going smoothly. However, the critical
moment would be when the agents on the ground became engaged. The success of
the operation rose and fell on what happened during that time, which was
estimated to only take three to five minutes. This was their last straw. Their
last ditch effort to rescue the President. It had to work.
* * *
Inside Air
Force One was total pandemonium. Tandy was flustered, as were the pilot and
co-pilot. Tandy had finally figured out that they were the ones being
forced to go down, not the F/A-18s, and he was not happy in the least.
“Tandy, I’m
putting down the wheels; we’re going to land,” the pilot shouted back over his
shoulder.
“No you fool, we
can’t land,” Tandy retorted. “ Bank left and climb, now. ”
“I think that
actually you’re the fool. If we bank left, we’ll still crash right into
the F/A-18 above us. We have no choice but to land.”
“They’ll kill
us!” Tandy fumed, his face turning beet red with anger.
“Maybe, maybe
not. But at least we have a chance. If we crash into that F/A-18, there’s no hope.
I’m landing, so buckle up.”
The instant the
pilot spoke those words, Air Force One brushed the ground, sending
everyone aboard flying, with the exception of the pilots. The plane had been flying
over a forest, but the pilot found an open meadow where he crash landed. Before
Tandy could even sit up, the front of Air Force One exploded, making the
interior lights go out, and sending him tumbling down the stairs to the main
level. Fortunately, Tandy had been far enough back at the time to escape the
explosion’s destruction, unlike the pilots.
Above, the F/A-18s
circled over the downed plane just as the FBI teams rushed toward the rear door.
Over the captain’s radio, a message came from Lawington telling him that the
agents had opened the door and were beginning to enter. Knowing that their job
was done, both F/A-18 Delta Hornets climbed into the dark night sky.
The FBI team had
opened Air Force One ’s rear door and now several of them rolled inside,
clicking on their night-vision goggles and searching for any sign of the President.
They were going to have to sweep forward as fast as they could, checking every
room and office.
Everything happened
so suddenly for the terrorists that many of them could not even respond. None
of them had night-vision goggles, so they could only depend on their sense of
hearing, and the full moon, which only illuminated a small portion of the
plane.
One of the agents
bolted into the staff office area, followed by the rest of the team, and spied
the President, sprawled out at the far corner of the room. The team had to get
to him before the terrorists did. Every agent had the same idea. In Close
Quarters Battle positions, five of them dashed for the President, firing bursts
of automatic gunfire as they ran toward him. The leader of the team reached him
first, and seeing one of the terrorists raising his pistol at him, swung up his
own rifle, and fired off several rounds. While doing so, he simultaneously
leaped on the President, shielding his body from the bullets flying about. The
team leader knew he had hit his target, for the shadowy man was screeching
wildly in pain. The other agents filled the room with bullets, several of which
found their way into the terrorists. But the light of the moon gave the terrorists
something to work with, and one of them rolled into the dark hallway. Tandy
slid up beside him and the two made ready their pistols.
The room was
quiet. The team leader didn’t dare try to move the President, lest someone
unseen put a bullet through him. Nobody moved. The FBI team, now reinforced by
the remaining agents who began pouring in, scanned the room for any hint of
danger. A few seconds later, four of the agents went to check for pulses on the
terrorists lying about, while the other agents covered them. Everyone appeared
to be dead.
“Sir,” an agent
told the
moment would be when the agents on the ground became engaged. The success of
the operation rose and fell on what happened during that time, which was
estimated to only take three to five minutes. This was their last straw. Their
last ditch effort to rescue the President. It had to work.
* * *
Inside Air
Force One was total pandemonium. Tandy was flustered, as were the pilot and
co-pilot. Tandy had finally figured out that they were the ones being
forced to go down, not the F/A-18s, and he was not happy in the least.
“Tandy, I’m
putting down the wheels; we’re going to land,” the pilot shouted back over his
shoulder.
“No you fool, we
can’t land,” Tandy retorted. “ Bank left and climb, now. ”
“I think that
actually you’re the fool. If we bank left, we’ll still crash right into
the F/A-18 above us. We have no choice but to land.”
“They’ll kill
us!” Tandy fumed, his face turning beet red with anger.
“Maybe, maybe
not. But at least we have a chance. If we crash into that F/A-18, there’s no hope.
I’m landing, so buckle up.”
The instant the
pilot spoke those words, Air Force One brushed the ground, sending
everyone aboard flying, with the exception of the pilots. The plane had been flying
over a forest, but the pilot found an open meadow where he crash landed. Before
Tandy could even sit up, the front of Air Force One exploded, making the
interior lights go out, and sending him tumbling down the stairs to the main
level. Fortunately, Tandy had been far enough back at the time to escape the
explosion’s destruction, unlike the pilots.
Above, the F/A-18s
circled over the downed plane just as the FBI teams rushed toward the rear door.
Over the captain’s radio, a message came from Lawington telling him that the
agents had opened the door and were beginning to enter. Knowing that their job
was done, both F/A-18 Delta Hornets climbed into the dark night sky.
The FBI team had
opened Air Force One ’s rear door and now several of them rolled inside,
clicking on their night-vision goggles and searching for any sign of the President.
They were going to have to sweep forward as fast as they could, checking every
room and office.
Everything happened
so suddenly for the terrorists that many of them could not even respond. None
of them had night-vision goggles, so they could only depend on their sense of
hearing, and the full moon, which only illuminated a small portion of the
plane.
One of the agents
bolted into the staff office area, followed by the rest of the team, and spied
the President, sprawled out at the far corner of the room. The team had to get
to him before the terrorists did. Every agent had the same idea. In Close
Quarters Battle positions, five of them dashed for the President, firing bursts
of automatic gunfire as they ran toward him. The leader of the team reached him
first, and seeing one of the terrorists raising his pistol at him, swung up his
own rifle, and fired off several rounds. While doing so, he simultaneously
leaped on the President, shielding his body from the bullets flying about. The
team leader knew he had hit his target, for the shadowy man was screeching
wildly in pain. The other agents filled the room with bullets, several of which
found their way into the terrorists. But the light of the moon gave the terrorists
something to work with, and one of them rolled into the dark hallway. Tandy
slid up beside him and the two made ready their pistols.
The room was
quiet. The team leader didn’t dare try to move the President, lest someone
unseen put a bullet through him. Nobody moved. The FBI team, now reinforced by
the remaining agents who began pouring in, scanned the room for any hint of
danger. A few seconds later, four of the agents went to check for pulses on the
terrorists lying about, while the other agents covered them. Everyone appeared
to be dead.
“Sir,” an agent
told the
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