MISSION UPDATE:

Castle of Spies Mission 3 - Castle in the Desert is getting closer and closer to making its way to you. As of today, there are about five chapters to be written before the editing and proof-reading process can begin. Plans for the cover are already in the works and it looks like Mission 3 will be in your hands in time for summer vacation reading.

As a part of the writing process, I've MacGyvered an interesting way to do location scouting and research. Using satellite (or Ortho) scenery, I've been using the xPlane flight simulator to cruise around some of the places where Léa and Tara's adventures will be taking them in Mission 3. A few months ago, the flight simulator was loaded up near Tromsø Norway for the escape and capture of a bad guy. It was a fun sim flight for sure and this excerpt is your chance to fly along. If you're really curious, check out the live-stream of the flight on www.twitch.tv/757spy and see how using flight simulators can be used for location scouting.

In other Spy News, I've started the process of turning Mission 1, Castle on the Island into an audio-book. So far, it's been a fun learning process and recording will begin later this week. Look for the audio-book on Amazon later this summer. As writing/editing of Mission 3 begins to come to a close, plans for Mission 4 are beginning to take shape. Recording on more audio-books will continue into the fall.

For now, I hope you enjoy this excerpt from the upcoming novel: Castle of Spies Mission 3, Castle in the Desert.

Fine Print: all rights reserved, (of course) … and … this hasn't been proofed yet.

32 A LAST DESPERATE CHANCE

General Aviation Ramp - Tromsø Airport

“Everybody ready to go?” asked Petter Birkeland.
He had to speak loudly because the small, twin engine Piper Seneca’s powerful propellers were already spinning. Looking over his shoulder, Petter had to shift right and left in the pilot’s seat to make sure that everyone back in the passenger cabin had their seatbelts fastened. The twins, Stella and Stig had big smiles on their faces and were ready for their weekend adventure.
Petter’s wife Sofia did not have a big smile on her face. She was sitting with her back to small airplane’s cockpit. The curtains over her window were closed along with her eyes. While the twins enjoyed family outings in the small, twin engine airplane, Petter’s wife was not a fan of flying. She was clutching a big bottle of water in one hand and a motion sickness bag in the other. A small bottle of pills rested in her lap.
“Wait Daddy,” exclaimed Stella. "I left my iPad in my suitcase.”
“We’ll be there in less than an hour,” said Petter.
As he turned back to the small airplane’s controls, Petter felt the airplane suddenly sink to the right. At first, he thought the right main landing gear tire had blown. But the man standing on the wing with a gun pointed at him quickly convinced him otherwise.
As Petter slowly raised his hands off the control yoke, the man reached out with his free hand and opened the co-pilot’s door and crawled into the co-pilot’s seat. Glancing down, Petter noticed that the man wasn’t wearing shoes. Petter quickly looked back at his family, then directly toward the man.
“No one needs to get hurt today,” said Petter.
“Then you’ll do exactly as I say,” said the man.
“You’re the boss,” said Petter nodding toward the gun.
“Right then,” said the man with the gun. “You slowly crawl over the seats. Then you and your family get out and make sure the passenger door is closed.”
Petter looked over his shoulder at his family, then back at the man who waved the gun toward the back cabin. Petter nodded once, unbuckled his seatbelt and slowly began crawling over the seats. His kids started talking, but quickly stopped when they saw their father put his fingers to his lips. After crawling over the seats, he helped his wife with her seatbelt, then opened the passenger door. Stepping out of the airplane, he helped his family out before firmly closing the door. As soon as the door closed, the engines revved up and the airplane lurched forward. A few stops and starts later, the airplane disappeared around the small airplane hanger heading toward the runway.
As soon as the airplane disappeared, a young woman with gun ran around the hanger. Looking over her shoulder at the disappearing airplane, then back toward the family standing by the hanger, the young woman lowered her gun and slowly walked toward Petter.
“Did you see a guy with a gun a no shoes?” she asked.
“He’s in my airplane,” said Petter nodding toward the runway.
“Did he say where he was going?” asked the young woman.
