The Malacca Conspiracy (46 page)

The jet leveled at twenty-five hundred feet as it roared over the Potomac River, near Mount Vernon, the home of George Washington.

Belk looked down. The winding Potomac was glistening under the stars, as if peacefully oblivious to the war that was about to take place in the night sky above it.

Beechcraft Bonanza Aircraft
Above the Loudoun/Fairfax county line, Virginia

5:33 p.m.

S
alaam looked down and saw the suburban streetlight sprawl that was Fairfax County. So far he had spent ten minutes in the air in an FAA-imposed no-fly zone. Still undetected.

They were now passing over the small town of Centerville, just inside the Fairfax County line. Salaam pulled back on the power and slowed the airspeed slightly, to one-nine-zero knots. Then he steered the yoke slightly to the left, bringing them on a due easterly course of zero-nine-zero degrees.

Just five more minutes to glory! Soon the lights of Washington would be in his view. Praise be to Allah!

US Navy F/A-18 (“Hornet 1”)
Over Fairfax County, Virginia

5:34 p.m.

T
he look-down, shoot-down radar was sweeping the airspace below the jet. Still nothing.

Commander Belk put the Super Hornet in a large, circular loop over central Fairfax County. He surveyed the horizon, searching desperately, as if he could visually pick out a dark plane somewhere, down there, against the sea of a million lights on the ground.

Still he had to try something. The sweat from his forehead had spread now to his whole body, drenching the inside of his dull green jumpsuit.

He had to find his prey fast and make the kill, or Washington was gone.

Beep-beep-beep-beep
—
beep-beep-beep!

Contact! The look-down, shoot-down radar had spotted an aircraft below!

“Andrews! Hornet! I’ve got contact! Preparing to fire!” Belk reached down to fire one of his Sidewinder missiles.

The screen went blank.

“Where’d he go?” Belk looked down. “Come on, baby!” Nothing.

“Andrews. Hornet. I’ve lost contact! Bogie last spotted headed zero-nine-zero degrees, due east toward Washington.”

“Hornet, keep looking!”

He had to think fast. He turned the jet directly toward the Potomac River and pushed on the thrusters. If he could circle over Washington, head back over Virginia, and somehow find him and cut him off before he reached the river, then maybe…just maybe…he could get off a shot before it was too late.

Beechcraft Bonanza Aircraft
Above Virginia

5:35 p.m.

A
nwar had moved to the back of the plane, his hand already on the nuclear trigger, and ready to press it at Salaam’s command once they crossed the Potomac.

Down below, Salaam saw the cloverleaf intersection of Interstate 66 and Interstate 485 coming into view.

And then, in the distance, he saw it!

The Washington Monument, basked in spotlights, rising in the night above the American capital! This could not be happening. To have been so favored by Allah and to have been chosen for such a great mission.

Salaam’s heart was jack-hammering so fast that he could not control it. He turned the plane’s nose directly at the monument and increased his airspeed to two hundred knots.

US Navy F/A-18 (“Hornet 1”)
Over Washington, DC

5:36 p.m.

C
ommander Belk swung the jet in a loop over the National Mall and looked down at the Washington Monument, the US Capitol, and the White House. He pointed the plane to the Virginia side of the river, and within a matter of minutes had crossed the river again and was flying over Arlington Cemetery, still searching.

From there, he turned the plane to the northwest, flew toward Marymount University, where he looped over the Potomac again, and turned south headed back toward Arlington Cemetery.

Beechcraft Bonanza Aircraft
Over Arlington, Virginia

5:37 p.m.

T
hey flew east and low across Arlington, with Marymount University just below them. Now, sights of Washington just beyond the river lay out like a great feast before them.

Salaam pressed down for more airspeed. The dome of the Capitol was just behind the Washington Monument. It was only a matter of seconds until the greatest attack in the history of the world. And his death would be to the glory of Allah!

