outside of the aircraft had been repainted, from the livery colors of a commercial carrier to those of the United States Air Force. Every Russian fighter pilot in the world would recognize the blue-and-white paint scheme, and that was just what William Tomlinson and the Coalition wanted.
The pilot and copilot onboard had explicit instructions to turn on the Wave Decibel Transmitter remotely just as they crossed over Russian airspace. The system could do no harm because the frequencies had been changed in Jakarta to new, benign settings, and now an that would happen was that the Wave signal would be broadcast in the open--directly into the ears of Russian listening posts.
The airliner was equipped with military-style ejection seats in the cockpit; the pilots would eject when they made first contact with Russian air-superiority fighters. Within thirty minutes of ejection, a Coalition trawler would pull them from the rough sea. Dangerous, to be sure, but they each would receive a two-million-dollar bonus.
'We have company and are being painted,' the copilot said in heavily accented Bulgarian from his position in the right seat.
'Roger, we have attempted contact and have had no reply to our instructions,' said the leader of the flight of four MIG 31s.
'Can you identify the aircraft? According to commercial routes it should be an American Airlines flight out of Fairbanks, Alaska, over.'
'Negative. We have visually identified aircraft as that of a U.S. Air Force 777 transport conversion, tail number 6759875. We will attempt--'
The Russian colonel yelped as the penetrating Wave signal burst through his headphones.
'This is Tango-Abel lead; we have picked up a strange audio tone emanating from the American aircraft, over!'
'Tango-Abel, lead, lock on to, and destroy target, immediately!'
'What? They may just be off course--'
'Flight leader, destroy the target. This command is from the highest authority!'
The MIG 31 slowed and took up station half a mile from the American 777. He ordered his wingman to lock on and fire. The Russian colonel heard a clear and long signal from his missiles' seeker heads as they both locked on to the large GE engines.
As soon as the Coalition pilot saw the incoming MIGs on his radar, he set the controls to automatic pilot and made ready for his ejection. He and the copilot wore cold-water survival gear and were equipped with a life raft.
'We are ready. Stand by to eject. Eject, eject, eject!' he shouted out as he pulled the ejection seat's yellow-and-black-striped release bar.
Nothing happened. He pulled again and still nothing. The copilot pulled the dual handle on his and had the same result. Both men started to panic, as they knew they were only seconds away from a fiery death. In their terror, neither that the men who had paid them so handsomely had betrayed them. The Coalition needed American-uniformed pilots to be discovered if any wreckage was ever found, but the men had never questioned the need for such an elaborate ruse as the uniforms.
The missiles flew off the rails. The first heat seeker struck the port engine mount just below the long, wide wing of the Boeing plane, while the other hit the engine itself. The next two, fired by the copilot, struck the remains of the already damaged wing and the giant plane rolled over in the sky and nose-dived two miles down into the sea.
The Russian pilot angrily pulled his face mask away. He was confused as to why the American pilot had not attempted to break away and try to avoid the missile attack.
It was as if he had wanted to die.
Niles sat on one of the ornate couches in the Oval Office and watched the president listen to his opposite number in China through an interpreter. His old friend was about to put the medicine into the mouth of the president of the People's Republic of China first, before feeding him the sugar. The Chinese ambassador to the UN Security Council, with Russian backing, had been claiming a horrible accident since early morning concerning the air-to-surface encounter with North Korea.
'The Korean assault on our task force was an overt act of war and the American people insist I respond in kind. Now, for me trying to keep the peace, the world press is crucifying me! Your ally's actions were wrong in the least and criminal at the most. Either you will get Kim to listen to reason or we can carry this madness to its obvious conclusion.'
Niles watched as his oldest friend's knuckles grew white on the handset and he saw the jaw muscles working at a furious clip.
'We have evidence of an outside entity being responsible for these quakes and it is being forwarded through official channels now. Official and not private, for the reason that I want it to leak out, because the world must know that we were not responsible for these quakes that your ally North Korea is blaming us for. If you do not heed the evidence we send to you, Mr. President, circumstances will force me to defend this nation's soldiers, seamen, and airmen as well as those of our allies, and I will do so with vigor. Do we understand each other clearly?'
The American president listened to the return tirade and then closed his eyes and visibly relaxed.
'Have your people study the names and evidence we have sent and then I will await your call. Until then I have ordered our military to set DEFCON Two for defensive reasons. No more American lives will be lost without us shooting back.' Again he listened to the other end of the line. 'Very well. I will await your decision.'
The president slowly placed the phone into its cradle on the coffee table in front of him. The secretary of state, newly arrived from his address to the United Nations, where he had condemned the actions by Korea and the unhelpful silence of both the Russians and Chinese, awaited his new orders.
The president looked at his watch and then glanced at the director of the FBI, who sat off by himself in a small chair to the sofa's left.
'When will you round up this man in Chicago?'
'The HRT unit is in place as we speak. They should have break-in in exactly ten minutes,' he answered as he looked at his wristwatch.
'Good. Mr. Secretary, you may proceed back to the UN and address the Security Council and lay out all the evidence that Dr. Compton has provided you. I understand his people are working on learning more background on the technology used and the people using it. I believe it's time to share what little we do have on this Coalition faction. Mr. Director, take that son of a bitch in Chicago alive if you can.'
'Yes, sir, that is the plan.'
The president felt in control for the first time in days. He nodded his thanks to all in the room.
'Gentlemen, with the exception of Dr. Compton, you are excused.'
The secretary of state along with the directors of the FBI and the CIA stood and left the room, excited to be moving against the man who might have been responsible for the American lives that had been lost.
When the door closed, the president half slid down into the sofa. He rubbed his hands over his face and then looked at Niles. 'This job really sucks, bookworm.'
'You're the one who wanted it. By the way, thanks for giving Colonel Collins a blank check as far as Hawaii goes.'
The president raised his chin once and then let it fall again to his chest. Then he half smiled.
'You may have saved our bacon, Niles. Tell your people ... tell them--'
'You can tell them when this thing is over, Mr. President. All they have done is what they've been doing for a hundred years.'
'I just hope I can face them and others when this is over. As of right now, I'm responsible for getting a lot of American boys getting killed.'
Niles leaned forward and looked at his friend. 'That's not true.' He looked at his watch. 'The man responsible is just about to realize that it's he who's not the secret any longer.'