“No. Just to get out and close the back door,” said Petter.
The young woman tapped out a quick message on her iPhone. A few minutes later, a woman and a man walked around the hanger. The woman was carrying a gun. The man had an open laptop and was tapping on the keyboard as they walked.
“What’s going on?” asked Sofia.
She was kneeling down holding Stella and Stig. Petter looked down at his family. Things happened so fast that it was clear they hadn’t had time to realize they had just been hijacked at gunpoint and forced out of their family airplane. Petter kneeled down and wrapped his arms around his family as the two women with guns quietly talked. The man with a laptop continued tapping on the keyboard. After a few minutes of quiet conversation, the older woman looked down at the family huddled together.
“You all have been through quite an experience,” said the woman. “Are any of your hurt?”
“No,” said Petter.
A second or so later, a squad of police cars with sirens blaring raced past the small group of people standing by the small airplane hangers. The older woman turned toward the younger woman.
“You’d better get back to the Spy-bus and get Captain Siby on the radio to get the word out that we’re not the bad guys here,” she said.
The younger woman nodded, took a step, then stopped.
“How’s Tara?” she asked.
“Her leg is pretty badly fucked up,” said the older woman.
The sound of revving airplane engines temporarily paused the conversation as the smoke grey airplane took to the sky. The police cars with sirens blaring raced down the runway in a futile attempt to stop the airplane.
“Again? She’s gonna be super pissed,” said the younger woman as she turned to leave.
The older woman looked around and stuffed her gun into the waist of her black tactical pants. After adjusting her wind breaker to cover the gun, she turned to man with a laptop.
“Anything?” she asked.
“Got it,” said the man. “Looks like he’s heading north.”
“How much fuel was in your airplane?” asked the woman.
“It was about half full,” answered Petter.
“Was the transponder on?” asked the man.
“Yes,” answered Petter.
“You don’t happen to remember your squawk code?” he asked.
“4, 2, 2, 7,” answered Stig.
“Great,” said the man. “That means we can track him back in the Spy-Bus.”
“Spy-Bus?” asked Petter.
“Our little joke,” smiled the woman.
“Are you the police,” asked Petter
“No,” smiled the woman. “I’m Janet, this is my husband Thomas. The man who stole your airplane is …”
She paused a moment, searching for the right words.
“He’s an international criminal,” said the man with the laptop.
“He injured one of our agents and got away as we were boarding our airplane,” said Janet.
“Are you the police?” repeated Petter.
“Not police,” smiled Janet.
“But we do work with them,” said Thomas.
“Well, sometimes,” smiled Janet.
“Oh,” said Petter. “More like Spooks?”
The woman laughed.
“Afraid so,” smiled Thomas.
“Great,” scowled Petter.
“You seem unusually calm about all this,” said Janet.
“I’m an airline pilot for SAS,” said Petter.
“Specially trained to deal with emergencies,” said Thomas.
“Gotcha,” said Janet.
The police cars that had been racing down the runway were now approaching Janet, Thomas and the Birkeland family. The sirens were now off, but the blue lights on the top of the cars still flashed. Four uniformed officers got out of the cars. Two remained behind as the other officers slowly approached the family and strangers. One of the officers knelt down and put his hand on Petter’s shoulder.
“Petter,” began one of the officers. “Are you all right?”
“We’re fine,” said Petter.
The officer put his other hand on Sofia’s shoulder.
“Sofia,” asked the officer. “You are all right? The children?”
The woman looked blankly at the officer for a few moments. Then she looked at her kids. A few moments later, she blinked, looked at the officer and nodded.
“She had a Xanax for the flight,” explained Petter.
The officer smiled. He gave Sofia and Petter a reassuring pat on the back as he stood and took a step towards Janet and Thomas. While he greeted the family with the warmth of a friend, he regarded Janet and Thomas with a cool annoyance.
“You are from that white and grey Airbus up at stand fifty three?” asked the officer.
“Yes,” said Janet.
“I have been ordered to assist you,” said the officer.
“Thank you,” said Janet.
“We know this is awkward and we appreciate you’r patience with us,” smiled Thomas.
