The Plane That Wasn't There
John L. Norlin

THE BOOK

This story is a work of fiction - the United States government says I have to declare that. I can say parts of it are factual and really happened. They just won't let me tell you which parts. All I can do is let you read it - and decide for yourself what's fact and what's not.

This is a story about flying - with a vengeance! Very low and very fast, in very hostile places! If you don't like fast action and lots of adventure, don't read this book!

SAMPLE

"Only one thing," Tiger spoke up. "How often will we fly?"

"One mission a week," Kung replied, "in addition to two flights a week as the corporate plane."

"That's far too ambitious," Lindsay disagreed. "Low-altitude high-speed night flights take a lot out of the crew and the plane. We may have to adjust to something closer to once every three weeks for the night missions."

"I'd rather not," Kung responded, obviously irritated. "Maybe we can cut back on the corporate missions and maintain the rate of night flights."

"Well," Lindsay continued, "we'll have to see how the plane holds up - and how the crew holds up, as well."

"Oh, come now, Lindsay," Kung showed his impatience, switching to English. "We're paying you damned well to fly these missions."

"You're also paying me not to fly them into the side of a mountain!" Lindsay responded hotly, also in English. "If you want to keep us flying, you'll listen to what I say."

* * *

"Jesus, captain," Olson broke in, staring at the map in disbelief, "it went right over the middle of the base!"

"It sure did!" the captain's voice was filled with disbelief. "and there's no telling how much shit's going to hit the fan over this one!"

* * *

"Gentlemen," he started off, stepping to the easel that held the map, "the briefing I'm about to give you is classified Secret." He took a deep breath. "Last night, an aircraft identified as a light bomber penetrated the Chinese mainland directly across from T'aiwan."

The entire room became totally silent. Several faces turned almost white. These people knew the implications of the words "light bomber".

"As nearly as we can tell, it was not, I repeat, was not, a ChiNat aircraft!" Olson halted the reaction and everyone started breathing again.

"We don't know the origin, but it didn't head toward T'aiwan when it exited the mainland. Furthermore, there was no ChiNat support available to assist the aircraft, and the ChiNats may have been as surprised at the event as we were. Let me describe what we saw." He turned toward the easel, picking up the pointer. "The aircraft first came to our attention when it appeared here, having already penetrated the coastline."

Everyone in the room stared closely at the map.

* * *

"I don't understand," Li responded. "They'll see us and will only have to drop down to catch us."

"No," Lindsay insisted, "they'll see the fighters and a shadow on their radar screen almost exactly where the fighters are. They won't know we're below the fighters, causing the shadow! Their radars can't be good enough to see us separately if we're that close."

"Good thinking, colonel!" Tiger understood. "We'll sneak over the ridge under them and they won't know we're there!"

"Well," Lindsay shrugged, "the only alternative is to turn around and go back down this valley, but I don't like it at all. The valley isn't wide enough to escape their notice, once they have an idea where we are."

"OK," Li agreed. "We cross into the next valley under the fighters. And hope our prayers are heard and they won't see us."

"Prayers? Why, Li," Tiger teased, "I didn't know you were religious."

"I wasn't," Li replied dryly, "until I began flying with you!"

* * *

"I see the trees," Tiger spoke.

"He's lining up now," Lindsay was watching. "He's in position, in my blind spot - I don't see him."

"Climb now!" Li barked, and the plane hesitated, then jumped as Tiger responded to his own timing. Red tracers shot under the plane as it lifted and barely cleared the treetops. And then the tracers stopped.

"Right to 40 degrees now!" Li called.

"Right, four zero, roger," Tiger called as the plane was already into the turn.

"Where's the MiG?" Lindsay wanted to know.

"Captain," Chou called, "the other plane didn't come over the trees."

Suddenly, there was a ball of flame behind them. The flame reached outward, then fell in on itself.

* * *

It was quiet inside the airplane now, with nothing but the sound of the engines running strongly. A little different luck, thought Lindsay, and this is the MiG flying home and we're back there in a heap of ashes on the valley floor, instead. What am I thinking, here? he stopped himself, I've never been concerned about it before! What is this? Have my feelings about Marion got me worrying about staying alive?

