Wings Of Fire Read online

  "Scorpions are ready," Lindsey reported weakly.

  "How about you, kiddo?"

  "I'm hungry," she said. "Let's do our thing so we can go home and get a couple burgers."

  "Warning, airborne search radar tracking, three o'clock, thirty miles, MiG-25," the computer reported.

  "The weapons pylons are making our radar crosssection as big as a friggin' barn," Franken said. "Looks like we're going to pop some Scorpions after all." The AIM-

  120C Scorpion air-to-air missile was the Megafortress's main defensive weapon-a radar-guided supersonic missile capable of hitting enemy fighters as far as thirty miles away. The EB-52 carried four on each wing, mounted on launch rails attached to the sides of the weapon pylons.

  "Let's step it down to COLA," Lindsey suggested. "Maybe he won't want to come down that low."

  "Roger. He we go. Hold on to your lunch."

  "My lunch is long gone," Lindsey shot back. Franken shoved the throttles to full military power and ordered the computer to COLA mode. COLA, or computer-generated lowest altitude, used both the terrain and cultural data in the terrain-following computer and combined it with occasional bursts from the laser radar and air data information to compute the absolute lowest altitude the EB-52 bomber could fly, depending on airspeed, terrain, obstructions, and flight performance. The faster the bomber flew, the more

  aggressively the autopilot would hug the ground-literally flying at treetop level if it could. Over water, the computer could take the bomber right down to fifty feet above the surface of the water-only a very tall sailboat mast could stop them.

  "Threat report," Lindsey asked.

  "MiG-25 tracking four o'clock, twenty miles, altitude ten thousand feet," the computer reported.

  "They're trying to get on our tail," Franken said. "Let's do it, Linds. Ready?"

  Reeves froze for a few long moments, then looked over at Franken. "Let's do it," she repeated. She pressed the voice command button. "Attack MiG-25," she spoke.

  "Attack MiG-25, stop attack," the computer responded, offering her the command that would stop the attack. When she did not respond within three seconds, the computer said, "Launch commit Scorpion right pylon." There was a slight rumble from the right wing and then a streak of light from Lindsey's windscreen. The ATM-120 Scorpion missile flew an "over-the-shoulder" launch profile, arcing over the EB-52, then back toward the Libyan MiGs. The laser radar array automatically activated for two seconds, updating the Scorpion's autopilot with the fighters' flight path. The missile climbed above the MiGs, then descended rapidly toward the spot where the missile predicted the MiGs would be at impact. Ten seconds before impact, the LADAR flashed on again, updating the missile's autopilot for the last time. Five seconds before impact, the Scorpion's own radar activated and locked onto the lead MiG-25 fighter.

  That was the first indication-an immediate "MISSILE LOCK" warning-the Libyan pilots got that they were under attack.

  The wingmen did exactly what they were supposed to do, executing a textbook formation breakaway, climbing and turning away from each other and giving their leader room to maneuver. But the lead pilot-concentrating on the attack, just moments away from firing his first radarguided missiles-didn't react fast enough, or didn't be-

  lieve the indication, or chose to ignore it, hoping for a lucky break, the two-in-three chance that the attack was against one of his wingmen.

  The thirty-seven-pound shaped warhead detonated like a shotgun blast a fraction of a second before the missile hit the MiG right above and to the left of the starboard engine nacelle. The MiG-25's heavy steel hull, reinforced with titanium-the MiG-25 was designed to fly at nearly three times the speed of sound-deflected most of the energy of the blast. But the missile still had enough punch to crack the fuselage, rip open the fuselage fuel tank, and smack the starboard engine. Running at one hundred percent power, the engines didn't need much of a hit. The engine's turbine blades, knocked out of their precisely engineered highspeed orbits, shot through the engine case like atomic particles flying into space after a nuclear explosion; the extreme heat from the engines ignited the fuel from the ruptured fuel tank, causing a fire. The MiG-25 pilot had only seconds to react-but again, he was concentrating too hard on his quarry to pay attention to the warning lights, telling him he had only a few heartbeats to punch out-before the MiG blew itself into a ball of fire and spun into the Mediterranean Sea.

  "Good going, kiddo," Franken said flatly-killing someone was never cause for celebration, even if it meant saving your own skin. "You got him."

  "Thanks," Lindsey said-then promptly whipped off her oxygen mask, lowered her head between her knees, and vomited on the deck.

