engineers.

“And why do you think this is so?” the chairman turned to an advisor who was dressed in a Chinese Air Force uniform with the rank of colonel on his shoulders.

“We have seen no flights out of this airfield, Comrade Chairman,” he explained, “But we have seen single flights showing transponder activity over other areas, mostly heading from the north in a southerly direction, I assume to get away from the cold weather. This current storm is looking very bad for the American people and very good for us.”

“We know our satellites are picking up aircraft transponder signals correctly, Comrade Chairman,” the colonel responded, still standing at attention. “We have destroyed three aircraft and their pilots in Europe. There was one terminated in Australia early this morning. The other two reports are far out in the western desert and our termination squads are preparing for desert travel. There can only be one of two reasons why we are not picking up transponders in the United States. Either they have run out of fuel and have no way of refueling their aircraft, or they have turned their transponders off.”

“Why would they do that?” the chairman asked.

“All military aircraft use their transponders over friendly territory and turn them off during battle conditions, or over foreign soil if needed. All small propeller-driven aircraft can do the same. It is part of their pre-flight checks and mandatory internationally to have their transponders transmitting, Comrade Chairman.”

“Why would they suddenly go to battle conditions, Colonel?”

“If they aren’t transmitting for that reason, and we have no evidence to suggest that, it could be that they have realized that an attack might be imminent, or they have found out about our plans and termination squads,” the colonel responded.

“Impossible,” replied the chairman, snarling at the man. “My plans are 30 years in the making and our termination squads will die before they surrender any information, of which they have little. There is no way the Americans can know who is behind this ‘situation.’ It was made to look like a natural disaster—to them anyway—and with no communications, nobody should be able to organize anything. They should all be running around like chickens with no heads.”

“Yes, Comrade Chairman,” the colonel responded. The chairman ordered someone to fetch Comrade Wang. Several minutes later Lee Wang’s old boss appeared, looking tired.

“You wanted to see me, Comrade Chairman?” he asked.

“What is the latest information from our people in America?” the chairman asked.

“The ten squads on the East Coast are currently moving south and should be in a position to check out the airfield in North Carolina within 24 hours. There has been much more movement on the East Coast than on the West Coast. We really thought that the warmer weather would produce more work for our men, but may I suggest that we transfer the West Coast teams to the eastern seaboard, Comrade Chairman? We are going to be there two weeks earlier than on the West Coast, and this move will make our teams more successful at eliminating trouble and help the food ships arrive. Once everything is under our power, they will have two weeks to return to the West Coast and organize the food ships there.”

“I also have a feeling that something is wrong on the East Coast,” the chairman agreed. “Something is not right. Send all the squads in the continental United States in the direction of Washington, D.C. They will take at least three days to get there. Make sure they travel on different roads and in convoys of no more than five or ten vehicles. Travel during the day only, and do not terminate anybody in the farming regions. We are going to need those American farmers to produce food for our new country. I want a complete report as soon as the squads have terminated everybody at this airfield, or whatever it is. It could even be empty of people at this point. Why would anybody stay if there is no fuel to fly anything? Destroy it anyway. Tell the squads to go in fast and terminate everything they see, and then repot back immediately. Understand, Comrade Wang?”

“Yes, Comrade Chairman,” and Mo Wang left, noticing that the old man was getting tired and irritable. He needed to come back with good news.

*****

The president was waiting, as patient as a man could be with his country in the middle of a meltdown. It was with a sense of satisfaction that they finally heard the rotors of the Huey coming to get them. “About time,” he grumbled to the ambassador as they got up to leave. The president had a small overnight bag packed, and his wife and kids came downstairs to say goodbye. He gave them all a big hug and headed out to the garden.

“I don’t think you should be leaving the White House, Mr. President,” his chief bodyguard commented, worried about losing his control of the protection of the president.

“I understand your concern and I take full responsibility for my actions. I have a letter on my desk relieving you of your responsibility to me, but I want you to protect my wife and children in my place. I will be back here as soon as possible and then you are back in control, understand?” The man nodded. A direct order from the president was an order he couldn’t refuse.

General Allen came out to meet him and guided the president and the Colombian ambassador to the stairs the Marines had placed next to the door of the Huey. It wasn’t a perfect set of stairs, but it did its job. Buck rose vertically, turned the helicopter around and slowly climbed out of the White House garden as gently as possible. “It’s pretty neat in here,” the president remarked at the Huey’s interior.

