312 For a sneak preview of
William W. Johnstone’s
new action adventure novel,
CODE NAME: QUICKSTRIKE,
coming in May 2003
from Pinnacle Books,
just turn the page
313
Knoxville, TN:
It was half-time in the game between the University of Tennessee and Auburn University, and because both schools have orange as one of their school colors, the stadium was ablaze with the pumpkin hue. The bands had just left the field, and with the score tied at seventeen-all, 92,315 fans were waiting for play to resume.
Although Auburn is known as the “Tigers,” for some reason lost in the mists of legend and lore, their loyal supporters often refer to their team as the “War Eagles.” Therefore, when a U.S. Air force A-10 approached the field, an Auburn fan pointed to it and shouted the Auburn war cry.
“War Eagle!”
His cry was repeated by thousands of throats and they watched as the airplane banked, then made a low fly-by over the stadium. The Auburn fans stood and cheered. But the Tennessee fans, not willing to concede that the airplane was making a flyby in support of Auburn, stood and cheered as well. After all, this was a visual representation of the United States military, and the U.S. military was an all volunteer force. The Tennessee team is known
314
as the “Volunteers,” thus, the plane could just as easily be representing them.
The airplane pulled up at the end of its pass, then made a long, lazy, one-hundred-eighty-degree turn and started back. The cheering was loud and boisterous. In this time of war against terrorism, the fans of both Tennessee and Auburn were united by a spirit of patriotism, and they waved school pennants and national colors as the A-10 tilted down toward the stadium.
Suddenly a ring of fire appeared on the nose of the fighter-bomber. For just an instant the crowed thought it was some sort of salute. A portion of the crowd realized very soon, however, that it wasn’t a salute, for explosive cannon shells and machine-gun bullets made of depleted uranium slammed into the stands at the Auburn end zone.
When the A-10 pulled up after its first pass, there were some in the crowd who were still cheering, not yet aware that the plane had just launched an attack against them. Turning sharply, the plane came back for a second pass, once again firing cannon and machine guns at the crowd. But by now word was spreading quickly throughout the stadium that this was a deadly attack. The crowd panicked and tried to get out of the way. The machine-gun bullets and cannon shells caused terrible carnage, but the panicked crowd did even more. Hundreds of spectators were crushed in the mad rush as the crowd stampeded toward the exits.
Although the airplane belonged to the U.S. Air Force, the pilot, Abdullah Afif Akil, was a lieutenant in the Sitrarkistan Air Force, in the U.S. as part of a military exchange program. No one on the ground yet knew this, but Akil didn’t mind. Soon, the entire world would know of his martyrdom. “Allah Akbar,” he said, as he continued his strafing runs, delivering a deadly cargo with grim
315
efficiency. Finally, with the last round expended, the pilot turned away from the stadium.
Washington, D.C.
Andy Garrison, the assistant director of Homeland Security, was watching the Illinois-Ohio State game when suddenly the picture on the screen switched to the game in Tennessee.
“Come on,” Garrison grumbled. “What’s the use of paying for the sports package if I can’t watch the game I want?”
Suddenly, on the screen, he saw explosions ripple through the stands. Confused, he leaned forward. “What is this, a movie?” he asked. But, even as he asked the question, he knew he wasn’t watching a movie. There was something about the texture of the picture that told him what he was watching was real.
“We don’t any more about this than you do, ladies and gentlemen,” the sportscaster was saying in a breathless voice. “You are seeing it happen, just as we are. What? What?” the sportscaster asked, just off mike, though loudly enough for his question to be picked up. Then he cleared his throat. “All right, I’m being told now that we have a nation wide feed. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Charley Keith. Normally I would be bringing you the play-by-play commentary of the Tennessee-Auburn football game but all that seems terribly insignificant now. To update those of you who are just tuning in, moments ago a United States Air Force plane began strafing Ney-land Stadium. We don’t know why, nor do we know yet, how many casualties have been sustained, but we can report that there are many injured, and probably killed. Wait
316
a minute folks, we thought the plane had left, but here it comes again!”
Andy Garrison called his liaison in the FBI. “Peter, turn on the TV,” he said.
“I’m watching it,” Peter Simmons said.
“Has POTUS been informed?”
“The President of the United States has been informed,” Peter answered.
“Are we doing anything?”
“The Air Force is scrambling fighter jets,” Peter replied. Thought that’s a little like shutting the barn door after the horse is gone.”
“Yes, well, we can’t undo what has been done. But maybe we can shoot this bastard down, whoever the hell he is,” Andy said.
“Wait, are you watching this? He’s coming back,” Peter said in alarm.
On screen, the A-10 was heading straight for the camera.
“He doesn’t seem to be shooting this time,” Charley Keith, the sportscaster was saying. “Hopefully, he’s run out of ammunition.”
“Charley, he’s coming straight for us,” the color commentator said.
“Bobby’s right, folks,” Charley said. “He’s coming right at us. We should be able to get a really good look this time.”
“My God, Charley! He’s not turning away!” Bobby shouted.
