Part 15 (2/2)
”G.o.dspeed, buddy.”
”Thanks, Scott.”
Adler and Novak drove the SUVs close to the plane's steps. Doors slammed as the men jumped from the vehicles, then immediately unloaded all the gear, putting everything near the plane. Adler and Novak drove the SUVs closer to the tree line, locked them, then ran back to the Gulfstream.
Garrett was in the c.o.c.kpit, checking gauges, flipping switches. He heard the Team coming aboard. ”Evenly distribute the weight of that gear!” he shouted over his shoulder.
Grant and Adler boarded last, with Adler stowing both rucksacks.
Grant put on his aviator sungla.s.ses, then went to the c.o.c.kpit and climbed into the co-pilot's seat, slipping his arms through the shoulder harness. The Team had been on the ”hunt” for a new co-pilot ever since Paul Butner, the co-pilot for their mission to China, declined the offer due to family responsibilities. They had to find someone who knew the C-130, too.
Grant was the only one with any flying experience, even though it had been in props. He and Garrett had already been through the basics aboard the Gulfstream, taking it up more than once.
”We're clear back here,” Adler reported. Grant hit the switch to pull in the steps and secure the door.
”s.h.i.+t!” Novak said, leaning over the back of Stalley's seat. ”Doesn't look like we'll have a flight attendant on this trip either!”
”Buckle up!” Grant said over his shoulder, as he put on a set of headphones and adjusted the mouthpiece. He picked up the clipboard. ”Okay. Ready for pre-flight check.” He called out the takeoff procedures, as Garrett verified each was complete. Finally, the last three: landing, taxi, strobe lights on, transponder on, engine instruments checked.
Garrett taxied out to the gra.s.s and dirt runway. The engines started winding up. He advanced the throttles close to fifty percent. As the Gulfstream started down the runway, Grant kept his eyes on the speed indicator, calling out the speed. If there were any major problems, such as engine failure or fire, they'd have to abort takeoff before reaching V1. But once past that speed, takeoff was the only option, no matter what happened afterward.
When the engines stabilized at forty-five percent, Garrett accelerated them to takeoff thrust. Reaching Vr (rotation speed), he raised the nose gear off the runway, then finally, the landing gear.
Both men were quiet, concentrating, watching gauges, watching for air traffic, adjusting controls.
Light from a brilliant morning sun spread throughout the interior of the Gulfstream, as the plane continued its climb. Garrett brought the aircraft to a northeast heading. They'd travel close to the eastern seaboard until Nova Scotia, then begin the Great Circle Route over Newfoundland, on a course for Shannon, Ireland, on the trail of a Russian mole.
Grant pulled back a side of the headphones. ”Listen, Matt, you haven't had any sleep for over two days. Once we're over the Atlantic, maybe I can takeover for a while, with autopilot on!”
”Thanks, Grant. I should be okay. You guys haven't had any either.”
”Yeah, but we're used to it.” Turning for a better view of the cabin, he tilted his head toward it. ”Maybe I spoke too soon. Two of them are already cutting Zs! But you've been out of the habit for a while. Well, I'll leave it up to you.”
Grant took off the headphones, then released the seatbelt harness. ”Want something to drink?”
”Anything with caffeine.”
Grant walked slowly down the aisle. Novak and James were asleep, Slade was reading the latest issue of SI, Stalley and Diaz were playing cards. Adler was making coffee, and munching on a peanut b.u.t.ter sandwich.
”Got anything for me?” Grant asked, as he got a Pepsi from the fridge.
Adler opened a drawer. ”Well, what have we here?”
Grant laughed, immediately grabbing a handful of Snickers candy bars. ”Think these'll last?”
”What you see, is all you get!”
Grant b.u.mped a fist against his friend's shoulder. ”Thanks, Joe.” He put one on seat trays and table as he went back to the c.o.c.kpit.
He handed Garrett a Pepsi, then held an open hand toward him, with two Snickers. ”Not for me,” Garrett said.
Grant climbed into the seat, and unwrapped the candy. ”Shannon Airport can be a real b.i.t.c.h for landings and takeoffs.”
”Yeah. The winds coming across the runway are wicked sometimes.”
”Tell me about it. Made a couple of landings hard enough to blow out tires.”
”Promise I'll be careful.”
”Confirm something about refueling.”
”Shoot,” Garrett said, before taking a drink.
”Private jets are refueled away from the terminal, right?”
Garrett wiped a hand across his mouth. ”Yeah. They're kept out of the way of bigger commercials. The airport usually provides small buses to take pa.s.sengers to and from the terminal.”
Even with his sungla.s.ses on, Grant s.h.i.+elded his eyes as he glanced out the winds.h.i.+eld. ”Looks like good weather. Think we'll pick up a tail wind?”
”Maybe. We've got clearance for thirty-three thousand feet. You've flown this route enough to know if we pick up the jet stream, we've gotta be prepared for CAT winds.” (Clear air turbulence is caused by vertical and horizontal wind shear a.s.sociated with jet streams.) ”We'll stay on alert,” Grant replied, seeing nothing but blue sky and a couple of jet trails. He pointed toward one. ”Think that might be our 'boy' up ahead?”
”Possible,” Garret answered, as he leaned forward trying to get a better view.
”Kick this 'baby' into high, Matt,” Grant said, giving the jet trail one more glance. ”I'm gonna go sit with the guys. Give a shout if you need anything.” As he left the c.o.c.kpit, he detected a change in engine noise, feeling the aircraft surge forward.
Grant sat in an aft facing seat across from Adler, who was chowing down on a freshly prepared MRE of beef stew. Grant wrinkled his nose. ”You really enjoying that?”
”I know. I know. They've already been labeled 'Meals Rejected by the Enemy' but it's hard to get good food at thirty thousand feet. I brought you that.”
”Thanks.” Grant picked up a wrapped peanut b.u.t.ter sandwich. ”But don't eat all those Oreos,” he said, pointing to the open package.
Stalley called out, ”Anybody want a drink?”
”Bring me a c.o.ke, Doc!” Grant said.
As Stalley handed him the drink, Grant asked, ”Did you eat?”
Stalley swallowed orange soda. ”Besides the Snickers, tried a package of those franks and beans earlier.”
”Ohhh, Doc! Why'd you do that?”
”Sir?”
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