Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: Willy Tamarack
Title: Surfers Rule
Part: 6 of 11
Universe:
Summary:
Keywords: (love story, adventure, war viol)
Language: English


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   @(C) 1996-2015 Willy Tamarack Commercial use in any form requires the
written permission of the author and will ensure a portion of the proceeds
goes to the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws (NORML).

   Surfers Rule

   by

   Willy Tamarack

   With thanks to the founding fathers and the U.S.  Constitution

   Chapter Sixteen

   Middle of June 2000

   Executive Airport, Henderson, Nevada, U.S.A.

   Ed had the taxi drop him off at the F.B.O.  (Fixed Base Operator - sells
the gas at the airfield, does minor maintenance, maybe runs a flight
school).  A lot more traffic out here now that McCarran started charging an
arm and leg for their gas.  What a bunch of crooks populate this town, Las
Vegas, the capital of dirt bags.  Ed picked up his bag and started walking.
Although the western sky was dark, it was still fucking hot out.  Had to be
over a hundred.  A dry heat though.  Tremendously different from where he
had come from.  Western Brazil, near the equator, hot and humid all the
time.  He noticed the time zone difference was very manageable, unlike that
hot and humid place he fought in when he was younger.

   There was too much day light remaining when he arrived from Mexico City.
So he mingled at LAX for an hour or so trying to catch some interest in his
activities, maybe a tail.  He was positive there was no interest in his
movements but was glad it was dark when he arrived in Las Vegas...Just one
of the thousands who arrived today.  The hanger was ahead.  He could see
light escaping from under the hanger doors, leaking out into the night.....

   .....He missed Isabel and Maria already.  He thought of them as a
package now and was sure they felt the same.  There had been a lot of
discussion about him staying on after all this.  The house staff had even
started treating him like the man of the house so Ed protested to Isabel to
stop this idiocy.  He was a trusted friend; that was all.  He took a room
at the far end of the house, well away from the master suite.  His new room
was across from Maria's.  So Ed and Maria often wandered down to see Isabel
after a day of flying around inside Peru and reported to her what they
discovered.

   But day to day, Isabel ran the Morales' business enterprises.  Leaving
Ed and Maria to spend days at a time out at the hacienda, putting hours and
hours on the Malibu.  At low altitude they would penetrate Peruvian air
space until the authorities reacted, sending out the Citation "seeing eye"
plane.  As soon as the Citation got within the Malibu's radar range, about
twenty-five miles; it would turn tail, sprint back across the border and
head back to the hacienda.  They did this at all times of the day; two,
three days a week for several weeks until the other side sent both the
Citation and the A-37 to wait for them just on the other side of the
border.....

   .....After taking a day off, the Malibu was again skimming above the
jungle tops, maybe five hundred feet above ground level.  The throttle was
at climb power, airspeed increasing through one ninety.  Ed had the
Citation and A-37 painted on the Malibu's radar at just a little less than
twenty miles.  They were in a lead/trail formation about six thousand feet
above the Malibu's altitude and very close to the border, within three,
four miles anyway.  The holding pattern was primarily east/west but they
spent more time heading east so the pattern was getting closer to the
border.  There was no doubt the Citation had the Malibu on it's radar.  Ed
was sure they would penetrate Brazil's air space several miles before they
turned back.

   "See the lead trail formation, Maria ?  They're pointing at us so they
can see us.  Just like we can see them."

   "Yes, I see that.  What will we do now ?" At just a little over three
miles a minute the Malibu was at least five minutes from the border.  Lots
of time.

   "We're going to fuck with them, Maria.  Tighten up the seat belt, dear."
Maria cinched up her seat belt and gave Ed a "thumbs up." She'd learned
what "tighten up" meant after all of the photo reconnaissance they'd done
on their previous flights into Peru.  She took all the photos and was very
proud of them.  She was ready.  This was their last flight.  Ed had
explained long ago, "...when we find them waiting for us.  That's the last
unarmed flight.  All future flights will be armed."

