A Kiss in the Dark

by Karen Foley

  As if sensing her scrutiny, Wheeler turned his head and his eyes locked with Sedona’s. They stared at each other for a long moment. He was pale except for two patches of color that rode high on his cheekbones. For a moment, Sedona thought he would speak, would say something to explain the bizarre interaction she’d just witnessed. His mouth opened, then closed, and before she could say anything, he turned and followed Laudano toward the rear of the hangar.

  She watched him go. Was Wheeler dating Laudano’s sister? What had Laudano meant by Wheeler not screwing this up? Had he been referring to Wheeler’s relationship with the sister, or something more sinister?

  Thoughtful, Sedona turned and made her way to where several maintenance-crew members gathered around a Coyote. One of the engines hung suspended from a lift several feet away. Senior Chief Hamlin bent over the remaining engine, still installed in the jet, while the other technicians strained to peer over his shoulder.

  “Hey,” she said as she approached the group. She tucked several loose strands of wet hair behind her ears. “I came as fast as I could. What do you have?”

  The senior chief backed carefully out of the engine compartment, carrying a small mirror in one hand. “Well, this particular jet was out on the flight line this morning, and was mistakenly put into the queue for flight testing.”

  “Did one of our pilots take it up?” She glanced out the enormous doors of the hangar to where the jets were parked. Where was Angel right now?

  “No, ma’am,” Hamlin replied. “We caught the problem in time, but if someone had taken this jet up, it could have resulted in a catastrophic engine failure.”

  Sedona’s breath caught. “Why?”

  He held out his hand. Lying in his palm were three small, metal balls. “I found these inside the fan module.”

  Sedona frowned. “You found three ball bearings just rolling around? Wasn’t that the cause of damage to the fan blades on the last engine we looked at?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Hamlin’s voice was grim. “But these weren’t just rolling around.” He drew her aside and lowered his voice. “These were actually fastened to the back side of the fan blades with adhesive.”

  Sedona stared at him, bewildered. “What?”

  “I’ve seen this before. It’s usually done to cause engine damage before the jet leaves the ground. However, in this case the adhesive is of such high quality, I believe the ball bearings would remain in place until the jet was airborne. Eventually, the sheer force of the fan suction would cause the adhesive to fatigue. When that happens, the ball bearings would get sucked through the fan modules and the afterburner, trashing the engine on their way out.”

  “Enough to cause an in-flight failure,” Sedona said softly, her eyes wide.

  “Exactly.”

  Sedona met the senior chief’s grim expression. “Sabotage?”

  “No question.”

  “Whoever did this believed this particular jet was going to be flight-tested today.”

  He nodded. “It would seem so. If we hadn’t pulled it from the lineup, the jet would have gone up.”

  Angel. “Oh, my God,” she breathed. “How many jets are in the air right now?”

  “We’ve implemented a no-fly procedure until the remaining jets can be cleared, and the commander is sending a unit out to secure the entire area, but we have four pilots conducting test flights right now.”

  “And they are…?”

  Hamlin shook his head. “I don’t have that information.” Something on the flight line caught his attention. “There’s Captain Dawson now, with Lieutenant Palmer. You might ask them. Looks like they’re heading up to the control tower.”

  Sedona followed his gaze and saw Captain Dawson and Lieutenant Palmer surrounded by several other naval officers, heads bent and black umbrellas tipped against the driving rain as they strode across the tarmac toward the building that housed the control tower for the naval base.

  “Do they know?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Okay, thanks.” She began to turn away, when a thought struck her. “Senior Chief, do you happen to know what the relationship is between Airman Laudano and Airman Wheeler?”

  “Excuse me?” His expression was bewildered.

  “Is Airman Wheeler dating Laudano’s sister?”

  “Oh, yeah.” The senior chief gave a brief grin. “Actually, I think Wheeler is engaged to Laudano’s sister. Met her when Laudano brought him home for Thanksgiving one year.”

  “Thanks. I was just curious.”

