The Night Stalkers White House - Books 1-3

Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Twenty-five minutes after they set off again, the Black Hawk again flew over the water. By forty minutes they sighted the aircraft carrier.

That’s when Daniel told Henderson to send the prearranged signal. The signal that would confirm the previously arranged tour of airbases by the President. The Commander in Chief had hastily arranged to offer a personal delivery of pre-Christmas wishes to many of America’s fliers.

A tour that conveniently started with Joint Base Lewis-McChord in Tacoma Washington. There, he could land to meet with the Air Force at McChord very publicly, and then quietly cross over to Fort Lewis on the other side of the street; the home of the 4th and 5th battalions of the SOAR 160th, the U.S. Army’s Special Operations Aviation Regiment.

When they swooped up from the wave tops to land on the carrier’s flight deck with the softest kiss despite the heavy winds the two Koreans came to life.

Daniel couldn’t help but enjoy the excitement with which the leader of a country so heavily invested in military strength plastered himself to the rain-streaked window to watch a jet catapult into the night sky. The fighter jet shot aloft with a roar that shook the helicopter. Kim Jong-un’s bodyguard was no less interested, for the first time forgetting his absolute vigilance to protect his Supreme Leader.

Even as they watched it disappear into the low cloud cover off to the left, a large battleship-gray jet came from the right, slammed into the deck, and trapped on one of the wires. Its wingspan dwarfed the fighter that had just launched upward, but it lacked the lethal look. It was long, sleek, and had curled tips on the ends of the wings. A Gulfstream passenger jet. Right on schedule.

It was the only idea they had come up with to mobilize their group. The U.S. didn’t have any supersonic passenger jets. And with Kim Jong-un’s insistence on not setting foot in most countries within a couple thousand mile radius, it had been the only solution to move them all together.

They had discussed putting each individual of the party into the backseat of a Hornet FA-18 two-seat supersonic trainer, but decided against it at the last minute. It would mean increasing the circle of people who knew about the operation and who was aboard. Not the Air Boss, nor the carrier’s commander knew who was crossing their deck. They didn’t know where the helicopter had gone, it had been flying even below the sophisticated systems of the carrier once it was more than a few miles out.

As soon as the passenger jet came to rest, she was swarmed by a crew. Tail hook restowed, the plane was dragged immediately to the catapult position. After their helicopter was tied down, no one had approached them. No one opened the Black Hawk’s door.

Suddenly the carrier’s deck was conspicuously clear.

“That’s our cue.” Henderson climbed down and slid open the cargo bay door. He offered the two Koreans rain slicks with large, overhanging hoods that hid their faces. It only took moments to escort their guests from the helicopter to the steps on the Gulfstream jet.

A fresh flight crew would already be in place in the cockpit with specific instructions not to enter the main cabin short of an emergency. They even had the door itself closed off while boarding so they couldn’t see who entered.

The crew chiefs, Tim and John, settled in the forward crew cabin right behind the entry door as if seeking privacy from the rear cabin, but actually guarding against any curiosity by the flight crew.

As Daniel followed the group last up the fold-down steps, a gust of freezing rain found its way down his neck.

Beale hit the door-close switch and Daniel walked through the short crew cabin and entered the main area. There were two groups of four arm chairs set in facing pairs on either side of a central aisle. Half had their backs to him, half facing him. At the far end a couch ran alongside one wall of the cabin facing across the plane to a fair-sized television. The entire cabin was dressed with white leather chairs and wall coverings. The trim and carpeting were charcoal gray.

Daniel scanned the cabin quickly. Per instructions, there was no sign of Christmas. In 2011, North Korea had threatened to shell a hundred-foot tall steel Christmas tree that shown over the border from South Korea. The President and Daniel had both recalled the escalating tension and decided to avoid it as much as possible. The aircraft carrier, involved in night operations, had no visible Christmas lights anyway.

Henderson was directing the Supreme Leader and his guard to take seats facing forward for the take-off. Right. Catapult-assisted takeoff. Sit on the couch and you’d end up spilled off the end and into the rear galley and probably right on into the small lavatory.

Beale and Henderson sat down in a forward pair of facing seats, leaving Daniel the last forward-facing armchair for the takeoff. He dropped into it with deep appreciation, closing his eyes in relief as he settled into the soft leather. He’d been traveling for almost twenty hours so far, and there was eight more to go to get back to Canada.

And the adrenal crash from hovering for nine long minutes in the midst of anti-aircraft radar systems had taken what little reserves he’d had.

Had he really served a purpose? He’d have to assume that the Supreme Leader of North Korea would not be seated right behind him at the moment if he hadn’t gone. So, it had been a good decision, even if he was too tired to appreciate it.

The twin jets of the Gulfstream wound to life with a pleasantly muffled, high whine of a well-insulated passenger jet, rather than the mind-numbing roar of most military aircraft.

The engine’s whine built and the pilot warned them to buckle up. Daniel groped around, clipped himself in and sank further into the seat. Exhaustion rolled over him like a wave.

He had done well. He’d survived a flight with Emily Beale, perhaps too busy worrying to actually be concerned with whatever near death experiences she’d been handing out in flight. Against all odds, they’d pulled off an impossible assignment, or at least the first half. Alice’s guiding hand of knowledge and risk assessment had been flawless from the moment she’d walked into Daniel’s office just three weeks before.

Three weeks. How did a world get so turned over in three weeks?

His world had become divided: before and after Advent calendar. Before and after meeting Alice. He’d thought the big change was his journey to Washington D.C. three years ago. Starting as champion of the Slow Food movement and the farming community of Tennessee. Becoming assistant to the First Lady and ultimately the White House Chief of Staff. How could any change in his life have surpassed that crazy set of circumstances? He’d thought that anything past serving President Matthews was bound to be a letdown.

The engine’s roar increased until finally it was a palpable pressure in the cabin.

He’d been wrong though, the before and after moment that mattered was December first and a tiny door bearing the golden number “1” in finest filigree. That and a russet-haired beauty who’d turned his life upside down.

Someone patted him on the knee and he heard a soft, “Good job!” over the peaking roar of the engines.

The pilot warned over the intercom, “Launch in three.”

Not takeoff. Launch.

He opened his eyes and there, like a miracle, sat Alice.

He opened his mouth to exclaim his shock just as the catapult fired ramming him hard back into the seat and driving out what little air had survived in his lungs.