US Navy F/A-18 (“Hornet 1”)
Over Arlington, Virginia

5:38 p.m.

B
eep-beep-beep-beep
—
beep-beep-beep!

“Contact! Contact! Please don’t let it be too late!”

Somewhere out there, the Hornet’s fire control radar had locked onto a target. Belk’s heart raced as his thumb depressed the
Fire Missile
button. A single Sidewinder missile dropped from under the right wing and shot out into the night.

A moment later…

BOOM!

Shockwaves rocked the night air.

Belk jerked the stick to the right, banking the jet at a steep angle. He looked down and watched the blinding fireball plunge down toward the Potomac.

“Andrews. Hornet. We’ve got a direct hit on an intruding aircraft. Be advised bogie is down in the Potomac. Looks like splashdown just north of Roosevelt Island.”

There was a pause in communication, as Belk brought the jet down to one thousand feet for a better look. A great fire on the river was illuminating the bridge spanning Rosslyn and Georgetown. Outbound traffic on the bridge was slowing down, onlookers gawking at the fire.

The plane had fallen in the water less than one mile from the White House. Billy Belk allowed his shoulders to slump, relieving the tension that had gripped him moments earlier.

“Hornet. Andrews. Roger that. Good shooting. Your nation is appreciative tonight. Go to ten thousand feet. Return to base for debriefing.”

“Andrews. Hornet. Roger that. I’m coming home.”

Epilogue

The White House

Three months later

T
he Rose Garden was a blur of colors and a montage of the sweet scents of an early spring morning in Washington. Yellow, red, and white tulips were just beginning to bloom amidst gardenias, daffodil, jonquil, and some flowers that Diane did not recognize.

Across the lush, green grass just outside the West Wing, Diane stood at parade rest, her hands folded in the back of her service dress-blue uniform and skirt. Zack stood next to her, at the end of the line, also at parade rest. Next to her on the other side stood Captain Noble and the entire SEAL team, also in service dress blues. At their sides, the SEALs wore their ceremonial battle swords, which glistened brilliantly in the morning sun.

All this against the unseasonably warm Washington morning made for a gorgeous panorama of deep colors, with blue, red, white, and green meshing into bright tapestry against the pink blooms on saucer magnolia trees on the White House lawn.

“Attention on deck!” Captain Noble ordered. Diane and her colleagues jumped to erect attention.

A voice came over a loudspeaker. “Ladies and gentlemen, the president of the United States.”

Two marines opened double doors on the West Wing. The president stepped out onto the grass, flanked by Admiral Roscoe Smith to his right and Secretary of Defense Erwin Lopez to his left. They were
followed by another naval officer, Rear Admiral Jeffrey Carl Lettow, a Southern Baptist pastor currently serving as the chief of navy chaplains.

The four men walked across the grass to a podium featuring the Presidential Seal. “At ease,” the president said as he reached the podium, the three others behind him. The audience relaxed slightly.

“Our nation has been hit.” The president began his speech with somber tones. “One of our great cities, Philadelphia, has had its heart ripped out. One of our ships, USS
Port Royal,
has been attacked, and many thousands have died.

“But though the Islamo-fascists may have temporarily bruised Philadelphia, evil cannot, and shall not ever, quench the heart and the spirit of America. We are grateful to God Almighty that we still live as a nation, and that as a nation, we have survived this brutal and criminal attack.”

The president reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a letter. His eyes met Diane’s; then he looked at the SEAL team. “This is a private ceremony. Though certain members of the press corps have been invited, there will be no live television cameras. Photographs and excerpts will later be released to the press. But this is a sacred occasion. This is an intimate time. You have saved our country.” He took the letter out and unfolded it. “I’d like to begin by reading a brief note from the president of Indonesia.”