A few chilly raindrops had begun to fall. Just a few drops, but enough to make it clear that more was on the way. The officer looked down at the family huddled together near the empty hanger. He looked up at the sky, then back over toward Janet and Thomas.
“We should get out of the rain,” said the officer.
“We’re tracking the airplane back at the Spy-b,” began Thomas.
Janet coughed.
“The Airbus,” Thomas corrected.
“Why don’t you take care of Petter and his family,” began Janet. “Then check back in with us at our airplane.”
“You are tracking the stolen airplane?” asked the officer.
“Yes,” said Thomas.
“That is satisfactory,” said the officer. “You go to your airplane now. I will join you there later.”
He turned his back on Janet and Thomas as he motioned to the other officers. They gathered around the family huddled on the tarmac and helped them to their feet. It was obvious that they were deliberately ignoring Janet and Thomas as they loaded the family into their police cars and drove away. Cold shoulders from local authorities were as common as each morning’s sunrise when Castle agents stepped out of the shadows.
The tempo of raindrops increased and Janet and Thomas picked up the pace as they walked up the flight line to the white and grey Airbus parked at the north side of the airport. A man with a bucket and a mop was scrubbing a patch of the tarmac next to the airplane’s rear air-stairs.
“They do realize it’s about to rain,” whispered Thomas as he climbed the air-stairs.
“Blood doesn’t wash away so easy,” said Janet as she walked into the jetliner’s rear entrance.
Just like a normal jetliner, a galley and several restrooms were located just inside the rear entrance. Walking forward, Janet and Thomas passed five rows of empty passenger seats. Beyond the passenger seats, the single aisle of the narrow-body jetliner jogged off to the left to make room for three private cabins. Two of the cabin doorways were closed. One was open and Janet walked in.
Tara Wells lay on the bed, an I.V. tube snaked from a bottle down to a needle stuck into her right arm. The fabric of the left leg of her black tactical pants had been cut away. Dark red bandages covered her lower leg. A medic had just finished with a blood pressure cuff and was entering notes into a laptop computer. Even though the drugs from the I.V. were beginning to take effect, it was obvious that Tara was not only in pain, but very angry. She had good reason to be.
After arriving at the airport and driving their car through the security fence, Léa parked beside a small airplane hanger, out of sight of the control tower and other prying eyes. After they were sure they were alone, Léa and Tara opened the trunk and pulled their prisoner to his feet. Without saying a word, they took a hold of each of Perry Drilling’s arms and walked him to the rear boarding stairs of The Castle’s white and grey Airbus A320 jetliner.
As they walked to the airplane, the prisoner looked at both Léa and Tara. He briefly tugged on his arms testing the grips of his escorts. They were tight, almost too tight. As they walked around the bottom of the jetliner’s rear air-stairs, the prisoner looked right and left once more, then took a few extra steps, placing him just ahead of Léa and Tara. In a single motion, he leaned on Léa and side kicked Tara’s injured leg with all of his strength.
Anyone standing nearby could hear the snap of the bones breaking as Tara cried out in pain. As she began to fall to the concrete tarmac, the prisoner violently slung his other escort in front of and around him. A second later, Léa collided with Tara who had crumbled on the ground, writhing in agony. The foot of her left leg was now bent in a near ninety degree angle as blood began seeping through her black tactical pants. The prisoner was running away from the airplane and ducked behind the general aviation hangers before Léa came to a rest on top of Tara.
“How is she?” asked Janet.
“It’s a compound fracture of the tibia and fibula,” began the medic. “I can’t tell for sure without an x-ray, but I’m pretty sure it’s in the same spot as her previous fractures.”
“What about her femur fracture?” asked Thomas.
“That one appears to have held,” said the medic.
Tara’s head rolled on the pillow as she tried to focus on whoever was in the doorway talking. She blinked a few times, then a slight smile appeared on one corner of her mouth as she finally recognized Janet.
“Did you catch the little fuck?” she asked.
“Afraid not,” said Janet.
“He stole an airplane,” explained Thomas.
She rolled her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes.
