Ron Schwartz - The Griffins Heart.txt Read online

  Simple? This looks simple to her? Logan stared at Marie for a moment. She must really be something if she thinks it looks simple. Could he trust her? He was putting a great deal of confidence into what she was telling him. What if she couldn’t do it? The documents would still have to be destroyed.

  “Very well.” He went back to his own seat, leaving the document with her. The flight attendant came over and led Marie to the front.

  He looked around at the dead Arabs. One of them had to be the CheeTAh, and this flight must have been the target. Now no one would know for sure just who he was. Maybe this whole group is CTA, he thought. One thing bothered him, though: if this was the CheeTAh’s work, he would have known it to be his last mission. Why would the CheeTAh, with all his success, have planned on a suicide mission? Something didn’t add up.

  By the time Marie made it into the cabin, Rob was wearing the captain’s uniform. It almost fit, too. Aside from the blood stains on the coat, he looked very much the part.

  “Marie, this is very important. I’m sorry that I don’t have time to explain all the reasons for what I’m about to ask of you, but I need you to take a giant leap of faith. It’s absolutely imperative that you just trust me and do what I ask you to do.”

  Marie nodded, uncertain.

  “You and the children must not let on that you know me. For your own safety and that of the children, you must keep quiet.”

  “What?”

  The flight attendant switched Rob’s ID with that of the dead captain.

  “Listen, Marie. Your husband was killed. He’s lying in the small cabin out there.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know if I...? How can I keep the children from...? Why are you doing this? Why is everyone expecting me to trust and no one’s telling me what’s going on? Why do I have to be kept in the dark about everything?”

  “Please! Just listen, Marie. I’m sorry, but we don’t have much time. As long as we have a pilot, there is a chance that they’ll let us refuel and leave. Otherwise, they’ll keep us wherever they’re taking us, and the longer we’re there, the harder it will be for us to leave. There’s so much I’ve got to learn about in a very short time. Remember, my name is...” Rob glanced at his name tag. “Captain Glen Thomas. You and Nancy must go and explain to the other passengers what we’re going to do. We’ll need all of them to cooperate.”

  As she turned to leave, the rabbi caught her arm. “It will be okay. There is a special purpose for you and your husband. Your husband, he is like Moses, and you must trust him. He is here to lead you all into freedom.”

  Rob caught her eye, he made a motion indicating that the old man was crazy. But she wasn’t so sure.

  The old man turned his head in time to see what Rob was doing. “You disagree?”

  Rob smiled. “Absolutely! I lucked out in killing those terrorists, so don’t make me into a Moses.”

  The rabbi stared at him for a long moment. Then he turned back to Marie to continue softly, “...and just like Moses, a reluctant leader.”

  Marie had to smile. That was Rob, all right.

  Concorde Flight 1430

  Fifteen miles north of Al-Fallujah Air Force Base

  Al-Fallujah, Iraq

  The Iraqi fighter led the Concorde to a military facility just north of Baghdad. With the rabbi’s help, Rob had come to understand the controls. “Okay, the gear is down and set.”

  “Yes, now slow down and feel how the airplane settles back like a graceful bird.”

  Rob gently reduced the throttle and adjusted the flaps.

  “Flying is like music.” The rabbi waved his right stump back and forth to the beat of an imaginary song. “Do you feel it?”

  “No.”

  “Yes, that’s it. It’s like a dance. There’s rhythm and grace to it. Feel how the airplane sets back as it slows down. Do you feel it yet?”

  Suddenly, Rob’s face lit up. “Yes! I think I do! I need to continue slowing... No, that’s too much.”

  “What you just felt was a stall. The airplane was slowing too much.”

  “I see what you mean about feeling it, though. I can do this. This airplane stalls out at under a hundred seventy-five miles an hour.”

  The runway was slowly rising to meet them.

  “Now just before the airplane touches, pull it up slightly to avoid an impact.”

  Rob pulled back the steering control slightly, and the Concorde responded.

  “Let it settle to a rest.”

  A loud screech and a subtle jar rocked the airplane as the rear wheels met the pavement. Then, slowly, the front wheel came down to rest also. It was almost professional. As the Concorde taxied to the end of the runway, it was met by about a dozen armored vehicles and some emergency equipment.

  Rob jumped up to leave the flight cabin, then looked back. The old rabbi was still sitting. “Come with me.”

  But the old man just waved his hand and began to sing some hymn in Hebrew while staring out the window.

  Rob stepped back to the rabbi’s side. “Do you need help?”

  The rabbi stopped singing, looked up, and touched Rob’s chest. “You have great strength of heart. You have the courage of King David.”

  “What are you saying now? I’m not their leader, and I’m not asking to be their leader.”

  The old rabbi’s smile never wavered. “Neither did Moses ask. It just happened. Go now and leave me.”