   Airspeed was just a bit under two hundred knots.  The two targets were
right on the nose, heading toward them, just inside twelve miles.  Ed
rolled up on a wing and using sixty or more degrees of bank turned
forty-five degrees right to heading three two zero.  The targets were on
the very left edge of the radar screen.  And there they sat as the Malibu
headed off to the northwest.  Ed couldn't understand why they didn't
immediately drive to his six o'clock to get behind him.  They were so
confident that he was clueless, just flying about, checking out air fields.
The Malibu was inside five miles of the border before the Citation and A-37
turned toward them.

   Just as Ed figured, they penetrated Brazilian air space.  The Malibu was
skinning along the jungle tops at a little over two hundred, full throttle.
Ed was cheating, turning into them to keep them on the radar scope.  They
were smelling blood and he was sure they had ramped down and were losing
altitude like fools.

   "Okay, Maria, hang on." Maria grabbed the arm rests and pushed herself
straight back in the co-pilots seat.  Ed moved the cursor over the trailing
target, had to be the A-37.  He commanded the radar to go from sweep to
sample and once info started appearing on the heads up display; he used
close to two "g"s to pull the nose of the Malibu above the horizon about
forty degrees.  The altimeter was twirling around like a broken clock;
airspeed dropping like a rock.

   Passing through a hundred knots he turned toward the targets using close
to a hundred and twenty degrees of bank.  The turn took less than ten
seconds and now the pair were in front of them about three miles.  The
A-37's altitude showed that they had lost at least two, maybe three
thousand feet.  Ed had gained two thousand in the zoom.  This was going to
be fun.  The A-37 was holding three hundred and twenty-five knots but the
Malibu was struggling through a hundred and twenty.  Quick check of the
engine instruments.  In the green.  All heads up now.

   The Malibu was starting to accelerate down hill as Ed let the nose drop
at about a negative half a "g." The target locator line in the heads-up
display was pointing to twelve o'clock high.  Airspeed was increasing
through one-seventy when Ed leveled off.  Airspeed now through one-eighty.
Target's off the nose, inside two miles.

   "Get ready, Maria." Ed could see that she was gripping the camera and
putting it to her eye.

   "Camera ready, Ed." She called out.  Ed pulled the nose of the Malibu up
until the target locator line disappeared.  They were heading right at
them. There they were !!

   "Tally ho, Maria.  Start shooting...Now !" The Citation and Dragonfly
were getting bigger and were going to pass just over the top of the Malibu.
Ed was pushing over.  It was very difficult to get a "tally ho" on a Malibu
head on, especially from above.  He was keeping them in the middle of the
wind screen and was sure Maria was taking dozens of pictures.  The Citation
and A-37 were over the top of them and Ed was almost positive that they
never saw the Malibu.  Now their cameras were taking lots of pictures as it
recorded the merge.

   "Stop shooting, Maria."

   Ed allowed the Malibu to roll over on to it's left side and in a
descending turn, looked back behind them.  He visually found the two of
them after about thirty degrees of turn.  They were starting a turn to the
west.  Ed rolled wings level and let the Malibu accelerate slowly.

   "You okay ?"

   "Yea, I'm fine." She was holding the camera to her chest.  "I saw them,
Ed !  I know I got pictures of both of them !  How close were we ?"

   "About three hundred meters, Maria.  Inside gun range, dear." Ed felt a
chill run through him and just realized he was drenched in sweat.  If he'd
been in an A-1 either the Citation or Dragonfly would be dead now.  He
started climbing east and wondered if they could make it back to Manaus
without stopping to refuel at the hacienda ?  They would no longer operate
out here until they were combat ready.  He punched in the coordinates for
Manaus and set the auto pilot up, heading and attitude.  Hands off and the
computer was spitting out time and distance to the home drone.  It'll be
tight.

   "I want to show the pictures to my mother, please...And brief her on the
flight.  How about it, Ed ?  Help me with the technical stuff ?" She was
still excited.

   "Sure thing, Maria.  As soon as we get home.  You could probably make a
slide show out of it.  I know that Craig is going to want to see this.  And
let me tell you, Maria, he's going to think it's very important."

   The Malibu was climbing through eighteen thousand.  Twice Ed had leveled
off and made some clearing turns.  Not a soul in sight.....

   .....The runway was suitable for their needs.  The tank farm had over
capacity so fuel was no problem.  It was a good stretch to Manaus, too far
to fly before fighting.  Probably have to stay overnight.  So many facts,
thoughts and ideas floated through Ed's mind as he approached the hanger
door.

