“The Suez has two access channels on the north side. The strike will occur where they merge, near the Third July Tunnel. It is one of the narrowest points, and the central island will make cleanup all but impossible. As to when…al-fajr.”
Clark was familiar with the Arabic term. True dawn.
He stood and pulled out his phone.
65
Sparky 41
Mediterranean Sea
0202 Local Time
The E2-D Hawkeye, call sign Sparky 41, shot from theFord’s deck toward a high half-moon. It clawed to altitude quickly and her pilots kept the power up; speed was not an attribute of the straight-wing, twin-turboprop design, and the looming fight was far in front of them. What the Hawkeye lacked in Mach, however, it more than made up for with connectivity—sensor, voice, and data-link signals traveled at the speed of light.
There had been no time for a mission briefing; the crew—two pilots and three mission system operators—had received orders to launch and establish immediate contact with the four-ship of Hornets already airborne, call sign Glock 21. Further instructions would follow.
The Hawkeye’s usual mission was to support strike packages by scanning the sky and ground with its powerful APY-9 radar, and to provide early warning for fleet defense. Thirty miles into the flight, however, Sparky 41 received tasking unlike anythingthe crew had ever seen. For their part, the risks would be minimal. The same couldn’t be said for others.
The comm officer pushed to the tactical frequency, raised Glock 21, and prepared to forward the bad news.
—
“Glock two-one, Sparky. We have a mission amendment.”
Lava, flying the lead Hornet, didn’t like the sound of it. The tone of the systems operator was a message in itself, but the last two words were the clincher.Mission amendment. He poised a pencil over his kneeboard.
“Go ahead, Sparky.”
The mission operator spoke plainly, relying on the frequency-hopping radio for COMSEC. There were few details, but the most unusual suggested that the drones they were being sent to hunt down were carrying some manner of radiological agent. Their objective was given in only the broadest of brushstrokes. Put an end to a terrorist attack. The details would be left to them. This wasn’t the vague close air support mission they’d been told to expect, but rather air interdiction. And that was a major problem. They would be chasing down new targets with the wrong munitions—they’d been loaded with bombs, not missiles. Worse yet, depending on where these targets were, the Hornets might not have enough gas to return to theFord.
“Two-one, two-three,” inquired Spanx after they’d had a moment to process the new orders.
“Go, two-three.”
“Shoot down ten drones? How the hell is that gonna happen? We’re loaded for air-to-ground.”
“Missions change. All four of us have a full load in the gun.”
“Sure, but that means getting close. If these targets are hauling some kind radiological liquid it could get really messy.”
“We’ll figure it out.” Lava then said, “Break, Sparky, Glock two-one.”
“Go ahead for Sparky, two-one.”
“Any idea how far ahead these Shaheds are?”
“That’s a negative, two-one. Message says proceed at best speed to locate. Looks like it’s on you to find them.”
Lava tried to think of a smart-ass reply, but nothing came to mind. Anyway, the mission operator was only the messenger.
“Two-one copies. Can you give me coordinates for…I guess the canal entrance?”
After a short delay, the mission operator provided a lat/long pairing. Lava typed it into his nav computer and moved the waypoint to the top line.
“Okay, Glock flight. Zero-eight-six degrees, three hundred ninety miles.” Lava looked down and saw nothing but sea. “We’re over the deep blue and these bombs are only going to slow us down. Let’s jettison all JDAMs. And as soon as the bags are dry, we’ll drop those, too.”
“Two-three concurs. Speed is life.”
