Acrid fumes stung Keene’s nose as he followed the two hunched figures across to the plane. It had a fixed tricycle undercarriage. Military camouflage markings showed dimly in the lights from the terminal building. A shadowy figure was holding the door open below the high wing. Colby and Charlie climbed in, and Keene followed, assisted by a strong pull from above. “Lieutenant Penalski, Marines,” the figure informed them as the door closed. There were empty seats in the forward part of the cabin. Farther back, more figures in combat dress sat outlined vaguely in the semidarkness. “Which of you is Dr. Keene?” the lieutenant asked as the Cessna revved its engine and began moving again.
“I am.”
“Can we bring you up front, next to the pilot? They didn’t tell us much about the mission. You’re going to have to start filling us in right now. But there is some good news. We can forget the plan for going in flapping like a lame duck. It won’t be necessary. Somebody must have gotten through from Washington finally. We got cleared for Vandenberg just before we left.”
“I warn you guys, it’s still gonna be a rough ride,” the pilot shouted above the engine noise. He flipped his mike switch. “MU87. Burbank, we’re ready for clearance, departing Burbank to Vandenberg, IFR, military priority.”
“MU87, Burbank. ATC clears MU87 as file, SID departure runway one six. After takeoff, contact SoCal Control on three-ninety-seven point nine, or if unable, contact SoCal on one-twenty-five point four. We’ve been having trouble with higher frequencies. Contact Vandenberg approach on tower frequency one twenty-four point nine five. If contact lost, proceed with pilot’s discretion flight procedures. Vandenberg and flight service stations are notified via ground lines and will be listening.”
“Roger, clearance.”
“You guys sure you want to do this? It’s bad along them hills out there.”
“Not a lot of choice here. Thanks again.”
“Normally, I’d say have a good one.”
The Cessna rolled forward a short distance and stopped while a dark, humpy shape, looking like a whale in the mists and the dark, passed across in front of them. Then the pilot got an okay from the tower to move out. Wind hit the tiny plane like a water wave as it emerged from the shadow of the terminal building, causing it to rock crazily. Keene hadn’t realized how much the wind had been rising. He had the feeling of being inside a kite that was likely to be snatched away at any moment. As they turned onto the taxiway, lights outside revealed at least three wrecked aircraft pushed off to the side. Two of them looked as if they had collided while maneuvering on the ground, their wings entangled.
“There’s worse moving in behind this,” the pilot told him, keeping his eyes on the shapes moving in the murk ahead. “Lotta boats in trouble out there. When it hits, everything’s gonna be shut down.”
“How long have we got?” Keene asked him.
“Hours . . . maybe.”
33
“Santa Barbara tower. Flight MU87 en route from Burbank to Vandenberg at three hundred feet south east, three miles. We’re going to fly right through your airspace just off the coast.” A burst of static punctuated with voice fragments filled the cabin. The pilot tried again.
“Roger MU87. We were looking for you. What the hell are you doing up in this stuff? Over.”
“We just can’t resist a challenge.”
The cloud canopy above the Cessna was solid. Below, fingers of dark, coiling vapors blotted out and then revealed briefly the lights of the traffic on coast Highway 101 off to the right, beyond a line of breakers and beaches dimly discernible in the flickering of electrical light above the cloud. Sticky buildups on the wings, control surfaces, and windshield had made it impossible to clear the 3,000-foot hills inland, forcing the plane to head southwest along the Santa Clara Valley to Ventura, turning right to follow the coast from there. There had been several ominous thunks of hard objects hitting the structure, but nothing so far had penetrated the cabin.
“Okay. Watch out for three radio towers along the water’s edge, two just as you pass us, one farther up. Altitudes are three fifty feet, and the position lights are out. What are you planning up ahead?”