   The lights inside went out thirty seconds after he knocked on the hanger
door.  The light over the door came on a second or so later; then the door
opened and there, in the light, stood Craig.

   "Looking good, Major.  How was the trip ?"

   "A little long but problem free." Ed was already through the door.  He
heard it close behind him.  He was blind in the darkness of the hanger.  A
flash light came on across the way and shown at his feet.  He could see the
shapes of the airplanes in the hanger.

   "Come toward the light, Ed." It was Cindy.  He followed her to an office
area in the far reaches of the hanger.  Craig was behind them.  All three
were inside the dark office with the door closed before Cindy flipped on
the lights.

   Ed dropped his bag and stood by a swivel chair near a plotting board. 
There were three cots set up across the room.  Next to them were three
large backpacks.

   Cindy came quickly, threw her arms around his shoulders and gave him a
big kiss, right on the lips.  Craig was gripping his shoulder from behind.
Cindy whispered into Ed's neck, "You sure we can do it, Ed ?  No bullshit
now, old man."

   "I told you, Cindy.  If Ed says it's a go !?  It's a go, babe !  Wait
'til you see the airplanes, Ed !  They are totally bitchin' and ready to
go...Guns, sights, laser ranging.  We'll have to check them out on the way
down, old man."

   Chapter Seventeen

   "Let me see the planes now." Ed protested.  He was sitting next to Cindy
on a cot, drinking from a tumbler of Jack Daniels and ice.  Cindy was
passing him the pipe.  Craig was sitting across from them on another cot.

   "Day time is better, Ed, better light.  Plus Cindy and I want to see
what you've got on this engagement.  Your email was a little short on
specifics.  `We had an engagement today,' is hardly descriptive enough for
what we plan to do.  You got it on disk, right !?"

   Ed held up his hands, "Alright...Alright...You two are like small
children at Christmas." Ed was bending over and searching through his B-4
bag.  He came up with the computer disk and held it out to Craig.  "Maria
did almost all the work and even added commentary.  It's very good.  You're
really gonna love it."

   Craig was up off the cot.  He looked around for the laptop and moved off
toward the plotting board.  Cindy stood up and took Ed's tumbler out of his
hand.  She went over to the refrigerator, tossed in some ice cubes and
filled it about half full of "Jack." After delivering the tumbler, Cindy
sat back down next to him, her knee touching his leg.

   "No shit, Ed.  It's one thing to buy a couple of Vietnam era airplanes
and outfit them.  By the way, these come to us from Vietnam via someplace
in Eastern Europe.  Our passports are all Eastern European.  We're Latvian,
one of those Baltic countries.  The airplanes are registered as assets of
`Air Shows, Ltd.' which is buried inside a hundred front companies,
courtesy of Felix.  He also arranged for the passports." She took a big
drag off the pipe and handed it to Ed.  Ed took a long drag while Craig
booted up the computer.  Ed wondered how good an idea it was for Felix to
be making their arrangements ?

   "But it is quite a different thing to use these assets to wage war on
another country.  I don't want to spend the rest of my life servicing some
South American lieutenant colonel if this goes south.  So make me feel warm
and fuzzy, old man." Cindy finished by tapping her knee against Ed's leg
rather firmly several times, emphasizing her point.

   The computer was booted up.  "First a short lecture, assholes." Ed
started, pushing Cindy's knee away from his leg.  Craig started laughing.

   "You two were the ones who championed this project from the get go.  At
one point, I suspected the two of you were conspiring with Isabel to get me
involved.  You know what I think now ?  Now, that we find the project is
not just actually possible but more than possible...No, probable that we
will be successful.  Now that even I have become `gun ho.' Malibu and
Surfer Girl are getting cold feet !?  Let me tell you the two ladies down
south are raring to go !"

   Ed looked across at Craig and then turned to Cindy.  "You two on board
here !?"

   "Sure, Ed.  Remember this was our idea.  You're just the hired help."
Cindy used her knee again to emphasize the "hired help." Craig laughed
again.  Ed flipped Cindy the bird.  "You still haven't made me feel warm
and fuzzy, old man." She answered.