  Her mind spun as she turned away, alarm bells jangling in her head. It had certainly sounded like Laudano was blackmailing Wheeler, and she didn’t have to guess why. As a plane captain, Laudano had access to the Coyote engines. He could easily have planted those ball bearings.

  Maybe Airman Wheeler had discovered what his future brother-in-law was up to, and had threatened to expose him. But even if Wheeler lacked the courage to do the right thing, she didn’t. She would go directly to the military police and tell them what she suspected. But first, she had to make sure Angel wasn’t up there, flying a jet that Laudano had inspected.

  By the time she reached the control tower, she was drenched through to the skin and Captain Dawson and his entourage had already vanished inside. She pressed the buzzer next to the secure entrance, gasping for breath from her dash across the base.

  “Yes?”

  Sedona blinked up at the security camera mounted above the door and spoke into the small speaker beneath the buzzer. “Um, this is Sedona Stewart. I’m part of the Coyote inspection team, and I need to speak with Captain Dawson or Lieutenant Palmer. Right away.”

  There was a momentary silence.

  “Come on up, Miss Stewart.” The door buzzed.

  She pushed it open and took the stairs two at a time as they wound upward, until her thighs cramped in protest and she thought her lungs would burst. By the time she reached the top of the stairs, she’d climbed eight flights. She paused in front of another door of dark, smoked glass. She pressed the buzzer and this time the door opened immediately.

  The control room was cool and dark, dimly lit by neon blue halogen lights. Sedona struggled to check her ragged breathing as she climbed the last flight of steps. Through the observation windows, the air traffic controllers had unobstructed views of the flight line and the surrounding countryside, only slightly obscured by the sheeting rain that drummed against the glass.

  The entire perimeter of the small room was occupied by a vast array of computer displays and digital readouts. Three men, each of them wearing a headset, rolled their chairs between the various monitors, watching the blips on the screens and dictating coordinates and flight instructions into their mouthpieces.

  Leaning over them, crowding the small space, were Captain Dawson, Lieutenant Palmer and two other naval officers. They all turned to look at her as she rounded the last step and entered the room.

  “Captain Dawson.” She paused to catch her breath. “Thank you for seeing me.”

  “Miss Stewart.” His voice betrayed his astonishment as he took in her disheveled appearance. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Actually, yes.” She glanced out the window toward the distant Coyote hangar, where she could still see the senior chief standing next to the sabotaged engine. “I, uh, just came from the Coyote hangar, where I saw evidence of sabotage. I need to know if you have any Coyotes in the air right now.”

  Captain Dawson considered her for a moment, and Sedona thought he was actually going to tell her what she needed to know. But then his lips compressed in what might have been sympathy, before turning back to the controls. “Thank you for your concern, Miss Stewart, but we have everything in hand.”

  It was a dismissal. Sedona glanced at Lieutenant Palmer, but he stared resolutely through the windows and refused to meet her eyes.

  “I understand, sir,” she forced herself to say, “but I have reason to believe the Coyotes scheduled for today’s test flights ma
y also be compromised.” She stopped just short of demanding to know if Angel was up in one of those jets.

  “We’ve already contacted the authorities, Miss Stewart,” Captain Dawson replied. “We have the situation contained.”

  It seemed she wasn’t going to get any information from him, and she rubbed her hand across the back of her neck in an effort to dispel some of her tension. “Okay.” She sighed. “Can you at least tell me if Lieutenant Torres is up there? We’re…friends. I’m concerned for his safety.”

  One of the men swiveled in his chair to face her, pulling one side of his headset away from his ear. “Hello, ma’am,” he said, extending a hand toward her. “I’m Tim Colletti, the flight commander. In answer to your question, yes, Diablo is up there, but I assure you, there’s nothing to worry about. I served with him aboard the Lincoln, and he was the best damn stick in the squadron.”

  “Did somebody go over his jet before it went up? Who was the last person to check it, to touch it before it went up?”

