The woman was something else entirely. Her long form emphasized by the Maroon 5 T-shirt that was as tight on her lithe form as the Foo Fighters one was on her companion’s expansive one. A tumble of mahogany hair down past her shoulders framed tanning-cream-ad skin and mirrored aviator sunglasses just like the ones Mark wore.
“Sorry we’re late, Mark,” she called out merrily. “So who’s stuck flying solo?”
Mickey looked at Robin, and they both tentatively raised their hands.
“Aw, he’s a cute one.” She strode over, looking him up and down. Then turned to Robin. “You and me, babe. ’Cause women rule.” Then she held up a hand for a high five. When Robin raised her own, the smack the woman delivered was so loud it almost hurt Mickey’s ears.
“You and me, pal.” The guy came up and gave Mickey’s hand a crushing handshake. Mickey returned it and came out about even.
He could see that Mark was not showing the least surprise, so Mickey played along. “We’ve been waiting on you.”
“I need your licenses.” The North Korean inspector came up to them and they each dug out FAA cards.
Mickey managed to spot their names. “Lola and Tim Maloney,” he whispered to Robin when she looked at him inquiringly. The names Mark had given to the President.
“So, Tim, buddy…” If Mark wanted him to, Mickey could play the game as well as anybody. “What kept you?”
Tim just hooked a thumb toward Lola and leered happily.
Mickey bought it and also didn’t believe it for a second. Their arrival had been as well-timed as it had been orchestrated.
“You are not military pilot?” the North Korean asked them both.
Lola snorted out a laugh. “Do I look that stupid?” Yet she’d greeted Mark like an old friend. Like…a fellow Night Stalker.
He glanced at Robin, who nodded.
* * *
Robin recognized military even if the North Korean didn’t.
“Way more money in firefighting than the military.” Lola continued her expert razzle-dazzle of the official. Which was true. Robin’s present pay scale wasn’t even on the same page as her Army National Guard income. Even the overseas hazard pay in a war zone didn’t match…
Robin coughed to hide her surprise. She’d just figured out what the “Special Projects” pay-rate column had meant on the MHA paperwork. This. Doing something as stupid as flying across the Pacific to fight a fire in North Korea for reasons unknown.
Well, she’d certainly be able to afford a hot motorcycle sooner rather than later. Though she could hear Mom’s advice to bank it against a lean season. Mom was usually right—thrifty was a major Harrow-woman trait—but Robin would worry about that later.
The other thing that Robin appreciated about Lola’s arrival was that her own chest was no longer the only one snagging the official’s attention. That he was short enough for Robin’s breasts to be close to his eye level didn’t make her any less tempted to pop him in the nose—which she guessed would be bad for business, even if it had increased business at Phoebe’s Tucson Truck Stop.
If Lola and Tim were military…and they knew Mark…and Mark knew them—
MFDD. When is a Tea Cup also a Mighty Furrow of Death and Destruction? When two unknown military pilots show up using false identities as firefighters. When two…Night Stalkers! That’s what Mickey’s look had meant.
Lola was as different from Emily as could be, loud and boisterous versus calm and cool. But it was also easy to see the simple assumption of power that both women carried. I’m just that good radiated off both of them. Not bragging. Fact.
And if top military pilots were joining their firefight, then something far bigger than fire and smoke was in the air.
Robin wasn’t a big thinker about herself, but she could feel Emily waiting off to the side just dying to ask her question: What did you learn about you?
What she was learning in this moment was that her feet felt more firmly planted on the Korean concrete than they had on the Alaskan tundra. Suddenly, more of her was going to be needed than her ability to fly a helicopter. She’d been a soldier for six years, and with the arrival of Lola and Tim, she suddenly was again. Another piece of the multifaceted riddle of why she’d been hired so quickly and landed in Emily’s command seat.
She wished she could tell Mickey, but saying I’m a soldier in front of the Korean official currently handing back their FAA licenses would be a bad choice. Even out of the Guard, it was a part of who she was.
She wished she could tell Mickey though.
That too was a new thought. There was someone in her life that she wanted to share things with. Things about herself. Weird.
Robin looked at Mickey, really looked at him. He was as solid in being a firefighter as she was in being a soldier. There was a completeness to him standing there beside her. All afternoon, he’d remained a half step in front of her. Ready to jump in to protect her from the North Korean, even from Mark.
Yet he wasn’t judging her as weak or unimportant. She’d heard his whisper to Mark, “All I have to do is tell Robin to say no and none of them will—”
Mickey believed in her. The only other people in her life to ever do that were the Harrow women and Emily.
Robin knew that wasn’t love, but she knew it was something special.
As Lola and Tim continued their play at the North Korean’s expense, Robin took the half step forward to stand close beside Mickey.
She took his hand. That was something that Robin had never been big on, holding hands. But Mickey’s palm felt good and right against hers.
He looked over at her in surprise, those brilliant blue eyes filled with such hope.
“No promises, Mickey.”
He watched her for a long moment, squeezed her hand in acknowledgment, and turned back as the official finally gave in and began issuing certificates to fly over the soil of the great Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, but not to land there unless it was a true emergency…and maybe not even then.
