nothing on radar.
McLanahan had already double-checked that Angelina Wendy were secure in their ejection seats. Now he made his way forward to the cockpit and slipped into the steel instructor pilot's jumpseat. 'Need an extra set of eyes?' he asked Elliott. 'What the hell are you doing up here?'
'Dave's got the left seat downstairs. I'll help you loo I k the runway, then I'll go aft and help Wendy and Angelina their seats in case 'Patrick, that's suicide. Get your butt back to your semi 'Dave doesn't have an ejection seat, sir,' McLanahan said quietly. 'One of the details we never got around to.
'I didn't know 'Forget it. Dave's as good on the radar as I am. If something goes wrong I'll try to make sure Wendy and Angelina get clear.
Meanwhile I'll help find that runway.'
'This whole deal is still crazy…'Ormack mutter 'Maintain the element of surprise,' McLanahan said, 'We've kept the whole Russian air force off our backs confusing 'em. This is just the next step. 'And over interphone he asked, 'Dave' Anything?'
'It all looks the same,' Luger told him, sounding increasingly frustrated.
'Keep tuning, you'll find it, Remember, we're setting Up a base-leg, not a straight-in. Don't just rely on the computers-check shorter ranges.'
'Rog,' Luger said.retuning the scope once more.
'We'll stay unconfigured at two hundred and fifty kr until we see the runway,' Elliott asked. 'We'll turn final check the runway and base and make a decision to land. T we'll turn onto the downwind, configure and-' 'I've got it,' Luger suddenly announced. 'Six miles, eleven o'clock.:, 'Six milesT Ormack said.
'The navigation computer must be way off,' McLanahan told him. All three heads in the cockpit swung to the left.
Elliott found it immediately. 'Got it,' he asked. 'We're right on top of it… we'll never get configured fast enough. Let's go on straight ahead, check out the base from the end of the runway, then make a turn into a right downwind for landing.'
'Roger,' Ormack asked. 'I've got the airplane. You check out the base. 'He turned the cockpit lights down to bare AA minimum to make it easier to see the runway.
Elliott muttered unhappily as the runway moved to his left window.
'That runway looks like the rest of the tundra. Some of those snow drifts out there must be ten feet high.
'No signals,' Wendy reported. 'Still a clear threat-scope.
Not even any radio transmissions.'
It was a small, almost obscure base in a mountain valley that reminded McLanahan of Hill Air Force Base in Utah, with snowy mountain peaks peering down from the sky. The most noticeable feature of the base was the 'Christmas tree'-alert parking area at the end of the runway-two rows of six parking areas for Russian fighters, staggered on each side so that all twelve fighters could move at once and line up on the runway.
Fortunately the parking areas were empty-more than empty, they appeared not to have been plowed out for quite a while.
Some of the Quonset hut fighter shelters were partially dismantled, with snow piled in deep drifts everywhere.
A big problem was the tiny village nearby, which McLanahan could see out Ormack's right cockpit window. It was about ten miles from the base, but a B-52 made a lot of racket and would attract attention.
What the villagers would do about the noise was another question. Did people in Russia complain about military planes waking them up at night?McLanahan prayed they didn't.
'The base isn't completely deserted,' Elliott said as the runway moved out of view. 'I saw some trucks parked out in front of a building near the main taxiway. They looked military.'
The crew was suddenly quiet. Ormack started a slow, wide turn to the right to parallel the runway.
Wendy said, 'If it's not deserted, they could have troc there 'Fifteen minutes of fuel left,' Ormack asked. 'I guess we can make it back above ten thousand feet for ejection, but then-' 'If they had a military force there, there'd be more than a couple of trucks,' McLanahan said, liking his logic but not altogether believing it.
'Agreed,' Elliott said quickly. 'Besides, the runway looked closed and the buildings looked deserted. And, we don't have any choice. 'He turned to Ormack. 'Let's do it. I'll take the airplane. Run the landing checklists.'
McLanahan patted Elliott on the shoulder. 'Good luck, you guys in Russia.'he said, and made his way back to defense instructor's seat and strapped in. 'Next stop, Jach beautiful downtown Anadyr.
'Can they land the plane on all that snow?' Angelina ask McLanahan cross-cockpit.
'Not recommended, but this is a tough bird and those are two tough pilots Big brave talk, he told himself.
'Airbrakes zero,' Elliott said as Ormack read from the computerized checklist on his screen. 'Ready for the gear flaps, here they come.'
He lowered the gear handle, and moved the flap switch to its first-stage position, Elliott started a slow right turn to put them perpendicular to the snow-covered runway.
'Left-tip gear shows unsafe,' Ormack said, watching gauges. 'All other wheels down. Flaps twenty-five percen Elliott moved the throttles forward to regain speed as the huge flaps, large as barn doors.
lowered into the slipstream, allowing the bomber to fly increasingly slower on final approach.
'Fuel danger lights on for all mains,' Ormack announced 'Okay, crew, this is it,' Elliott said, forcing his voice to sound calmer than he felt.
'The fuel's run out. We either land or eject. Dave, I'll make sure you get a few hundred f altitude, but don't delay pulling the trigger.'
'Nav… copies Luger was not as successful controlling his voice.
His shoulder harness was already lock his back and neck stiff and straight, his hands rested lightly on the trigger-ring between his legs.
'Patrick he whispered, fighting off the pain in his leg. McLanahan didn't have a chance. He would need several thousand feet to even attempt manual bailout, much less survive it.
Elliott started a slow turn to the right again to align the Old Dog onto the runway.
'Flaps fifty,' Ormack asked. 'Starters on. Fuel panel is set.
Running on fumes now 'Lower the nose,' Elliott said. Ormack flipped a switch and the long, pointed SST-style nose slid down beneath the windscreen.
'Landing lights,' Elliott ordered, and the four-thousandwatt lights on the landing gear struts snapped on and the Russian runway leapt into view. A massive snowdrift at leas thirty feet high blocked the approach end of the runway. Elliott shoved the power forward.
'Flaps full,' he called out.
The howl of the engines obliterated all sound. Luger had his eyes on the bailout warning light on his front console, waiting for the command to eject, his fingers closing around the trigger ring. Wendy and Angelina tensed.
The right-front landing-gear truck plowed into the small mountain of ice, the Old Dog heeled sharply to the right and plummeted down.its nose rushing toward the frozen runway Elliott stomped on the left rudder before realizing that their rudder was useless, shot away long ago. He jammed the yoke full-back and full-left to try to counteract the headlong tumble, but the Old Dog was a freight train out of control.
McLanahan folded his arms across his chest, waited. He felt the impact on the ice, felt the plane lurch to the right at an angle so steep and so sudden he thought the plane had flipped upside down. The right wing stayed down, and he found himself wondering what the crash would look like from outside, a hundred tons of B-52 cartwheeling around on the frozen ground.
He closed his eyes and waited for everything to grow dark and the sound to stop…
For the first time since he began his chase Yuri Papendreyov was beginning to feel he had made a mistake.
Despite stealing his MiG-29 Fulcrum, he had been receiving assistance from ground and air forces in trying to locate the B-52 intruder. But so far he hadn't found it. The climb to twenty-six thousand meters, almost eighty thousand feet, was necessary to receive reports from the elements of the Far East Air Defense Force searching for the B-52.