  The two remaining MiGs spent several minutes rejoining-they were obviously spooked by the unexpected threat warning and having to do an evasive maneuver so low to the ground at night-and then several more minutes trying to locate their leader. By the time they resumed the search for the EB-52, it had changed headings and proceeded on course to its target area.

  Within a few minutes, the picture had changed considerably. Where before it was relatively quiet, now it seemed every air defense radar in both Libya and Egypt was up and

  operating. Lindsey kept busy steering the Megafortress around a variety of antiaircraft weapon systems, and every few minutes a fighter radar would sweep past them. They were forced to stay at low altitude to avoid all the threats.

  "Headbanger, this is Stalker One, say status," Patrick McLanahan radioed.

  "We're sixty seconds to initial point, Stalker," Franken responded on the secure satellite command channel. Thankfully Lindsey was feeling all right now, because Franken had now run out of flying gloves-he hoped he wouldn't have to eject now. "We were chased by Libyan MiGs a while ago, but we're clear. Unfortunately every air defense site in eastern Libya and western Egypt is looking for us, and both sides are on full alert. We had to go low and stay low, so our time in the box will be much less. I estimate only twelve minutes until we bingo. Sorry, Stalker."

  "No sweat, Headbanger," Patrick replied. "I don't plan on staying very long anyway. We're in position and ready for some fireworks. We're glad you're here."

  "Glad to help, Stalkers. Watch the skies. Headbanger clear."

  The Libyan town of Jaghbub was located one hundred and twenty miles south of Tobruk. Jaghbub was an oasis fed by an occasionally dry river, which for most of its two thousand years of history never had more than a few hundred persons living there. But the area was one of the best farming regions in the northern Sahara, with many different types of fruits, vegetables, and nut trees in abundance, and travelers and nomads going across northern Africa found Jaghbub to be a rich and inviting place to stop and rest before continuing their trek across the wastelands. It had therefore developed over the centuries as a crossroads of many different nationalities, religious sects, political identities, and schools of thought from all over the known world.

  So when an obscure descendant of the Prophet Muham-

  mad was forced to flee his home in Fez, Morocco, by French colonists in the early nineteenth century, he escaped across the burning sands of the northern Sahara desert, following the ancient nomadic routes over fifteen hundred miles back toward the holy land, and came upon this little oasis. There he found a home for his own particular style of Islam. Instead of the wild, untamed "whirling dervish" being practiced in many Islamic sects, this holy man, who called himself Sayyid Muhammad ibn 'Ali asSanusi, preached a return to strict Muslim practices-abstinence, prayer, and strict adherence to the words of the prophet in the Quran. He built a mosque, then a university, and finally a fortress on the banks of the little river, and the holy city of Jaghbub was born.

  For the next one hundred and forty years, Jaghbub was the birthplace of some of the most powerful and revered kings of Africa. The Sanusi dynasty became the lords of northern Africa and the ghosts of vengeance of the Sahara. They ruled the oases with an iron fist, tempered with justice through the laws of Islam. Travelers a
nd pilgrims from any nation were welcome and treated with extraordinary kindness and generosity; anyone who preyed on a traveler or pilgrim was dealt with equally extraordinary swiftness and cruelty, usually by being buried up to the chin in the sand outside an oasis where insects and vultures could pick at the robber's head for a day or two.

  They were never conquered. Despite invasions from the French, British, Turks, Italians, Germans, and Americans, the Sanusi dynasty survived and prospered. On December

  24, 1951, Sayyid al-Hasan ibn 'Abdullah as-Sanusi, the fourth Grand Sanusi and the first to be chosen amir of each of the three kingdoms of Libya, proclaimed the independence of Libya from post-World War II British rule and himself ruler of the United Kingdom of Libya. The Sanusi family moved the capital of then- new kingdom to Tripoli, keeping the family stronghold at Jaghbub as a retreat and family mosque; soon, Jaghbub became a destination for Muslim pilgrims from all over the world who vfiited and

  prayed at the tombs of the great nomadic kings of early

  Libya.