  Lieutenant Palmer finally turned to face her. “It wasn’t Airman Laudano, if that’s what you’re thinking. He hasn’t been on duty since yesterday, and he didn’t oversee any of the jets that went up today.” His voice held a note of defiance and more than a little smugness, but Sedona hardly noticed for the relief that flooded her. That Laudano apparently had not been on duty that morning, and hadn’t been near Angel’s jet, allowed her to breathe easier, if only a little.

  “So, who was the plane captain for Lieutenant Torres’s jet?” she persisted.

  Lieutenant Palmer leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, looking at Captain Dawson for approval, before turning his attention back to Sedona.

  “It was Airman Wheeler,” he finally said. “He performed the final inspections. We already spoke with him. Everything seemed in order.”

  Sedona nodded. “Okay, then.” Thank God.

  They were each looking expectantly at her, and she shoved her hands into her pockets and took two steps backward toward the stairs. “I just, you know, wanted to make sure he was okay up there, but it seems like you have everything under control, so I’ll just be going.”

  She felt like an idiot, and knew both Captain Dawson and Lieutenant Palmer would have been in complete agreement with that sentiment, but she no longer cared. Angel was safe and that was all that mattered.

  She had just turned away when the sound of Angel’s voice on the control-tower radio caused her to stop in her tracks.

  “Roadrunner, this is Diablo. I have a problem.”

  Sedona stood, riveted, as every man in the room converged on the instrument panels.

  “This is Roadrunner,” replied the flight boss. “Go ahead, Diablo.”

  “I’ve lost my left engine. It’s blown to hell. I have FOD tearing through the fuselage. I have one good engine, but I’m losing altitude.”

  “Roger that, Diablo. Start ejection sequence.”

  Even as Commander Colletti began speaking, Sedona heard Captain Dawson swear softly beneath his breath. He turned to Lieutenant Palmer. “Get those other aircraft back on the ground. Now.”

  “Yessir.” Lieutenant Palmer snatched up a spare headset and began contacting the other pilots, commanding them to return to base.

  “Negative on ejection.” Angel’s voice was eerily calm. “I have civilian population below…attempting to reach open water.”

  “Jesus,” breathed Lieutenant Palmer, looking up at Captain Dawson. “If he’s already breaking up, he’ll never make it.”

  Together they watched the tiny green blip on the radar screen that was Angel’s jet. Without realizing she did so, Sedona moved closer to stare with horrified fascination at the small dot as it blinked across the monitor. She knew the jet was traveling at hundreds of miles per hour, but it appeared to travel at a snail’s pace across the screen.

  Sedona felt light-headed. This couldn’t be happening. The very scenario she had dreaded was unfolding before her eyes. She saw the perimeter of the land mass faintly outlined on the radar screen, and though Angel was closing the distance to the water, she also saw he was rapidly losing altitude.

  “Roadrunner, this is Splatt. I have Diablo covered at five o’clock and it doesn’t look good. He’s spewing body parts and fuel.”

  Sedona gasped. Body parts?

  Commander Colletti yanked his mouthpiece away and met her horrified gaze. “Pieces of the aircraft are breaking away,” he explained grimly. He shoved the mouthpiece back into place. “Eject, Diablo. Repeat, eject.”

  “Negative, sir. I can still make open water.”

  “Diablo, this is a direct order. Eject.”

  “Roadrunner, this is Splatt. Diablo still in control of aircraft and accelerating toward open water.” An instant later, “Belay that message, Roadrunner. He’s losing control of the jet. Hard yaw to the left…now back to the right. He’s overcompensated. Aircraft in a flat spin. Looks like an out-of-control Frisbee. He’s shooting flames and throwing debris. The aircraft is over open water.”

  “Dammit, Diablo, eject!”

  There was a momentary silence. Every person in the control tower leaned forward. Sedona passed a hand over her eyes, feeling ill. Even if Angel did eject, could he do it in time to avoid serious injury? She’d read numerous accident reports during her years with Aerospace International and she knew how dangerous ejection could be to the pilot. With the aircraft in a spin, Angel could inadvertently eject directly into the water and be killed instantly. Even if he ejected correctly, he could be rendered unconscious and drown before they could rescue him.