   "How hot you wanna get, mama ?" Ed smiled that short, thin smile of his.
"This set up is almost too much to ask for.  For starters, where we're
operating is the intersection of three countries.  Who knows who's in
charge ?  The border follows no roads or rivers.  It's just a line on a
map. This is hundreds and hundreds of square miles of nothing but jungle.
When I left the rainy season was just starting to get cranking.  So I've
flown and mapped out an approach into the hacienda just in case." Ed took a
swallow or two of "Jack."

   "We're less than a hundred miles from the intended combat zone with the
target airfield just twenty-five miles into bad guy territory.  There's
enough fuel for a squadron and Isabel has volunteers coming out of the
woodwork asking to help with the project."

   Cindy was on her back, gazing at the ceiling but quickly jumped on this
bit of news.  "What the fuck !  How many of these fuckers know what's going
down ?"

   "Relax, Surfer Girl.  No one down there knows the objective except the
widows.  These are family members of the ones who bought the farm with
Alfred.  Isabel has ensured them that what they are doing will honor their
relatives.  They ask no questions but `what do you want me to do ?' So
relax, honey." He sipped a little more "Jack."

   "Over two and a half weeks Maria and I ran seven penetrations.  We'd run
down the river, terrain masking.  Let me tell you, Craig, the jungle canopy
is over two hundred feet above the river in most places.  So you can hide
behind it for ten miles or so, to a spot where the river straightens out.
Then we'd pop up and sprint to one of the air fields.  We'd fly traffic
patterns around the field until we picked up a radar contact.  Then we'd
sprint back to the border." Ed took another swallow of "Jack."

   "The airfield at this hacienda is perfect, nestled in a valley with
higher elevation just to the south.  The north end of the very skinny
runway ends, no shit, ends at a tributary to the Amazon.  Surface is about
fifty feet above the river.  And the river is over a mile wide at that
location.  Like I said earlier we'd fly down the river below jungle top
level ten miles or so until we just appear to them.  Three miles away from
the hacienda the elevation is eight, nine hundred feet higher than the
field.  Isabel has volunteers erecting a two hundred foot radio tower on
top of the highest point using some engineers from Morales Exporters.  Two
of them are sons of Palo Bahia.  They're rigging it for the radar dish and
UHF comm, running the cable back to the hacienda.  By the way the radio,
radar equipment and ammo arrived the day before I left.  Isabel is shipping
it all to the site on a barge.  Maria is accompanying the shipment."

   Both Cindy and Craig were wide eyed.  They expected the "old man" to
have his shit together after emailing in mid May that the project was a
"go" and progressing on that end but really expected him to try to talk
them out of going through with it when he got back to the U.S.A.  Ed was
taking a drag off the pipe and then followed it with a swallow of "Jack."
He reached over and turned the laptop around.

   "You guys got to see this !" He opened the video file that was Maria's
work of art.  Her voice started a bit before video appeared on the screen.

   "Three June two thousand.  After seven penetrations of Peruvian airspace
and the surveillance of two air fields, we were met at the border by both
the Citation and the A-37.  The engagement is reconstructed from raw radar
data, heads-up display and onboard photography."

   The two of them were silent as they watched the radar picture unfold on
the screen.  Then the screen split in two, the radar and the heads-up
display.  "Slow it down." Craig pleaded.  Ed slowed the video dramatically
and smiled as he watched the two of them staring at the computer screen.

   The Citation with the A-37 trailing by about fifteen hundred feet
appeared quite distinctly in the heads-up display and then Maria's slide
show replaced the radar display when they all merged.  "Oh fuck !  Jesus,
you were close !" Cindy cried out.  The photos of the Citation and A-37
appeared much larger than they did in the heads-up display.

   "Like I told Maria at the time, `inside gun range.'"

   The computer screen had been dark for several moments now.  "They never
saw you, did they ?" It was Craig asking the question.

   "Shack, Malibu.  They got pictures of us, I'm sure, but I don't think
the pilots had situation awareness or a `tally ho' at the merge. 
Everything was moving way too fast for them.  The other fuckers didn't turn
away from them, turn into them and change altitude by two thousand feet or
so.  At the merge they were happy to be clueless and heading home.  I could
feel it, Malibu." Ed was intense and excited.

