Greetings September 26, 2007 Today a short story, a work of fiction, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. ***************** The Colonel came into the tower control room and beckoned to the Sergeant of Security. "Bumpy," he and the Colonel went back a ways he used his nickname "find and tell the Captain to relieve your whole shift and report out to hangar six for a Special Awards ceremony, these airmen with me will take over." "Right away, Colonel," crisp salute and returned. These men had first met when Bumpy was a Senior Airman and the Colonel was a green O-2 "seat cover" rookie pilot. He went to find Captain Miles, the newly arrived airmen paired off with the men whose duties they were assuming to be real time briefed, it would be a few minutes, the Colonel looked out into the darkening sky, glanced down and saw the tow tractors and ground crews were moving a number of aircraft out of hangar six, no doubt to make room for the ceremony. ********* Out at the far end of the hangar line: the paint shop drying hangar area, a large open-bay type hangar had been cleared of planes and now in red-lighted dark configuration, the doors were open and the lights had already automatically extinguished themselves to expose no light. Anyone outside would see three F117 being tow tractored over from hangar six but that wouldn't seem odd even to a seasoned observer. Had the hangar lights been on the hangar would have appeared empty anyway. They would be wrong. Over in hangar six some droning major began a speech, to be followed by another telling the assembled men how well they were doing..how proud he was of them...reading a long list of names. Later there would be award certificates, handshakes, cake and soft drinks...and the rest of the night off. That's what the Major was ordered to do and that was fine by the hardworking crew and staff types, a free shift off-duty is always a good thing. Now with all three aircraft in the hangar the tow drivers and wing walkers were hustled over to hangar six in time to catch the ceremony. The frontside doors closed and a contingent of APs stood outside with weps on security, again nothing unusual to appearances, where the "wobblin goblins went, so did the "armed apes." What wasn't usual sat outside the back doors of the hangar. When they opened, two fuel trucks, several ordinance trucks and a bus load of wrench jockeys drove in with their lights off. Fuel trucks INSIDE a hangar!! AND BOMB HAULERS TOO!! Big NO NO!! That would have alerted someone's curiosity, maybe some passing sergeant who saw them drive in and chased after to chew the driver a brand new butthole for this clear violation of safety regs...but...they were all over at hangar six, well most of them were, a small number of handpicked men enlisted and pilot officers were out here in the darkened maintenance office and when the rear hangar doors closed and the red lights inside came on they joined the group which had just arrived and began arming out and fueling the airbirds in the red lights. Most of the enlisted believed this was one more of the nearly endless security and readiness exercises the command and the Air Force did routinely, a few top NCOs knew better as did the pilots. In the tower Major General Davis walked in saluted the Colonel, smiled and shook his hand "Thanks Colonel, now go over there and make sure I have the next sixty minutes with no one outside the hangar." "Yes sir, I'll have them for three speeches, and of course the chaplains, then the awards, there's about fifty men getting "Golden Wrenches" and such...I can guarantee you at least two hours General." he smiled. In private they called each other by their callsigns: PegLeg and Troll Rider, but not tonight, this was "business." General "Pegleg" actually took off his coat, donned a set of headphones and to the newly arrived relief crew he said quietly "Let's get to work." ********** The last huzzah had sounded and the last trip to the airport was at hand but for some reason the President of Iran had been diverted to land travel with Secret Service Escorts through a chunk of lower Manhattan and were now slowly creeping toward the intersection ahead. The little dictator could see flashing yellow lights and police lights ahead peered with interest out the windshield. He asked through his interpreter "what was happening" and was told there's a traffic accident up ahead, it's about to be cleared the police and wreckers are on scene. The lead driver shut off his siren, no sense in running it it wouldn't make the two wreckers move any faster than they were, as soon as the intersection cleared they would be among the first to pass through but it annoyed the little man in the back and he hissed something in his native tongue to his bodyguards in the rear, one chuckled. Another fifteen minutes and it was full darkness, the little dictator was nervous and wanted to be moving, he made mention of an ambush being planned and the driver reassured him for the sixth time that this vehicle was so heavily armored it could take a T-72 tank round without damage and the wrecker had already hauled one of the two trucks away, it would not be long now he was told. Sure enough a few more minutes and the other wrecked truck was towed away on the end of a tow truck that said "Randy's Towing" and gave a local phone number. The driver inside as well the driver of the truck that had wrecked were CIA and the wreck had been staged to create a delay till nightfall. The cops at the scene were real NYPD and all they knew was a traffic accident happened, they'd given one of the guys a ticket and thought it odd that a truck driver would have