“Busy night Patterson?” the general asked.

“Busy bar night Allen Key, just like any Friday night. All these guys are drinking and we now have 24 of them hidden in the broom closet, all as dead as Do-Dos. They are down to the five guys on the dozers and seven others somewhere playing in the salt pit. We have clothing for 14 and six fancy phones.”

“Don’t answer any cell phone unprepared,” cautioned General Allen. “If the red number comes up when your phone rings, that’s a no-no for at least two more days. You will see the number on the phone. Turn off all phones, and if the red number crops up and if you need to say hi to Uncle Charlie, use a guy who can talk the lingo. Get my drift?”

“Roger that, Allen Key.”

“And this is your number from now on, Patterson. Let me know how your plans go tomorrow. Tell me immediately what comes in. You will have to play this drama out on the spur of the moment. Hopefully I can hand you an Oscar when we meet. Mr. McGuire will have the four choppers full and three big 130 mama’s ready to take off by dawn. As soon as you have pilots aboard the aircraft and they are about to take-off, tell me and Mr. McGuire and he will release the hounds into the attack. They will take 20 minutes to get there and will be below 500 feet to stay out of any aircraft radar contact. That’s 300 guys and what you have there to terminate the guests. Call me when you are about to attack—a buddy of mine believes that he can jam all their communications for awhile. Well done, Patterson, and good luck. Your plan sounds positive, and we want those big aircraft undamaged. Out.”

Major Patterson got back on the radio to all his men and explained the plan to them.

“Team Four,” he stated to the 40 men based in one of the outside aircraft, the M-90. “Go through your exit in the bottom of your aircraft and find the salt pit. There are seven or more Charlies working with a truck. Try and take them out without bloodshed. We need their clothes and cell phones. I say again, we need undamaged cell phones and clothing. Use silencers.”

“Roger that. On our way,” the commander of Team Four replied.

“Team Two in the commuter jet,” Patterson continued. “I believe they will park the dozers close to the area where they want the aircraft to land and refuel. It looks like two aircraft will be incoming. Once the dozers are back from the runway, take the drivers out and we should be clear of bad boys until the next lot comes in.”

“Roger. We are getting on white gear and heading out. What about the line of vehicles? Shall we leave them alone? Over.” The commander of Team Two needed to cover all the bases.

“Take the keys out of the ignition and put them under the seat of the front passenger, not the driver’s seats. Confirm!”

“Copy that, the left passenger seats,” the commander replied, and within five minutes Major Patterson could see dim white shapes leave the express jet and crawl over to the large mounds of snow between the arrival area and the runway.

It was a clear sparkling night, and it took three more hours before the dozers returned, parked, and the tired drivers were relieved of their lives, cell phones, and clothing. The salt team had also been terminated and the airport was finally clear of unfriendly visitors. It was time to get into action. The Chinese pilots were given two of the captured radios and the vehicles were inspected and relieved of two more radios and a lot of ammunition. The major worked out that the incoming aircraft would need to use the radios to ask for landing instructions and he prepared his Chinese guys, both C-17 pilots to call the shots.

It was midnight by the time they were finished. The terminal was cleaned and the pile of dead bodies was moved to another stranded aircraft, the blood and remains cleared away and the bar made to look like a party had taken place. The major’s men opened the clothing store and pulled several tables into the hallway, piling all the expensive coats, hats, and other winter items onto the tables as if the visitors had made a presentation for the incoming dignitaries.

He and his men also piled up a mountain of chairs and tables in front of where they had set up base as a wall against any incoming fire. He did the same on the other side of the bar area and called in the squad from the M-90. Patterson placed 30 of the soldiers on the other side of the mountain of furniture with sniper rifles, automatic rifles, and grenades. They were hidden behind the large assortment of steel and wooden furniture 50 yards from the bar area. The Major wanted to have 60 of his troops inside the terminal on both sides of the entrance door and an attack zone 100 yards wide.

He ordered 20 of his men in the 777 to exit and put on the confiscated clothing. This group would be led by one of his Chinese American pilots, Captain Chong, who would form a guard with all their captured shoulder rocket launchers.

Four of the Air Force personnel including Major Patterson, as well as the two Chinese-American pilots, could fly anything Air China flew into JFK on the now cleared runway. He allowed all his men to come into the warmer concourse and gave his orders.

“OK, guys, we believe we have two jets incoming just after dawn from Beijing or Shanghai. We need to get our pilots aboard each jet and hidden in a way that they can take over the jet once take-off is under way. Pilots, I think that the only people expected on board will be the flight crews on the way back. Also there will be no fighting until both aircraft are at least halfway down the runway, or already airborne. I’m hoping that most of the troops will be in here, in the middle of our ambush. If anybody gets over our wall of chairs and tables before our attack, take them out silently. I will place a lookout on the Van Wyck Expressway in case they have more men incoming with motor vehicles. The worst scenario is two jets with a maximum of 700 to 1,000 troops, but I’ve heard that there will be engineers included in the group. Do not—I say again—do not attempt to take out the engineers, unless they are a direct threat to your life, or you see them talking on a cell phone. We have to play this by ear, and until the aircraft are out of here, we only kill by hand, understand?” Every soldier nodded.

“You all have your orders. I want three of our best hand-to-hand killers behind our terminal. Take out by hand any enemy soldiers who go for a piss or walk around the building to smoke. The worst case, if there are more than one or two, use your silencers, understand?”

Again everybody nodded.

“I want every short man possible dressed in the semi-descent smelling civilian Chinese clothes we have taken off them. Hide your eyes and faces with new scarves from the store, look Chinese and everybody—do not kill any person dressed in civilian clothing! It could be one of our guys. Password if you have to question somebody is ‘Allen Key.’ Repeat after me, ‘Allen Key’.”

“Allen Key,” the crowd in front of him repeated.

“If you are about to get your throat slit by one of your own guys, say the code words ‘Allen Key’ quickly, guys,” instructed the major. “Okay everybody, get into a warm place and get five hours of sleep. We will head outside just before dawn.”

Thirty minutes before dawn, Major Patterson went outside with the remainder of his troops, now all dressed in white Arctic gear, and began to place them in sniper positions around the cleared areas where the two aircraft were expected to unload. They dug into the snow and disappeared from view. By dawn, he had 60 men with every sort of weapon at their fingertips around the area, as well as 20 men dug in on the roof of the terminal with sniper rifles at the ready. The rest were in the confiscated clothing as well as new clothing from the store, all had thick hats and bandanas across their faces, and apart from their eyes, were indistinguishable from the 42 men who had arrived at the airport 24 hours earlier.