A Time to Die - Smith Wilbur (читать книги полные .txt) 📗

Although Sean had almost five thousand hours of flying time on multi engine types, he had never flown a Hercules or any other four-engined aircraft. He had, however, spent days on the flight deck of one while acting as an advisor to the South African Defense Force on antiterrorist opsin Angola and Namibia back in 1983. With a pilot's interest and keen eye, he had studied the pilot's procedures and discussed them with him in detail. He remembered what the man had told him: "She's a lamb. I wish my wife was so docile."

At the hangar door, Sean stopped suddenly. "Matatu is right, you're getting old, Courtney," he castigated himself, and spun around. He charged back into the dark hangar and almost collided with Job.

"Where you going?"

"I forgot the bag!" Sean yelled. "Get the men on board! "of The gunner's bag was on the desk where Sean had left it. He stuffed it under his arm and ran back to where Job was waiting for him at the foot of the Hercules" loading ramp.

"All the men are on board," he greeted Sean. "You should have let me keep the pilot."

"We didn't have time to convince him to cooperate," Sean snapped. "The poor bastard was in a blue funk."

"Are you going to fly?"

"Sure, unless you want a shot at it."

"Hey, Sean, have you ever flown one of these things?"

"There is a first time for everything." Sean pointed forward.

"Come on, help me clear the chocks."

They ran forward and dragged the wheel chocks clear. Then Sean led the way up the steep angle of the ramp and stopped at the top.

"Here is the control for the ramp." He showed Job the rocker switch in the side wall of the fuselage. "Move it to the "up" position when I have got the first engine started and the red light goes on in that panel. It will switch to green when the ramp is up and locked."

Sean left him and ran down the length of the Hercules" body.

The Shanganes were milling about uncertainly in the darkness.

"Ferdinand!" Sean shouted. "Get them to sit in the side benches and show them how to strap in."

Sean groped his way toward the flight deck. He found the wooden missile cases loaded over the Hercules" center of gravity between the wings. They were piled against the fuselage on wooden pallets and covered with heavy cargo netting. He eased past them and reached the door to the flight deck. It was unlocked, and he burst through it and dumped the heavy gunner's bag into the map bin under the flight engineer's steel table. Through the cockpit windows, he saw that the mock attack on the south perimeter was still in full swing, but that the volume of fire from within the base was now much heavier than from the raiders out in the bush beyond the wire.

"The Fifth Brigade has woken up," Sean muttered. He climbed into the left-hand seat and switched on the lights of the Hercules" instrument panel. The vast array of glowing dials and switches was intimidating and confusing, but Sean would not allow himself to be daunted.

It was a lot simpler than starting the old Baron. He merely switched on and ran a finger along the rows of circuit breakers to ensure that they were all in.

"The hell with start-up checks," he said and hit the start switch for the number one engine. The starter motor whined and he watched the needle creep around the rev counter.

"Come on!" he pleaded. As revolutions touched 10 percent the aircraft automatically primed her cornbusion chamber with fuel and the engine ignited. He wound her up to 70 percent of power while he adjusted the earphones of the radio set on his head.

"Job, do you read?"

"Loud and clear, man."

"Get the ramp up."

"It's on its way."

Sean waited impatiently for the ramp warning lamp on the panel to switch from red to green. The moment it did so, he kicked off the wheel brakes and the Hercules rolled ponderously forward.

He was taxiing on one engine and had to use gross opposite rudder to meet the asymmetrical thrust. However, as he followed the pale strip of the taxiway, he worked on the other three engines and one after the other coaxed them to life, adjusting the controls as the power thrust altered.

"No wind," he muttered. "Makes no difference which direction for takeoff."

The main runway lad been extended to accommodate the excessive takeoff and landing requirements of modern jet fighters. However, the Hercules was STOL-short, takeoff and landing. It required only a fraction of the available distance, and Sean steered her for the main intersection directly in front of the control tower.

So far the Hercules had drawn no fire. The heavy machine guns at the gates were still firing wildly into the night sky. Poor fire control was always one of the problems with African troops, who in all other respects made excellent soldiers.

On the other hand, at the southern perimeter the crack veterans of the Fifth and Third Brigades were showing what well-trained African troops were capable of Their fire was going in deadly professional sheets, and already they had almost entirely extinguished Alphonso's initial onslaught. Apart from a few desultory mortar shells, there was no longer any return fire from the dark sea of bush and forest beyond the base security fence.

It would only be a short time before Carlyle managed fully to alert the garrison to the enemy within and the flight controllers in the blacked-out tower realized there was an unauthorized takeoff in progress.