BlackStar Bomber
BLACKSTAR BOMBER
THE AUTHOR
T. C. Miller’s twenty-four year Air Force career, combined with his study of Hakkoryu Jujitsu give him a unique perspective. It was during his assignment at Mather Air Force Base, California that he formulated the basic plot for his debut novel, BlackStar Bomber. His love of hiking and camping produced the locale information that inspired him to write his second book, Black Star Bay.
He is the founder of Coffee With the Author, a twice-weekly event in the center court of Shawnee Mall, Shawnee, OK that features local authors discussing and signing their books.
T.C. is a speaker at writing conferences He is also available for televideo, (Skype) calls to conferences and book clubs.
He is a member of the Military Writers Society of America (MWSA), the Oklahoma Writers Federation Incorporated (OWFI), and the McLoud Writers Group. T.C. welcomes comments and suggestions in the form of e-mails at:
tcmiller@blackstaropsgroup.com
BLACKSTAR BOMBER
BY
T. C. MILLER
Cover by Ken Farmer
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form with out prior written permission from the author.
ISBN-10: 0996248331
ISBN-13: 978-0-9962483-3-4
ISBN-13: 978-0-9962483-2-7 E
ISBN- 10 0996248323
Copyright 2015 by T. C. Miller. All rights reserved.
Timber Creek Press
Imprint of Timber Creek Productions, LLC
312 N. Commerce St.
Gainesville, Texas
ACKNOWLEDGMENT
No book is written in a vacuum, or without the support of family and friends. Thank you to my wife of almost twenty five years, Jake, for her assistance and patience through the sometimes all-absorbing process. Ken Farmer and Buck Stienke of Timber Creek Press have provided invaluable assistance and advice. I can only hope they are as proud as I am of the result.
Other writers have also provided encouragement and support. Thank you, Doran Ingrham, Loree Lough, Joe McKinney and members of the McLoud Writers Group.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or did not win it in an author/publisher contest, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
Contact Us:
Published by: Timber Creek Press
timbercreekpresss@yahoo.com
www.timbercreekpress.net
Twitter: @pagact
214-533-4964
Facebook Fan Page: T.C. Miller, Author
Website: www.blackstaropsgroup.com
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to my smart and lovely wife, Jake.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
PRAISE FOR BLACKJACK BOMBER
“This book is a must read - I couldn’t put it down. It’s full of suspense and surprises in each chapter that get you thinking. . . that was well thought out - could it really happen? I look forward to the next book!”
—Lauren, Amazon.com
“TC Miller has created a true page-turner. . .There are twists and turns in this story that will definitely hold the reader’s attention. . . .guaranteed to keep you involved in the story so do not start your read late at night. I found myself staying up far too late just to see how things worked out, or as the case may be - didn’t work out for the group. Great job, TC Miller, can’t wait for your next book.”
—Nancy Pendleton, Examiner.com
“Compelling drama, a page turner with multiple twists, couldn’t read fast enough to reach the finale. Can hardly wait for the next book.”
—Barbara Telford, Amazon.com
“A group of jaded middle-aged men who get together for their weekly card meetings ponder their dead end lives and try to find a way to break out of their doldrums. What happens next, in this riveting thriller is a story that could very well be taken from today’s headlines. T.C. Miller delivers a powerful story that will keep you turning the pages until the exciting conclusion.”
—Jeffrey Miller, Author of War Remains.
“This is a GREAT book for those who like suspense, mystery, apprehension, and things military. . .the attention to detail in this story is incredible. You can tell that Mr. Miller has Air Force experience. Being an Air Force veteran myself, I especially enjoyed the incredibly accurate detail of how such an event would be handled. It brings back memories of operational excercises I used to do. I am looking forward to the next book. And, it would be GREAT if a movie could be made based on this book. Exciting stuff!!!”
