Part 38 (1/2)

A dark band of rebel angels encircled it. Their maneuver appeared to be twofold: to discourage any further rescue attempts, and to keep the helicopter from landing. Despite the pilot's best effort, they prevented him from making any progress toward the carrier.

”They're doomed,” the tie concluded.

The tech agreed.

”Call them off!” I shouted at Semyaza. ”Do you hear me? Let it land!”

The tech and tie stared at me like I was crazy. I didn't care. They didn't understand. They couldn't see what I was seeing.

”Semyaza, I'm begging you . . . let it land!”

With a stony expression, he said, ”Every war has its casualties.”

The helicopter coughed again. This time the black smoke from the engines flowed with a steady stream. It was going down.

Then, above it, a hundred streaks of light looking like righteous comets broke through the dark ceiling and engaged the devilish perimeter. A burst of light signaled every blow with explosions popping all around the crippled helicopter. I felt them. Every thrust, every wound, every death. It was as though the battle I was watching had a twin inside me.

I s.h.i.+elded my eyes from the intensity so bright that I could barely see the helicopter. But I could see enough.

A dark spirit took shape and attached itself to Christina, pulling her down, prying her fingers from the strap.

My chest inflated with rage. My hands clenched so hard they hurt. My feet danced for a chance to launch into the fray. All I wanted was to be able to fly to Christina's rescue, sword in hand, if possible, but if not, barehanded. I wanted to get a good grip on just one of them, to rip his . . .

Semyaza stood beside me, smiling. ”You would strike, even if you felt the blow?”

I didn't answer. We both knew I would.

The tempest surrounding the helicopter dimmed as it emerged from the turmoil as though it was flying out of a cloud, and as it did, I saw angels.

Supporting the fuselage.

Cradling Christina.

Carrying the crippled aircraft to safety.

Christina dropped into the waiting arms of sailors on the deck of the USS Ronald Reagan. A moment later the angels gently set the helicopter down.

The tech and tie let out a whoop of joy.

I swiped at tears.

”That was unfortunate,” Semyaza said.

CHAPTER 29.

Give that pilot a Distinguished Flying Cross!” the news crew tech shouted, thrusting his fist into the air.

”He made it! He made it! I can't believe he made it!” the tie shouted with him. ”There's no way he could have made it, but he did!”

The tech and the tie were jumping up and down like little boys. The cameraman celebrated in his own way by keeping a tight focus on Jana.

On the monitor Jana was wiping tears of relief with one hand as she held the phone with the other. She, too, credited the pilot for his unbelievable flying skill.

Wait until I tell her what really happened.

Shouting into her cell phone, Jana was making her way to the first helicopter, which had landed for another load. The president's staff filed aboard. A Secret Service agent a.s.sisted Jana into the belly of the mechanical beast. Once inside, she turned to face the camera and continued reporting.

She said, ”Even now with the children safely aboard the USS Ronald Reagan, despite intense pressure from the Secret Service, the president insists on being the last man to leave the bridge and that means that, since we have just reached maximum occupancy, he will wait for the next transport.”

As helicopter one lifted off the bridge, President R. Lloyd Douglas turned to the handful of Secret Service agents that were left behind and gave them high fives.

Next to me, Semyaza was unimpressed. He said, ”Act Three. Final curtain. Cue the actors.”

On cue, Danny Noonan's FA-18 Hornet dropped out of the dark cloud of Lucifer's army. Once again he had the bridge in his sights. His plane trailed smoke like blood from a wound. Apparently the pursuit planes had gotten in a few licks while they were away.

”I don't believe it!” the cameraman cried.

He was the first to spot Noonan in the background while shooting Jana on the helicopter. He zoomed onto the swiftly approaching FA-18. The jittery picture on the monitor made the threat appear even more ominous.

The pursuit planes were close behind. They riddled Noonan's aircraft with machine-gun fire.

Noonan had run out of time. Rebel angels swooped down on both sides of the Hornet, s.h.i.+elding it from the fire of the pursuit planes. At the same time more rebel angels buffeted the pursuit planes, throwing off their aim.

On the bridge the Secret Service agents saw the incoming fighter. They hustled the president into his limousine, determined to protect him to the end.

”G.o.d in heaven, he's coming back!” Jana reported from the helicopter.

”Use your missiles!” the tech shouted to the pursuit planes. ”Use your missiles! Blow him outta the air!”

Looking as though they heard him, both pursuit planes fired their missiles at the same instant that Danny Noonan fired his at the bridge.

Noonan's rockets slammed into the bridge mid-span just as one of the pursuit rockets. .h.i.t his wing. Limousines and the school bus lifted off the bridge in a fiery ballet as Danny Noonan's wing exploded, spinning his aircraft into the heart of the disintegrating bridge, where an instant later a second, larger ball of fire erupted with such force it shattered windows over a mile away.

I watched in horror as the blast knocked Jana's helicopter sideways. I lost sight of it behind billowing clouds of smoke.

The pursuit planes knifed through the smoke and climbed into a cloudless sky, having succeeded in shooting down their commander, but not before he a.s.sa.s.sinated their commander in chief.

Rubble from the bridge rained like fireworks into the bay, with chunks of concrete and metal debris with smoky tails. A thick cloud covered the bridge as though history had declared it a sight too horrible to be seen.

It was Dallas, November 22, 1963, all over again. The world was stunned, afraid to take a breath for fear that doing so would be an admission that life would go on.

”Did you get that?” the tech said, hushed at first, but growing animated. ”Did you get that? Man! We are going to be famous! This has Pulitzer Prize written all over it!”

”Do you think so?” the tie said, sharing the tech's excitement.

”Shut up, Craig,” the cameraman said soberly.