He placed the letter on the podium and began to read. “To members of the US Navy SEAL team, to the US Navy pilots, to the US Navy JAG officers, and to members of the USS
Ronald Reagan
carrier task force—the government and the people of a democratic Indonesia are eternally grateful. You have saved our nation from a despotic tyranny, and while Indonesians grieve the loss of lives in America, we salute and commend you for having saved the lives of millions of others in your country. May God bless you all of your days, and may God bless the United States of America. Signed, Muhammed Magadia, president of the Republic of Indonesia.”

The president folded the letter and put it in his pocket. “And now, I’d like to ask a very special lady to come forward.” The marines swung open the double doors again. The First Lady of the United States stepped out first. Then another woman stepped out. The two women walked across the lawn toward the podium, but it was not until they had nearly reached the podium that Diane recognized the second woman.

The president spoke again. “The Presidential Medal of Freedom is this nation’s highest civilian award. The medal was first established by President Harry Truman to honor civilians for distinguished service in time of war. On February 22, 1963, the 231
^st
birthday of George Washington, President John F. Kennedy expanded the eligibility for receiving the medal when he signed this executive order. Presidential Medals of Freedom shall be awarded to persons ‘for especially meritorious contribution to the security or national interests of the United States, or world peace, or cultural or other significant public or private endeavors.’

“Past recipients of the medal include Pope John Paul II, Martin Luther King Jr., President Ronald Reagan, and Mother Teresa.

“Today, I have the pleasure of presenting the Presidential Medal of Freedom to a woman, who, facing fear and death, courageously put her life on the line and in doing so, saved the lives of millions.” He turned around and looked and smiled at the woman standing next to his wife. “The Presidential Medal of Freedom is hereby awarded to Kristina Wulandari.”

Applause broke out as the pretty young Indonesian woman stepped forward. She sheepishly bowed. President Williams put the medal around her neck. He kissed her on the cheek, and then gave her a long hug. “Thank you,” the president could be heard saying over the applause. “Thank you so much.” Photographers stepped forward and snapped photographs to commemorate the historic moment.

The applause subsided, and Kristina walked over and stood beside Mrs. Williams.

“There are others to be thanked for the fact that we are standing here today…Other members of the United States military to whom many of us owe our lives”—he looked at the SEAL team and at Commander Belk—“and to whom I personally owe my life.”

The president pulled another letter from his coat. “On August 7, 1942, Congress made the Navy Cross a combat-only decoration with precedence over the Distinguished Service Medal, making it the navy’s second-highest-ranking award, ranking only below the Congressional Medal of Honor.”

The president looked up from the podium again. “To Captain Noble, and to each and every member of SEAL Team One, Platoons Alpha and Charlie; to Lieutenant Commander Belk, to Lieutenant Commander
Brewer, and to Lieutenant Commander Colcernian, your nation is grateful for your heroic actions in defending your country during the Indonesian operations of this past winter. To each of you, you are this day being awarded the Navy Cross.

“Please step up as I call your names.” He looked first at Captain Noble. “Captain Buck Noble.” Captain Noble marched sharply to the podium, saluted the president, then stood erect as the president lifted the medal from a silk pillow being held by the chaplain. “Congratulations, Captain,” the president said, as he pinned the medal on the SEAL’s chest.

“Thank you, sir.” Noble shot a sharp salute, pivoted, and returned to the line.

“Lieutenant Commander Billy Belk, front and center.”

The process continued, until finally, “Lieutenant Commander Diane Colcernian, front and center!”

Despite facing down death on multiple occasions over the past few years, this moment flooded Diane with a strange nervousness. She came to attention, stepped ten paces forward, stopped in front of the podium, and saluted her commander in chief.

The president stepped out to her, along with the chief of chaplains, holding the silk pillow with her Navy Cross.

President Williams picked up the medal, and as he was pinning it to her blue uniform, he spoke softly. “Diane, I know your dad would have been so proud of you.”

Emotion overwhelmed her when the president mentioned her father. “Thank you, Mr. President,” she whispered.

“He was a fine naval officer and a great man.”