“Thank Preston Strong when you get in tonight, Mr. President,” laughed the general. “Has Philippe been driving you crazy?”

“Not really. It’s been better to have someone around to help me keep what little sanity I have left. What’s the game plan, Pete?”

“I have your new bird ready and refueled at Andrews as we speak. We are changing planes and heading straight to North Carolina in about an hour. I’m leaving the helicopter at Andrews for your return flight. We should arrive in North Carolina just before dark. It’s time to introduce you to what we have, and then I have arranged for the best room at the Officers’ Mess at Seymour Johnson for you to sleep tonight. Unfortunately, we are anticipating some trouble in North Carolina tomorrow and do not want you there when or if it happens. I want to have you back at the White House by mid-day.”

The arriving storm was getting fiercer, and Buck had to concentrate to put Baby Huey and its valuable cargo down close to the gunship. The president and group departed and a dozen Air Force personnel grabbed everything out of the Huey—chairs and carpet, small fridge, and snacks– and moved them into the rear area of the AC-130, turning it into a more cozy area while the president had a hot cup of coffee in the Officers’ Mess.

A half hour later, they all strapped themselves into the uncomfortable side-seats for take-off, as it was going to be bumpy until they reached cruising altitude. Once the ride smoothed out, however, the three older men moved out into the more comfortable chairs.

*****

Preston was about to leave RDU. They had had a busy afternoon. As soon as the three C-130s left, he had organized Joe and David to take both armored cars and a jeep over to the airport for the guard unit to use for patrols.

He flew in with the FedEx Cargomaster and did a sweep of the entire area, including flying over the two burnt-out vehicles from the day before. They hadn’t moved, but when he saw three vehicles driving around to the east of the airport on the 540 beltline he flew low to inspect. What he saw was potential trouble-makers—several men aiming their rifles at him as he flew over at 500 feet. He radioed the information to Joe and warned him. Joe and David returned that they were spoiling for a fight but that currently it was all quiet and they were just getting onto the beltline.

Preston flew in to land, and after disembarking, he inspected the gate they had used for their entrances. It was still locked. He listened to see if he could hear any aircraft engines and all he heard was the odd rifle shot here and there. The wind was picking up, and he smelled a storm on the way. Preston waited a couple of minutes and then heard engines from different directions at the same time. A C-130 cruised overhead, and he radioed Jennifer to come in from the east. He hadn’t heard the aircraft in advance because of the noisy armored car engine that arrived with the tractor trailer, and he unlocked the gate.

Joe reported that they saw several cars headed away from the airport once the C-130 came overhead, and that they had had clear passage all the way in. Preston told Joe and his boys to take the emptied truck around to the other terminal and start loading anything they thought would be needed at the farm, and that they had 90 minutes.

The C-130 came in and parked on the apron close to the gate and shut its engines down. At least 30 soldiers exited and immediately started unloading their gear. A lieutenant came up to greet Preston, who asked if half a dozen men could get in the back of the Cargomaster and help them pack up some stuff. The lieutenant whistled when he saw the armored Saracen that his troops would be using.

“Pretty cool,” he smiled at Preston. “It looks like a pretty cool ride. I hope we see some action with her!” Preston grinned back as he took the lieutenant on a brief tour of the area.

“So, this is the main gate?” the lieutenant asked as they checked the lock again. Preston explained that the terminal must be protected, as well as the fuel tanks, and if needed, he and his troops could move to a better location if they found one. He also suggested that troops try to talk to visitors before engaging them physically, since there could be friendly people driving around looking for food. He spent five minutes with the lieutenant explaining what they had seen on the streets, and told him that he was under the direct orders of General Allen. By that time, Jennifer walked up and told him that Mother Goose was on her way and that the crew was requested to test the civilian tanks here. “Also, Martie says ’Hi’,” Jennifer added. “She called in to say she is currently flying south at 9,000 feet down I-95 and is doing just fine.”

Preston got back in the Cargomaster and started her up before taking six men around to the tractor-trailer’s location by the door into the second terminal. Joe, David, and all his boys were already carrying cases to the rear of the trailer. With 14 strong men, they filled the trailer up with case upon case of food—two whole pallets of still-frozen bread rolls out of a large walk-in freezer, hot dog rolls and sausages, hamburgers, and steaks, as well as ketchup, mustard, salt, pepper, boxes of frozen vegetables, and cases of mashed potatoes. In one of the cases, there was a complete mobile bar with three beer taps and several dozen kegs.