  The newly independent kingdom survived mostly by borrowing money from its Arab neighbors and the United Nations, until British geologists discovered oil in the desert southeast of Tripoli in 1958. Virtually overnight, Libya became one of the richest and most strategically vital countries in the world, almost on a par with Egypt and its famous Suez Canal. First the British, and then the Americans, built some of their largest and most important overseas military bases in Libya, all to ensure the delivery of the seemingly endless supply of oil being pumped from its deserts. With its newfound wealth, the king of Libya improved the cities, built large and modern ports and rail lines, improved education and health care, and made Libya an attractive destination for people and investors from all over the world. Once again, travelers and pilgrims were welcomed and protected by the as-Sanusi family.

  All that changed in September of 1969, when a group of young army officers led by Muammar Qadhafi staged a bloodless coup against the monarchy. The king himself was out of the country, recovering from eye surgery in Turkey. He abdicated and named his second son Muhammad heir to the throne; the rest of the family fled the palace. The family retreated to Jaghbub, thinking that even Qadhafi would never dare violate a sacred mosque or try to destroy the Muslim university.

  When Qadhafi's rule became more bloodthirsty, violent, and repressive, and Libya was distancing itself not just from the West but from many of its Arab neighbors, the people began to call for a return of the Sanusi dynasty to rule Libya as a constitutional monarchy. Jaghbub started to become the symbol of the once and future Libya, the root of Libya's past greatness and the source of leadership of the new Libya, should the military dictatorship fail or be overturned.

  Crown Prince Sayyid Muhammad ibn al-Hasan asSanusi of Libya was welcomed into the capitals of many countries, and he made it clear that, with the right support

  from outside his country as well as within, he would assume the throne once again. Muhammad was born in 1962, the king's second son. Officially he, like most of the Sanusi men before him, was born in the holy sanctuary at the Great Mosque at Jaghbub-in reality, Muhammad was born at the American base hospital at Wheelus Ah" Force Base, which had far better medical equipment and medical professionals than at Jaghbub. His family had learned thenlesson from the birth of the first son, al-Mahdi, who really was born at Jaghbub but had suffered dehydration and circulation problems during delivery.

  Muhammad began his schooling at the Royal Military Academy in Tripoli at the age of four and learned the basics, the Libyan "Five 'R's"-reading, writing, arithmetic, religion, and riding-with extraordinary speed. Although his future, chosen by his father, was as a religious scholar and teacher, his real love was the military. He loved hearing stories of his grandfather, a general in the Turkish Army when Libya was still part of the Ottoman Empire, harassing the Third Reich's Field Marshal Erwin Rommel's Panzers all across the Sahara. But he soon realized that tanks in the present day, like horses in World War II, were obsolete-a strong air force was the best way to secure a nation as large as Libya, on a continent as large as Africa.

  After the military coup in 1969, Muhammad attended elementary and high school classes conducted at the university in Jaghbub, then was accepted to Harvard University in 1980 and graduated in 1983 with a double major in political science and international relations. He was admitted to Harvard Law School hi 1983 and was the first foreign first-year student ever named as an editor of the prestigious Harvard Law Review.

  But Muammar Qadhafi wasn't done with the as-Sanusi family-he needed a scapegoat, and they were perfect targets. Qadhafi had suffered an embarrassing defeat in a brief war with former ally Egypt in 1977; he failed in his attempt to occupy neighboring Chad and Sudan , he failed in his attempt to support his friend Idi Amin in Uganda;

  and he suffered an embarrassing loss of four Libyan MiG-

  25 fighters when they tangled with two U.S. Navy F-14 Tomcat fighter planes defying Qadhafi's "Line of Death" over the Gulf of Sidra. There had already been several assassination attempts against Qadhafi, and there was a brief but violent military uprising in Tobruk, organized and funded by the deposed King Idris and his newly formed Sanusi Brotherhood. Qadhafi charged the Sanusis with sedition, treason, and inciting revolution-all crimes punishable by death. In 1984, Qadhafi ordered the entire asSanusi family arrested, the Jaghbub university closed, and the tombs of the Sanusi kings opened, destroyed, and the remains thrown out into the desert.

  But he knew it would be too politically costly to turn the Sanusis into martyrs, so he allowed them all to escape. The king himself remained in Istanbul; the other family members fled, mostly to Egypt or Saudi Arabia, never to return. Once they were out of the country, though, Qadhafi pursued them relentlessly. His assassination squads fanned out over most of Europe and Africa, under orders to kill all Libyans who refused to return to Libya-and the Sanusis were tops on their lists. The Crown Prince first met his family in Egypt and publicly denounced the desecration of the Sanusi tombs; when being public exiles in Egypt became too dangerous, the family scattered.

