That earned him a single bark of laughter. A quick glance revealed that the rest of the Air Force squad hadn’t eased off from their alert position by a single millimeter.
He bent to work with a good heart. Always worth the extra moment to demean another arm of the service. And how often did a guy get a chance to tease the crew of Air Force One? Now he had to make up for the wasted time.
It was a close thing, but he and John pinned the fifth and last blade into place just before the girls. Maybe only by a minute, maybe half a minute, but they were first. Henderson and Richardson were right on the preflight, but Lola and Beale were on the hustle too.
“Just not gonna happen!” He didn’t need to guess what John was talking about. Tim jumped from the top of the bird, landing with a roll and coming right up on his feet. They pulled engine covers and pitot sleeves while the Captain and Major checked fuel and began powering up instruments.
Weapons locked and loaded, all the covers folded and stowed. Tim and John high-fived with a sharp slap that would have echoed in a smaller space just as the first sound of their turbines began winding up.
Tim glanced out at Vengeance.
“Shit!”
John swung over to look out the cargo bay door with him.
“How did they do that? We were awesome!”
Vengeance’s rotors were already spinning nicely, while Viper’s were just finishing their achingly slow first rotations.
“They cheated,” Viper said over the intercom. “Must have.”
Tim nodded in agreement. Unless Lola was as good as Beale. If that was true, then the two of them could have done it. Now there was a thought. Someone that good in the sack who was that good in the air. There was an image that made his body burn just sitting here.
When he caught her cheery wave of victory through the windscreen, he considered turning aside as if he hadn’t seen it. Too petty. He cast a casual, two-fingered salute. Dilya leaned out the cargo bay door to wave happily so he waved to her as well, then turned away.
To his next surprise.
The C-5 was already gone. In all the hurry, he hadn’t even noticed the hangar doors open to the April night or the quiet sound of the electric tractor dragging the big jet clear.
He glanced over at the Chinook, just now starting up its twin rotors. The D-boys clambered aboard, their rifles slung over their shoulders. A single one trailed behind, scanning the hangar with his sniper rifle at ready arms. For the tenth time, Tim wondered what the hell they had dug up out in the desert.
He didn’t like it one bit. In unison, he and John slid into their seats and buckled in, and Tim made sure everything was ready on his minigun. Friendly soil or not, if a D-boy didn’t trust it, he wasn’t about to either.
The hangar doors opened, allowing the three choppers to roll forward into the night. A glance back showed that the guards still hadn’t moved from in front of Air Force One as the hangar doors slid closed behind them. They’d probably spray the floor with disinfectant where the Army helicopter might have touched their precious patch of concrete.
They headed northwest, the National Mall a blaze of light off to the north. In a half-dozen miles, they slipped down low over the Potomac and continued northwest.
No one about. No police choppers. Not many vehicles either, not at four in the morning.
Just three Special Forces military helicopters flying over home soil, ready for battle. Was that even legal? The military was forbidden from carrying out force operations over U.S. soil, courtesy of a half-dozen laws going back a hundred years and presidential orders on top of that. This wasn’t force, at least not yet.
But that wasn’t his concern. No one was talking about it on the radio either. The pilots were silent. Communicating by some weird tele-psychic thing SOAR pilots sometimes did, where everyone just knew what to do and where to go.
So he kept his mouth shut and watched the sky and the roads for possible inbounds. Tim wondered if he’d be able to fire at a perceived threat and risk accidentally taking out some guy with his girl looking for a place to neck.
At a large office complex they slowed, staying below a hundred feet.
The Chinook began to settle to the ground as the two DAP hawks hovered above. Langley, Virginia. CIA headquarters. Tim had never been here, no reason. He kept his attention on a sweep of the sky and tried to find enough spit to swallow against a dry throat.
The Chinook swung so that her stern rotor was passing within a dozen feet of the building. Even as the bird touched down, the rear ramp hit the ground and a pair of D-boys were driving the vehicle backwards off the ramp. They didn’t even slow or turn, just backed right off the chopper and straight into a garage door that had slid open to receive them moments before it would have been struck. The others stayed on the big bird.
Henderson must have been as fascinated as Tim was. The Viper had to suddenly jerk aside to get clear of the ascending Chinook.
The Major let out a long, slow whistle. “Why do I think we haven’t seen the last of that?”
“Giving me the willies there, Major.” And he was. Tim had fought plenty of battles but not often been creeped out by what he’d seen.
“Well, I’m glad to be rid of that package,” Big John rumbled.
“No question. Where to now, sir?”
“Anacostia.” The Major headed them south, his voice a little easier. “A bit of down time.”
The Chinook turned southwest and climbed into the night. Just before it completely disappeared off the edge of their night-vision gear, its crew turned on their nav lights. Probably making the three-hour transit down to SOAR headquarters in Fort Campbell, Kentucky.
The two DAP Hawks swung in unison back down the Potomac and slipped quietly into Anacostia Naval Support Facility where the U.S. Marines stored the Marine One helicopters for the President. Again, within minutes of landing, they were tucked out of sight inside a closed hangar.