   Cindy and Craig were drained after watching the video.  Ed was up,
pouring another drink.  "This is the way I see it, you two.  These guys are
way over confident.  They've been blowing the shit out of guys who are
flying straight and level, taxiing or taking off.  No one has maneuvered
against them.  Make things happen fast and they're fucked.  Their comm will
break down as soon as someone realizes that there are two of us.  After
that it's all down hill for the home team.  They don't have a chance."

   The room was silent.  Cindy and Craig were lying on their cots gazing up
at the ceiling.  Ed drank for a minute or so before walking over to the
light switch and turning it off.  "Sweet dreams, you two." Ed settled on to
his cot and was asleep in just moments.

   They were up early.  All three slept poorly on the cots and the
breakfast of cold cereal sucked.  And did they mention, there was no surf
in Nevada !!  Ed was irritable without "his girls" as he came to call them
to himself.  He also felt that "Surfer Girl" and "Malibu" were becoming
withdrawn and wondered if it was nerves ?

   Seeing the airplanes turned that all around for Ed.  As soon as he saw
them the next morning in the daylight, with their jungle camouflage paint
job; it was like he was on his way to Vietnam all over again only this time
he had thirty years experience under his belt and was going to be paid a
very large sum of money for his effort.  He spent almost an hour walking
around them, climbing up into each cockpit.

   "Hey !  What's with the rocket pod ?!" Ed asked when inspecting the
second aircraft.  The right wing had a rocket pod attached to one of the
outboard stations.  Cindy was testing the avionics on what she called plane
number two.  They had only had it for a week and were still bringing it up
to speed.

   "We couldn't get the pod off the wing.  It's probably been on there
since before the 'Nam war ended.  Shit !  Cindy even got four willy petes
(white phosperous marking rounds) for it.  That's the lead aircraft.  Give
number two a power advantage." Ed laughed and continued his walk around.

   Craig had flown a functional check flight on plane number one last week
and all systems checked out.  Ed wanted to fly the next one so bad but knew
it would be better if Craig did as he had studied all the applicable tech
orders while Ed was off violating the United States of America's command of
the skies over Peru.

   *****

   Isabel Morales pressed "Enter" after typing her password.  Pgp turned
the jumble of letters and numbers into three lines:
From: surfer girl
To: wicked widow

   2050 23 Jun

   Good !  She was coming in on the last arrival of the day.  She would
pick up Surfer Girl herself as it was dark at that time of the evening. 
She would take Maria with her.  Maria would need three days to get back
from the hacienda where she was monitoring the progress of the wire run
from the tower to the runway complex.  They were almost finished.  She
wondered how long it would take for Cindy to get the radar and radios up
and running ?

   *****

   Randal Hopps, Colonel U.S.A.F.  (retired) was sitting in the briefing
room with the CIA guy and the DEA guy.  A company representative was
sitting against the wall.  Randal Hopps was frustrated.  He'd been trying
to explain his concern to these guys that his attempted intercept a couple
of weeks ago was more than just abnormal.  It was more than just a feeling.

   He'd explained that the initial contact had been quite normal.  Even the
target turning away inside ten miles was not out of the ordinary but what
happened after that was highly suggestive that the target was maneuvering
against them.

   "Are you suggesting that they were...What do you call it ?  Dog fighting
?" It was the CIA guy.  The DEA guy was grinning from ear to ear.  "This
Cessna..."

   Randal interrupted, "This was a Piper Malibu, not a doper airplane, and
it was doing close to two hundred knots when we merged.  This is a high
performance airplane compared to the usual dopers we go after.  Plus it had
made seven trips to two airfields that have been used in the last couple of
years.  We got a kill at one of them.  It makes me very suspicious."

   "You've got an A-37 with you.  The dopers don't have guns on their
airplanes.  I don't see the problem, Colonel."

   "The Dragonfly would be worthless if they came after the Citation."

   "Their interest is in transporting dope, Colonel, not shooting down
airplanes.  That's your job."

   Chapter Eighteen

   The last week of June 2000

   Western Brazil

   The sun had been up for just a couple of hours but already the
temperature was in the nineties.  The humidity was off the chart.  The
barge, which had taken three nights and two days to reach here, was finally
docking at some God forsaken outpost.  Although there were a lot of barges
and other vessels anchored around the landing, Neil Young would think his
nowhere was some where compared to this place.  Cindy Blake Hansen, with
her hair tucked up into a baseball cap, was standing across the deck from
Maria Barrias.  There were few others around, just a handful of people
waiting to get off.

