He leaped from his position beside the pilot and helped her to a seat. A brief examination revealed that the wound was not serious, and he quickly bound it, conscious that he was perhaps hurting her but there was no time. He kissed her on the forehead briefly and picked up her weapon and checked the magazine. Chifune smiled weakly at him. She was still in some shock.
The airship had now leveled off and was flying so low, they passed a huge oil tanker heading in the opposite direction toward Tokyo and found the gondola was actually lower than the bridge of the ship.
The watch crew stared openmouthed as the vast black shape appeared to head straight toward them, then flashed by their port side at a combined speed of around eighty miles an hour. As the watch commander remarked afterward, he had heard of the Flying Dutchman but this was ridiculous. For a few seconds, the scale of the airship made him think he was going to by rammed by some flying supertanker.
Fitzduane was now focusing on the left observation windows, while Lonsdale covered the right.
The helicopter had attacked them from above and the side. Both attacks had been of limited effectiveness, but he expected the next attack to be roughly level with the gondola and from the rear. That was the airship's most vulnerable remaining blind spot, in his opinion. The Huey could not get underneath them, because they were flying so low, and a head-on pass would not allow enough time to bring adequate power to bear.
There was no practical defense against an attack from the rear.
The airship's visibility was all on the sides and to the front. The rear of the gondola housed the engines, and they were enclosed in a windowless compartment. In some ways, Fitzduane was surprised that the terrorists had not attacked there immediately, but then they would not be so intimate with the airship's structure, and on-the-job training tended to be mostly trial and error. But he had an uncomfortable feeling that Yaibo was learning fast.
'Colonel- san,' shouted the pilot. Fitzduane had taken off his headset to go to Chifune's aid, and now the pilot had twisted around in his seat and was shouting at him. All the observation windows were open to facilitate firing, and the roar of the engines at full speed filled the gondola.
Fitzduane made his way to the front and leaned over to hear the pilot.
'Fitzduane- san,' said the pilot urgently. If we are to be successful with out maneuver, WE MUST LOSE WEIGHT.'
There was the crack of the Barrett as Lonsdale leaned precariously out of the window and tried to fire to their rear. 'Hugo, they're maneuvering behind us,' he said. 'Sling a harness around me and I'll try and have another go. I can do it.'
Fitzduane considered for a moment and tried to imagine Al's line of fire shooting backwards. It could work for a shot or two, but all the Huey would have to do would be to maneuver slightly and it would be out of range again.
He looked hard at Lonsdale. They'd already discussed another option, but Al's harness idea had certainly been worth considering.
He discarded it. 'We stick with Plan B,' he said. 'Pilot- san wants more lift, so when I give the word, we dump everything we can. The we should have an opportunity, and we'd better not miss.'
Lonsdale grinned. 'This is a very crazy tactic,' he said, 'but then you're a very crazy man.'
Fitzduane smiled. 'Let's go to it.'
'Mike Bergin and the dead pilot too?' said Lonsdale.
Fitzduane hesitated for a moment, and then there was a banging sound from the rear as the attacking Huey fired at them. He knew the time had come to finish it, and noble gestures would be of scant worth if the terrorists had their way. On the other hand…
'Not unless we have to,' he said. He turned to the pilot. 'NOW!' he shouted.
The pilot switched both engines to vertical thrust and at the same time activated the control that dumped half a ton of water from the ballast tanks in the gondola.
Simultaneously, Fitzduane and Lonsdale pushed the bodies of Schwanberg and Chuck Palmer out the door. Other heavy items followed.
Modern airships flew ‘heavy.’ That meant they got around ninety percent of their lift from the helium contained in the envelope and the remaining lift from the aerodynamics of the envelope and the engines. That combination made the airship easier to control and to land without bleeding off expensive helium. The normal rate of climb was based on that heavy configuration.
The dumping of the ballast and the bodies changed the equation dramatically.
The airship, within a few seconds relieved of over 2,000 pounds of weight, was suddenly lighter than air. Further, the rotation of the two Porsche engines meant that thrust was now vertical and not forward.
The airship shot skyward and slowed. Within seconds it was above and behind and slightly to the right of the terrorist helicopter.
Fitzduane and Lonsdale, resting their weapons on the sills of the open observation windows, had near-perfect firing positions. Magnum and Barrett cracked simultaneously. Both men fired precision shots until their magazines were empty, then took fresh magazines from Chifune and reloaded.
The Yaibo helicopter had reacted with surprising speed, and was just attempting to climb and turn when the first rounds plowed into it.
The pilot's incomplete maneuver had actually placed it in an even more vulnerable position. The full diameter was exposed as it reared up, and through the circling blades the marksmen had a perfect view of the engine and where the fuel tanks were located.
A. 50 Barrett round caught one of the rotor blades near the hub and shattered it, spinning the aircraft helplessly out of control. A fraction of a second later, one of the fuel tanks blew and ignited the others.
There were high explosives aboard. They were a Yaibo trademark. The puttylike blocks were stable against rifle fire, but the exploding rounds of the Barrett acted like detonators.
There was the searing white flame of a violent explosion, and the Huey blew apart a moment before it hit the water. The blast rocked the airship.
And then there was no trace that the helicopter had ever existed, except for a thin smear of bloodstained oil and floating fragments of human flesh.
Epilogue
Tokyo, Japan
July 15
Fitzduane felt a definite lump in his throat as he prepared to say farewell to the line of Japanese facing him in the VIP departure lounge at TokyoAirport.
It was ridiculous – he had known them only a few weeks – but there it was. The bonds were strong and the relationships, tested under the most extreme circumstances, would endure. For the rest of his life, he would be linked in some important but indefinable way to Japan and to his friends there.
He smiled to himself for a moment as he noticed that the line of well-wishers was ranked in order of seniority. Adachi's father, trim and upright, and bearing a remarkable resemblance to his dead son; Yoshokawa- san and his wife, bring back memories of Kamakura; the Spider in the full uniform of the Deputy Superintendent of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police; the young airship copilot, Inspector Miko Ueda, who had performed so magnificently under fire; the lined and seasoned face of Sergeant Akamatsu from the police koban; and Sergeant Oga and all of the twenty-three men and women who had served on his bodyguard at various times.
It was just as well that Tokyo was a peaceful city. The duty roster of the Tokyo MPD was at the moment depleted.
There was no sign of Chifune, and he missed her very much. But typically, Tanabu- san was elusive and independent to the last.
The boarding announcement was made, and as if that was the agreed-upon signal, the entire line suddenly broke into three cheers – ' Banzai! Banzai! Banzai! ' – and then, faces frozen in formal expressions, bowed deeply.
Fitzduane, draped in farewell gifts, bowed in return. And the line bowed and he bowed, and the process might have gone on indefinitely if a Virgin Airlines hostess had not tactfully intervened.
