“No, I don’t.” Vikki bit her lip. She knew that all aircraft used call signs, or a code name, to identify themselves over the radio. With the proper call sign, it was easy to masquerade as another plane. But according to Harding, the Air Force changed their call signs periodically.
“We usually don’t have the flights posted until several hours before they get here … but I have a C-130 out of Peterson AFB, Colorado, scheduled to get in at 2300 hours. Does that help?”
“Yes, it does. Do you have its call sign?”
“Merry Zero Three.”
“Thank you.” A thrill ran through her; that was almost too easy. After she hung up, she dialed again, carefully entering the international access code for Mexico. The phone was answered on the seventh ring.
“Harding.”
“Tomorrow night at eleven o’clock a C-130 is due to land at Wendover. I’ve got the call sign.”
“Good. We can fly into Wendover AFB using that call sign a half hour before it’s due and not raise any suspicion; but it gives us only a half hour to get everything unloaded. What about the IFF? Are you going to be able to get hold of one to get around Alpha Base’s sensors?”
Remembering Britnell’s boast of having an IFF on his Bronco, Vikki said, “I should be able to do it.”
It sounded like Harding placed a hand over the receiver; he came back a minute later. “Okay, tomorrow night is the night. We’ll meet you at the staging area tomorrow morning, sunrise.” The line went dead.
Vikki hung up, flush with excitement that the assault was coming together.
“A penny for your thoughts.”
“Huh?” Vikki shook her head. McGriffin sat across from her and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. Vikki flushed, suddenly feeling foolish that she hadn’t been listening to him. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”
“I could tell.” McGriffin pushed his vegetables to one side of his plate. He cut into his prime rib, took a bit. “I really appreciate you spending an early dinner with me.”
“What?” Vikki swung her hand around, taking in the casino. “And miss all this?”
McGriffin laughed. “I know four in the afternoon isn’t good for the appetite, but since I have to work—”
Vikki placed a hand on top of McGriffin’s. He stopped talking. She smiled. “I said, don’t worry about it. It’s nice to be able to just talk. Besides, like I said, I’ll be gone for a few weeks.”
“I’m glad you told me. Maybe we can see each other when you get back.”
“Yeah.” She set her mouth.
He didn’t move his hand. She felt awkward at first, like a teenager. But it felt so good just to be able to sit and talk, and know he wasn’t trying to get her in bed. Withdrawing her hand, she toyed with her food. “So don’t you ever get a break?”
“We’re kind of shorthanded now — but I thought we weren’t going to pry into each other’s life.”
“You’re right.” She took a bite and chewed slowly, watching him. McGriffin cut at his steak and wolfed the food down; but unlike Britnell — or Harding, for that matter — even in his haste his manners were impeccable.
She toyed with her food. “You know, when we first met, you said you didn’t go out and do the tourist bit. Especially where you used to live.”
McGriffin swallowed. “Yeah. I could never seem to find the time to relax, enjoy the sights. I’ve always had to have something going on. You know, busy jogging, working on the house …” He drew quiet at the mention of his house, as if something bothered him.
Vikki studied his face. His dark hair was stylishly cut, but it was a bit on the short side, even though it was long compared to how Britnell wore his hair. McGriffin was solidly built and quite good-looking; and even though he was suddenly withdrawn, he had a playful gleam in his eye. Whatever had been in his past, she would be very surprised if he had not been intimately involved with someone. She felt close to him.
Vikki said, “I know what you mean. I grew up in Colorado and never got a chance to see some of the touristy areas, like Pikes Peak, Garden of the Gods, the Air Force Academy—”
McGriffin started coughing.
Vikki frowned. “Are you all right?”
“Fine. I’m okay.” McGriffin wiped at his mouth. He wet his lips as if he wanted to say something.
Vikki cocked her head. “Is anything the matter?”
“No.” He picked up his fork. “Ah, where in Colorado did you say you lived?”
“Monument. That’s about ten miles from Colorado Springs, just north of the Air Force Academy.”
McGriffin’s eyes widened. “Yeah, I know.”
“You do? How’s that?”
He cut a slice of prime rib. “It’s a long story.” He glanced at his watch. “Uh, I’ve really got to hurry. Do you think we can get together for a real date after you get back — you know, spend some time where I don’t have to worry about getting to work?”
“Sure.” Vikki smiled and brushed back her hair. She didn’t know if she could ever make it, but even if she had to come back to Wendover as a fugitive, McGriffin might be worth the risk. He seemed to be everything that Harding had never turned out to be.
What’s more, McGriffin was just the thing she needed to get her mind off the assault.
Chapter 12
Standing in the Chevy van’s door, Vikki pushed her hair from her eyes. The sun just peeked over the eastern range, bringing a flood of warming sunlight. It wasn’t cold enough to see her breath, but she shivered just the same. The additional five thousand feet in altitude from Wendover was more than enough to cause the chill.
The air smelled of ozone — the pine-fresh vigor of mountain living. The wind whooshed through the trees, sounding spooky. She’d almost be willing to give up everything to stay there forever.
And bury her head in the sand, ignoring the atrocities that lay waiting at Alpha Base.
No, she was too involved to back down now. She glanced at her watch and waited for the sound that would start it all.
Another ten minutes passed before she heard it. The plane’s engines bounced off the mountainsides, rolling down the meadow. The roar grew in intensity; it violated the serenity hanging in the valley. Purple and yellow flowers waved in the fields, seeming to beckon the plane on.
Suddenly, the plane popped over the crest line. It dove for the meadow, making an impossible turn, flying past trees and house-size boulders. Engines roaring, the black C-130 seemed to fall from the sky.
Cliffs guarded one end of the meadow. A gentle slope led to a lake, ringed with trees, at the opposite end. The four-engine craft dropped for the pond.
Its wheels barely clipped the treetops. The plane hit the edge of the meadow and bounced twice. Its engines shook the ground as they reversed, slowing the low-slung craft. Dust and decapitated flowers sprayed up into the air, covering the airplane in a fog of debris.
Vikki squinted and placed a hand over her eyes. The C-130 transport emerged from the dust. It traveled the mile stretch, reaching the end of the meadow, and turning just before reaching the cliffs.
When Harding told her of the mercenary’s C-130, Vikki consulted Jane’s All the World’s Aircraft to find out for herself about the squat four-engined transport. An ultrareliable troop carrier, the model L-100-3 °C-130 Hercules “stretch Herky bird” played many roles. It carried troops, airlifted supplies, dropped twenty-thousand-pound bombs, inserted airborne rangers, recovered satellites, scooped up pails of water from the ocean — the list was almost endless. Obtained from a second party, the elongated civilian version of the military C-130 was as much of a legend as the old “Gooney Bird.”