Shadow of Eden Read Free Page A

frequencies. “SF thirty-one to Base. Requesting authorization to terminate United flight 1733.”

    Inside the 747, the gravity eased as they leveled out. “Can you get up here?” Steve yelled.
    “I think I can. Wait.” In a moment, Steve saw the arm of the pilot reach around his left side and grab the yoke. “Okay . . . got it.” That left the right side open for Steve to slither out. Verness jumped in and rapidly flipped switches. Quickly surveying his instruments, he commanded to Steve, “Wake up the copilot.”
    Suddenly, bright lines streaked in front of the cockpit window. “Shit! Tracers!” Verness flipped a switch and a voice filled the cockpit.
    “I order you to deviate this flight thirty degrees starboard or you will be shot down. This is my final warning.”
    Picking up his headset, Verness responded. “This is United 1733. We are in flame-out status. I am Captain Marvin Verness now in control. We are not . . .”
    “Deviate now. This is my final warning.”
    Verness examined the instruments and made a quick calculation. “Listen, ace, I have no engines. If I turn, I lose airspeed and without power, we will stall.”

    Lieutenant Kuss had watched the change of pilots in the dim cockpit light. The new guy appeared to be in uniform. Who was the other guy?
    “You must deviate your course now,” Kuss repeated.
    “Negative. I cannot turn until I have an engine and power,” the voice reported, “It takes two minutes to spool our engines up.”
    Damn! The 747 pilot had put him in a quandary. The new pilot was right. The glide ratio of the unpowered 747 jet was roughly similar to a lawn dart. Kuss’s stomach knotted in indecision. He had precious little time to make up his mind—with the Pentagon dead ahead.
    “Kisser,” his wingman’s tense voice spoke. “Locked on and ready for your order.”

    “Wake up, wake up!” Steve shook the unconscious copilot by the shoulders. The co-pilot’s body was limp and unresponsive. Steve read his name tag. “McElroy, wake up!” He shook him again.
    A half-filled plastic water bottle sat in a cup holder right under Steve’s elbow. Snatching it up, he unscrewed the cap, and dumped it over the man’s head. McElroy’s eyes flickered open momentarily and he inhaled deeply, followed by a groan.
    Steve shook the copilot again. “McElroy, wake up!”
    McElroy’s eyes opened slightly and stared ahead blankly. “Leave me alone.” He batted at Steve’s hands. “Ohhh . . . my head.” He raised his hand to his scalp and touched it gingerly.
    “You’ve got to help us.”
    He turned to Steve with a glazed look, “Huh?”
    Verness bellowed up. “We’re on dead stick. We need your help.”
    “What?” McElroy sat up, more alert, and quickly glanced around trying to absorb what was every pilot’s worst nightmare. “Holy shit.”
    “Number two’s gone somehow,” Verness announced. “Starting number three. Take over.”
    “Roger.” Reaching with his left hand, McElroy yelped and grabbed his wrist. “Is this right? he asked incredulously, “six hundred feet and five-thirty knots?”
    “Speed’s dropping fast.” Verness added acerbically, “Not to mention getting shot.”
    Verness twisted a dial on the radio transmitter and spoke. “Washington tower, this is United 1733.”
    The reply was immediate. “United 1733, this is Washington Approach.”
    “Tower, we’ve flamed out,” Verness’s controlled voice reported. “Request emergency landing priority.”
    “Roger, United 1733. Head for runway one-eight, heading one-seven-zero. Priority approach. You’ve got two F-16s escorting you. Good luck.”
    “Call off the dogs if you can. I plan to walk away from this, God willing.”
    “Washington National?” McElroy protested. “They’re not rated for wide bodies.”
    Verness made another course adjustment before replying, “I know.”
    Oliveros, now awake and mobile, enlisted Steve to wrestle the still unconscious Captain Palmer into the