Free The Paris Protection by Bryan Devore Page A

IN.”
    “Fuel Pump Switch, APU boost,” Mazursky said, still reading from the checklist.
    “APU boost,” Parker replied, moving the fuel pump switch.
    “APU generator switch, on,” Mazursky read.
    “APU generator switch, ON,” Parker responded.
    They moved through the rest of the preflight and engine start checklists. Mazursky knew by heart the procedures that his co-pilot was going through, but he still read them off the sheet as Parker performed them. When he read off the last one, he said, “Engines on to idle.”
    He reached above him and grabbed the baseball-size knob at the tip of the throttle lever for engine two. Parker mirrored his movement, grabbing the throttle for engine 1 above him. They both pulled them down slightly to the white “IDLE” line between the levers. Each pilot’s green RPM gauge rose slowly toward 70, just below the level that would give them lift.
    With his left hand, Mazursky grabbed the collective next to his seat, which would control the pitch angle of the main rotor blades. With his right hand, he grabbed the cyclic stick between his legs, for controlling the pitch of the main rotor disk. He put his feet up against his left and right antitorque pedals, for controlling the pitch of the tail rotor blades. Parker had matching controls on his side, but the only things he would operate when Mazursky was piloting would be the engine 1 throttle and the comm and navigation equipment.
    Mazursky patched into the control tower, where the White House Liaison Officer was already in contact with flight control. “Tower, this is United States Colonel Mazursky, requesting flight standby for Alpha Niner One Four Seven.” Just as with the Boeing VC-25s used for Air Force One, the presidential transport helicopters used only the “Marine One” call sign when the president was on board.
    “Request granted, Colonel Mazursky,” an American-accented voice said through his headset. “Hot departure for POTUS exec lift granted at will. Advise when hot.”
    “Roger, tower,” Mazursky replied.
    A hundred feet away, he could see another pair of Marine pilots boarding the much larger Sikorsky CH-53K King Stallion support helicopter. A dozen Secret Service CAT agents rushed across the asphalt in their heavy tactical gear and jumped in behind them. The massive black escort helicopter could carry enough men to secure any emergency exec lift.
    The main rotor blades were now spinning in a soothing purr, with barely any vibration in the cockpit. 
    “Sitting warm, sir,” Parker said. “Ready and waiting for hot.”
    “Waiting for hot,” Mazursky confirmed.
    Snow flurries wafted and circled outside the large cockpit’s windows, blurring the fluorescent glow of the surrounding ground lights in a bright wintry cloud. He sat in silence beside his copilot, waiting for the possible emergency call from the president’s protection detail—a call that he prayed would never come.

14
     
     
     
     
    MAXIMILIAN LOOKED AT HIS WATCH: only ninety seconds before the first explosion. By now his men in the other tunnel should already have started cutting into the pipe system, which would trigger the emergency cutoff protocol when the water utility’s main computer detected the sudden drop in pressure. He stepped forward and addressed the crowd of headlamps and the ominous silhouettes of heads and shoulders and assault rifle barrels stretching back down the tunnel.
    “Men!” he yelled. “When Hannibal finished crossing the Alps and entered northern Italy, the Romans still believed they could quickly destroy his army. They believed their enemy would fight them head-on in the open field, as armies of that time did. But Hannibal was a military genius, now considered the father of war strategy. And he used the Romans’ arrogance against them. He used misdirection and deception to win battles in which he was heavily outnumbered. Now, the Americans are well trained and well equipped—much like the Roman soldier once