Chapter 14

Kismayo Airport, Kismayo, Somalia. June 20, 05:00 GMT +3.

The light breeze from out of the east suddenly became ice-cold. As we all stood frozen, the dust stirring beside the apron, and the discarded paper bag that scooted before the wind across the apron went unnoticed.

“So what is your affiliation then, Rivka?” I manage to ask after the initial shock.

“I work for who pays best. My current employers don’t want these lowlifes to blab about the secrets of al-Shabaab and al-Qaeda.”

“And you are not working for Mossad, Somali Security, or the CIA?”

“Well, seeing you all will be dead in a few minutes from now, who cares! My employer in high places doesn’t need the CIA to discover some rather embarrassing facts.”

“There are others that will find this a little questionable. We all dead. The pax all dead, and little Ginger-top-darling ... missing. You think you can get away with this?”

“Oh sure, little chihuahua! By the time anyone finds out that this little helicopter is not going to arrive, I will be long gone.”

“Don’t count on it!”

“Oh, I do count on it! When I found out that the CIA planned to take these two bozos, it was too late to try to stop them. I could not get a message through to the al-Shabaab southern headquarters camp, because you had already seen to it that the camp was destroyed.”

“We take pride in our missions...” Lorie hissed.

“Yeah, like hitting in numbers on a lone girl just trying to get a lay for the night.” Rivka retorted. “Therefore, it will be sweet to see you also dead.”

“You really think you are going to get away with this? The CIA would get you before you know it.” I said. “Come on, Rivka, it’s not worth it.”

“Oh yes, it is worth it! Taking out the so-called Angels and their little lap doggies...” Rivka hissed.

“Oh, really, you still think of us that way, carrot-top-bitch!” Lorie shot back.

“Well, who is in control now? I hold the gun, and my Taliban friends will reward me well for putting a dent in the so-called Foundation for Law and Order! Ha! What Law and Order? There’s just one LAW. Islamic Law!”

“Like taking out Lorenzo Romano? You for one moment thought that we did not know it was you!”

“Yes! And you can’t do anything about it! Because you will be dead!”

“But my associates won’t...”

“They will be dealt with ... Like I’m dealing with you and this worthless shit with you,” Rivka said, “I’ll start with little miss-leave-my-man-alone first...” And Rivka trained her gun on Darya.

“Not if I have a say...” A soft voice spoke behind Rivka, and she spun around to look into a mean looking 9-millimetre in the double-hand grip of Roxy. There was a wild half insane light in Roxy’s eyes, the eyes of a killer. Roxy was trembling a little. She was angry. Enraged but calculated. Rivka took this as a hesitation and a weakness. Her mistake.

Rivka was now surrounded and no way in covering all of us. She swung her gun towards Roxy.

Roxy’s hands recoiled with the gun in an upwards motion, the 9-millimetre bullet struck true, blowing Rivka’s head back as the bullet entered her skull just above her nose. The shock on her face vanished in a blur of bone fragments and a red mist. It looked like her head swelled up and then burst, streaking the side of the helicopter with brain matter, ginger red hair, and blood.

Rivka’s body toppled backwards to brush against the side of the helicopter before dropping onto the concrete apron, where she lay in a tangle of arms and legs.

“ ... and I say, you die, bitch,” Roxy hissed as the concussion of the 9-millimetre shot echoed off, fading into the distance.

For a long moment, Roxy just stood motionless, her arms outstretched before her, and the gun in a double grip, pointing to where Rivka was. Then she exhaled her breath and dropped her arms to her sides. She looked at us. The wild insane look in her eyes was replaced with a calm softness.

“Here, Ronny...” Roxy said as she held out her cell phone to me. “I’ve recorded all the bitch had said.”

As I took the cell phone from Roxy, she turned and spoke:

“You can come out now ... the danger has passed ... And thank you for the backup.” Then a soldier of the AU forces stood up from behind the helicopter, just under the tail-boom, a mean looking AK-47 held at high ready before him. Roxy turned back to us:

“When I saw what is happening here, I asked this guy to back me up. We kept the helicopter between us and Rivka, and came up without her seeing or hearing us.”