Robin took her clearance in one hand but continued to hold on to Mickey’s with the other.
Something else I just learned, Emily. I could get to like this.
* * *
Once the inspector was done with them, he pointed at the terminal.
“I will be right there, sitting in your empty, decadent South Korean terminal, yet another sign of the failure of the capitalist state. I will be watching everything you do, every day. I keep records, I keep track, so no underhanded American strategies.”
Then his five-person South Korean “honor guard” escorted him away to the building.
Mark led the team well out in front of the helos so that they could see anyone coming their way.
“Okay, that went better than expected.” He winked at Mickey.
“That’s what your smile meant.” Mickey smacked his forehead.
Of course Henderson had anticipated not being allowed aloft. One of these days he’d get a step ahead of the man. Though a man quick on his feet enough to be happily married to an elemental force like Emily… Yeah, it would take some serious footwork to catch up to Mark.
“That was better than expected?” Carly nearly screamed and Steve shushed her. She continued only a little more softly, “How am I supposed to analyze a fire I can’t see?”
“Once they’re aloft, you, Steve, and I will return to that safe house and launch Steve’s drone. You’ll have to run remote. Sorry, Carly, best I could do.”
“What’s Steve got?” Lola asked.
“A little ScanEagle with visual and infrared cameras and a high-end communications package.”
“Shit, Mark. The North Koreans will spot that in a second. They have the most paranoid radar coverage of any country, and an awful lot of that is wired directly into the largest antiaircraft emplacements anywhere.”
“He knows that, honey,” Tim said softly. “We’ve been there, done that.”
Lola looked at her husband in surprise.
Mickey knew the Night Stalkers were Special Forces helicopter pilots. And if Mark had flown into North Korea, that meant he was probably one of the best ones, because it would be risky as hell; one false move could have started a war. No longer a real surprise that Mark was the best when Mickey considered that Mark was the one the President had called when he needed help.
“We have been there.” Mark looked around the circle and especially stopped at Mickey and Robin.
“Top secret,” Robin huffed out in frustration. “We got that already. Signed the confidentiality documents and shit. Get on with it.”
Mark offered her one of his half smiles.
Mickey finally understood that was one of his signs of approval.
“Steve has a special drone that’s full stealth. Composite frame and hull. Quieted engine. It has the radar signature of a peanut. Vision is good enough that it won’t need to cross the border, though comms will be spotty in the deeper canyons and the view of the fire’s leading edge will be nonexistent.”
“Oh, like I don’t need that,” Carly complained, but was mostly mollified.
Mickey had never heard of or seen such a drone, but it was no surprise to the other MHA pilots, so he simply accepted it.
“Robin, you’re lead flight. I know Alaska wasn’t much prep—I tried to give you as much as I could—”
“Another reason you wouldn’t fly with me,” Robin stated.
Mark nodded. “Em and I wanted you to get as much in command time as possible. Mickey and Jeannie, you have the most hours on fire, so you’re Carly’s eyes on the front line. Keep high, keep safe.”
Everyone was nodding.
Mickey waited. He stared at Mark’s silvered shades until the man turned to him.
Then Mark laughed.
Mickey had had enough shit. He’d taken it from Robin, from Emily, and now he’d found exactly where to unleash his frustration. There was no way in hell that Mark was going to send the team aloft without everyone knowing what they were up against. If he had to goddamn beat it out of Henderson, that’s exactly what he’d do. He—
“Whoa!” Mark raised his hands in a placating gesture.
Mickey stayed up on the edge of his toes, only marginally aware of Robin and Vern holding on to him from either side.
“Easy, Mickey. Easy.” Mark stayed in place, in easy striking range.
Mickey yanked, but Robin had a powerful grip. He tried to remember the last time he’d wanted a go at someone and couldn’t. But that didn’t stop him from wanting a shot at Henderson.
“I don’t know either,” Mark lied. No half smile; no knowing wink. A bald-faced lie.
“Don’t know what?” Robin’s voice cut through the buzzing in Mickey’s ears.
“Why the President sent us here,” Mickey ground out.
“The President? Like our President?” Robin’s eyes had gone wide, probably as wide as his had been when it happened.
Mickey nodded. “I was there when he took the goddamn call. Received the orders that brought us here. He knows exactly—”
“He didn’t tell me.” Mark’s flat statement stopped Mickey cold.
“What do you mean he didn’t tell you? The President just said, ‘Mark, buddy, why don’t you go fight a fire in North Korea for me. I’ll send along a couple of Night Stalkers to keep you company’?”
“Pretty much.”
Mickey blinked. First man to blink loses, even if the other one is wearing mirrored shades. Mickey settled back on his heels, still feeling the strength of Robin’s hands clamped on his arm and shoulder, though Vern let go. She was no longer holding him back; now she was holding on to him. Well, he wasn’t going to let her down.
“What the hell, Mark?” But Mickey wasn’t able to find much heat to put in back of it.
“It’s how these things sometimes work. Some missions are heavily planned, right down to full-scale models and practice raids. Bin Laden’s compound was built four times, you know. The original in Pakistan, a full replica in North Carolina, a partial in Nevada, and the one they used in the movie in India.”
