The two B-2 crew members edged their way through the crush of bodies off the jeepney at the headquarters building and stepped inside, feeling the uncomfortable chill as the building’s heavy-duty air conditioning instantly turned the thin layer of sweat over their bodies to ice. McLanahan went immediately to the command post, waiting patiently as his ID was checked by the security guards and a metal detector was swept over his body — he had to unstrap his survival knife and keep it with the guards. He went and checked in at the room where the PACER SKY satellite system had been installed.
“Patrick?” a surprised General Brad Elliott asked as the young navigator-bombardier walked in. Elliott checked his watch. “You’re early — about an hour and a half early.” The veteran aviator looked at McLanahan’s hardened, concerned, somewhat distracted eyes. “Couldn’t sleep, eh?” Patrick shook his head. “Henry either.”
“It always happens that way, I think,” Elliott said. “The time you need sleep the most is when you can’t do it.” He regarded his younger colleague with an inquisitive expression; McLanahan seemed to pick up on the pause right away.
“We got the order, didn’t we?” Patrick asked.
“Couple hours ago,” Elliott said. “They wanted to be sure the three Navy ships in the Philippine Sea could get into position; we just got the word that they reported ready. They may wait one more day to see if we get the NIRTSats back on-line, but the recon photos you got last night are pretty good quality so we might do it tonight.”
Strangely, Patrick felt no fear, no apprehension, not even a trace of nervousness — his churning stomach and restless mind had kept him from sleep all afternoon, but now his body was quiet. It was as if he had already been told they were going to fly, that Elliott had somehow given him secondhand information. He nodded wordlessly to Elliott; then his eyes sought out the large high-definition monitor on which the NIRTSat reconnaissance data was usually displayed. “I can’t believe these are still down…”
“Yeah, well,
Patrick stepped over to a large chart on which was drawn the positions of the known Chinese warships that he, Cobb, and the dead U-2 pilot had photographed a few nights earlier. A second board had the intelligence section’s best guess as to how the ships were going to be deployed when the strike aircraft were set to go over the target.
Elliott was amazed by the flyers he encountered in all his years of flying, but Patrick McLanahan had to be the most… admirable. His expression, his demeanor, his attitude were constant — distant, unshakable, almost detached. It was the same whether he was meeting the President of the United
States or when getting promoted — unflappable coolness. Was it an act or was it real? Was McLanahan really such a cool character or was he destined for some huge heart attack or ulcer down the road for keeping all those emotions locked inside? He didn’t want to guess. He was just glad McLanahan was on
Elliott noticed Patrick’s eyes on the briefing board behind him. “Can’t wait to see what you’re up against either, eh? We have one more NIRTSat pass before the mass briefing, so this won’t be the final picture — and hopefully PACER SKY will be working by then — but the pictures you got us are spectacular and very useful.”
They stepped toward the screen. “The Chinese are not only continuing on with their invasion plans, but they’ve set up a pretty sophisticated naval defense network around eastern Mindanao. It’s all being controlled from the radar installation here…”
“Don’t tell me,” McLanahan said wearily. “The Chinese got Mount Apo.”
“Took it yesterday and set up shop immediately. They’ve got big-picture coverage of all Mindanao now — almost unlimited fighter-intercept coverage, early-warning, maritime, even ground and fire control. Samar’s boys held out for days against a huge Chinese task force — the word is, it took five thousand Chinese and New People’s Army troops to take Samar’s two-hundred-man garrison. Samar’s men were wiped out completely.”
McLanahan felt his throat go instantly dry.
“Here’s the easternmost ship — it’s a destroyer, extensive air-search radar, early-warning capability, long-range HQ- 91 SAM coverage,” Elliott continued. “There’s a line of six frigates two hundred miles offshore, giving them four-hundred-mile early warning — a good thirty- to forty-five-minute warning at least. Nothing sophisticated but still effective.