Chapter 29
“Greetings, Nephew.”
Mark Henderson climbed down from the Viper and saluted the commander of Anacostia smartly. “General Arnson, sir!” He couldn’t help smiling down at the General, still ramrod straight as you’d expect from a forty-year man. Mark could remember when his uncle had seemed tree tall and larger than life.
Then the old man grabbed Mark and slapped him on the back a couple of times in a quick half hug. He kept a friendly hand on Mark’s shoulder as Emily came up, followed by the rest of her crew.
They traded salutes.
“Looking good, Emily.”
“You too, sir.”
“That’s Eddie to you.”
“Yes, sir, Eddie.” She saluted him again saucily.
While still a colonel, the General had happily busted Mark’s butt over and over until he met the old man’s flight standards. Rarely doling out a smile of any variety. Then Emily came into Mark’s life and completely won the old man over. Pre-Emily, Mark would never have dreamed of calling him Uncle, except maybe at the most casual family gathering. And here she was required to call him Eddie.
A year married and he’d still like to know how she’d done that. Her only answer was an uncertain shrug, then one of those smiles she aimed at Mark whenever she wanted to wipe all possibility of brain function out of his body.
“Looking damn good,” his uncle continued, still watching Emily.
“Should I be getting jealous?” Mark was actually surprised to feel a slight twinge of just that. His wife was damn beautiful, and he still couldn’t believe that she’d said “yes” when he asked. Actually, she never really had, but she’d stood with him at the altar and said, “I do,” when it counted. Good enough for him. Right this moment she looked beyond beautiful. Middle of the night, halfway around the world from their last bunk, and still the woman glowed.
“When do I get my cigar?” The General glanced over at hi
m.
“Your what?” Mark couldn’t make any sense of it when his wife went sheet white.
“Watched my Ellen through five kids, and with my youngster, Tessie, already through two, you get to know what a woman looks like at certain times.”
“Why would I give you a ciga…” Mark could feel the words slowing down and clogging his throat as he watched Emily’s face.
Several of the crew startled and stared at the two of them.
“Whups!” His uncle clamped the hand harder on Mark’s shoulder for a moment before withdrawing it. “Excuse me. I think your birds are messing up my nice, clean hangar floor.” He pointed to the rest of the crew. “All of you can come help me clean that up. Nephew, this mess you’ll have to clean up on your own.”
The General walked away and the others trailed after him. With the loss of the support of his uncle’s steadying hand, Mark could feel himself swaying in the breeze despite the breathless air and his dry throat.
“Are you… Are we…”
His Emma tipped her head sideways and smiled tentatively, which he’d always thought was her cutest stall tactic of all of them, but it wouldn’t distract him this time.
Then she shrugged. “Maybe.”
“May—be?” The first syllable a shout, the second a whisper.
“Self test says yes. Lola says I need to see a medico to be sure.”
Mark shook his head to clear it. Something wasn’t making sense. Something—
“When?” How long had she known and not told him?
“Last night.”
Last night.
During the flight.
Just last night. He could deal with that. When she’d curled up against him as if the three flight crews weren’t even there. And now, he was… She was… This he couldn’t deal with.
A hundred images flowed through his mind and he had no idea what to do with them. A storm of confusion inundated him about what she’d do if she couldn’t fly. Of how he could ground her without breaking her heart. Of how he could possibly love her more than he already did.
Thankfully, his body was smarter than he was and knew exactly what to do. He reached out and folded her against him.
In moments his personal beacon of strength had buried her face against his shoulder. He heard the first, ever so gentle sob, and held her tighter.
Her words were muffled and it took a moment to make sense of them. “I’m so scared.”
Something fundamental shifted in that moment. He could feel the change wash over him.
Major Emily Beale wasn’t scared of anything. Ever.
In that instant he was being asked to protect her; in that moment he became the strongest man alive. He kissed her atop her beautiful hair and whispered in her ear.
“We’ll figure it out, honey. As long as we’re together, we can figure out anything.”
Her nod against his chest reassured him. The hand she raised from his chest to stroke his cheek, without looking up, told him how much she trusted him.
Now he just had to figure out himself how to live up to that trust.
Chapter 30
“Okay, y’all. You’re free to go.” Major Henderson kept his wife clutched close by his side.
Lola didn’t need to see anything more to know that Emily Beale had picked a good man. He looked as if he were about to explode with pride and protectiveness and a dozen other conflicting emotions.
Since they’d just broken the news to all of both crews, whether intentionally or not, and they’d all seen the wonder and joy cross his features, it didn’t matter exactly what he showed to them anymore. Not one of them would ever question that he was the most competent commander any of them would ever have, or that he loved his wife with his whole heart.
“Stay in the D.C. area and keep your pagers on.” Henderson was clearly trying to pretend his entire world hadn’t just changed. He wasn’t fooling anyone, except maybe himself.
Lola didn’t try to hide her smile.
