The Uvalde Raider by Ben English (great books for teens TXT) 📕

The young man’s uncle had once been in charge of the converted B-17G given to the Shah by Trans World Airlines after the Second World War. As the uncle’s favorite nephew, the little boy was regaled with the stories of his flying adventures and of this magnificent airplane that served as the royal family’s official aerial transportation. Finding a mesmerized audience the uncle enjoyed reliving his past experiences in flying the four engine craft, speaking in detail as well as acting out at great length.

This was followed by assorted learning aids being given to the boy, as the uncle began to realize just how fascinated and technically adept his nephew was. Books, models, manuals, posters, and the like soon crowded every available nook and space in the boy’s room.

His uncle went as far as to come up with an instrument panel from a cannibalized B-17, and would quiz the boy as to what instrument did what and why. Not only that, the nephew memorized proper fuel mixtures, RPM settings, performance graphs and flight characteristics of the Boeing at different altitudes.

The young boy soaked it all up like a sponge; he was destined to fly. That destiny reached its full realization during the harsh years of the Iran-Iraq War, a chaotic, unforgiving environment that he not only survived but managed to thrive in. Now a reputably experienced as well as exceptional combat pilot in an array of different aircraft, that same young boy was presently sitting in the pilot’s seat of The Uvalde Raider. His name was Gholam Javad.

As he had done with the others in his handpicked strike team, Yahla al-Qassam had learned from Gholam the rudimentary things necessary as far as piloting duties for the completion of their mission. That was something a good leader did as a role model for any group. It also allowed him to better understand the difficulties associated with each task assigned and prove himself as not only the driving force in command, but as someone who was also part of the team.

It had been deemed imperative that someone assist Gholam with flying the antique Boeing. Yahla had accepted that assignment due to its importance and steep learning curve, but did not share in the enthusiasm and almost rapturous involvement that Gholam heaped upon this infernal machine. The Sephah commander only wanted the operation completed, so that he could remove himself from this incredibly complicated and cantankerous metal beast.

The terrorist leader reached down beside the seat for his operational checklist, consulting it yet once again after scanning the bewildering multitude of switches, levers and instruments before him. The compass heading was good, as well as the altitude and speed. Gholam was a rather strange type, but there was no denying that he was doing a very good job at flying the heavy bomber.

Any minute now they should pick up the meandering bed of the Guadalupe River to the east. Yahla glanced over to the south, seeing in the distance the well-defined right-of way that marked the traffic lanes for Interstate 10. Once over the river, they would follow its general course to a point just short of Canyon Lake where U.S. Highway 281 ran south to San Antonio. At that juncture, they would turn to the right and follow U.S. 281 into the very northern edges of the city.

At some three minutes out, the two Hezbollah Shi’a sitting behind him would start a pair of portable air compressors, pressuring up their respective tanks to deliver the necessary PSI. Upon reaching the required air poundage, the tandem mounted centrifugal force pumps rated at approximately 65 gallons per minute would be made ready.

The Boeing would start a shallow descent from their current altitude of 5,000 feet as they crossed Loop 1604, picking up speed to 185 knots while banking gently east over the San Antonio International Airport. Just north of the airport, the pumps would engage and the oily droplets of the nerve agent would start their lethal decent to the unsuspecting population below.

Qassam had wanted to come in at a higher altitude, but there was some concern about the small gasoline engines for the compressors having fuel mixture problems at such heights. Still, the two pumps would be able to project the amber tinted VX agent about 75 feet out from either side of the plane, and the turbulence from the four rotating propellers would help further distribute the substance.

The Hezbollah leader had also taken the trouble to locate and install controlled droplet applicators, which would take the liquid stream and separate it into a more uniform mist, thus making for even better dispersion. The release was timed for the middle part of the morning, after the predicted easterly wind had a better chance to pick up. Latest weather reports forecasted this breeze at about seven miles per hour, which would assist in spreading the deadly mixture not only on the land itself, but into the nearby San Antonio River. This would allow the agent to be transported by the waterway.

Continuing south along their course they would ease back over U.S. 281 and aim for the very heart of downtown San Antonio, using the numerous tall buildings located at its center to guide upon. Once over downtown, the hijacked B-17 would fly south along Roosevelt Avenue, crossing just west of Stinson Municipal Airport. Yahla al-Qassam had calculated they would run out of agent near the intersection of Roosevelt Avenue and Loop 410. The portable gasoline engines would shut down, and the historic city of San Antonio would start to wither and die.

With the release of the five hundred gallons of VX, the Boeing bomber would be appreciably lighter. That fact, combined with their continued slight descent would increase the airplane’s speed still further.

After another half hour they should