Shadow Flight

"Just a second, Norm," Kerchner interrupted. "The president is on the line… I'll put you through." Kerchner punched the conference call button and waited for a pause. "Mister President, Norm Lasharr is on the line with an update from our San Julian operative." The president spoke quickly. "Go ahead, Norm."

"Sir, we have recovered our agent," Lasharr said hurriedly. "They crash-landed off the coast near Cancun… out of gas, but they're okay. The agent confirms that the B-2 departed San Julian around four o'clock this morning. He couldn't tell the direction of flight, but he's positive it took off."

"Okay," Jarrett responded. "Stay on the line."

"Yes, sir."

The president addressed the entire group. "Gentlemen, we've got an entirely different situation now. A hundred and eighty out. Bernie, let's stand down from the second air strike and concentrate on finding the B-2."

"Yes, sir," Kerchner replied. "We need to be very cautious though, in regard to retaliatory strikes."

"Of course," Jarrett agreed, remembering what General Rafael del Pino, who had defected from Cuba during 1986, had told the CIA. Fidel Castro had planned an air strike against a nuclear power installation in southern Florida if the United States had blockaded Cuba during the Grenada invasion.

"Bernie," the president continued, "we want to maintain our battle groups on station for the time being. Do you have any idea where the B-2 might be at the present time?"

Kerchner had been calculating the possibilities but kept coming back to one point. "Sir, my bet is that they're flying away from the sun, to stay in the dark as long as possible. We have to assume," Kerchner said slowly, "that they're counting on getting the bomber to a safe haven before we have time to find out it hasn't been destroyed in Cuba."

Jarrett thought a moment. "Any other theories?"

"Mister President," the vice president said from Raven Rock, "Secretary Kerchner is probably on the money. My guess is they're traveling west, or northwest-the quickest way to another hiding place with the least exposure to daylight."

"Bernie," Jarrett said calmly, "the B-2 has been airborne about three and a half hours. That has to put them out somewhere around seventeen to eighteen hundred miles."

"Yes, sir," Kerchner replied, thinking about possible contingencies.

Jarrett, sounding more upbeat, continued. "Okay, let's move. Bernie, get every aircraft we can muster airborne. We have to have a semicircle of airplanes, from the mid-Atlantic across North America to the western Pacific, beginning at a radius of two thousand miles from San Julian."

Jarrett, thoroughly engaged, continued. "I want layers of aircraft all the way to the territorial limits of the Soviet Union. Sam, you notify the Kremlin… just in case… and make our position crystal clear."

"Yes, sir," Gardner answered, harboring reservations. Kerchner was already scratching a note for the chairman of the Joint Chiefs.

"Bernie," the president said sternly, "the only way we're going to find the B-2 is to spot it visually in the daylight."

"You're right, sir," Kerchner responded, then added a question. "What action do you want to take when we locate the B-2?"

Jarrett responded without hesitation. "If the pilot doesn't respond to the order to land, shoot it down."

Chapter Twenty-nine

SHADOW 37

The Stealth bomber cruised serenely at 44,000 feet as Matthews and Brotskharnov monitored the radios for converging air traffic. Matthews, to avoid a possible midair collision, continued to fly between cardinal flight levels. Simmons, exercising his numb limbs in the confined space, remained alert and uncommunicative.

The morning light was rapidly overtaking the B-2 as it passed a point 1,180 miles northeast of Honolulu. Shadow 37 would be visible to aerial observers in forty-five minutes.

Matthews was surprised when he heard a Northwest Airlines pilot call another Northwest flight. "Ah. Northwest Sixty-Seven, Northwest Three-Twenty-Nine."

"Sixty-Seven, good morning."

Brotskharnov cocked his head, listening to the exchange.

"Morning," the pilot responded, then hesitated a moment. "We just had a call from operations. Seems the word is being passed to look out for the B-2—the Stealth bomber that disappeared."

Matthews sensed Brotskharnov glance at him. He looked over at the officer, noticing the Russian gripping his armrest.

"Okay," the astonished copilot radioed. "Any idea of the general location?"

"Negative," the 747 captain answered. "The military has a full-scale search under way. They believe the B-2 is airborne somewhere between the North Atlantic and the western Pacific, and the commercial crews are being asked to be on the alert."

"Ah… Six Seven," the copilot said, then paused and keyed his radio again. "Any news on Cuba?"

"All we know," the captain answered in his gravel voice, "is that Jarrett kicked 'em in the dirt this morning."

"Copy, Northwest Six Seven. Have a good flight."

"Three Two Nine."