is, Jeremy.”
“Damned well better be,” Brandt replied. His eyes were glued to the
radar screen that showed the small flotilla of missiles closing from the east.
1436 hours Zulu (1536 hours Zone)
Tomcat 201
Off the Norwegian coast
Coyote watched the large air-to-air missile smash into the side of the
bomber, just above the root of the wing and the massive port-side engines.
The range was a fraction of the hundred-miles-plus for which Phoenix was
designed; there were three distinct blasts–the first as the missile’s warhead
detonated, the second as its largely unexpended core of solid fuel exploded,
and the last as the Blackjack’s stores of avgas ignited in a dazzling fireball
that lit up the sky.
He lost sight of the bomber almost immediately as it was enveloped in the
cloud of its own destruction. Seconds later, it reappeared from the cloud’s
far side, the thing of beauty transformed into a crumpled, falling mass of
flaming metal, its skeleton starkly visible as the fire consumed it.
“Camelot! Camelot!” John-Boy was calling from the backseat, his voice
betraying excitement and sheer joy. “Splash one Blackjack! I say again,
splash-”
But the RIO never completed his report, for the Tomcat was shuddering
violently, as someone played a jackhammer across the fuselage aft of the
cockpit. Coyote’s helmet slammed against the canopy as the aircraft yawed
hard to starboard. Warning lights flared across his right-hand console. He
was losing fuel, half a dozen electronics systems had failed … and damn!
The engine fire-warning light was on!
The Tomcat was buffeted again as a pair of silver shapes flashed past,
yards from his port wingtip. Fulcrums! The last two MiG-29s had closed in on
his six, opening up with a deadly accurate volley of cannon fire.
“John-Boy!” he called … but the ICS was out. He couldn’t tell if his
RIO was alive or dead, but he could hear the high, thin whistle of air through
a breach in the cockpit.
Coyote slapped the switch that killed his port engine. Deprived of fuel,
the engine fire light went out … but the Tomcat was limping now on one
engine, and those Fulcrums were already circling for another pass, this time
from head-on.
He battled the controls, but there wasn’t a thing he could do to fight
back. It was all he could do to hold the F-14 in the air. His radar was
gone, his VDI blank, his HUD gone. In that moment, Coyote knew he was going
to die, and the shock overwhelmed everything else.
Again, Coyote Grant thought of Julie, his wife, as he watched the
Fulcrums drop into position for a final pass.
CHAPTER 4
Wednesday, 18 June
1436 hours Zulu (1536 hours Zone)
CIC, U.S.S. Thomas Jefferson
Viking Station, the Norwegian Sea
Captain Brandt and the admiral had left CIC Air Ops, but Tombstone had
not even heard them go. He was mesmerized by the chatter between aircraft as
Backstop One and Two rendezvoused with Icewall. The drama unfolding two
hundred miles to the east had managed to shut everything else from his
thoughts.
The large screen showing air radar contacts repeated from the E-2C was a
crawling mass of blips, most flagged by identifying codes and information on
altitude, course, and speed. Time seemed to have stopped since the moment,
seconds ago, when Coyote had reported he was hit. Backstop was within twenty
miles of his position and had just reported Sparrow locks on the two Fulcrums
as they closed for the kill.
“Icewall, Icewall, this is Backstop One!” Tombstone allowed himself a
smile, a small one. The exuberant voice was a familiar one, belonging to an
old friend of his. “How are you, Coyote, you old varmint?”
“About time you guys got here,” Coyote’s voice replied. “I got
troubles.”
“Roger that. Just sit back and leave the driving to us. Hold her
steady, Loon. I’m moving into position.”
“Loon” was Lieutenant Adam Baird, in Tomcat 205.
“Roger, Batman,” Loon’s voice replied. “Take your shot, man, take your
shot!”
Batman. Lieutenant Commander Edward E. Wayne, a young aviator whom
Tombstone had once chastised for being an irresponsible pilot, a “hotdog,” and
who’d gone on to become one of the best flyers in the wing. He was now the XO