   Cindy had spent just one night and day at the Morales' home in Manaus
before boarding the barge at sunset.  The two young women had not spoken to
each other since before they arrived at the wharf in separate vehicles. 
Cindy preceded the boys by a week.  They were leaving tomorrow night. 
Three nights to Manaus.  Felix set up the stops and the airports weren't
listed on any maps.  Isabel was taking care of the Skyraiders' arrival in
Manaus.  The girls were taking care of the forward base of operation.

   Several trucks were waiting to unload/load cargo from/to the barge. 
Cindy couldn't figure it out but followed Maria by a hundred feet or so as
she moved off the barge and wharf, into the town square.  About a quarter
mile down the main drag was a parking area.  Several vehicles were parked
here and there.  Maria was getting into the driver's side of a mud covered
vehicle that looked like a jeep.  Cindy moved straight to the passenger
side of the four wheel drive jeep and got in.  Maria had the engine started
and put the jeep in gear as soon as Cindy closed the door.

   Cindy wondered why it was going to take them three hours to get to the
hacienda ?  Traffic was light and the road conditions weren't too bad.  The
settlement was disappearing behind them before they started talking.

   "When did you learn to drive this ?" Cindy inquired.  It seemed so
unlike the woman she knew from California.

   "My father taught me to drive one when I was fifteen.  He said I should
know how to get around out here."

   A few miles later they left the highway and entered the thick jungle
that claimed both sides of the road.  In the next two hours plus they
traveled anywhere from five miles an hour all the way up to maybe forty
miles an hour.  The average was probably twenty or so.  And bumpy !?  By
the time they reached the hacienda both of the young ladies' bottoms were
very tender.

   Regardless, Cindy wanted a tour as soon as they arrived.  A bath could
wait until later.  The cable was laid.  All that was needed was someone to
hook it all up.  Cindy was that someone.  They had five days.  She wanted
to start working with the boys on their first flight "in country" and that
was scheduled for Friday.  Maria left out nothing as they drove around,
from the fuel farm to a runway inspection.

   Cindy was out of the jeep, watching the swift waters of the tributary
rushing by the end of the runway.  Maria was still sitting in the jeep. 
"Ed is a very good pilot.  He reminds me of my husband.  I imagine Craig is
very good also.  I am amazed that we are about to do this thing.  I really
never believed my mother could accomplish this.  Do you like our chances,
Cindy ?" Cindy had her back to Maria, still watching the rushing water
about forty, fifty feet below her feet.  She turned to Maria.

   "Yes.  I like our chances.  We wouldn't be here if we didn't like the
odds, Maria.  Even if they are not successful, they will scare the shit out
of a lot of people.  If their analysts aren't brain dead, someone should be
scared already."

   *****

   "If you put the pilot report together with the fact that we can't pin
down the airfield that the Malibu was operating out of inside Brazil. 
Well, it's an unknown.  I don't like unknowns.  They are usually dangerous.
We've had the satellite do infrared and photo imaging.  There's nothing
there but a long, straight stretch of river.  But all eight flights
originated there.  It starts to look like someone is running an operation
against us.  At least they're poking a stick at us and that could be a
problem." The CIA guy had made the case.

   The DEA man, behind the desk, looked up.  "But these events still can't
be traced to any one person or organization.  Right ?  It could still be
like that rich Brazilian we blew out of the sky a while back.  Is that
possible ?  There haven't been any other drug shipments, have there ?"

   "No, there hasn't been any drug shipments.  And yes, I suppose this
could just be guys out flying around and lost but now it seems like we
should be a little more proactive, narrow the suspects down.  The only ones
who could afford something like this are the dopers.  You have some people
in their organizations.  We should be looking for events that are out of
the ordinary.  Concentrate our analysis.  Try to get ahead of this.  We
don't want it to turn to shit like that thing you're talking about.  I
don't think this is that.  I think there is something to this." He was
asking the DEA guy for approval to do what he wanted although he wasn't
sure what that should be yet.

