Honorable Enemies (1994) (19 page)

Without warning, an assault rifle opened fire. Steve dove for the ground as he heard more high-powered rounds whine through the air.

Marcus stumbled over a rise and spotted the man with the rifle at the same time the Asian saw him. They were about eighty yards apart. The agent dropped to a firing position, but he knew the distance was too great to be very accurate with a handgun.

With great deliberation, Marcus aimed at the man and began squeezing off rounds. He watched in frustration as the gunman fired toward Wickham, then turned his rifle on Callaway.

Hearing high-powered rounds impacting near him, Marcus took careful aim this time and gently pulled the trigger twice. He was about to fire again when he was staggered by a burning blow. Callaway dropped his weapon and felt the moistness of his blood.

Steve belly-crawled toward the side of the house in time to see the rifleman spray the hovering Marine helo with the last rounds in his clip. Clouds of black smoke belched from the stricken Huey Cobra.

Wickham watched in dismay. "Pull up and get the hell out of there," he said to himself.

As if in slow motion, the damaged helo tilted sideways and drifted toward the slender, manicured trees. After passing over the tall barrier around the tennis court, the gunship suddenly rolled on its left side and crashed in an exploding fireball.

Shrapnel from the main rotor blades ricocheted in every direction, forcing Wickham to clasp his hands over his head.

After the jagged shards stopped impacting the side of the house, he tentatively looked up.

Horrified by the disaster, Wickham paused for a moment, then sprung to his feet and started toward the JetRanger. Twenty steps later he rounded the side of the house and confronted the bare-chested man who had decimated the Cobra with his assault rifle.

The slender Asian, who had slipped in a fresh magazine, saw Steve at the same time. He fired two short bursts at him and then raced for the helicopter.

Showered by puffs of dirt and grass, Steve sprawled on the ground and fired seven rounds between the tree trunks. He says, the small man nosedive into the JetRanger as the pilot simultaneously lifted the craft into the air.

Susan quickly joined Steve while they watched in amazement as the second Marine helicopter bore down on the accelerating JetRanger.

The civilian helicopter tried several wild evasive maneuvers to elude the faster gunship, but the Cobra pilot was as tenacious as a pit bull terrier.

"Pray that he doesn't get away," Susan exclaimed and gripped Steve's arm.

Wickham thought about calling for a pair of armed fighter planes as the civilian pulled his helo almost straight up and rolled 90 degrees to the right. The pilot was obviously talented and highly experienced.

The gunship shot straight up beside the JetRanger and hung directly over the helicopter until both craft lost their kinetic energy and quit flying. They plunged toward the ground to gain airspeed, and the Cobra sliced directly over the tail rotor of the civilian helo. The lethal contest went on for another paralyzing minute while the civilian frantically tried to escape.

Steve cupped a hand to shield his eyes while he watched the deadly aerial duel. "The gunship driver is deliberately trying to ram him."

It's not worth the Marines' lives!" Susan declared and gripped his arm tighter. "Can't you do something?"

"You're right," he conceded while the two adversaries yanked their helicopters into a tight, low-speed turn. "I'll call him off and have the Air Guard scramble some armed fighters."

Wickham was on the verge of running for his SecTel when the two helos appeared to collide. The JetRanger's tail rotor blade struck the gunship's right landing skid, then shattered into a dozen pieces while the Cobra pulled up and moved off to the side of the damaged helo.

"He's going in. He's losing it," Steve said stiffly while the fuselage of the civilian helicopter slowly began to rotate under the main rotors.

Without the stabilizing tail rotor to counteract the powerful main-rotor drive torque, the helo turned increasingly faster in the opposite direction of the main blades.

The pilot of the JetRanger was desperately trying to salvage an autorotation to a crash landing, but the aerodynamic forces induced by the unique situation were causing the helo to oscillate out of control.

Steve and Susan witnessed the craft tumble over and plummet nose-first toward the ground near the coast highway.

Holding his bleeding shoulder, Marcus staggered up to them as the helicopter impacted with a spectacular explosion of jet fuel.

"Judas Priest, how did things get out of control?" Callaway asked while he panted for breath.

Chapter
16.

NEAR MISSOULA, MONTANA

There was a hushed sense of excitement in the rustic, woodsy restaurant nestled alongside a winding brook. The President of the United States was going to have a late lunch at the unpretentious cafe before he and his entourage continued their tour of northwestern Montana.

Two Secret Service agents closely watched the preparation of the food and beverages in the kitchen, while other agents interviewed and carefully selected several "customers" who would have an impromptu, spontaneous chat with their Commander in Chief.

CNN and NBC elected to tape the folksy luncheon for their prime time newscast. The combined noise of two generators, coupled with the rows of cables and the battery of satellite dishes, spoiled the otherwise tranquil valley.

As the President's motorcade approached the quaint eatery, a Cable News Network reporter hurried over to one of the stone-faced security agents. After a short pause, the unsmiling agent walked straight to the President's limousine and informed him that CNN was preparing to broadcast a special report about the Pearl Harbor incident.

The President smiled broadly and waved to the small crow
d b
efore he entered the CNN truck to view the news report with his top aides. A technician quickly slid a chair on rollers to the President as the "CNN Special Report" graphic flashed on the television screen.

The familiar anchorwoman fumbled with her earpiece and looked into the eye of the camera. "Thanks for joining us. We have a breaking report just in from Honolulu, Hawaii. At least two helicopters have crashed during a joint exercise involving the FBI and the military. The details are sketchy at the moment, but we will update you as quickly as we receive the information.