As a team, they used the gas-powered forklift which Jennifer had flown in from the farm to move the entire unit down an empty walk-way into the truck, and then packed two dozen full beer kegs and every case of alcohol out of the restaurant.

It took 30 minutes and all 14 men sweating, but the area was cleaned out and empty. Preston even took the bar stools and dining tables to place in his hangar area as a cafeteria. One of the soldiers asked if he wanted a gas oven and grill top, and Preston replied that if he could undo everything, he would take the whole kitchen. Three of the soldiers got to work and had everything on the truck in 15 minutes.

The next restaurant had even more stuff, and again, anything that moved in the airport terminal was used to transport goods to the walkway where Joe had backed up the truck. At each location, a two-week supply of food products was left for the soldiers. A second bar area was emptied of anything to sit on and tables to eat from. The bar was emptied of alcohol as well more bread, pizza dough, and anything that looked like it would last longer than a couple of days.

Within 90 minutes, the trailer was full and the kitchen equipment, parts of it ready for transportation, were being moved and loaded with the forklift. Preston remembered that Jennifer had an empty aircraft and asked one of the men to tell her to taxi it over.

It took another 20 minutes, but a second gas grill and dozens of 100 lb. propane tanks were stacked into the C-130. Joe and his team were already leaving, the full tractor trailer truck sandwiched between the two armored cars. Jennifer came running over to Preston.

“Martie just called back,” Jennifer stated breathing hard. “She has a few injured people aboard, about 30 minutes out. She found a convoy of survivors and told me to tell the guards that two Southwest pilots, their crew, and about 60 passengers will be arriving here tomorrow around mid-day via ground vehicle. We are to let them in. They will use General Allen’s name. And Preston, it’s time to leave.” With that, she told one of the men to run over to the lieutenant who was still erecting his tents, and give him the new information.

The few remaining men closed everything down and Preston and Jennifer climbed aboard their respective aircraft, noticing that Mother Goose was also starting up.

Within 15 minutes, RDU was cleared of all visiting aircraft.

Martie was still several minutes out when Jennifer arrived at the Strong airport, followed by Mother Goose, and Preston a mile or two out, circling above Joe and waiting for Martie. She was already in view and she came straight in from the south as Preston closed in and began to circle his farm. He saw that sandbags and a barrier were already in place and that the tractor trailer could just squeeze through the defensive wall that closed off the dirt road south of his entrance gate. The whole farm was starting to look like a military installation.

While they were away, Sally had returned from Andrews with more troops and equipment from facilities along the East Coast. There were new sandbagged mortar placements around the perimeter protecting the area nearer the lake. A second hospital tent was up next to the old barn and the whole airfield looked like something out of M.A.S.H. Then he heard General Allen’s voice say over the radio that “Alpha Foxtrot One” was ten minutes out and needed landing conditions.

“Pete, this is Preston. I’m above our airfield and it’s busy down there right now. Don’t rush. I need to get down first. The wind looks like 15 to 20 knots from the northeast and straight down the runway, temperature about 40 degrees. Did you say ‘Alpha Foxtrot One’?”

“Roger, Preston. You get down there and organize a place for Ghost Rider on the apron by the hangar. Get a red carpet if you have one. All Air Force pilots, get your birds off the apron area and park on the other side of the runway in a line next to the barn,” Preston heard the general say.

Preston went down like a rocket and landed quickly in the growing storm and parked in the first available empty space where Baby Huey was now stationed. He quickly turned off the aircraft and jumped out to organize a reception squad from the remaining troops on the tarmac—the president was incoming. They quickly ran to find the parts of their uniforms that were missing and Preston changed direction and crossed the runway just behind Sally’s third C-130 that was taxiing off onto the grass. He got blown about, but was more interested in checking on Martie. Martie was helping dress the wound of an older lady with a new woman Preston hadn’t seen before helping her. This extremely good-looking new arrival was dressed in a dirty flight attendant’s uniform and she had a young girl, a teenager sitting very close to her. Little Beth was trying to talk to the teenager, who looked scared and very unsure of herself.

“Martie, I need you in the hangar. We have a V.I.P. coming in,” Preston said to Martie.

“Preston, this is Pam. Pam, I’d like you to meet Preston,” she said quickly as she finished the bandaging.

“Pam Wallace, Preston,” the newcomer replied, shaking his hand. “Martie, you go on. I want the girls to get to know each other better, and this injured lady here has offered to look after them. She’s a school teacher and our younger additions will be better off with her for the time being. I think we have serious work to do. I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes, okay?”

