Shadow Flight

The B-2 pilot, knowing that the bomber did not generate contrails, had to do something to make the aircraft visible. He manipulated the fuel controls again, deliberately taking extra steps to conceal his next move. He raised his hand an inch, then activated the fuel dump switch. The caution light illuminated, but no one noticed. Hundreds of pounds of fuel streamed out of the bomber in two frothy white trails.

The first officer on Cathay Pacific Flight 12 handed his breakfast tray to the smiling flight attendant, then turned in his seat. He was peering out of the windshield as the B-2 commenced dumping fuel. The two white trails showcased the Stealth bombe'r directly in front of the 747.

"Look!" the copilot pointed. "That's a… it's a B-2!"

The captain focused outside. "Good god… you're right. Looks like they're at three-nine-oh."

Both pilots remained silent, staring at the sinister-looking bomber as it passed to the left and disappeared under the wing.

"They're higher than thirty-nine… gotta be," the first officer said as he turned to the captain. "Think we should notify someone?"

The pilot thought a second, then nodded his head. "Yeah, I think so. Kinda strange dumping fuel over the middle of the pond… and being at the wrong altitude."

Matthews discreetly deselected fuel dump and tuned the VHF radio to 121.5 and the UHF sets to 243.0, the international distress frequencies. He knew that if anyone attempted to contact Shadow 37, they would most likely try the Guard emergency frequency.

Matthews sat back, staring at the murky clouds and contemplating what action he should take if they were contacted or intercepted.

THE AWACS

"We have a sighting," the airborne controller said over the intercom, then keyed his radio and talked to the Air Guard F-15 flight leader.

"Rainbow leader, we have a confirmation on the B-2. You're three-five-two, angels three-nine-zero to four-zero-zero at two hundred ten miles. Heading approximately three-four-zero."

The radar operator waited a moment, receiving further information through his headset. "You are cleared to intercept. Repeat, you are cleared to intercept."

"Copy," the Air Guard flight leader radioed, shoving his throttles into afterburner. "Rainbows, let's move it out."

A minute passed before the controller contacted the Marine F/A18s. "Devil flight, take up a heading of three-three-zero. We'll hold you fifty south of Rainbow flight."

"Devil copy."

THE WHITE HOUSE

Marine One, transporting Jarrett back from the Kneecap E-4, was touching down as the secretary of state hurried out of the White House. Kerchner waited until the president stepped off the helicopter and saluted the marine sergeant.

"Mister President," Kerchner said as he fell in step with Jarrett, "the B-2 has been spotted over the northern Pacific, north of the Hawaiian Islands."

Jarrett, smiling and waving at the throng of media representatives, did not change his expression. "Who spotted it?"

"An airliner… a Cathay Pacific flight," Kerchner answered as they approached the entrance to the White House. "We're vectoring air force fighters for an intercept."

"Excellent," Jarrett responded with a final wave to the shouting press corps. "Let's get everyone in the situation room as soon as possible."

"They're standing by, sir," Kerchner replied as he slowed to let the president step through the open door. "And the SovietsIgnatyev — just offered to assist us in locating the B-2."

Jarrett looked surprised. "Interesting."

As if in confirmation of that fact, at that point the 65,000 metric-ton Soviet aircraft carrier, Tiblisi, operating 370 miles south of Amchitka Island, was plowing through heavy seas. The large-deck carrier was on a direct line between the American Stealth bomber and Yelizovo airfield on Kamchatka Peninsula.

Sukhoi Su-27 Flankers and MiG-29 Fulcrums, using the ski-jump bow, were being launched to search for the elusive Stealth bomber. The pilots had been briefed, in the event they spotted the bomber, to keep it in sight until an American aircraft could be vectored for an intercept.

The Soviet fighters would spread out from 220 to 310 miles ahead of the Tiblisi, refuel from one of five tankers, then orbit at staggered intervals.

SHADOW 37

The sun was high in the sky when Matthews felt the first bumps of rough air. The looming storm had grown darker in the past forty minutes.

Matthews, who was feeling the effects of dehydration, turned to General Brotskharnov. "We're going to need the weather radar, or we're in for a rough ride."

The Russian pilot looked at the display units, then back at Simmons.

The technician shook his head. "We have to keep the airplane cold — no emissions."

Brotskharnov shrugged and turned to Matthews. "I am not the expert."

Matthews, tired and irritated, cinched his straps tighter as the B-2 bounced through the lower layers of the cloud bank.

THE AWACS