"I'm being told," the reporter continued, "that a team of agents from the CIA and FBI located the helicopter that was allegedly used in the assault on the tour ship at Pearl Harbor. During the attempt to capture the pilot and his passenger, a Marine Cobra helicopter crashed, killing its two-man crew. The names of the two crewmen have not been released pending notification of next of kin."

Out of habit, the woman cleared her throat while the news director talked to her. "We now go live to David Kaiulani in Honolulu. Dave."

The native Hawaiian correspondent was standing near the blackened wreckage of the JetRanger. The crash site had been roped off, and armed guards surrounded the mangled helicopter.

"Loraine, I'm standing by the remains of what authorities believe was the helicopter used in the assault on the Star of Honolulu. Both people aboard the JetRanger perished in the fiery crash after their helo collided with a Marine gunship that was accompanying the downed military helicopter."

The reporter turned sideways to allow the cameraman a good shot of the accident site.

"Everyone is being cautious about what they say," Kaiulani continued, "but officials at the scene, who wish to remain anonymous, have told me they are certain this is the chopper that was used in the attack."

Rising from his chair, the President thanked the CNN tea
m a
nd stepped outside with his Secretary of State and Scott Eaglehoff, his recently appointed Chief of Staff. The President waved everyone away while the three men walked to the edge of the street.

"Scott," the President said with a grim set to his face, "I want all the particulars on this goddamn mess as soon as you can sort it out. Who was the pilot? Who owned the helicopter? And what the hell went wrong?"

Eaglehoff nodded. "I'll turn the screws."

Swarthy and morose, Scott Eaglehoff was by nature a reserved man, but the plump, pigeon-toed former federal judge enjoyed a unique reputation in Washington. He made things happen.

Bureau laboratory personnel and photographers documented and analyzed everything in and around the estate before Steve and Susan were allowed to explore its interior.

Marcus had been transported to the hospital and was reported to be undergoing surgery.

The Bureau experts found that an entire section of the guest wing had been constructed with hinged walls.

One person could quickly and easily swing the high wall partitions open, move the light pieces of furniture, then cover the wooden parquet floor with a heavy canvas.

The final step in the transformation required two people to open the cleverly constructed entrance to the combination hangar/guest quarters.

When the civilian helicopter was not concealed in the guest wing, the rooms looked perfectly normal, including the large, immovable bathing suite. Because of plumbing constraints, the bath and water closet were built long and narrow to allow room to work on the JetRanger.

After the luxurious home--sans guest quarters--had bee
n b
uilt by local crews, a special team of Indonesian construction workers was hired to build the hangar and make it appear like part of the original structure.

The trio of men and their female interior decorator disappeared after a postconstruction drinking party. A week after the group was expected to return to Indonesia, law enforcement authorities in Jakarta asked the Honolulu Police Department to investigate. The HPD looked into the matter, assuming foul play, but they never found a single clue.

Only two men knew the last whereabouts of the construction. workers. By the time the authorities were consulted, the foursome was a long way from where they had last been seen. Sharks make unpredictable course changes in their ongoing quest for food.

"Well," Steve observed as he inspected the interior of the guest quarters-cum-helicopter hangar, "they were in a helluva hurry to get out of here."

"Max panic mode," Susan deadpanned and looked behind one of the numerous drop cloths that was used to protect the walls, furniture, and fixtures during the hasty repainting of the JetRanger. "They apparently sprayed the camouflage design directly on the other paint scheme."

"A quick makeover and out the door," Steve mused while he looked at the spray gun and paint containers. "They must have been on the verge of slipping the helo out of here when we paid our first visit."

"No question about it."

He glanced at her and then frowned. "Why do I have a feeling they knew we were on our way here?"

"I don't know," Susan replied, careful not to jump to conclusions, "but I think you're right. And there's something else that puzzles me."

"Me, too," Wickham confided, then turned to his attractive friend and focused his attention on her eyes. "I want to know where they planned to hide the helicopter."

"Exactly," Susan answered and caught Steve's tense, restles
s l
ook. "They were mighty anxious to get that helicopter off the premises."

"So anxious that they were willing to take major risks to get it out of here because they somehow knew that we had them nailed to the wall."

"Someone"--she let her suspicions rise to the surface--"has been feeding them information about us. . . ."

Wickham took a moment to review his thoughts about the strange turn of events. "That's a distinct possibility. We're going to have to be very cautious about everything we do from now on."

Susan offered him a vague smile. "And not trust anyone until we know if our suspicions are correct."

Steve nodded in agreement. "It looks like our basic logic has been on track, for the most part, so I think we have to continue following our instincts."

"True," she remarked quietly and tilted her head to the side. "Where does your instinct think the pilot was headed?"

"Well, someone threw a hell of a lot of money and effort into setting up the assault, so nothing is beyond the realm of possibility."

Steve walked over to the window and looked out to sea. "I'd have to guess that the pilot was heading offshore . . ." "Headed for a ship or barge?"

"That, or maybe he planned to dump the helo in the drink after he was out of sight of land."

"With someone standing by to pick him up," Susan replied coolly.

"Or kill him." Steve looked at his watch. "Dead men don't tell tales."

"True."

"Right after the crash, my ops coordinator asked the military to search the ocean around the island. I want to know the name and origin of everything big enough to land a helo aboard."

"How soon will you have the information?"

"They've promised to do a thorough job--low flybys fo
r p
hotos, et cetera--so I'm not sure when I'll get the final results. Probably sometime tomorrow."