"Yes, colonel," Tiger, still looking straight ahead, broke the silence. "And I feel the same way about Yukiko."

"Let's finish our business for the night then," Lindsay replied. "That way, we'll be ready to go back to Tokyo whenever our project officers are ready."

"Let's do it," Li replied. "I'd like to see Kumiko once again, as well!"

"Hah!" Tiger barked. "Li, you have far too many women already!"

* * *

The general came up out of his chair with a curse. "Dammit, sarge! You 'believe' - you don't know shit, do you? What the hell was it? You can't answer that, can you? What the hell good are you people if you can't give me solid answers? -."

"Sir!" Olson's barked response stopped the general cold. "I don't know what you expect me to be, sir, a liar or a fool, but I'm giving you the best answers I can. I wasn't out there to see what happened, sir!"

"Sergeant, don't be a damned fool!" the general's aide, a captain, growled at Olson.

"Jeff, shut up!" It was Captain Armstrong, standing up and walking to Olson's side, his size commanding attention. "General, I think you might want to listen to Sergeant Olson, sir. I sat there and watched what he was seeing this morning, and I'll be damned if I could come up with any better way to say what we saw. We've all been around enough to know the sarge is giving you the best he can, sir. If it's not enough, then nothing's ever going to be. But it's the best we can come up with. If you want to yell at anybody, sir, maybe you ought to yell at me. Sarge here can only stand and take this, but at least I can get back at you out on the golf course this afternoon!"

* * *

"We're going to make it!" Tiger shouted above the scream of the plane.

"Yeah!" Lindsay shouted back, "right into that damned ridge! It's dead ahead!"

"The enemy's right behind us!" Chou shouted from the rear. His voice was cut off by the sound of bullets striking the plane, and Lindsay felt a hard sting in his left shoulder!

Just then, Tiger flipped the plane up and to the left, just in time to clear the ridge. The Ilyushin, still firing, tried desperately to turn, but couldn't. It crashed directly into the ridge, throwing a fireball upward and outward.

"It's gone!" Li called out.

DEDICATION

In memory of Dick Webb, who said it wasn't there.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

All writers owe huge debts to others, most of which they can never repay. I can only acknowledge owing debts to the following people.

My deep thanks to my old high school pal, Nancy Arneson Prosa. It made no difference what anyone else ever said to me, it wasn't until Nancy suggested I ought to write that I really began to think I should or could.

I really need to mention my appreciation of Marcia Buckingham, the Director of Operations at Denlinger's. Without her direct encouragement, I wouldn't be writing this right now.

Thanks are definitely due to three people who have encouraged me, sometimes with a rap up alongside the head - and I'm talking about the three ladies who read through my manuscript drafts. Start with Lois Griffin, who helped me come up with new ways to say things, and add in Barbara Holmes and my sister-in-law, Pat Dobbin, both of whom made large red marks all over my early work.

Finally, behind every man there stands a woman (usually telling him he's wrong) - in my case, it's the love of my life, my wife of 40-plus years, Marge. She has been my rock and my traffic cop, my cookie-baker and my best pal for all of these years. And she has believed in me when even I wasn't sure.

REVIEW

If you've ever had any interest in the Air Force or aviation; if you've ever been in the Far East, especially Taiwan; if you've ever been in SIGINT Operations, you'll love this book. And if you fall into more than one of the above categories, this book is a MUST read. John Norlin's first published novel doesn't lack for action. You may be able to put the book down, but not for long. Norlin demonstrates his knowledge of covert activity in the 60's and of the Far East in general. If you find a lot of this fictitious story believable, there's probably a good reason for it.—Steve Engel

THE AUTHOR

A veteran of twenty-two years of military service in Signals Intelligence operations and another twenty-one years as an engineer of reconnaissance and intelligence processing systems, John Norlin has been a prolific writer for many years. Unfortunately, not many people have the opportunity to read his past work, most of which has been classified technical documents.

With encouragement from friends and family, he chose to venture into the realm of writing fiction, and this is his first published novel. As John likes to point out, "The government insists my writing must, by definition, be fiction!"

In addition to writing, John's interests include physical conditioning, personal computers, pets, art, music and travel. He and his wife, Marge, have four grown children and an increasing number of active grandchildren who keep their household in a constant state of happy uproar.

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