  Rob looked irritated. “Look, I can appreciate your culture and history, but what’s happening now is not a fairytale, and I’m no knight in shining armor. I’m a computer programmer, and that’s all.”

  “Tell me, have you ever heard of our King David?”

  “Yes, he lived thousands of years ago.”

  “That is correct. Did you know he is the greatest warrior my people have ever known?”

  “No, I wasn’t aware of that.”

  “Do you know what he did before he became that warrior?”

  “He was a shepherd, right?”

  “That is correct. You see, he, too, was an unlikely hero, just as you are. He was a shepherd, and you are a computer programmer. You see, it’s not always skill that makes a winner. Sometimes it just takes heart. If a lowly shepherd boy could become our greatest king, then what chance does a computer programmer have?”

  The old rabbi gazed piercingly deep into Rob’s eyes. “You are right to worry about me. If I come with you, I will only be killed. Jewish rabbis are not looked upon with favor here. So go now, you have a long journey awaiting you, and my destiny is here. Go! Leave me!”

  Rob left the flight cabin and entered the passenger cabin. The door was open, and soldiers were boarding. All the passengers disembarked and grouped together in front of the airplane. He looked around. Where’s the old rabbi? He went to the nearest guard. “Why wasn’t the old rabbi allowed to leave the airplane?”

  “What is this? Old rabbi, you say?”

  “The old rabbi in there. There is an old rabbi still inside the airplane, and I insist that he come with us.”

  “You speak of an old rabbi. There is none. No one inside. Concorde is empty! Checked side in out, I see no one there!”

  “Let me go look for myself.”

  “You stay. She can go see.” The guard pointed his gun at Nancy.

  When Nancy finally emerged, she was alone.

  “Where is he?” Rob asked.

  She looked visibly troubled. “I don’t know.”

  He studied her face. Was she hiding something? Was she only pretending not to know where he was? For the sake of the old man, he dropped the subject.

  Logan knew this place well: his daily intelligence reports almost always referenced this airbase. It is a highly secure and heavily defended base. He no longer carried his briefcase, and since he had no other way of destroying his documents permanently, he had eaten them.

  Day Two

  Third Company

  Code Name: Times Square

  Saudi Arabia/Kuwait border
r />   Patrolling the desert along the Iraqi-Saudi Arabia border, Third Company was part of the American ground force from the First Armor Division. Attached to them was a Mechanized Company with fourteen Bradley fighting vehicles to add to their own fourteen Abrams tanks.

  The tanks were outfitted with the new one hundred twenty millimeter cannon with thermal sights for night and combat fighting, fully stabilized for fighting on the run. They had their greatest advantage against the Iraqi tanks when doing battle at night. The Iraqis found this out the hard way during Desert Storm. The Abrams tank could see, identify, target, and destroy the Russian-made Iraqi tanks before they even knew the Abrams was there. For this reason, the Iraqis prepared for a daylight assault centered at the position Third Company now patrolled.

  A Desert Storm veteran, Captain Travis Taylor was the company commander. He was part of the Armor Division that swept around Kuwait and surrounded the Iraqi army. He now was standing atop his tank peering through some oversized binoculars at the movement before him. His tanks were all concealed behind sand dunes.

  “It looks like twenty... maybe twenty-five,” he said into his radio.

  The division commander was located approximately thirty miles behind Taylor’s position in Saudi Arabia. “We have confirmation that an air attack has just occurred inside Kuwaiti airspace. This may be the start of an all out offensive.”

  “What are my orders?”

  “You have permission to defend yourselves if attacked. Under no circumstances are you to initiate an attack. Keep me posted: I want to know every detail, Captain.”

  Taylor was the son of a Nebraska farmer, and his family had lived there for three generations. Being too short and skinny when he was in school, he had never taken part in the sports all good Nebraskans should: football and wrestling. All he was known for was auburn hair and freckles, neither of which was helpful in the environment in which he now found himself.

  He was not considered an exceptional leader. His last evaluation report stated: “he is meticulous and stays calm in a crisis.” Translated, it meant he tended to do things by the book and lacked imagination. That may be true, he thought to himself, but the only way to stall a force as significant as this is by the book. It would take exact timing and careful execution, something of which he was very capable.

  He had counted more than twenty tanks a little over two miles away with an infantry attachment behind them. If this was the beginning of an assault, then this would just be the spearhead. The main force would be a mile or two behind them. He decided to keep his forces hidden for now and monitor the approaching armor column. It was his responsibility to stall the invaders until the rest of the division mobilized and reinforced him. He knew only too well that this would mean bleeding his precious tanks and armored vehicles in order to buy time.

  “Lieutenant, inform the captain of the Mechanized Company that he is to have his Bradleys make their way down to the other side of this formation carefully so they don’t reveal themselves.” He pointed to an area about five hundred yards west of their present position. “Over there where that opening is. When the Iraqis are in range, they are to fire their TOW missiles and take out the lead tanks. Then scatter and fire at will on any open target.”

