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“Gear up and locked,” he reported.
“Okay,” Torine said. “While I try to recall what all these switches and other stuff are for, why don’t you see if you can turn on the Radio Direction Finder and whatever other navigation equipment you find? I’m going to head for the Atlantic. ”
[TWO]
Aboard Costa Rican Air Transport 407 11.374 degrees North Latitude 81.699 degrees West Longitude Above the Atlantic Ocean 1505 10 June 2005
“Ah,” Torine said. “I wondered how long that would take.”
He pointed out his side window.
A USAF F-15 was on their wingtip. A moment later, a second appea
red directly ahead and two hundred feet over them. And then a third F-15 appeared on their right wingtip.
“What do you want to bet there’s one on our tail, too?” Torine asked.
The pilot of the F-15 on their left held up a hand-lettered sign. It read: “119.9.”
“Tune the radio, please,” Torine said.
Charley tuned one radio transceiver to 119.9 megahertz.
The voice of the fighter pilot came immediately into their headsets: “Costa Rican Air Transport Four-Oh-Seven, this is United States Air Force Six-Two-Two. Do you speak English? ”
“Reasonably well,” Torine replied after switching to TRANSMIT.
“You are directed to immediately commence a 180-degree two-minute turn and begin a descent to flight level ten. Do you understand?”
“Before I do that, son,” Colonel Torine said, “what I want you to do is get on your Abort Mission frequency and relay the following to Central Command: ‘Attention, General McFadden. I am in command of Costa Rican Air Transport Four-Oh-Seven. Regards. Jake.’ ”
“I repeat,” the F-15 pilot said, “you are directed to immediately comm—”
“I’m not going to tell you again, son,” Torine interrupted. "Get on the horn to CentCom now. Change the signature block to: ‘Jake Torine, Colonel, USAF.’ You read me?”
The F-15 pilot didn’t respond for nearly two minutes. Then he said: “Sir, what is your wife’s maiden name?”
“McNulty,” Torine said. “Mary Margaret McNulty.”
“Hold one, sir—
“Sir, CentCom directs that I accompany you to your destination. What is that, sir?”
Switching to INTERCOM, Torine looked at Castillo. “We never thought that far, did we, Charley? Where do you think we should go?”
"MacDill,” Castillo said.
“You’re anxious to face the wrath of General Naylor? I was going to suggest we go to Gitmo and give McNab and McFadden a chance to tell Naylor what heroes we are before we go home.”
“What would we do with four bodies at Gitmo?” Castillo replied. “I’m open to any suggestion, but it looks like MacDill is the answer.”
“What are you going to do with the bodies at MacDill?”
“You don’t want to know, Colonel. What I would like is a 160th Black Hawk, with two muscular crew chiefs, to meet us there with a couple of stretchers.”
“Air Force Six-Two-Two,” Torine said after switching back to TRANSMIT, “our destination is MacDill, repeat, MacDill. Advise MacDill that we will require a Special Forces Black Hawk and a stretcher-bearing team immediately on arrival. Acknowledge, please.”
[THREE]