—AirForceVet, Amazon.com
OTHER NOVELS FROM
TIMBER CREEK PRESS
www.timbercreekpress.net
MILITARY ACTION/TECHNO
BLACK EAGLE FORCE: Eye of the Storm (Revised)
by Buck Stienke and Ken Farmer
BLACK EAGLE FORCE: Sacred Mountain (Book #2)
by Buck Stienke and Ken Farmer
www.tinyurl.com/SacMtn2
RETURN of the STARFIGHTER (Book #3)
by Buck Stienke and Ken Farmer
www.tinyurl.com/StarF01
BLACK EAGLE FORCE: BLOOD IVORY (Book #4)
by Buck Stienke and Ken Farmer with Doran Ingrham
www.tinyurl.com/befivory
BLACK EAGLE FORCE: FOURTH REICH (Book #5)
By Buck Stienke and Ken Farmer
www.tinyurl.com/befreich
BLOOD BROTHERS - Doran Ingrham, Buck Stienke and Ken Farmer
Www.tinyurl.com/bloodbrothers1
DARK SECRET - Doran Ingrham
Http://tinyurl.com/darksecret-2
BLACKSTAR BAY by T.C. Miller
Http://amzn.to/loYSFO6
HISTORICAL FICTION WESTERN
THE NATIONS by Ken Farmer and Buck Stienke
Www.tinyurl.com/the-nations-Bass
Audio version: www.tinyurl.com/NationsAudio
HAUNTED FALLS by Ken Farmer and Buck Stienke
Www.tinyurl.com/haunted-falls-Bass
Audio version: www.tinyurl.com/HauntedFallsAudio
HELL HOLE by Ken Farmer
Www.tinyurl.com/hell-hole-Bass3
Audio version:www.tinyurl.com/HellHoleAudio
ACROSS the RED by Ken Farmer & Buck Stienke
Www.tinyurl.com/AcrossRed
Audio version: www.tinyurl.com/AcrossRedAudio
DEVIL’S CANYON by Buck Stienke
Http://tinyurl.com/devils-canyon-B
SYFY
LEGEND OF AURORA by Ken Farmer & Buck
Stienke
www.tinyurl.com/LegendAurora-E
AURORA: INVASION by Ken Farmer & Buck Stienke
Www.tinyurl.com/Auroralnvasion
Coming Soon
MILITARY ACTION/TECHNO
BLACK EAGLE FORCE: ISIS by Buck Stienke and Ken Farmer
BLACK STAR MOUNTAIN by T.C. Miller
HISTORICAL FICTION WESTERN
BASS and the LADY by Ken Farmer & Buck Stienke
Book five of the Bass Reeves Saga
GLOSSARY
Alert Pad Facility on USAF bases where aircraft are kept for immediate response missions.
ABG Air Base Group
APB All Points Bulletin.
APU Auxillary Power Unit-Electrical generator that supplies power when the aircraft engines are not running.
BDUs Battle Dress Uniform-Sometimes referred to as fatigues. In 1988, they were the Woodland Camoflage Pattern, which consists of varying shades of green and black in a rand
om pattern for concealment in forests.
BlackStar Anti-terrorist destructive device carried on all US aircraft and vessels that carry nuclear weapons.
BSOG BlackStar Operations Group - Special investigative section within the NSA.
BUFF Big Ugly Freakin’ Fellow-Nickname for B-52
IMA Individual Mobilization Augmentee, Air Force Reserve Program for one day-a-month service with active duty units.
NSA National Security Agency - Conducts electronic surveillance programs and cryptologic support for US government agencies.
NSC National Security Council - Advises the President and Congress.
NRO National Reconnaissance Office - Responsible for surveillance satellite operation and data analysis.
NEST Nuclear Emergency Security Team-Specialized response units that recover nuclear materials after an incident and perform cleanup of radioactive material.
ORI Operational Readiness Inspection
Para Cord Parachute cord.
POTUS President of the United States
POV Privately owned vehicle.
SAFE-HAVEN Coded directive for nuclear material transportation teams to report to the nearest secure facility for safeguarding, usually after an incident.
SAC Strategic Air Command
SAC/CC Commander, SAC
SORT Special Operations Response Team
SPS Security Police Squadron
SRT Special Response Team
Suppressor Mechanical device used to reduce the sound of the muzzle blast from a weapon. Sometimes referred to as a can, it is usually a machined piece that is attached to the barrel. Often referred to erroneously as a “silencer.”
TIMBER CREEK PRESS
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
EPILOGUE
International News Service (INS)
BONUS PREVIEW of BLACK STAR BAY
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 1
COMMUNIST EAST BERLIN
JUNE, 1984
“Well, Tupelo, or whatever your real name is, guess we’ve come to the end of the line. . .Been nice working with you.”
“Same here, Butte, but you sound like we’re fixin’ to die, or something. . .Mission’s not quite finished.”
Bart Winfield, the tall, rangy figure dressed all in black strode across the flat-roofed building toward a wide double chimney with Butte close behind. They carefully picked their way around short vent pipes that would have been easy to trip over in the moonless night.
“Wait, you’re serious, aren’t you? I mean, we’re on the roof of a building surrounded by dozens of Soviet Spetsnaz troopsand you still expect to finish the mission?”
“That’s why the NSA sent us, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and I suppose that little device is worth a couple of agents dying, but how’re you going to get it back to our people?”
“Gonna hand it to ‘em. Don’t know about you, but I’m a little young to cash in my chips.”
“Okay, I’ll go along with your little fantasy, but unless you’ve got a helicopter hidden up here, I’d say it’s pretty much over for us.”
“No chopper, but the next best thing to it.” He reached the ten-foot tall chimney and opened the door of a service compartment next to it. “Should be right here. . .Sure ‘nough, our local contact didn’t drop the ball. Help me haul these rigs to the center of the roof.”
“Parachutes? What the hell good will it do to drop right into their waiting arms?” Butte said with a note of frustration.
“Because, pardner, we’re not goin’ down, we’re goin’ up.”
“Now I know you’re crazy. . .There’s no wind at all, not even a breeze. Besides, there’s no way we can float all the way over the wall. . .It’s at least a mile away.”
“Have faith, my friend. . .This is are our ticket home. Just put the harness on and stand back.”