On screen the airplane got bigger and bigger until it filled the screen. Then there was nothing but a few lines across the screen, followed by snow, then black. Almost
317
317
instantly thereafter, the picture returned to the studio where, normally, a sports news reporter would be updating the nation on the latest scores of all college games in progress. But now the reporter was sitting behind the familiar curved desk in front of a large board filled with team names and scores, holding his finger to his earpiece. He nodded, then looked at the camera. As the camera moved in, the patina of sweat that covered his face was clearly visible. He licked his lips.
“Uh, ladies and gentlemen there has obviously been some sort of major malfunction in our feed from Knoxville. We’ll get that taken care of as quickly as we can. In the meantime, we’re,” he halted in mid-sentence, obviously listening to instructions in his earphone, then he nodded. “Yes, we’re going to our news central desk.”
Langley AFB, Virginia:
As the F-15 Colonel Bob Jackson was flying, roared into the sky on twin pillars of fire, he felt his weight increase many times by the effects of acceleration. Working hard to overcome the G forces, Jackson lifted his hand to the radio-control panel and changed frequencies from tower to command.
“Charley-Charley, this is Gunslinger One with flight of two, requesting a vector and clearance.”
Because of the readiness plan that had been put into effect after the terrorist attacks of September 11th, 2001, there were jet fighters on standby at various bases all across the country. This Saturday afternoon Colonel Jackson and his wingman, Captain Hugh Taylor had drawn the alert duty, and it was they who were scrambled in response to the attack in Knoxville.
318
“Gunslinger One, take a heading of two-six-zero. You are cleared at any altitude, proceed at maximum possible speed. Squawk your parrot and scramble, please, sir.”
“Roger, squawking,” Colonel Jackson replied. He “squawked his parrot” by pushing a button on his IFF that would emit a coded signal, thus identifying him as friendly. He also turned a switch on his radio that would make it impossible for anyone listening in to understand what was being said. “Scrambled,” he reported.
The voice of Charley-Charley came over the headset once more.
“Gunslinger One, my authenticator is mad dog. I say again, my authenticator is mad dog. Respond, please.”
“Sea Biscuit,” Colonel Jackson replied, responding with the correct code to authorize the reception of top-secret information.
“You are cleared to engage.”
“Roger,” Jackson replied.
“Colonel, I can see smoke ahead,” Captain Taylor said after several minutes.
“Light up the afterburner, Captain,” Jackson replied. “If that son of a bitch is anywhere in the area, I don’t intend to let him get away.”
“Roger, lighting the burner.”
The afterburners of both F-15s kicked in with a boom, increasing the speed so dramatically that, once again, the pilots could feel themselves bring pressed back into then-seats. A three-minute burn took them to the site of the billowing smoke; then both aircraft throttled down as they orbited the stadium to check out the scene.
“Charley-Charley, this is Gunslinger One. We’re on station,” Colonel Jackson called.
“Your target is an A-10,” Sector Control replied.
319
319
“Negative, there is no target,” Jackson said as he banked sharply around the burning press box.
“Has the target departed the area?”
“I think he crashed into the press box.”
“Please confirm.”
“Roger.”
Colonel Jackson and Captain Taylor made a very low fly-by to examine the press box. A large percentage of the crowd were still in the stands, and not understanding that the two fighters had been sent to help them, they dived under the seats to avoid them.
“Did you see anything definite, Captain?” Colonel Jackson asked, as they pulled up from their first pass.
“Negative.”
“Give me a covering orbit. I’m going back for another look,” Colonel Jackson said.
“I have you covered, sir.”
Captain Taylor flew a wide orbit, high above the stadium, while Colonel Jackson dropped gear and flaps and made another low pass, this time coming down even below the top level of the bleachers. There were some in the crowd who thought he was actually going to land on the football field, but in truth, he had just made his airplane “dirty” so he could perform the very low, and very slow, fly-by.
Although the activities of the two F-15s were cause for concern and curiosity in the stands, there was no reaction at from the press box. That was because Charley Keith, Bobby Sawyer, and every other occupant of the press box lay dead in the twisted and burning wreckage.
320 “Book ‘em!”
Legal Thrillers from Kensington
__Character Witness by R.A. Forster S5.99US/S7.50CAN
0-7860-0378-2
__Keeping Counsel by R. A. Forster S5.99US/S6.99CAN 0-8217-5281-2
The Mentor by R.A. Forster $5.99US/$7.50CAN
0-7860-0488-6
_Presumption of Guilt by Leila Kelly $5.99US/$7.50CAN
0-7860-0584-X
Call toll free 1-888-3 45-BOOK to order by phone or use this coupon to order by mail.
Name__________________________________________
Address_________________________________________________
City_____________________State________Zip_______________
Please send me the books I have checked above.
I am enclosing $______________
Plus postage and handling $______________
Sales tax (in New York and Tennessee only) $______________
Total amount enclosed $ __________
*Add $2.50 for the first book and $.50 for each additional book.
Send check or money order (no cash or CODs) to:
Kensington Publishing Corp., 850 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10022
Prices and Numbers subject to change without notice.
All orders subject to availability.
Check out our website at www.kensingtonbooks.com