   "Yes, by all means.  One mistake out of close to thirty shoot downs. 
This program is a successful operation that has had concrete effects on the
war on drugs.  Plus for the most part it has remained out of the public
eye. Except for that one unfortunate incident.  The successes have more
than made up for it.  I will alert analysis to what you're looking for and
share the information with you as soon as we get anything." The DEA guy
felt relieved.  It was now the CIA's responsibility.  If the shit hit the
fan...Well, it wasn't his fault.

   The CIA guy backed toward the door.  "Okay.  I'll keep you informed if
anything comes up.  It's been pretty quiet.  We've cut back to one alert
airplane and he has only flown training missions since the incident with
the Malibu.  Take care."

   "Yea.  You too."

   *****

   The dawn was just starting to appear in the east at this altitude.  The
two A-1s were about half a mile apart in a line abreast formation, running
lights on.  Ed and Craig were practicing with their new avionics.  They
were frequency hopping on UHF, changing from frequency to frequency.  They
had to leave no lasting finger print at the scene.....

   .....That first takeoff at Henderson Executive Airport was a little
shaky.  Ed fell back a little more than he wanted to and they looked a lot
like two airplanes taking off real close to each other.  They'd have to
work on that.  Formation takeoffs and landings were what they were aiming
for.  They had to look like air show pilots.....

   .....They were at fifteen thousand feet, out over the Pacific, coming up
on Columbia.  At this speed they were going to land just prior to sunrise.
Ed moved closer and tucked in underneath Craig.  After several hours of
switching back and forth during earlier legs of the mission, Ed decided
that he was the better wingman and that Craig had the better situational
awareness.  Craig ought to lead.  Craig agreed with Ed's assessment.  So
they assumed those roles and no further discussion was necessary.  Each
would do what was required of his position.

   They had talked a lot on the way down, skipping frequencies every minute
or so.  The goal was survival.  Live to fight another day.  If it was
beyond salvaging they were going to run for the border.  If they could get
a shot on one ?  It was a big question and neither had an answer.  Once
they became fluid...Who knew what could happen ?  They had an extra wingman
in Cindy but at the merge it was eyeballs that were going to win it.  They
both felt they had the advantage there.  But lady luck was often fickle and
totally unreliable.

   "Okay, old man.  I'm starting down." Below was darkness as far as you
could see to the south and west.  The east was getting brighter by the
moment.

   "Chhhhh...Chhhhh..." Ed clicked the mic button twice.  Down they
started. Ed dropped back to about a thousand foot trail.  Airspeed was up
above two hundred and fifty knots and the power was back three inches. 
These machines were all motor.  His last wing takeoff was right there, wing
tip in the star.  Craig even commented on it.  Craig was directing a
frequency change on the fox mike (FM) net they were using.  Columbia
cleared them into the ADIZ although their flight plan showed no point of
origin.  Very strange, thought the controller at the time.

   The shore line flashed by at two hundred eighty knots and they were
still descending.  They didn't want to get too low as they were going to
trust Cindy's GPS system to route them through the mountain passes.  The
Skyraiders were going to have higher terrain on both sides of their flight
path and it was still very dark at this altitude.

   Ed was flying in loose trail, a thousand feet out.  Both had their
running lights on.  The mountain peaks on both sides of their flight path
were starting to become defined.  They were twenty miles out and Craig had
descended another thousand feet.  Ed stayed above him.  Another change to
the field frequency.  It was still black below them.

   "Landing check."

   "Toop."

   GPS said the field was ten miles ahead.  Craig was slowing through one
hundred fifty knots.  Ed was moving to the right wing.  They were still
several thousand feet above the dark ground.  Airspeed was wired at one
hundred twenty-five knots.

   "Lights...Lights...Lights." Craig transmitted clearly, pausing about a
second between each.

   Ed picked them up first, "Left ten o'clock, lead." Craig started a left
turn before getting the lights in sight but there they were.  They were
high so Craig allowed the nose to drop.  The airspeed rose to one
thirty-five.

   "Gear...Now !"

   Ed was sneaking peeks at the air field.  The lights ran down the east
side of the runway.  He was right in position and the power was way back.
Craig hadn't touched the power in a long while.  They must be hot.  One
thirty on the airspeed when they came in over the trees.  A lot of runway
behind them not being used.  The landing was a surprise and firm.  They
were braking hard.  The lights were coming to an end and they were still
smokin' !