highly shined shoes while out driving a truck but his papers were in order but who cared, New York was full of odd characters. Imadhinijad fidgeted but finally they were moving again through the streets with the flashers clearing the way, "Sorry about the delay Mister President, New York City streets are famous for traffic jams, now you can go home and tell them you've been in one.." quipped the driver lightly with a chuckle. The radio officer in front spoke into his headset "Tell Aunt Amanda that Uncle Leroy is on his way home and should be there in 18 minutes." There was no reply. The security men beside the Iranian dictator grinned, they thought these Americans' uses of radio codes and security measures were silly and designed to impress them, they'd have a laugh about that among themselves on the plane ride home. Mamoud would likely sleep on the trip home. They assumed and rightly so, that some security type at the Air Base where the Iranian President's jet waited was being notified. There were others listening too several hundred miles south of there in a hangar at an Air Force base near the coast. ********* "Tankers are up General, confirmed vector pattern Lima and hold pattern package sixteen, will notify when on station," said one of the tower airmen, the fuel tankers were on their way and would be on station waiting to juice up the thirsty F117s when they got there, further across the Atlantic were other tankers. "Very well,...begin phase two, launch the aircraft. The paint shop hangar went dark and the three aircraft were towed outside by darkened tow tractors and taken to the ready flight line and dropped. The pilots, already in the aircraft waited until the tractors were all clear and turned on the battery power, fired up the engines and called the tower. ""Robin Hood leader, Flight of three standing by to taxi," "Roger Robin Hood, taxi to run up area Green niner and proceed as filed," replied the tower radio. A flight plan had been filed transferring these three aircraft to a distant foreign base in the Mideast with a stop along the way in the Azores, a stop that would not ultimately be made as these airbirds were flying hot ordinance and were going to be juiced up in flight a detail that would later be covered up in a paper trail laced with routine appearing orders and documents. Robin Hood flight rolled out to rotation speed and climbed lazily into the air, anyone who saw them depart would not suspect that 26 minutes later they were going to shut down their transponders, turn off their navigation lights, and go low to the sea's surface to lay in wait in the radar blind surface clutter. This was as planned and the General in the Tower would wait nervously for all the pieces to come together, wouldn't be long now. South for 30 minutes then drop off radar and head back northeast in an intercept vector, later they would gas up, three times and land in the morning at an airbase in Britain, just like they were expected to with no notice of the slight diversion en route. ******** Imadhinijad had decided to sit up forward and go to bed later, he was reading some papers from his briefcase. The security detail was sitting relaxed in the back of the plane, the cockpit crew were relaxed as well having made three random 360 degree turns with search radars looking for any pursuit or nearby aircraft. They had only seen the usual and expected commercial flights. Cross Atlantic traffic was routine and nothing unexpected lay in their path. The Iranian Pilot expected an escort of Iranian jets once he got in range, this had already been arranged, till then they had only to drive the jet, sip their dark strong coffee ands watch the forward scanning radar for weather or other aircraft. When they grew tired the number two crew would fly the plane. The pilot remarked to the flight engineer that Mamoud seemed particularly happy this evening, he'd come aboard humming a song. They HAD departed New York City an hour and a half later than planned but all the different Iranian elements and corresponding air traffic control centers involved had been notified of the delay, a routine flight running a little late and heading into the night sky out over the Atlantic Ocean. Everything looked okay. It wasn't. ********* Once the target aircraft had passed over them Robin Hood Flight came up off the surface of the ocean and began a long slow climb that would put them directly behind the target aircraft at one half mile distance in the radar blind dark cone behind the plane. They went "weapons armed" and waited till they could pulse radar the target long enough to paint it before launching their missiles carried tucked in their bomb-bays. No sound came over the radios, no radar images, predatory creatures of the night were they, seeking a special prey. ********* A single word came over the radio in the tower on a special side band frequency "Badger." ******* Some hours later the Iranian radio operators lost contact with Imadhinijad aircraft near the midpoint of the Atlantic, the pilot didn't make the standard ten minute check in call and did not reply to any messages or radio calls after that. Khamanie was advised that the President's plane was overdue and missing. ********* Yes. it's a work of fiction, but......wouldn't it be nice if.... beansimple said it and above all Think for yourself DISCLAIMER OffTheBeanVine is a registered mass mailer with AOL since March 29, 2003 and complies with all guidelines of the AOL community actions team. My readers have my permission to forward the BeanVine as you wish as long as you credit me as author of piece. 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