“Fuck me,” said Tara.
After a few moments of silence, Janet started to leave. But Tara’s eyes popped open.
“Léa?’ she asked.
“Not a scratch,” smiled Janet.
“You’re tracking him?” asked Tara.
“Tommy’s got him on radar now,” said Janet.
“Looks like he’s heading north,” said Thomas.
“Good thing he got away,” said Tara.
“Why is that?” smiled Janet.
Tara looked down at her shattered leg. The pile of bloody bandages was beginning to pile up on the bed. After a few moments she looked directly at Janet.
“This is the second time he’s fucked me up,” said Tara. “Next time I see him, he’s dead.”
“No jury would ever convict you,” laughed Janet as she looked up at the medic. “You got everything you need?”
“Yes ma’am,” he said. “We’re feeding her condition back to medical at The Castle right now. They’ll be ready for her when we get home.”
“You let me know if anything changes,” said Janet.
“Absolutely,” said the medic.
“Rest easy Small Package,” smiled Janet as she turned to leave. “We’ll bag him.”
A full face, genuine smile appeared on Tara’s face when she heard her new commando call-sign. Aside from the rescue of her best friend, the best part of Tara’s life these last few months was being welcomed into The Castle’s tactical assault team. Her un-official welcome by the team during Léa’s rescue was made official less than a month later. Her official call sign was listed as Sierra Papa Bravo Tango, Sierra-Tango for short. But everyone on the team knew what the initials S-P-B-T. stood for. The youngest ever member of The Castle’s Tactical Assault team was known as: Small Package, Big Terror.
Between the three private cabins located over the Airbus’ wing and the forward galley, entry doors and flight deck was an airborne command operations center. Three rows of seats with computer desks faced forward while two seats up front faced the rear. Four of the front facing seats were occupied. David McNally was in one of the command seats up front. The Castle’s chief pilot was standing over his shoulder.
“Where’s the little shit going?” asked Janet.
“Language,” said a voice on the speaker.
“You’ve met our boss, Commander Dennis?” smiled David. “He’s not a big fan of nasty language.”
“You think that’s bad, you should hear the words coming out of the mouth of our newest member of the tac-team,” said Janet.
A few people in the command area laughed as they continued to monitor the small airplane’s progress.
“How is she?” asked Alan through the speaker.
“Stable and stoned on pain meds,” smiled Janet.
“But still quite homicidal,” added Thomas.
“That I’d like to see,” laughed Alan.
“So where’s he going?” repeated Janet.
“Right now he’s heading north,” said David.
He swiveled in his seat and looked up at the large LCD monitor bolted to the wall between the command center and the airplane’s forward galley. It showed a map with several yellow airplanes in the skies over Tromsø. One of the little airplanes was double size and colored a dark shade of red. Text under the red airplane showed its tail number, airspeed and altitude.
“He’s not going very fast,” observed Thomas.
“He probably still has the gear down and it doesn’t look like the props are set for climb,” said Captain Sibel Papadaki
Everyone looked at The Castle’s chief pilot. She was looking closely at one of the monitors on David McNally’s desk. After a few moments of tapping on the keyboard, she stood up.
“The stolen airplane is a Piper Seneca Twin,” she explained. “It’s a bit more complex that your average general aviation aircraft. It’s got variable pitch props and mixture controls that he probably doesn’t understand.”
Captain Siby turned and walked to the map on the big LCD monitor. Pointing to the airplane and the mountains surrounding Tromsø, she explained that without setting the mixture and propellers correctly, the powerful airplane appeared to be struggling to climb.
“That could be trouble too,” said Captain Siby. “Tromsø is 32 feet above sea level and he’s barely holding a thousand feet. As you can see from the flight path, he’s trying to snake around some six thousand foot mountains that surround the fiords. He could run out of room at any time.”
“Where can he go?” asked Janet.
“There are a few airports up north,” said Captain Siby. “Once he gets beyond Hammerfest, he’ll barely have enough fuel to make it to Honningsvag.”
“So where do you think he’ll end up?” asked Alan on the speaker.