  The historic buildings, mosque, tombs, and university at Jaghbub lay baking in the hot Saharan sun, virtually unused. The university was turned into a military headquarters; the fortress was turned into a winter palace for Qadhafi and a convenient but isolated place to hold propaganda events. To cover up the desecration of the holy place, the river that fed the oasis was dammed, flooding the plain and covering up all traces of the destroyed historic buildings and tombs. It appeared as if the legacy of the kings of Libya was at an end.

  But another ambitious, treacherous Libyan army officer resurrected the memories of the as-Sanusi kings of Libya-but for all the wrong reasons. Jadallah Salem Zuwayy was an officer assigned to a Special Forces unit at

  Jaghbub in the early 1990s. When Qadhafi Lake-the lake covering the Sanusi tombs-was low one extraordinarily hot summer, he was able to view the ruins of the tombs of the Sanusi kings that lay exposed in the mud from the low water level. Although he and his officers were forbidden to go near the tombs, he went anyway-but even after he was discovered, the fear of retribution from Qadhafi was so strong that no one dared bring him up on charges. That fear of the Sanusi dynasty is what inspired Zuwayy to begin his claim as a descendant of the Sanusi line.

  It was easily researched: Sayyid al-Hasan as-Sanusi, the first king of united Libya, had six sons and three daughters. Actually, the records showed only five sons, but the Sanusi kings usually had three or more wives, and they adopted many children, so why couldn't there be a sixth-or seventh, for that matter? The second son, Muhammad, was appointed the heir apparent. The entire family fled the country after the desecration of the tombs at Jaghbub-all, went the new story, except Jadallah, the youngest son of King Idris. Instead of fleeing, Jadallah decided to join Qadhafi's army, not only to learn his weaknesses but also to learn from him how to be a leader in the modern world.

  The real Idris the Second, Muhammad, hadn't been
heard from since 1992, when he became King Idris the Second upon the death of his father in Istanbul. From his hiding place-no one knew for certain where it was-he had proclaimed a Libyan constitutional monarchy in exile, formed a Royal War Council, and was raising money and building an army. Rumors spread like wildfire: Some said he was a spy for the American Central Intelligence Agency, for the British MI6, or for the Israeli Mossad. Most knew he was the leader of the Sanusi Brotherhood, a secret counter-assassination group, hunting and killing first Qadhafi's, then Zuwayy's assassins worldwide on behalf of his family and all exiled Libyans. Others claimed he had been assassinated, or just deep in hiding, probably in South America. In any case, he or his followers hadn't been heard from in years. -

  He was a coward, or so the story went-it was Jadallah

  who had the courage to dare to try to retake the government of Libya from Qadhafi. As an officer at Jaghbub, Jadallah secretly preserved "his" family's heritage and assembled his army, and from his ancestral home, launched the attack on Tripoli that eventually brought Qadhafi down. Although Muhammad as-Sanusi was in reality the second king of Libya, Jadallah Zuwayy proclaimed himself the true King Idris the Second and chieftain of the Sanusi Brotherhood.

  It was a ridiculous story. The most superficial examination of official records showed Zuwayy's real birthplace and lineage-he was definitely no Sanusi. There was ample evidence that King Idris had only five sons, not six; Zuwayy's concocted evidence was disproved immediately. But Zuwayy stuck to his story, and eventually the people of Libya accepted it. He turned Jaghbub back into a holy city and announced the reincarnation of the United Kingdom of Libya, to the delight of the people of Libya and the amused relief of most of the rest of the world. He then went about having all the Arab history books changed to reflect his fictional lineage.

  In fact, Jadallah Zuwayy, the self-appointed and totally fictional king of Libya, hated Jaghbub. Yes, it was beautiful and fertile. But it was well within artillery range of Egyptian forces, just fifteen miles away. Although he had built a modern stronghold there, with the most Modern air defense network surrounding it and a force of ten thousand troops and a couple hundred armor, artillery, and mechanized infantry pieces in place, it was still over a hundred miles from civilization and reinforcements, and could be easily overrun or infiltrated. But its weaknesses made it a good hideout. No military forces would ever touch Jaghbub, especially the Great Mosque, for fear of scorn by the rest of the Muslim world-it was considered as holy a shrine as Mecca or Medina. And it was far enough away from the Mediterranean coast to give him ample warning of an attack or invasion from the sea.