Martie gave little Beth a hug and told her to make friends with the older girl and that the older lady would look after them while she was at work. Beth seemed to understand, and left Martie’s side for the first time since she had arrived, allowing Martie to follow Preston. Preston noted that the first medical tent was already quite warm, with heat generated by several gas heaters.

They had already connected the hospital electricity to his generator, but he didn’t have time to check it right now. He and Martie ran across the tarmac just in time to see the fourth C-130, about three or four miles out over the lake, just a few moments away from turning into its final approach. The sergeant was also preparing himself for the reception. He was the senior military person on base, apart from the new doctor.

“Do we have a red carpet?” Preston asked Martie.

“No,” she replied. “The only moveable carpet we own you already sent somewhere into Washington this morning. By the way, I saw what we were looking for. There are ten trucks with about 30 to 40 guys, and they should be turning off I-95 in about 30 minutes to an hour.”

“You did?” he suddenly stopped and looked at her. They were right in the middle of the runway, but the news stopped him short and he just looked at her for a second. The roar of the incoming plane shook him out of his surprise. “Let’s get off here! You tell the general that as soon as you can!”

They ran off the runway in the direction of the house as a groggy looking Will Smart came out of the back door, moaning to Maggie about foul play. “Get yourselves together, and Maggie, get inside and tell everybody that the President of the United States is less than a minute out. Go!” Preston shouted to them, and Maggie looked at him in surprise. Preston looked at Will and laughed. “Will, buddy, you are an experienced pilot, I’ve heard. Martie is willing to give you flying lessons anytime you want. Ever meet the president?”

“No,” replied Will, still groggy.

“Well, I’ll take you over. You look a mess, but then we all do,” he said, and helped Will over to Sergeant Perry, who was now standing with 30 or so men in three lines ready to welcome the President.

There were sudden exits from all doors as people came running, Michael pushing Grandpa Roebels in the wheelchair from the direction of the house. Carlos and the whole Wang family came out from the hangar’s side door. Joe, David, and their team were just pulling into an area by the house, and several dozen soldiers were running in all directions to man their guns and secure the main gate.

Preston beckoned over to Joe and his group as they came to a dusty halt, and he smiled as he looked over everyone. Martie joined him at his side and the rest of the Air Force pilots ran over to join them. Everybody was grubby and most of the uniformed troops were missing bits of uniform here and there, but they were as ready as they would ever be. Joe and his group ran over and asked what was going on.

“Joe, get your boys lined up and you, David, stand by Martie and me. All civilians listen up! Please get into an orderly group, like our troops over there. We are about the welcome the President of the United States!” Preston turned just in time to see the tires of Air Force One touchdown on his little runway in North Carolina.

The troops stood at attention as the aircraft passed them; it turned in at the end of the runway, came in, and turned in front of the gas tanks to come to a halt facing north before the pilot let its engines go quiet and opened the side door.

General Allen was the first to disembark, giving the President of the United States a hand with the small jump to the ground. An older man was helped out next, and then Carlos’s father, three Colombian-looking bodyguards, and finally Buck and Barbara came out. In his head, Preston was just hoping that there were enough beds in the hangar for all the people spilling out of the airplane!

There were shouted orders from Sergeant Perry, and the troops did what troops do when the president arrived. The president smiled at everyone and he and the older man walked over with General Allen to be introduced to the civilians.

Preston and Martie were first. “Mr. President, I’d like to introduce you to the owners of this farm, Mr. Preston Strong and Ms. Martie Roebels,” the general said. All parties shook hands.

“I’ve heard you guys are having more action down here than I’m seeing at the White House, so I hope you don’t mind my visit,” the president said with his world-famous smile.

“If I’d known you were coming, sir, I would have built a Presidential Suite for you,” replied Preston, grinning.

“It would have only taken us a week, Mr. President. General Allen could have given us a little more notice,” added Martie, also smiling at the president and winking at the general. “General, I need to speak to you about our now confirmed incoming visitors as soon as possible.”

“Okay, let’s get the introductions done,” the general replied. “Preston, you know everybody here, could you please introduce the president and his friends to all these fine folk while I have a conversation with your lady here? Preston, Martie, this is Carlos’ uncle, Uncle Philippe, the Colombian Ambassador to the United States, and Carlos’ father, Manuel.” They all shook hands.