“He’s just meandering around the fiords trying to gain altitude,” said Captain Siby. “Unless he figures out the power settings, I think he’ll end up either squished up against the side of a mountain or at the bottom of the Norwegian Sea.”
“I think he’s figured something out,” said David.
Everyone looked up at the large LCD monitor bolted to the forward wall of the cabin. The numbers under the double size, red airplane were slowly changing. The speed and altitude were going up.
“He’s climbing,” said Captain Siby.
Everyone in the command center watched the numbers under the red airplane slowly inch up past four thousand feet. They also saw the other number, the airspeed slowly tick down.
“He’s gaining altitude, but he’s getting way too slow,” observed Captain Siby. “If he doesn’t watch out, he’ll stall.”
Almost as if she was piloting the airplane herself, Captain Siby’s prediction appeared to be happening as the numbers on the map showed the airplane appear to suddenly drop over a thousand feet. Then airspeed began to slowly rise. After a few minutes, the altitude began slowly rising again. The Castle’s chief pilot watched the map as the airspeed inched up. After looking at some notes on her iPad, she watched the map for a few more minutes.
“He’s not climbing very fast and his airspeed is way too low,” she said without turning away from the map. “I’ll guess that he’s pulled up the gear and flaps, but hasn’t figured out the props and mixture.”
“What does all that mean?” asked Janet.
“It means he’s burning up his engines and wasting fuel,” Captain Siby explained. “He may be able to climb above the mountains, but he won’t get much farther than Hammerfest.”
“Maybe we should get up in the air too?” suggested Thomas.
“Probably a good idea,” said David. “We need to be close if he’s able to land. And if he crashes, we can just turn around and head for home.”
“Okay,” began Janet. “Let’s get going.”
Fifteen minutes later, the Spy-bus was in the air and slowly heading north. After taking off, Captain Siby rolled the plane to the left and began cruising off the northern Norwegian coast while the command team kept a close on the escaped prisoner’s progress. For the next half hour, the airplane on the map continued to meander north. It stalled out three more times, but still managed to avoid crashing into a mountain. The Spy-bus had been cruising for about forty-five minutes, when the silence in the command center was broken.
“Yeah, he’s going for Hammerfest,” said Thomas.
“Tell Captain Siby,” said Janet.
“I’ll get on the line with the local authorities to clear the way,” said Alan from his office back at The Castle.
A few minutes later, the white and grey jetliner banked to the right and began slowly descending. Captain Siby got on the airplane’s p.a. system to let her passengers know their destination was an extra small airport. The very short runway meant a less than smooth landing and seatbelts were a must for everyone in the Spy-bus. Five minutes later, everyone was seated and ready for landing. Even Tara had the seatbelts under the bed’s mattress firmly snapped in place.
As the jetliner descended, everyone’s eyes were glued to the big map and the progress of the small, red airplane. It was clearly descending and heading to Hammerfest Airport. The numbers under the red airplane began moving faster as it descended. Almost too fast. Altitude numbers ticked down and airspeed numbers ticked up. Janet looked at Thomas who was slowly zooming the map in as the small airplane approached the small airport.
“If he doesn’t slow down,” began Thomas.
“He may not be able to stop,” finished David.
The Spy-bus hit a few bumps as it continued to descend. It also banked left and right a few times as Captain Siby tried to put some distance between the jetliner and the erratic flight path of the smaller airplane. Watching the numbers, a few of the people in the command cabin began shaking their heads as it neared the runway.
“Too fast, too fast,” muttered David McNally to himself.
“We have visual contact,” said Captain Siby’s voice over the p.a. “He’s never gonna make it.”
Even though the pilot at the controls of the stolen airplane was a traitor, everyone in the command cabin was holding their breath. The little red airplane on the map was going well over 150 miles per hour as it crossed over the runway’s threshold.
“He’s over the numbers,” said Captain Siby over the p.a.
Halfway down the short runway, the small red airplane on the map showed no sign of slowing down. Then the airspeed numbers started ticking down. But the altitude numbers began ticking up. Just before the airplane reached the end of the runway, the altitude number ticked down a few digits.