“Stone sober. If you drink wine with dinner, it better be a half glass, watered down.” He looked down at his wife. “And you don’t get any at all.”
His voice a caress as gentle as a breeze, a voice Lola had never heard except in the movies. It completely stole her breath away to hear it in real life.
Henderson’s voice shifted back into commander mode as he finally found enough rudder to get control of it. “Be ready to scramble on a couple hours’ notice. We could be on hold a day, we could be a week. We could be shipped back to the front.”
Not much of a bet on that last one, and Lola could see that no one else thought it likely either. Come war or peace, they were wrapped up in this particular mission until it reached the end.
“Couple of vans out front can take us into town once we shed our gear. What’s today’s date?”
“April 1st,” Connie offered in that inflectionless voice of hers.
Henderson nodded once solidly.
“April Fools’ Day,” Lola couldn’t resist pointing out. Tim grinned at her. Clearly about to say it himself. Fellow in crime.
Henderson started to nod again, then twitched. He spun to face his wife as she burst out laughing.
“You wouldn’t—” His tone threatened dire consequences.
“No! No!” She covered her mouth to block her mirth at the random chance of it.
After a few more chuckles at Henderson’s discomfiture, everyone started drifting off to grab their civvie gear. Trading flight suits for street clothes, combat boots for some nice leather with decent heels, sidearms for wallets with cash, and digging out their cell phones. About the only things to survive the transition from soldier to civilian were dog tags and sunglasses.
“We are one damn fine-looking crew,” Crazy Tim remarked as they spilled out of the hangar into the light of the rising dawn.
“Even if you have to be the one to say so.”
Tim nodded at Lola’s riposte. But it was true. The level of fitness made them all fine specimens. And they were a handsome lot. Lola didn’t mind being included in the group for one moment.
“Who’s up for breakfast at my place?” Tim called out. Lola had been thinking of hitting a hotel with a deep bath and immersing herself for a couple hours, but John and Connie chimed in with wholehearted agreement. She still might have dodged it, but Kee and Archie opted in with Dilya in tow. Left her no way to chicken out.
“Sure, why not. You keep a place in D.C.?” Maybe he had a deep tub, deep enough for two after the others left.
“I’m from here. My parents’ place actually. Family breakfast is usually in about half an hour.”
A couple of the others tried to hide smiles.
Big John was about to speak up, but Tim forced a cough and John shut his mouth.
Okay, whatever the game was, she was clearly being set up and she’d just have to roll with it. Fun or hideous? She’d wager on “it’s an experience” by the looks people were giving each other.
Richardson hooked up with a couple of the guys from the base and declared they were going over to Annapolis, something about the opening day of striped bass fishing.
The Majors opted out in favor of going to her mother and father’s place in Georgetown.
“Director of the FBI? Her dad is the director?”
Tim just nodded cheerfully in response to her shocked whisper as if it was no big deal. She double-checked with John just to make sure Tim wasn’t messing with her.
Lola knew the Major was something special, you couldn’t miss that. She kept glancing over at Beale to see if she’d somehow changed. But she still looked like a SOAR major on leave, who was expecting a baby and was pretty damn confused about it.
So, the seven of them piled into a van and headed into the city. Lola had never been here and kept pressing her nose to the glass like any tourist. For the
most part, it looked like a city. But when she started to turn away, a small voice spoke, barely loud enough for her to hear above everyone else’s cheerful chatter.
“I like the castle of the Smithsons.” Dilya. The girl pointed out the right side window clearly figuring out that Lola was a newcomer by how she’d been acting. How much did the kid see about the people around her? How much had she learned while surviving her childhood?
Suddenly it wasn’t just any other city. The Smithsonian Castle rose in magnificent piles of red brick. Beyond that…
“The Capitol. Where people sit around and make no laws.”
Maybe she meant “new laws” or maybe she had it right.
Dilya tapped her shoulder and pointed left. They were cutting across the middle of the National Mall. The Washington Monument soared like a needle into the sky. Giant buildings down the opposite side turned out to be museums. And off in the distance, at a height above everything else, perched the Lincoln Memorial. She definitely had to get there.
Then they were back into office buildings.
“There.” Dilya pointed proudly at a block-long mirrored building. “Mr. Frank works there.”
“Oh,” was all Lola could think to say as she spotted the sign at the front. The orphan girl from Uzbekistan apparently had made a friend in the United States Secret Service. “Is he a nice man?”
“Yes, I hope he never must stop bullet with his chest.”
The only ones who really did that were on the Presidential Protection Detail. She looked at the little girl again and at Kee, clearly a street kid herself. They had a friend on the PPD. Didn’t seem likely, but Lola had had enough surprises to not second-guess anyone in this car ever again. Maybe Kee had been an astronaut. Or Connie had commanded a submarine.
Tim directed the van’s driver to the back door of a place about a block west of the Secret Service office building. Seemed an odd place to live.
***
Two things assaulted Lola as she entered the door last of all and dropped her duffel bag with the others.
Take Over at Midnight (The Night Stalkers) Page 15