Chapter 70
Thirty miles from where they’d come across the coast, the two aging jets charged across the landscape at shockingly low altitude. They rose to avoid jagged bluffs, dropped down on opposite sides, and weaved back and forth as they flew between peaks of higher elevation.
Animals and agricultural workers on a terraced field snapped their heads around as the big jets suddenly appeared, raced down the valley beside them, and disappeared beyond the next rise.
If not for the incredible skill of the two pilots, both aircraft would have already crashed into a hill or had a wing ripped off by cutting a corner too sharply.
At each passing moment, the laser in Saber One fired repeatedly. Not at the Starlifter, which remained locked in its shadow, but at other targets: Chinese targets.
Radio chatter suggested several top-of-the-line J-20 aircraft had been obliterated. A swarm of ground-to-air missiles were wiped out seconds later.
“Damned impressive system,” Kurt said.
The idea that a single forty-year-old plane could hold off the combined efforts of the world’s two most powerful militaries boggled the mind. A second wave of missiles was taken out at long range, and then suddenly, quite miraculously, they stopped coming.
“Is this good or bad?” Joe wondered.
“No idea,” Kurt said. “But I think we’re on our own.”
A wide, muddy river appeared up ahead. Saber One crossed above a smattering of industrial buildings and broke hard to the right. It flew lower and lower, until it was skimming the surface.
Joe matched the turn, continuing the high-speed chase over the last row of hills and down to the river. His heart was pounding. Handling the unfamiliar plane demanded tremendous effort and intense concentration.
“Where are we heading?” Kurt asked.
Joe looked at the moving map display. “This is the Min River. It leads to Fuzhou and Langqi Island. They must be going for the Chinese command center.”
As they raced along the channel, the laser flashed in multiple bursts, ripping into the industrial buildings along the banks. The buildings erupted in flames, as if they’d been hit with firebombs. A refinery was the next target. It became a hundred-acre inferno in a matter of seconds.
“And they’re going to leave a trail of destruction along the way,” Joe added. “We’d better do something quick.”
“I have an idea,” Kurt said, “but we’ve got to take the lead.”
“They’re flying on the deck. I can’t get under them.”
Kurt was heading toward the cargo compartment. “Find a way” was all he said as he disappeared through the door.
Joe had a vague idea what Kurt was planning, but he couldn’t imagine how they were going to get in front of Saber One without getting shot down.
Racing along the river with no more than twenty feet of space between the underside of the aircraft and the water, Joe’s attention alternated between the plane in front of them, the moving map display, and the jagged terrain on the sides of the river.
A set of barges appeared up ahead. Tied up, sitting empty and riding high, they might as well have been a ten-story building in the middle of the waterway.
Saber One avoided them to the right.
Joe banked left. Seconds later the two planes were tucked in together once again.
Apartment blocks and condo towers raced by on either side. Joe could only imagine what the people of the city thought waking up to see two giant American aircraft streaking past.
Looking farther ahead, Joe saw large towers made of metal latticework on both sides of the river. They held power lines.
Saber One rose up, climbing above them. Joe kept Starlifter’s nose down and risked going underneath. The plane made it through without getting ensnared. It picked up a few hundred yards on its quarry. Maybe, just maybe, Joe had found his way.
A second set of power lines appeared. Joe repeated his daring maneuver as Saber One took the safe route. The gap closed even farther.
Glancing at the map, Joe could see a different issue up ahead. Two miles on, a bridge crossed the river, and then another and another. Strangely, Joe remembered someone calling Fozhou the city of bridges. A quick glance at the map had proven this to be true.
If he could dive under some of them, or skim the tops of the lower ones, while Saber One climbed to fly above them, each bridge would pull him closer to taking the lead. If he managed to gain the lead by even a hundred feet, it would give Kurt the opportunity to enact his plan.
He tapped the intercom button. “You’re going to get a chance in a few minutes,” he said. “Whatever you have in mind, be ready.”
Kurt lowered the tail ramp at the back of the plane. A hurricane of noise and wind stormed in. Out beyond he saw the rushing water and the mottled landscape roar past.
The plane dipped. The ramp almost hit the water. The power lines flashed overhead, disappearing behind them.
Silently, Kurt marveled at Joe’s flying ability. If he had joined the Air Force, he would have been a test pilot or a member of the Thunderbirds. With Joe at the controls, he knew they had a chance.
Ignoring the shuddering airframe and the howling wind, Kurt went from one cart to another, releasing the brakes and disconnecting the tie-down chains that held them in place.
The plane pitched again. This time pulling up.
A low concrete bridge flashed past. A truck tumbled over on its side, lifted off its wheels by the Starlifter’s wake turbulence.
A second bridge was skimmed without incident.
By the time they skipped over the third, Kurt had freed the entire baggage train.
He climbed on the tug that had been used to pull the missiles onto the plane and prepared to push them out.
Without warning, the jet banked to the right. And instead of a shallow bump upward and quick drop down, it climbed sharply as if trying to scale a mountain.
The baggage train pulled tight. The tug began to slide backward. Kurt stepped hard on the brake and the big tires gripped the deck and held firm.
Through the open door, Kurt saw the city of Fuzhou with all of its high-rise towers, condos, and factories. He saw a bridge pass beneath them, then four more, all packed together across a narrow gap where the river turned to the right.
The first bridge was a low concrete span. It was followed by a pair of suspension bridges boasting tall, white towers. Shimmering steel cables stretched from the towers to the bridge deck like the strings of a giant harp. A bullet train was forging its way across one bridge on a set of tracks.
Both bridges were high enough that Joe might have flown under them, but another pair of older and lower bridges blocked their path.
The area known as Five Bridges retreated rapidly behind the plane as Joe dove to the river once more. They were heading east now, directly toward the Chinese command center.
Joe’s voice came over the intercom. “One more bridge up ahead. It’s now or never.”
Kurt revved the engine and then put the tug in gear.