  “Roadrunner, this is Splatt. Aircraft down over open water. Pilot ejected. Repeat, pilot ejected and in the water.”

  Sedona didn’t wait to hear more. With a muttered curse, she turned on her heel toward the stairs.

  “Miss Stewart!” Captain Dawson’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “Where are you going?”

  She looked up, directly into the captain’s eyes, and didn’t try to hide the tears of fury that blurred her vision. “I’m going to find the son of a bitch who sabotaged that aircraft.”

  * * *

  THE CENTRIFUGAL FORCE was enough to pin Angel to the instrument panel as the aircraft yawed in a corkscrew motion. Full thrust on his one good engine swung the tail around and the aircraft veered in the other direction. The sound of screaming engine and twisting metal filled the cockpit, and the acrid stench of burning jet fuel filled his nostrils.

  He slammed the stick left to compensate, but it wasn’t enough. The vortex of the falling jet caused his one good engine to flame out, and then he dropped below the canopy of clouds and into the thick soup of the coastal storm.

  Through a break in the clouds below him, Angel glimpsed the churning waters of the Pacific as the earth rose to meet him. Using every bit of strength he had to push against the g-forces that held him immobile, he reached back and wrapped his hand around the ejection handle and began the ejection sequence.

  Almost immediately, the Coyote’s canopy blasted away, sucked upward into the turbulent skies. Angel yanked the handle. He slammed back into his seat as the ejection-seat straps responded. One. Two. The rockets beneath the seat blasted him out of the jet. The stunning impact jarred his teeth and caused his head to snap back. Then he was tumbling, free-falling through the stormy skies.

  Instinctively, he reached up and groped for the straps that held him pinned to the seat. He pulled on them sharply, then the seat tumbled away and his chute streamed out. He glanced upward, saw it balloon open and gritted his teeth against the violent snap that stopped his fall and jerked him upward until he was floating, suspended in his harness beneath the open chute. He drifted for scant seconds as rain sluiced over his helmet and into his face, before he plunged into the sea.

  Something in his ankle snapped, but before he could think about it, his heavy gear sucked him down and the dark waters of the Pacific closed over his head. Almost immediately, the life preserver that was built into hi
s survival vest inflated around his neck, pressing against his jaw. Using his arms and legs, he fought to propel himself upward. Before he could reach the surface, he was yanked hard to one side as the wind caught his chute, dragging him through the churning waters and twisting him in the straps. He was turning over and over as he struggled desperately to release himself from the tangled line.

  He burst through to the surface and sucked in huge gulps of air, heedless of the rain that lashed his face. Reaching up, he fumbled with the release snaps, and fell back into the water as the parachute finally broke free and whipped across the waves like a giant kite.

  The sea was rough, with eight-foot chops. Gusts of wind blew blinding spray into his face. At one point, when a large wave buoyed him up, he thought he glimpsed debris from his jet floating a short distance away. His heavy gear threatened to drag him beneath the surface once again. His own harsh breathing filled his ears. His body felt battered, almost too weak to continue treading water, and he became aware of the throbbing pain in his left ankle.

  Summoning up his last bit of strength, he twisted and fumbled with fingers that were cold and numb, until he located the inflatable raft attached to his harness. He pulled the cord and the orange raft burst open with a hiss until it bounced beside him on the surface.

  Angel hooked an arm over the side, pulled himself into the small opening, ignoring the screaming protest of his injured leg, and collapsed onto his back, exhausted. He flung an arm over his eyes and breathed heavily, letting the undulating waves soothe his body.

  He was alive.

  Pushing to a sitting position, he braced himself against the side of the raft and bent over to examine his injured leg. Gritting his teeth against the shooting pain, he unlaced his boot and peeled the wet fabric of his flight suit back far enough to assess the damage. It looked to be a compound fracture of his ankle. The skin around the protruding bone was ragged and inflamed, but there was little blood and, if he didn’t move too much, the pain was bearable. The bone must have snapped on impact with the water, though he barely recalled feeling it at the time. He eased the fabric back into place and sank back against the edge of the raft.