Buck and Barbara took off for Andrews after brunch, and Barbara was hoping to get some sleep on the way to the city. She got out as Buck was about to start Baby Huey and retrieved a foam mattress from the hangar. Buck and Barbara had just disappeared over the horizon to the north when Jennifer came over the intercom, and Preston gave her the wind speed and temperature. She could be heard faintly taking to other pilots, describing the landing techniques for the airfield. Preston could hear several voices he didn’t recognize and knew there were a lot more arriving than he had expected.

“Be gentle with my little runway, guys,” pleaded Preston into the radio. “And Jennifer, the lights are removed, the trees have been sort-of flattened by the dozer on the south-end for 40 or so more yards, and you can come in about 30 feet lower and begin your flare-out earlier.”

“Roger that,” replied Jennifer.

The drone of several heavy aircraft engines could be heard off to the west as they flew further south of the runway to turn in northeast for the landing. Then he saw them—a line of four C-130s—stretching on the horizon for what seemed like miles. Jennifer came in first, followed by what looked like Tom or Jerry—it was hard to tell the difference. They each landed and taxied onto the apron area to get out of the way. The third one came in and looked a little different but the fourth one took his breath away. It was a Gunship—an old 130, just like the other three, but as a pilot he knew about these super birds and recognized that this one had all three of the modern guns sticking out of the side. The engines had a much deeper rumble to them, and it took the whole runway to get her down once the third airplane had moved onto the dirt at the end of the runway, giving the gunship enough room to use the whole field. They all taxied back, and the third C-130 parked over the fuel tanks while the gunship sat on the runway idling.

General Allen was already out, the troops standing in a line at attention for the occasion. The sergeant spoke about his ideas, the general nodded to him, and Preston got to them as they finished.

“The sergeant here told us about your need to place a guard detachment at RDU, and I think it’s a good idea. Actually, one of the 130s is going to head down to Seymour Johnson. They can pick up a guard detachment and gear, and fly into RDU in about two hours. Which gate do you think would be best to set up a guard base?”

“I would recommend the gate by the private terminal,” replied Preston, raising his voice over the noise of the engines. I think we need to make our presence very obvious to anybody spying on the airport. I’ll go up there earlier with one of Joe’s jeeps, or even the Saracen, so your men can use it to patrol the perimeter.”

“Sounds good,” agreed the general. “I like the sergeant’s idea of creating an ambush zone on the road outside your entrance. I’ve given him the go-ahead to set it up and there will be two more companies of 100 men each, ferried in here this afternoon. Captain Watkins will do two trips in from Pope to get them here. The extra troops will only be here for a day or so before they need to head up to the White House, but while they’re here they can set up and dig the mortar positions around the tarmac as well as sandbag machine-gun placements. I want sandbags on the insides of your gate, and they can sandbag an area on the road as protection from any attack. We will put up a professional and defensible barrier to stop traffic if need be. It’s a surprise, but we need to have this place under lock-down until this threat is over.”

“I agree,” replied Preston. “Martie is going up in the 210 in an hour to be our spotter plane. She’s going south for 50 miles and then north for a hundred miles to see if anything is moving on the I-95 corridor. I’m going up in my FedEx special and head out on US 64 for 100 miles, and then going to meet Joe and David who are driving to the airport. I can show your guys the lay of the land when they get there.”

“I’ll be back by 4:30 at the latest. Like Ghost Rider?” Pete Allen winked at Preston as he turned and pointed to the gunship. Preston nodded with a grin of his own. Martie returned and gave the general a cooler full of lunches for him and his crew.

“Everybody has their orders,” the general began to wrap things up. “By the way, that is an HC-130 sitting over your fuel tanks. She is an in-flight fuel tanker—your fuel tanker for the time being, with a full crew at your disposal until I need her. That represents a big ‘thank you’ from me. She can pump fuel in and out of rocks if you need her to, and she can siphon all the fuel out of the RDU’s main tanks and pump yours full. She can fly across the country non-stop. Her range is 4,250 miles. Her crew of three is directly under your command and her military call-sign is ‘Mother Goose.’ It’s still painted on her side from Vietnam.”

The general ran back to the idling AC-130 Gunship and it immediately began its way to the southern end of the runway for take-off. Preston turned to the other arrivals and watched in amazement as the medics took Will Smart off, looking dead to the world and asleep on a stretcher. The two Smart kids ran up and gave him a hug, with Maggie close behind, before she followed her husband into the medical tent from Seymour Johnson, erected only an hour earlier. Carlos disembarked next with a short Chinese gentleman behind him and two Chinese ladies. The group walked up to greet Preston as Jennifer hopped out of the forward door and ran to give him a hug.

“I’ve got to shower and get out of here. I’ll be ferrying in troops for the rest of the day,” she gasped and ran off toward the hangar, as Ghost Rider raced by, lifted off the runway and headed north. Within seconds the gunship was a speck in the sky, chasing after Buck.

“Preston, this is my Chinese friend, Lee Wang, his wife Lin, and his daughter Ling,” Carlos introduced everyone. Preston shook hands with his new guests and suggested that since Martie had cleaned all the sheets, they could sleep in Jennifer and Sally’s room. “We are exhausted,” shared Carlos. “I was told that the soldiers will unload our gear. Ask them to put all the stuff in the hangar out of the way. Lee and I have been awake all night and I need at least another six hours of sleep. There is a single bed downstairs. Shall we get it up to the third room for Ling?”

“Good idea,” nodded Preston. “I don’t know if Buck and Barbara are coming back this evening, so I guess I’ll have to give their room to the Smarts, we ran out of sleeping places several sets of visitors ago and it’s going to be cramped tonight.” Carlos suggested that he would sleep in his old room for the time being and then downstairs if it was needed. Preston concurred.

Preston helped the soldiers unload all of Carlos’ equipment out of both Tom and Jerry. He quickly recognized what Carlos was up to when he saw what was being taking out of the aircraft. While they were unloading, a freshly showered Jennifer returned, and with her crew from the house, she took off for Seymour Johnson.

Preston silently hoped that nobody else would appear that needed lodging. He had asked Jennifer to see if the base had any forms of room dividers—walls, doors, partitions—and at least a dozen new beds. They were running out of room.

*****

The chairman was alone in the board room. He had hardly left it since he had pressed the red buttons three days ago. He was being briefed by his team from downstairs.

“We have not had one transponder out of the airfield in North Carolina for 24 hours now, Comrade Chairman,” reported one of the engineers.

“And why do you think this is so?” the chairman turned to an advisor who was dressed in a Chinese Air Force uniform with the rank of colonel on his shoulders.

“We have seen no flights out of this airfield, Comrade Chairman,” he explained, “But we have seen single flights showing transponder activity over other areas, mostly heading from the north in a southerly direction, I assume to get away from the cold weather. This current storm is looking very bad for the American people and very good for us.”