Suddenly, all hell broke loose, as soldiers came rushing up to the helicopter. Lorie was on her cell phone, calling TC. Darya went over to Roxy and just wrapped Roxy up in her arms.

“I saw and heard it all,” The AU soldier said to me in broken English. “I will get the captain and the colonel.”

“Notify them, but our security team is on the way. And ... thank you for helping rifleman Roxy,” I said, and the soldier smiled a Colgate smile.

“All in a day’s work,” he said, and stepped away.

“I will speak to the captain about your help, Soldier,” I said to him, and he just waved over his shoulder. As I looked back towards our group, I saw Roxy giving Darya something. Darya took it, smiled and hugged Roxy again. Then the two came over to me.

“If I did not forget my gloves at the bungalow, we all could have been dead by now,” Darya said.

“How so?” I asked.

“I forgot my flying gloves, the ones you gave me, in my room at the bungalow. Roxy saw them and decided to bring them to me...” Darya said, holding up the chamois leather pilot gloves in her left hand. “Talk about coincidence...”

“Yeah ... But look at the bright side, we will all be going home soon!”

Darya looked up at me with moistness shinning in her eyes. “Where is home?” She asked.

“Home is where I hang my hat, and there’s space for you as well ... That’s, if you want it.”

“Thank you, Ron. Now, speak to Roxy. I think she is okay, but she did not learn to compartmentalise her emotions yet ... She still thinks she has done wrong in terminating that ... lowlife! Not wrong in defending us, but wrong in taking a life...”

I opened my arms and Roxy melted into my side, slight shivers running through her body, and she just buried her face into my chest. I stroked her head and just whispered calming words to her. Darya had her hand on Roxy’s shoulder, and together Darya and I soothed Roxy. It took a while, but she calmed down and said, “Sorry, Dar. I knew you would have wanted to do what I just did...”

“It’s okay, sister. Whether it was you or I, or anyone else, the bitch had it coming. And that she was batting for the other team just makes it so much sweeter...”

Roxy giggled.

Ten minutes later TC and his full squad, together with Ash, Angie and Mai-Loan, arrived. The professional that he was, was forgotten for a few moments as TC rushed to Lorie and wrapped her up in a hug. I knew that there was something brewing between the two of them, but this was the first time I saw the public display of affection.

TC took Lorie’s hand and together they walked her over to where I was with Darya and Roxy at my side.

“You better get going with the cargo. I don’t think we should keep them in sight of the AU guys, and the boys and I will see to it that the mess here is cleaned up.”

“Thanks, TC, but loan me two of your men to watch the cargo. I am short of one guard, and I think Darya, Roxy and Lorie would want something strong now,” I said.

“Something strong that’s not coffee or tea...” TC quipped.

“I’ll be fine, let’s do it!” Lorie affirmed.

“Yeah, me too. Let’s go!” Darya said.

“I’ll help Darya guard the cargo...” Roxy offered. “Johnnie Walker Blue Label can wait awhile!”

“You like Johnnie Walker?” Bushy said as he walked up to us and heard Roxy’s last remark.

“If I go for hard wood, I go for Johnnie Walker. But it must be Blue Label, nothing else.”

“Jeez Girl, you ain’t cheap!” Bushy said. “But lucky you, I have some stock I brought in and slipped by past customs. You are welcome to share it with me.”

“We did not pass customs...” Roxy giggled, nervously touching her hair, stroking it and twisting the one hair lock around her finger. She looked a little better, and a smile formed on her lips. Bushy looked shyly down towards the apron.

I looked at Darya, and she smiled up at me. She noticed it too. There was electricity in the air around Roxy and Bushy. I was expecting lightning!

“So, let’s keep on walking...” Roxy said and blushed.