“He’s off the end of the runway and heading for the water,” said Captain Siby over the p.a.
Looking at the map with the red airplane, another little airplane showed up. It was the Spy-bus on its own approach. Suddenly the jetliner banked to the left and began a slow climb.
“Going around,” announced Captain Siby from the cockpit. “And the Seneca just went down the hill, over the roadway and is heading for the water.”
Seatbelts snapped open as everyone in the airplane except the pilots and Tara rushed to the right side of the cabin to look out the windows. The small airplane still appeared to be flying as it banked to the right. It bounced off the water once. Two puffs of black smoke began trailing behind the two engines. It bounced a second time before splashing to a sudden stop several hundred meters from the small island of Melkøya.
“He’s down,” said several people in the command cabin.
The Spy-bus began a slow climb and turn to set up for another approach and landing. As the small airplane began to sink, the door next to the co-pilot’s seat opened and the man they had hoped to capture walked out on the wing. The twin engine airplane sank under his bare feet and he began paddling through the icy water to the small island.
“He’ll never make it,” said Janet under her breath.
“That water is too cold,” agreed David.
But the lone figure in the water kept splashing toward the small island. Just as the Spy-bus completed its turn back to the runway and Melkøya Island disappeared behind the hill to the west of Tromsø, the prisoner crawled out of the water and vanished into one of the island warehouses.
Pouring on the speed, Captain Siby had the small jetliner on the ground and parked at the gate in less than ten minutes. Before the engines had even stopped spinning, one of the cargo doors opened and Janet, David and Léa raced out of the airplane. A car was waiting for them at the small airport terminal thanks to Alan’s call to the local authorities.
Janet took the wheel as they took off out of the airport parking lot and down Highway 91. Turning right on Mylingen Road, they passed a few quiet homes before making a left on Rossmollgata Road. Another sudden right turn left them in the parking lot of a small boat marina. Without shutting off the engine, Janet, David and Léa raced down the dock where a police boat was waiting for them. A few minutes later, they were at the dock of Melkøya Island.
“You wait here and keep the engine running,” said Janet as she hopped out of the boat.
“Remember which warehouse you saw him run into?” asked David.
“The one at the end of the island,” said Léa.
Janet looked at the novice spy. Léa had already slung her backpack around and pulled her gun out of the secret compartment. A second later, Léa pulled back the slide, chambering a bullet. The sound of the safety snapping off bounced off the metal sides of the island warehouses.
“I want him alive,” said Janet.
When Léa didn’t answer, Janet looked at the young spy again. Léa’s eyes were blazing with anger. Janet slowed down, pulled her own gun from the waist of her black tactical pants. Just like Léa, Janet pulled the slide back and snapped off the safety. The sound did catch the young, angry spy’s attention. Janet took a deep breath and repeated her warning in as quiet and calm a voice as she could. After a few more steps, Léa slowed down. She took a breath.
“Okay,” Léa finally said. “I hear you. We get him alive.”
“Good then,” said Janet.
Half an hour later, the Spy-bus was lifting off Hammerfest’s short runway and quickly banked to the right and home. The officer in the boat had been personally briefed by Alan Dennis and never asked a single question about the soaking wet, barefoot man who was brought out of the warehouse at gunpoint.
Once they were all back in the airplane, Janet held out a set of handcuffs and shackles toward Léa. The intention was clear. Janet was giving Léa a chance to lock up the prisoner the same way she had been locked up and left to die. After a few moments, she looked over at the still soaking wet prisoner. It took just a few more moments for her to look back at Janet and smile.
“Thanks. No,” she said.
Léa turned away and walked to the cabin that had been turned into a make-shift clinic for her best friend. Sitting on the bed, Léa took Tara’s hand and shook it a few times. By now, the pain meds in the I.V. drip had taken full effect and Tara was pretty much oblivious to the world. Léa shook her hand again and Tara’s eyes fluttered open.
“Hey,” whispered Tara.
“Hey,” smiled Léa.
“What’s going on?” whispered Tara.
“Got him,” said Léa.