02 Thunder of Heaven: A Joshua Jordan Novel Read Free Page A

still out of her seat belt, felt herself being lifted violently into the air. She would have smashed straight into the ceiling — headfirst, with the force of an automobile crash — if Ethan March hadn’t instantly reached over her and blocked her with his arms and held on to her. Up front, a stewardess lay unconscious on the floor, having hit her head against the bulkhead before she had buckled into her jump seat.

    Five hundred feet away, the RTS laser beam had triggered the guidance system of the missile into a mirror image of its trajectory. The infrared head of the missile was deactivated, and the Stinger began a turning loop away from the jet. The missile was now on a path back to earth at fifteen hundred miles per hour, returning to the warehouse where it had been launched.
    On the ground, Ramzy couldn’t afford to wait even a few seconds to verify his hit. The Stinger missile left a visible plume behind it and they had to clear out of the launch area before they were sighted. He hurriedly repacked the launcher into the case. Hassan was already sprinting toward Farhat and the van.
    That is when Hassan, standing outside, thought he saw the glint of something in the air — a thin metallic object streaking through the sky toward them.
    It was the last thing he would see.
    When the missile struck the warehouse it ignited the fuel tanks. There was a flash and a deafening roar as the warehouse disintegrated in the enveloping ball of fire. Hassan, Ramzy, and Farhat were consumed instantly. Four workers on the loading dock of the neighboring building were taking a break. They never knew what hit them. The shock wave from the blast blew them a hundred feet from the building, which imploded behind them. Its windows sprayed broken glass in a shimmering mist as the walls buckled. The sonic blast could be heard all the way to the New Jersey shore.

    In the cockpit of Flight 433, the LCD screen on the flight deck was flashing “F IELD C LEAR ,” and the buzzer ceased. The pilot corrected his flight path.
    Deborah found herself in a heap on Ethan’s lap with his arms still locked around her. She climbed back into her seat as their hearts banged in their chests.
    Deborah threw a glance up to the ceiling of the plane, realizing what might have happened. She managed a smile and turned to Ethan. “Thanks. Really.”
    In the cockpit, the pilot radioed the tower. “Permission requested to use RTS secondary countermeasures per FAA rules. Over.”
    “Hey, what happened? What the — ”
    “Permission requested for RTS.”
    “Don’t understand — ”
    “Look, I’ll just take that as permission granted. Thanks, tower. Over.”

    Two minutes later, the men on the roof near LAX airport were monitoring the Los Angeles flight to Las Vegas. They had already receivedan ecstatic voice message on their sat-fone from the Chicago cell group: “Plane down! Plane down! Allah be praised!”
    Now the Chechen was helping the Arab missile expert shoulder the Stinger launcher.
    “Hear it? Listen. That’s our jet!” he cried out. Then he added, “We have to bring it down like our brothers in Chicago.”
    The missile man aimed his launcher. The 797 was appearing off to the left. His aim would be exact. He pulled the trigger, and the missile blew straight up into the sky, leading the approaching jet perfectly in its approach.
    In the cockpit, bells went off. The copilot automatically slammed down on the countermeasures button. Two flares shot out, heading for the incoming missile.
    The pilot next to him was yelling. “What is it? What is it?”
    But before he could get a response, he could see it on the screen. The flares had diverted the heat-seeking missile from its trajectory slightly, but just slightly. The pilot and copilot could see the missile for a split second. The pilot prayed aloud that the missile would not hone in on the heat from his engines.
    “Get away … get away…!”
    The missile shot past the jet with a trail of smoke.