“Okay, first, let’s deliver the packages, then the two of you can go walking with Johnnie Walker...” I chuckled.

“ ... And keep on walking...” Darya said, chuckling.

After crossing the low north-east to south-west running hill just to the east of the airport, I set the autopilot to an altitude of eight hundred and fifty feet. The heading, east south-east; and following along the purple line on the GPS. Airspeed, with a slight off the nose headwind of two knots, was around 132 Knots Indicated Airspeed (KIAS). We were going to a spot on the ocean thirty-two nautical miles away (about sixty kilometres) and will get there, to that spot, in less than fifteen minutes.

This spot was over the horizon and out of sight of land. I know I was taking a risk. Although, according to the certificate of airworthiness, the BO-105 was certified for over the water operations, there was no wet water gear aboard. No dinghy or clothing to protect against water immersion, and there was no flotation gear mounted on the skids.

A risk, but something I did not think about until now. Well, forgive me, but, in the SAPS I also operated the BK-117 and BO-105s over the ocean in Cape Town, Port Elizabeth and Durban, and they also did not have flotation devices mounted, nor any other wet water gear.

Darya and Roxy were keeping an eye on the two hooded figures sitting between them. Those two were sitting silent and not moving. Although their heads were covered, they should have come to the conclusion that they were in a helicopter by now.

“Hey, sister! Eyes inside!” Darya chuckled. “Don’t go and get rat nests in your brain now...”

“Am not!” Roxy hit back.

“I know the feeling,” Lorie chipped in.

“Hey, guys! I’m just going for a drink. It wasn’t a marriage proposal!”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell it to the ones that will believe you...” Darya said. Roxy opened her mouth to say something but closed it again and just folded her hands in her lap, glancing out the side window.

Darya shook her head and smiled. “How far still to go, Ron?” she asked, chuckling.

“We’re halfway there. And if you ask again, I’ll let Ronny dump you overboard!” Lorie chided. Darya giggled. Suddenly Roxy perked up.”

“How far to go, Ron?” Roxy giggled.

“Roxy!” Lorie exclaimed.

“Now, now, pipe down you three! I’ll dump you all overboard,” I admonished.

“Then who will cook tonight?” Roxy asked.

“Well, you two both had a turn, so It’s my turn. And if I eat alone, it will be a peanut butter and jelly sammie,” I replied.

“Peanut butter and jelly sammie? Yack! How can you mix peanut butter and jelly, and what kind of jelly? Lemon, orange, pineapple, strawberry, or blueberry?” Roxy asked with a look of disgust on her face. I chuckled.

“Roxy, peanut butter and jelly refers to a sandwich with peanut butter and smooth apricot jam,” I explained. “It’s an American term. They call jam, jelly and not jelly as you know it: Jello...”

“Bloody weird. I really thought you were going to mix peanut butter and pineapple jelly...”

“I used to call it a peanut butter and apricot jam sammie. Then discovered the American name for it. I also thought it to be weird until I Googled it and felt relief as I found out that it is something I love to eat. And that jelly is jam and pudding jelly is Jello. Ask Olivia, she’s from down south in Alabama, USA.”

“Hey, you guys! Stop talking food. I’m hungry!” Lorie exclaimed. “Hey, Smudge, there’s a smudge on your windscreen...”

“Yeah, I see it. It should be the carrier ... And we’re probably on their radar by now. Expect an escort of F-18s.”

“We should have brought Olivia along...” Lorie said. “Old memories for her ... flying F-18s off carriers.”

“I looked up the CVN 70, Carl Vinson. It’s a nuclear-powered carrier in the Nimitz class. That thing is huge. On deployment like now, she can have up to 6000 souls aboard.

“Wow!” Roxy exclaimed. “All those people on a small boat...” I cast a look over to Lorie, who smiled and rolled her eyes.

