Structurally, the plane was still intact. But with all of the control surfaces on the left wing destroyed, no amount of computer redundancy could save the bomber.
“Eject! Eject! Eject!” Terrant shouted.
7
5:50 A.M. , Monday, April 26,
Washington, D.C.
Nelson Durant was awake early, dressed, and drinking his second cup of coffee when the White House called with the message. “They’re reacting much faster these days,” he told Art Rios.
“The National Security Council?” Rios asked.
“The President just called an emergency meeting,” Durant replied. “I imagine Serick will be in fine form.” The National Security Advisor had a well-earned reputation for working himself into a lather during a crisis.
The two men rode in silence to the White House as Durant read the latest message traffic coming in on the car’s computer. Rios drove up to the west entrance where Durant was escorted to the Situation Room in the basement. “Ah, Nelson,” Stephan Serick boomed, “so glad you could join us—finally.” Durant ignored the jibe and sat down. “I take it you’ve heard the news on TV,” Serick continued.
The door opened and the President entered with the Vice President, his senior policy adviser, and the director of Central Intelligence. The DCI quickly outlined the situation. The facts were simple: the Sudanese had shot down the B-2 Stealth bomber and captured the crew. So far, they had only publicly announced that two pilots were in captivity. The news had driven Meredith and the San Francisco bombing off the front page. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the way they had planned. “Mr. Durant, considering your earlier discoveries, can the Project be used to monitor the situation in the Sudan?” the DCI asked.
“I’ll see what the whiz kids can do,” Durant replied. “Do we have coverage of the wreckage?” He knew the answer but hadn’t seen the photos. An aide spoke into a phone and a series of scenes flashed on one of the TV monitors. An unidentifiable mass of wreckage was strewn over the desert floor. Durant breathed a sigh of relief. Because the B-2 was in a combat mode of operation, the aircraft’s ejection sequence had worked as designed and the computers had opened the fuel valves and armed the weapons for detonation when the aircraft had hit the ground.
“It must have been one hell of an explosion and fire,” the Vice President said. “Will they have enough to convince the world it was a B-Two?”
“Once they analyze the wreckage,” the DCI said, “they will. Unfortunately, they also have the pilots, who are very much alive.”
“Mr. President,” Serick said, agreeing with the DCI’s brutal assessment, “you still have plausible denial here. Simply announce that two pilots were on a routine airlift mission hauling cargo and got lost. You are demanding their immediate release.”
“They got lost and ended up a thousand miles over the Sahara?” Durant asked. “In this day and age? Not likely.” Serick glared at him. It was the old clash of personalities and they could never stay on the same side for long. “Perhaps,” Durant counseled, “a simple announcement acknowledging the two Air Force pilots have been ‘detained’ by the Sudanese and you have no other comment at this time would be best. You need time to work the problem.” He fell silent and listened while the men discussed the situation. Durant understood how the President worked and this meeting was only one in a series as he settled on a response to the latest problem. But Serick’s arguments were swaying the President.
Durant was surprised when the door opened and the director of the FBI entered. He stood at the foot of the table and cleared his throat, not liking what he had to say. “I think we know how they did it,” he announced. “Our agents have been trailing an Egyptian national, Osmana Khalid. Khalid is an Imam, an Islamic cleric, who has been operating out of Warrensburg, Missouri, for
“Eject! Eject! Eject!” Terrant shouted.
7
5:50 A.M. , Monday, April 26,
Washington, D.C.
Nelson Durant was awake early, dressed, and drinking his second cup of coffee when the White House called with the message. “They’re reacting much faster these days,” he told Art Rios.
“The National Security Council?” Rios asked.
“The President just called an emergency meeting,” Durant replied. “I imagine Serick will be in fine form.” The National Security Advisor had a well-earned reputation for working himself into a lather during a crisis.
The two men rode in silence to the White House as Durant read the latest message traffic coming in on the car’s computer. Rios drove up to the west entrance where Durant was escorted to the Situation Room in the basement. “Ah, Nelson,” Stephan Serick boomed, “so glad you could join us—finally.” Durant ignored the jibe and sat down. “I take it you’ve heard the news on TV,” Serick continued.
The door opened and the President entered with the Vice President, his senior policy adviser, and the director of Central Intelligence. The DCI quickly outlined the situation. The facts were simple: the Sudanese had shot down the B-2 Stealth bomber and captured the crew. So far, they had only publicly announced that two pilots were in captivity. The news had driven Meredith and the San Francisco bombing off the front page. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the way they had planned. “Mr. Durant, considering your earlier discoveries, can the Project be used to monitor the situation in the Sudan?” the DCI asked.
“I’ll see what the whiz kids can do,” Durant replied. “Do we have coverage of the wreckage?” He knew the answer but hadn’t seen the photos. An aide spoke into a phone and a series of scenes flashed on one of the TV monitors. An unidentifiable mass of wreckage was strewn over the desert floor. Durant breathed a sigh of relief. Because the B-2 was in a combat mode of operation, the aircraft’s ejection sequence had worked as designed and the computers had opened the fuel valves and armed the weapons for detonation when the aircraft had hit the ground.
“It must have been one hell of an explosion and fire,” the Vice President said. “Will they have enough to convince the world it was a B-Two?”
“Once they analyze the wreckage,” the DCI said, “they will. Unfortunately, they also have the pilots, who are very much alive.”
“Mr. President,” Serick said, agreeing with the DCI’s brutal assessment, “you still have plausible denial here. Simply announce that two pilots were on a routine airlift mission hauling cargo and got lost. You are demanding their immediate release.”
“They got lost and ended up a thousand miles over the Sahara?” Durant asked. “In this day and age? Not likely.” Serick glared at him. It was the old clash of personalities and they could never stay on the same side for long. “Perhaps,” Durant counseled, “a simple announcement acknowledging the two Air Force pilots have been ‘detained’ by the Sudanese and you have no other comment at this time would be best. You need time to work the problem.” He fell silent and listened while the men discussed the situation. Durant understood how the President worked and this meeting was only one in a series as he settled on a response to the latest problem. But Serick’s arguments were swaying the President.
Durant was surprised when the door opened and the director of the FBI entered. He stood at the foot of the table and cleared his throat, not liking what he had to say. “I think we know how they did it,” he announced. “Our agents have been trailing an Egyptian national, Osmana Khalid. Khalid is an Imam, an Islamic cleric, who has been operating out of Warrensburg, Missouri, for
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