Chapter 58
With his cocktail of medications taking effect, Ahab walked toward a battleship-gray aircraft that the Yellow Tigers had boldly named Saber One.
The plane had four wing-mounted engines, a narrow fuselage, and a vertical tail fin capped with a spear-like tube that stuck boldly forward.
It was similar in ways to the Starlifter, but different.
Every line, every curve, every point on this aircraft suggested the speed and style of a bygone era.
Through his newfound allies in Taiwan, Ahab had purchased the old military bird. The Philippine government pulled it out of mothballs, brought it up to minimal flight standards, and flew it toward Taiwan, only for the plane to be “lost” en route.
An old plane vanishing over the sea with only two pilots on board did not make the headlines, not even in the Philippines. And no one, other than Ahab and the Yellow Tigers, had given it a second thought since.
It matched the aircraft it was attempting to impersonate in every detail except two: instead of carrying large internal fuel tanks from which short-range fighters could draw jet fuel, it carried heavy electrical generators and Ahab’s version of the laser system.
The second distinction was a smoked-glass dome sitting on top of the fuselage thirty feet aft of the cockpit.
The dome looked vaguely like an observation cupola, but was actually the port through which Ahab’s laser would fire.
While the CIA had been correct about Ahab’s own abilities, they’d discounted the possibility of him gathering technical personnel under his wing.
The Yellow Tigers had taken care of that, finding pilots, mechanics, and weapons specialists, including men and women who’d worked with advanced laser systems on the island.
Between their expertise and stolen technical documents provided by Ridley, Ahab had been able to build his own version of the Enhanced Aerial Gunnery Laser in less than a year. All it lacked was the waveguide and other experimental parts that could only be found on the EAGL aircraft itself.
Knowing he was in a race against time, Ahab had pushed the Tigers to complete the work before he obtained those parts. Now after eight months of work refurbishing the plane and a few short test flights, the faux tanker was being prepared for its first—and almost certainly last—mission.
Ahab boarded the plane at the main door, turning forward and passing the bundles of cables and other electronics that would operate and guide the laser.
The laser sat amidships, directly above the wingbox—the most stable part of the plane.
The generators were behind it, making the plane into a tail-heavy machine that was cumbersome in takeoff and landing.
They needed one good takeoff, Ahab thought. There would be no landing.
He reached the cockpit to find Captain Chen in the left seat. A copilot chosen by Chen sat in the right seat. Behind them was a control space, where a young weapons officer trained on radar and laser operations sat. Ahab took a seat beside him.
“Starting number three engine,” Chen said, stretching for the controls and holding the switch down.
As the high-pitched wail of the jet engine rose up, the men pulled on their headsets. Ahab did the same, then pressed the intercom switch to speak. He figured one more rousing word couldn’t hurt. “Today shall be a day the world never forgets.”
The three men around Ahab nodded. The words meant something different to them than they did to him.