  The young lieutenant left to relay the instructions.

  Taylor hoped to surprise the attacking force with the TOW anti-tank missiles. Then, as the enemy turned their attention on the scattering Bradleys, the Abrams would attack from the other side. With any luck, the enemy will mistake his company for a much larger force and retreat, buying the division time to mobilize.

  A typical textbook maneuver, he told himself.

  “General, the advancing columns are two hundred meters from the Saudi border. Do I have permission to engage?”

  “When the first tank rolls onto the first inch of Saudi territory, you are authorized to engage. We have just received confirmation that Iraqi aircraft are striking targets in both Kuwait and Saudi Arabia. You are to assume that this is not a maneuver but an all out attack. That means you and your company are sitting right in the middle of Times Square. It’s going to get real hot there, and you can expect attacks from the air shortly.”

  Taylor knew that the infantry from the Mechanized Company had already dispersed anti-aircraft crews and set up their stinger missile launchers. They were ready.

  When the lead tanks were at seventeen hundred meters and just crossing the Saudi border, Taylor saw the TOW missiles streak away. Twelve TOW missiles launched from the Bradleys, and within seconds, they exploded on the lead tanks. Then Taylor’s Abrams moved up the side of the dune and began to fire. The lead elements of the Armor column was completely destroyed within seconds. The Iraqi armor had been caught out in the open, and the result was disastrous for them.

  Now, as Third Company repositioned itself to fire again, and the Iraqis attempted regroup for a counter-offensive, one thing was clear: the lines had been drawn. The war had begun.

  Al-Fullajuh Air Force Base

  Near Al-Fullajuh, Iraq

  As the passengers were boarding a bus, Logan couldn’t help but notice the activity at the airbase. It must have started then, he thought as he made his way onto the bus. We’re going to be here for a very long time. He walked down the aisle and sat beside Rob. Marie was sitting behind Rob with the children.

  “It’s a beautiful day today.”

  Rob gave him a sideways glance.

  “There’s a lot of air traffic going on.”

  “Well, they did just intercept a foreign aircraft invading the airspace.”

  “True.”

  Marie overheard the conversation and remembered the page that she had memorized. She leaned back and stared at the ceiling. If the page he gave her was even half as important as he suggested, then she must not forget anything. Not a thing! She concentrated hard. She could see the page. She could see the codes. There were forty-three lines on the page, each line having twenty-two sets of characters separated by a space. Line by line, she reviewed the document, studying it until she felt comfortable that each line was etched into her memory.

  The bus was accompanied in front and behind by a land rover full of military guards. The drive took almost two hours, headed in a southeastern direction. Eventually they arrived at their destination. From the outside, they could see a tall cement wall surrounding a complex, very stark and abandoned. In each of the four corners was a raised platform with a machine gun crew and spotlight. In the center was one large building with steel doors and bars on all the windows surrounded by several smaller units.

  As the passengers were unloaded one at a time and their passports and ID’s checked and recorded, Rob had time to sit and study the complex. The Iraqis seemed to have no intention of releasing them. They’d been moved so far out into the desert. Were they deliberately concealing their location? Was the prison environment meant to keep them in or rescuers out? Whatever the case, the Iraqis were certainly expecting a rescue attempt. At the prospect, he felt both nervous and better at the same time.

  Everyone was allowed to bring with them only the luggage that they had brought on board the flight. The businessmen had their laptops, the camera crew had its cameras, and the young girls had their makeup. Then they were escorted to a large room on the second floor of the center building, which looked like it may have been a dormitory at one time. It had two large, square cement pillars evenly spaced through the center of the room. There were three large windows laced with thick steel bars imbedded in the cement. The only way in and out was through two huge doors that hinged opposite each other. In one corner, a small video camera was mounted on the wall, pointed toward the center of the room. In another, there was a neatly stacked pile of folded blankets and pillows. At the back corner was another opening where there was a small bathroom lacking a door.

  At this point, the guards began to search them. Fortunately, these guards were untrained and seemed more concerned with robbing them than they were with security. They wanted je
welry and money, competing with each other as to who could search the most passengers and collect the most money in the least amount of time.

  Rob watched as one guard listened to the camera crew’s arguments for why they should be able to keep their equipment. The guard, half listening, seemed more concerned with how many passengers the other guards were going through. In the end, he allowed the camera crew to keep their equipment and rushed off to search other passengers before the others could get any further.

  Turning around, Rob noticed a curious guard holding a floppy diskette in one hand and Marie’s purse in the other. He didn’t seem to know what he was holding. She was fumbling for words.

  Rob had to think fast. “You have a coaster, Mrs. Anderson?”