Mickey had sometimes wondered if Mark had been on that mission but knew there was no way to ask.
“In a dynamic zone,” Mark continued, “like the two wars in Southwest Asia, we were making it up minute to minute. Today’s scenario is far more typical.”
“And what’s that?”
“Get our asses in place,” Lola answered for him.
“Put our thumbs up our asses,” Tim continued.
“And sit on them until someone tells us if anything is even gonna happen,” the tall brunette finished with a snort of disgust.
“Sorry for laughing at you, Mickey.” Mark was still smiling. “But they’re exactly right. I’ve been forward deployed hundreds—”
“Thousands,” Lola declared.
“Millions,” Tim moaned.
“—of times,” Mark continued, “and nothing has come of it. And then one time it does. That one time is why we set up for all the other ones.”
“We”—Denise pointed at Vern—“had to get kidnapped to find out anything was happening.”
Jeannie merely shuddered and rubbed her upper arm where she had an odd scar that Mickey had never given much thought. Cal pulled her in close and kissed her hair.
“Seriously,” Mark continued, “almost always in these situations the answer is, nothing happens. Then we stand down none the wiser for why we were called out in the first place. I will not be disappointed if all that happens here is we do our job—fight this fire and go home.”
“At least we have something to do while waiting.” Tim clapped his hands together. “Never fought a fire before.”
“Can’t wait,” Lola agreed.
Mickey couldn’t think of anything to say.
“So, at the risk of repeating myself…” Mark offered Mickey a smile that he could now see was understanding rather than condescending. “Keep high. Keep safe.”
Chapter 17
Once they’d decided on a basic attack plan, safety protocols, and done their Preflight Inspections, Robin got Firehawk One aloft and watched as the others climbed into the air beside her. All that remained at Yangyang field was Mark, Carly, Steve, and a white rental SUV. The North Korean and his South Korean escort were long gone into the terminal building, probably for a non-decadent nap.
“Wow!” Lola said from beside her. “I haven’t flown left seat since the last time I lofted as Emily’s copilot.”
“You flew with her? In the Night Stalkers?”
“Emily’s the best goddamn pilot on the planet.” Lola rode the controls lightly.
Even from a low hover, Robin could see the golf course tucked up tight against the airfield. It had a lot of water hazards and few trees, which made it ideal. She lead the flight over to pick up their first load of water for the day.
“More people here than the whole airport.” The four helos descended over the various ponds, lowered their snorkels, and fired up the pumps. All over the golf course, people were holding on to hats and more than one golf umbrella went skittering across the fairway.
Robin explained how the simple snorkel and pump controls worked as she completed taking on the load, then eased forward and up. A group came out onto the first tee just as she approached it—a very distinctive group. One man in a brown uniform surrounded by five in green.
“Oh, this is too good.” Robin could feel herself sideslipping the Firehawk even as she told herself she really shouldn’t.
Lola’s laugh was low, evil, and matched her own.
“Don’t even,” Mickey transmitted, though she could hear the laughter in his voice as well.
“Bad idea, huh?” And
it was if they wanted to continue to have permission to fly into North Korea.
The North Korean cowered suddenly as he figured out what was about to happen. Robin peeled aside at the last moment and didn’t hit the dump switch.
By Lola’s groan, it was a good thing that Robin was presently pilot in command rather than the Night Stalker.
“Been done,” Jeannie commented drily as the entire flight peeled away, which took all the fun out of it. Though she looked forward to hearing the story. That Jeannie had thought of it and followed through made her like the Aussie pilot even more.
Robin turned north and led the way up the beach. Mickey fell in close behind her. Jeannie and Vern veered off to the west to approach the other side of the fire so that they could get a feel for it. The closest point was twenty miles and ten minutes away and the drone wouldn’t be in the air for a while yet.
Robin could feel her through the joined cyclic and collective. Lola’s feet on the rudders mirrored her own, not correcting as Emily had, but rather adapting to Robin’s own style.
“Wow! That’s different, but I like it. Where did you learn to fly like that?” Lola didn’t slow down long enough for Robin to squeeze in an answer, never mind think of one past her surprise. “Even Mark says Emily’s the best and he’s bloody amazing. I try, Lordy knows, but those two fly on some whole other plane of reality.”
“What craft is your specialty?”
“Oh, we’re sitting in it. Actually, just like Emily and Mark did, I’ve flown the DAP ever since I hit the Night Stalkers, but this Firehawk is the same airframe, just with less power and fewer weapons.”
“And fewer people shooting at you.”
“Can always hope,” Lola agreed cheerfully over the intercom.
Away from the empty airport, Robin cut east to the coastline. The midday sun lit the high clouds so bright that it hurt to look upward. They, in turn, were reflected off the Sea of Japan, blurring the line of water and sky. She turned and followed the sandy beach north.
Robin had never seen a Direct Action Penetrator version of the Black Hawk, but she’d heard about them. The Army National Guard pilots would sit around the barracks between exercises and tell stories they’d heard, mostly spreading rumors, but it was as close as they ever got to one.
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