Primary Target (1999) by Joe - Dalton Weber, Sullivan 01
Authors: Joe - Dalton Weber, Sullivan 01
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Normally, if the president traveled west or southwest from the capital, Air Force One would be in range of the airstrip. Situated in the far western corner of West Virginia, the landing field was a simple grass strip a short distance from the confluence of the Ohio and Guyandotte rivers.
Slowly and methodically, trees and bushes had been planted thirty to forty feet from the sides of the runway. Other varieties of camouflage had been carefully planted to deceive curious observers. Viewed from the air, or from the ground, the landing site blended in with the rest of the Mountain State countryside.
Although the Internet provided flight-tracking services for aircraft operating on instrument flight plans within the contiguous U . S ., Farkas and his team would have to rely on two operatives for flight information about Air Force One. Real-time flight data on military flights, Drug Enforcement Agency aircraft, civilian operators who request anonymity, and Air Force One is filtered from the Internet.
Farkas relaxed and let his mind drift, then stretched his legs and prepared to begin his descent profile. He didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention to the airplane or to himself. As far as the Air Route Traffic Control Centers were concerned, the attack airplane was a Sabreliner corporate jet. He had taken off VFR from Casper, then filed an instrument flight plan en route. The air traffic controllers wouldn't know the difference, unless another aircraft flying near the A-4 pointed out that it was, in fact, a military jet. From experience, Farkas was confident that no one would finger him. He waited patiently for a radio frequency change for the upcoming sector, then switched to the next controller. "Indianapolis Center, Sabre Sixty-Seven Alpha Kilo with you at three-seven-oh with a request."
"Six-Seven Alpha Kilo, Indianapolis. Say your request." "Alpha Kilo would like to start down."
"Roger, Sabre Six-Seven Alpha Kilo. Descend and maintain three-three-zero, and I'll have lower for you shortly." "Down to three-three-oh, Alpha Kilo."
Keeping the power where it was, he lowered the nose and began a series of rolls while he descended to 33,000 feet. A minute later, the controller cleared him to begin a descent toward his destination. Out of 12,000 feet, Farkas began slowing to 250 knots and canceled his instrument flight plan out of 10,000 feet. He squawked 1200 on his transponder--the standard code for visual flight rules--and blended in wit h the other VFR traffic on the controller's radar scope. Less than thirty seconds later Farkas turned his transponder off and became a semistealthy radar image. No one would be the wiser that a corporate Sabreliner had suddenly metamorphosed into a lethal military attack jet.
Ten minutes later the A-4 arrived at the secluded private airstrip. Farkas made a firm landing, brought the airplane to a halt at the end of the grass strip, then raised the flaps and retracted the speed brakes. He quickly taxied the Skyhawk directly to the hangar and stopped next to a freshly painted corporate jet.
After Farkas climbed down from the A-4, two members of his special action cell used a John Deere utility tractor to park the airplane in the hangar. In the back of the hangar sat three containers of Sidewinder air-to-air missiles and fourteen cases of shells for the Mk-12 cannons. Eight Iranian-supplied Swedish Bofors RBS-70 portable antiaircraft missiles completed the arsenal. Before the day was over, the Skyhawk would be loaded with cannon shells and two heat-seeking missiles.
Farkas noticed a new container sitting next to the cannon shells. He opened the box and smiled with great pleasure. These should be considered weapons of mass destruction. The nine Russian-built GPS jammers could immobilize military and civilian signals, including Russia's own Glonass Global Orbiting Navigation Satellite. When winter storms engulfed the major airports along the East Coast of the United States, Farkas and his
Slowly and methodically, trees and bushes had been planted thirty to forty feet from the sides of the runway. Other varieties of camouflage had been carefully planted to deceive curious observers. Viewed from the air, or from the ground, the landing site blended in with the rest of the Mountain State countryside.
Although the Internet provided flight-tracking services for aircraft operating on instrument flight plans within the contiguous U . S ., Farkas and his team would have to rely on two operatives for flight information about Air Force One. Real-time flight data on military flights, Drug Enforcement Agency aircraft, civilian operators who request anonymity, and Air Force One is filtered from the Internet.
Farkas relaxed and let his mind drift, then stretched his legs and prepared to begin his descent profile. He didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention to the airplane or to himself. As far as the Air Route Traffic Control Centers were concerned, the attack airplane was a Sabreliner corporate jet. He had taken off VFR from Casper, then filed an instrument flight plan en route. The air traffic controllers wouldn't know the difference, unless another aircraft flying near the A-4 pointed out that it was, in fact, a military jet. From experience, Farkas was confident that no one would finger him. He waited patiently for a radio frequency change for the upcoming sector, then switched to the next controller. "Indianapolis Center, Sabre Sixty-Seven Alpha Kilo with you at three-seven-oh with a request."
"Six-Seven Alpha Kilo, Indianapolis. Say your request." "Alpha Kilo would like to start down."
"Roger, Sabre Six-Seven Alpha Kilo. Descend and maintain three-three-zero, and I'll have lower for you shortly." "Down to three-three-oh, Alpha Kilo."
Keeping the power where it was, he lowered the nose and began a series of rolls while he descended to 33,000 feet. A minute later, the controller cleared him to begin a descent toward his destination. Out of 12,000 feet, Farkas began slowing to 250 knots and canceled his instrument flight plan out of 10,000 feet. He squawked 1200 on his transponder--the standard code for visual flight rules--and blended in wit h the other VFR traffic on the controller's radar scope. Less than thirty seconds later Farkas turned his transponder off and became a semistealthy radar image. No one would be the wiser that a corporate Sabreliner had suddenly metamorphosed into a lethal military attack jet.
Ten minutes later the A-4 arrived at the secluded private airstrip. Farkas made a firm landing, brought the airplane to a halt at the end of the grass strip, then raised the flaps and retracted the speed brakes. He quickly taxied the Skyhawk directly to the hangar and stopped next to a freshly painted corporate jet.
After Farkas climbed down from the A-4, two members of his special action cell used a John Deere utility tractor to park the airplane in the hangar. In the back of the hangar sat three containers of Sidewinder air-to-air missiles and fourteen cases of shells for the Mk-12 cannons. Eight Iranian-supplied Swedish Bofors RBS-70 portable antiaircraft missiles completed the arsenal. Before the day was over, the Skyhawk would be loaded with cannon shells and two heat-seeking missiles.
Farkas noticed a new container sitting next to the cannon shells. He opened the box and smiled with great pleasure. These should be considered weapons of mass destruction. The nine Russian-built GPS jammers could immobilize military and civilian signals, including Russia's own Glonass Global Orbiting Navigation Satellite. When winter storms engulfed the major airports along the East Coast of the United States, Farkas and his
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