He looked at him with a puzzled expression and replied, “Whatever. . .You’re the team leader.”
He put the harness on and fastened it securely. Tupelo did the same and stepped back as he motioned to Butte. “Stay at least twenty feet away.”
The sound of security agents pounding on the stairwell door indicated they had only a few minutes left before their capture. The interrogation that followed would undoubtedly lead to their death, since neither was inclined to divulge any details of the operation.
“Well, like I said earlier, it’s been. . .”
Butte was interrupted by Bart, who pointed toward the western sky. “Looks like our ride’s here.”
The inkblot-like shadow of a C-130 cargo plane flying just over the rooftops was visible only because it blocked out the stars behind it. Bart watched it intently, silently counting out the seconds. “Pull your D-ring now!”
Butte hesitated until he saw Tupelo reach across and pull the parachute release on his rig. He did the same and was startled when a self-inflating balloon popped out of his backpack and quickly rose into the night sky. Both balloons shot up and tugged at the harnesses. He rose up on tiptoes and grasped the straps.
“Hang on, pardner. . .You’re about to get the ride of your life,” Bart yelled as the stairway door yielded to the pounding on the other side.
Spetsnaz troops with automatic weapons poured from the shattered door that now hung haphazardly from the top hinge only. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darkness and even longer to locate the American spies.
Before they could react, however, the roar of the four-engine turboprop plane caused them to freeze in their tracks and stare up. A V-shaped prong mounted to the front of the plane snagged the support lines for the two balloons and dragged them to the tail of the aircraft where a winch began pulling the two attached men upward.
Tupelo felt like the sudden jerk might pull him apart and was glad he had tightly fastened the straps securely around him. He hoped the other man had done the same. The aircraft did the tightest turnabout it could while trailing the precious human cargo. It passed over a different set of border guards who stared cluelessly up into the night sky.
The stealth C-130 returned to its home base after the two men were winched aboard and the back ramp was raised to the closed position. They stood inside the cargo compartment while a couple of Special Ops loadmasters helped them remove the Fulton STARS Extraction System harnesses.
Butte stomped the slatted wooden cargo floor and shook himself all over like a wet dog coming in from the rain. “Wow! Man, you weren’t kidding. . .That was the ride of my life. . .but, don’t think I ever want to do it again!”
Tupelo grinned and replied, “For sure. You gotta love a job that takes you seconds from death and lets you have this much fun, to boot.”
He patted the electronic device strapped securely to his chest and looked at one of the helmeted loadmasters. His reflection stared back at him from the shiny visor. “Hey, pard, any way a body could get a hot cup of Joe?”
MATHER AFB, CALIFORNIA
PRESENT DAY
The street was poorly lit and it was late. Jake Thomas knew he shouldn’t be there alone. “Are you my partner?” The question was directed to a tall figure standing next to him in a long black coat who, although a stranger, seemed oddly familiar. It moved its head from side to side in a silent reply. “Then who is my partner?”
No movement this time. The figure tilted its head and stared at him, its facial features a murky blur.
Jake tried to remember his partner’s name, but not a clue came to mind. That’s not the way it should be. . .They’re the one you should always be
able to rely on. That was what the instructor of every law enforcement class he had ever taken drilled into him from the very first day.
He had trained in one martial art or another since childhood and been taught to rely on his abilities alone. On the other hand, Jake knew teamwork was essential in law enforcement. Sheer numbers were often necessary to cordon off an area or to defend against multiple attackers. His entire life had been spent preparing for combat and law enforcement. He felt like he should be working with a partner, so where were they?
Maybe I was injured. A blow to the head or a traumatic fall could have left him confused. He stood motionless for a while and tried to orient himself. Still, no answer came to mind. A haziness began swelling up inside of him and his heart pounded in his ears. Calm down, dummy.
The uneasiness inside him grew like tide rushing into a small bay. He glanced around and noticed he was standing in a vacant intersection. A strong urge to move away gripped him and he considered his options. A glance to the left showed only a ghostly image of meager traffic three blocks away on a cross street. An eight-foot construction fence around a demolition site blocked the path to his right.
Jake stared straight ahead and slowly focused on a narrow, dimly-lit street that was more like an alley. It looked deserted with only a pale yellow glow here and there in the windows of nondescript buildings.
He shuddered as he was drawn toward the end of the block. Foggy references to concealed threats and hidden foes came to him through the haze. Flashes of faceless bad guys and whispered threats lingered. False identities that concealed ulterior motives echoed through the darkness.
His feet felt like they were encased in concrete as he moved slowly toward whatever awaited him in the lonely darkness. The black-coated figure stood motionless as Jake moved away, offering not even so much as a good bye. The comforting glow of the solitary streetlight faded and each step drew him closer to the dim passage ahead. A sense of overwhelming dread settled on his shoulders as a heavy mist arose and swirled about him. The stink of moldy garbage, stale urine and vomit assaulted his nostrils.
Storefronts faded into the thickening fog and direction no longer had meaning. He was startled by faint whispers on both side of the street as shadows danced on the shiny pavement.