“I’ve heard many good things about you, Preston and Martie,” the ambassador said as he greeted them. “Carlos really appreciates your friendship. These are my bodyguards—actually, family– Manuela, Mannie, and Dani.” The bodyguards quickly moved and stood with Carlos.

It was now up to Preston to introduce the president and ambassador to the rest of those in attendance. General Allen, anxious about the president’s safety, took Martie by the arm and led her away to talk.

The introductions were first made to all the civilians, and the president was extremely interested in his introduction to Lee Wang and family. Once the president had met everyone, Preston took him over to meet the troops while Carlos explained to his uncle and father who Lee and his family were. Preston introduced the president to Captains Powers and Watkins, who introduced him to the other pilots. The pilots spoke with their Commander-in-Chief for a few minutes and then Captain Powers introduced him to First Sergeant Perry, who in turn introduced him to each of the troops at attention.

By this time, the general was back and asked all personnel to move into the hangar where it was warm. It was time for a meeting. He asked First Sergeant Perry to attend and for volunteers to find snacks and drinks—it was going to be a long meeting. Joe enlisted some soldiers to follow him and his boys to the trailer and get several tables and chairs out of the back.

“Quite a set-up you have here, Preston,” the president stated, walking down the runway with its owner, a totally free man for the first time since he had become president four years earlier. He was without his bodyguards hounding him every step of the way. The perimeter was now secure, the defenses on the road nearly complete, and he wanted some fresh air while everybody was getting ready for the meeting. Both men spent a few minutes inspecting the old aircraft. Preston walked with the president, as did Oliver and the puppy. “It took a bit of money to get all this together.”

“It did, Mr. President,” he replied. “My father was the co-pilot on the flight that went down over Lockerbie, Scotland, and the settlement money helped fund my airport.”

They quickly went over each aircraft. The two remaining Mustangs were parked next to the hospital tents on the south side of the old barn facing the runway, and the P-38 was next to them. The president was impressed. The FedEx Cargomaster was the last one on that side.

“You are doing FedEx deliveries these days?” the president queried.

“I’m thinking a little forward with this one and those Cessnas we commandeered from the Raleigh/Durham International airport, Mr. President,” Preston explained his idea. “I’m thinking about food distribution to the hungry in the area, and I know that the bases around here have well over five million meal rations in storage that were destined for our troops overseas. Since there is no way we can get them over there, I was hoping to use them to feed as many people on this side as we could.” The president was quiet when the mention of the overseas troops came up. He shook his head and looked down at the ground.

They completed the tour, and the last aircraft was the gunship, in which he had arrived in and was being refueled to take off and fly high for protection while the president was on the ground. The president was unfamiliar with the AC-130, and Preston asked the aircraft’s armaments officer to explain the weaponry pointing out of its left side.

“This is a 20mm Vulcan Cannon, sir—the same fitted to most Air Force aircraft since Vietnam, such as F-15s, F-4s, etc. It’s a Gatling gun that can fire up to 100 rounds a second and normally is used for the destruction of ground troops and small vehicles. We hold 3,000 rounds in Ghost Rider and normally use the cannon for short bursts of 300 to 400 rounds. The Bofors 40mm light anti-aircraft gun is for protection from the air. We carry 240 rounds and this baby saved Ghost Rider a couple times in Vietnam. The last gun, the big one, is the 105mm Howitzer. We carry 100 rounds for her, sir, and she is mainly used for larger ground vehicles like tanks or any buildings we need to flatten. We are currently carrying 60 rounds that can penetrate most armor on tanks and or many naval ships, as well as 40 rounds that are HE, or ‘high explosive.’ If anybody comes sniffing around tonight, we will see them miles away with our original and working infrared and heat scopes. We can see the movement of a mouse at 5,000 feet and she is one of two Air Force C-130s that were heavily modified during Vietnam. She, as well as all of these older C-130s we have flying, can be refueled in the air.”

Preston and the president thanked the man and walked back to the hangar. They entered the side door as the gunship began her whine, and Preston noticed the two armored cars disappearing down the driveway towards the gate. They entered the hangar and found that chairs of all sorts had been placed in rows for the meeting, the most comfortable ones in the front. Preston also noticed that three new rooms had appeared on the southern wall of the hangar with movable partitions, and he could see wooden army beds inside them. He figured there were about a dozen beds per room.

The general was waiting, and Preston was surprised to see Joe and David still in the room. They must have allowed the Air Force personnel to drive their valuable toys out to the ambush zone.