“Roxy, first it’s a ship, not a boat. She is 333 metres long, 76 metres wide at her widest point. She has two nuclear reactors driving four sets of turbines that drive four propellers of seven comma six, two metres in diameter each.” I explained. “You will see when we land on the flight deck.”

“Oh, okay...” Roxy said, not convinced. “Where do all those people sleep?”

“In cabins,” Darya sighed. “Well, in fact the officers sleep two-two to a cabin. The enlisted guys sleep in berthing areas in three stacked bunks.”

“Well, tell it to the ones that will believe you...” Roxy hit back at Darya with Darya’s own words, and giggled.

“Well, let’s just wait and see...” I said.

Darya just rolled her eyes and looked out the side window.

“Eyes inside!” Roxy said and giggled.

“Those two kids in the back need a spanking!” Lorie sighed.

“Promise?” Darya replied.

Roxy giggled. “I’ll go oil the belt when we get back...”

“I thought you and Bushy are going walking with Johnnie Walker?” I asked.

“Will that earn me more licks?” Roxy asked, chuckling.

“You never know, will you?” I answered.

Both Roxy and Darya giggled. Lorie just smirked.

The nearer we got to the “smudge” on the horizon, the more detail became visible. There were several “smudges” that soon turned into a full carrier battle group. I counted at least five destroyers and two cruisers. The carrier was centre of the group, and to the front of the carrier I though a cargo vessel was sailing.

I suppose an SSN would be in the vicinity as well, deep underwater, scrutinising us with its electronic eyes. Not to mention the AWACS high in the sky, and the F-18s flying Combat Air Patrol.

“Better call them up before they stick a missile up our ass,” I instructed and Lorie reached for the VHS radio, changing it to a prearranged frequency, and called the carrier.

“November, Charley, Victor, Victor, copy you loud and clear. You are within our airspace and are advised to follow instruction from Air Traffic Control. Do you copy?”

“Tango. Echo, copy you clear. Please proceed...” Lorie answered the transmission. Then another voice came on the radio.

“Tango Echo. We are now in recovery configuration. Have you ever landed on a carrier before?”

“Not on a carrier, but on ships at sea. I take it, it will be the same.”

“Tango Echo, we have radar contact on you, dead astern at five nautical miles, 850 feet altitude. Descend and maintain 300 feet, speed 60 knots indicated. Wind 130 degrees magnetic at two knots,” the reply came.

“Descend and maintain 300 feet, speed 60 KIAS. Winds calm at 2 knots, 130 magnetic,” Lorie repeated the instruction. We were now nearing the huge ship, passing over the destroyer to the back of the carrier.

“Tango Echo, Descend and maintain 80 feet, speed 25 knots.” The next instruction came, and Lorie repeated the instruction to indicate that we got it loud and clear.

“Tango Echo, the angled deck, or runway you see before you is facing into the wind. We are making fifteen knots through the water, and the wind is 130 at 2 knots. Swells are low, and the deck movement is 3 feet.”

“Tango Echo, copy...” Lorie transmitted.

“Tango Echo, your LZ is on the forward quarter of the angled deck. LZ on the yellow and white centreline at the last white marker.”

Now, as I know it, the US Navy makes use of the “RAST” system, or, Recovery Assist, Secure and Transverse system on their UH-60B helicopters. This is like the Canadian “Beartrap” device. But, little old BO-105 did not have this luxury of being “trapped” and “secured” fitted, so we will have to do this the old-fashioned way. Watch the rise and fall of the deck and plant her down as the ship goes down.

“Tango Echo, we see the LZ, as well as the reception committee on the deck.” Lorie transmitted as we sailed over the back end of the carrier, down the angled deck on the centreline of the ‘runway’.

We were 20 feet off the deck and overflying the ship at 10 knots. We will match the speed of the ship, and the wind, as we come in to the landing zone. Although we will still be travelling forward at fifteen to seventeen knots, the helicopter will be in a hover over the ship. Confusing? Try docking to the International Space Station at 28000 kilometres an hour, 470 kilometres above the earth!