The twin-engine Aerostar aircraft taxied quickly off the two-mile-long runway right up to the doors of Sky Masters Inc.'s main hangar. The pilot wheeled the light twin around so it was pointing back down the taxiway toward the runway, then shut down engines.
In less than two minutes, two dark sedans pulled over to the plane, blocking it fore and aft. By the time the pilot opened the split clamshell doors and stepped out, the plane was surrounded by agents in black fatigues emblazoned with 'FBI' and 'FEDERAL AGENT' front and back, all carrying M-16 assault rifles at the ready.
'General McLanahan?' one of the agents in a simple dark suit and tie announced.
'That's me,' Patrick replied.
'Special Agent Norwalk, FBI, Memphis office. I'd like you to come with me. Anyone in the plane with you?' Instead of waiting for a response, another agent pushed past Patrick and shined a flashlight inside, then shook his head, indicating it was empty. Another agent checked the baggage compartment in the back-it, too, was empty. He even checked the wheel wells, but they were too small to hide anything bigger than a small dog.
'Something wrong?' Patrick asked.
'We'll explain everything inside,' the FBI agent replied. 'Your plane will be secured inside the hangar.'
'You guys ever move a plane like this before? The nose gear is sensitive.'
'We'll be careful,' Norwalk responded, definitely sounding like he wasn't planning on being careful at all. He spoke into a radio, and before long one of Sky Masters Inc.'s technicians came out riding an aircraft tug, accompanied by another agent. The tech scooped up the Aerostar's nose wheel with the lifter. Meanwhile, the main hangar door opened. The plane was pushed back into the hangar beside one of the company's DC-10 mission I/ I aircraft.
Patrick was taken to his office in the headquarters facility. Special Agent Norwalk and another officer stayed inside with him. 'Now, mind telling me what's going on?' Patrick asked once they were seated inside.
'First, General, I advise you that you are hereby under arrest,' Norwalk began. 'You have the right to remain silent; should you choose to give up the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney and to have the attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you at no charge. Do YOU understand these rights as I've explained them?'
'What am L oemg arrested for?'
'General, do you understand your Constitutional rights as I've explained them to you?'
'Yes. Now can you tell me-?'
'Do you waive your right to remain silent?'
'I've done nothing wrong.'
'Are you willing to answer questions for me?'
'Yes. Now tell me what's going on here.'
'Do you know where Dr. Jon Masters, Dr. Kelsey Duffield, and the Sky Masters Inc. crew members that were stationed at the Tonopah Test Range are right now, General?'
'I thought they were at Tonopah. Are they missing?'
'You're telling me you have no idea where they are?'
'What's going on, Norwalk? Has something happened? And why am I under arrest? Do you think I had something to do with it?'
'Did you have anything to do with Dr. Masters and Dr. Kelsey recently, say, in the past two days? Have you been in contact with them?'
'Hold it, hold it,' Patrick said, raising his hands and shaking his head in confusion. 'You're not answering any of my questions, and I'm getting confused. I feel like I'm being tricked into admitting something, and I think I should stop this questioning until I get my lawyer.'
The last thing Norwalk wanted was for McLanahan to 'lawyer up' now, so he nodded and put on a faint smile. As long as McLanahan only said 'I think I should stop' and not 'I want a lawyer' or 'I want to stop,' he could still question the suspect, even if the suspect believed his responses wouldn't incriminate himself. 'I'm sorry, sir. We just got here, and it's been a long day. Let's all relax and just talk.' He looked around the office. 'You got any coffee around here? It's been a really long day.'
'Sure,' Patrick said cheerfully. 'It's been a busy day for me too. Call in the rest of your guys-there's plenty for everyone.'
'Nice plane you got out there,' Norwalk said as Patrick went out to the outer office to start the coffeemakf r. 'What is it?'
'An Aerostar-the fastest piston-powered twin you can buy,' Patrick said proudly. 'It's got six seats in it, but it's really only good for two persons with full fuel and luggage.'
'You fly out from San Diego?'
'I keep the plane out at North Island Naval Air Stationthe base commander is a friend of mine. It's about a sevenhour flight, plus a couple potty breaks-eleven hours total, including the time zone changes.'
'It sounds pretty fast.'
'It's a rocket ship,' Patrick said. 'I just wish it could hold more people and baggage. Me, the wife, and my son pretty much max it out.'
The armrest of the rear bench seat inside the Aerostar flopped down, and one eye peeked out from behind the seat. Seeing it was all clear, both seat backs in the split bench seat flopped down, and Chris Wohl and Hal Briggs unfolded themselves from the small baggage space behind the seat. 'Oh, God,' Briggs said, groaning as he stretched and flexed his sore legs and back. 'My leg cramps have cramps.' As he usually did, Chris Wohl ignored his friend and former commanding officer, but it was obvious he was experiencing much of the same difficulty unfolding his legs.
After he got feeling and circulation going in his limbs, Briggs crawled over the bench seats, staying low, then peeked out the smoked side windows into the hangar. No guards visible on the hangar door side; none visible out the forward windscreen. He looked out the right windows and saw one armed guard seated up on the concrete stairway landing leading into the flight department offices. Briggs made hand signals to Wohl where the guard was, then made his way to the forward entry hatch.
Meanwhile, Wohl knocked twice on the rear bulkhead. Behind the pressurized cabin was the unpressurized baggage compartment, which in Patrick's plane was normally mostly filled with an auxiliary fuel tank. But gloved fingers popped the false steel cover off, and two Night Stalkers emerged from the space normally occupied by the fuel tank. They were clothed in heavy winter-weight flight suits, jackets, boots, hats, and gloves, and each had a green oxygen bottle and mask. They, too, took a few moments to stretch and get their limbs going again, then donned FM commlinks and readied automatic pistols. 'Cargo One is up,' one of them reported.
'Stand by,' Wohl said. 'One guard in sight. Pop your hatch and get ready.' The Night Stalkers unlatched the baggage compartment door as quietly as they could but did not open it.
Meanwhile, Briggs made his way to the split clamshell entry hatch, unlatched it with a twist of its handle, opened the top half just an inch or two, then unlatched and lowered the lower half. He hoped the guard couldn't see the open lower half from where he was sitting. Briggs stepped out and then lowered the upper half of the door all the way. 'Let's go, Sarge-'
'Freeze!' he heard. 'Hands where I can see them! Now!' The lone guard had seen the hatch open and had quickly sneaked around the Aerostar, his rifle lowered.
Briggs shot his hands up in the air. The guard braced his rifle against his right hip, then pulled his walkie- talkie from his web belt and keyed the mike button: 'Unit Three to Control.. '
'Cargo! Out now! Hard!' Wohl whispered into his commlink.
The lead Night Stalker in the baggage compartment threw himself out the baggage compartment, landing about five feet in front of the startled FBI agent. The agent pulled the trigger on his rifle. The single round missed the Night Stalker by a few inches, then ricocheted off the side of the Aerostar, missing Briggs's head by scant inches as well.
The second Night Stalker inside the baggage compartment aimed and fired his weapon. Tiny crystalline darts about the size of a short golfer's pencil hit the FBI agent. The darts instantly exploded into a fine dust that penetrated the agent's black fatigues. The agent had just enoflgh time to realize that he was hit before the nerve agent in the dust completely immobilized his entire voluntary nervous system and he collapsed to the concrete hangar floor.
