“Tell me what you get,” Mike said, yawning. “Can any of the girls run the program?”
“Yeah,” Vanner replied. “I’m going to let them work it while I get some shut-eye. But I want to scan the files. The girls have seen just enough of this stuff to know they don’t want to see any more.”
“Agreed,” Mike said tightly. “Get started on it and then get some rest. We’re going to need you fresh in Vegas.”
“Will do,” Vanner said, picking up the laptop and leaving the office.
“If we have to go to Lunari it’s going to be tough,” Adams said after the intel specialist had left. “We don’t have much on it, but what I’ve been able to glean indicates that the town’s a fucking fortress. More than one, since all the gangs have houses there and they don’t trust each other.”
“We might be able to do something with that,” Mike said, yawning again. “What goes for Vanner, goes for you, too. Get some rest. I’m going to need you alert whenever we get there.”
“I was planning on it,” Adams said, getting up. “You too.”
“I will,” Mike replied. “I’m going to watch some news and then rack out.” The couch in the compartment converted to a bed and he was planning on taking the unusual step of using “rank has it’s privileges.”
“See you in the morning,” Adams said. “Or whenever it’s going to be.”
Mike flipped open his own laptop and scanned the news. The top news story on the Fox site was the search for a missing girl in Kansas. Which meant dick all to him. Next down was the battle over the current Supreme Court nominee. The nominee was stuck in committee, naturally. The liberals were screaming about the nominee’s “non-mainstream” religious views, by which they meant he was a practicing Catholic and had firm views on abortion and other “life” issues. And Grantham was the chairman of the committee, he noted.
It was assumed he would be voting with the President but he’d hardly been supporting the nominee in the last few days, which was worth fifteen minutes of comment from political and legal experts. The senator, it seemed, had twice missed opportunities to move the nominee out of committee and on to a floor vote.
France was trying to crack down on Islamic jihadists and having a rough time. The French security forces had been on high alert ever since the previous year when a nuke was set to blow in Paris. However, the French judiciary and various liberal groups were creating roadblock after roadblock against deportation of even the most extremist members of the Islamics.
The majority of the Islamics were found in southern France and around Paris. And the majority of those were housed in “government housing” neighborhoods composed of block after block of massive apartment buildings. The neighborhoods had become “no-go” zones for the police and in places there had been pitched battles that were nearly the equal of the “insurgency” period in Iraq. It hadn’t, quite, reached the level of civil war, but if it were anywhere but France the news media would be all over it. As it was, the only term that came to mind was “downplayed.” There was one shot in the background of what had to be an RPG being fired at French police, who appeared to be in retreat. It sure as hell didn’t look good and he was glad he was out of it. He might drop a line to the Chatanueuf and see how bad it was.
And in the tail end of the news was a poll showing that the lead in the presidential polls was Barbara Watson, former first lady, junior senator from Massachusetts and a card carrying bitch from hell. If there was anything she hated more than conservative political positions it was the military. Still deployed all over the world trying to fight the good fight, the military was sure to be gutted, War on Terror or no, if she took office. And the intel groups would be hamstrung.
Mike wasn’t sure if the news was just particularly bad or if it was just fatigue. But it seemed like everything he had worked for most of his life was going down the tubes. The only good news was that the Georgian government seemed to be stabilizing and even the Ossetians were coming to the table. The way things were going, Georgia was going to be a better place for him to live, all around, than the States.
Thoroughly depressed, he killed the TV and the lights and lay back, watching the stars through the narrow windows of the plane.
Mike rolled to his feet, disoriented, as the plane began its descent. He rubbed his eyes and looked out the window, still disoriented. According to his watch it was eight AM, but the sun still wasn’t up. Oh, yeah, they were flying with the sun. This was going to get annoying. Jet lag was a bitch.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re beginning our descent to Gatwick Airport in England,” Captain Hardesty intoned. “Please reconfigure your seats and such like for landing. We’ll be refueling and picking up breakfast. I’d appreciate it if the English speakers could translate, since my knowledge of Georgian is sadly lacking. Mr. Jenkins, if you could pick up the phone, please?”
“Jenkins.”
“We’ve received an inflight advisory that members of the British government will be visiting with us while we’re in England,” Hardesty said, neutrally.
“Oh, really?” Mike asked. “I’m going to need to make some phone calls.”
“Please do,” Hardesty said. “As long as they don’t get my plane impounded and my pilot’s license pulled. I am officially disavowing any suspicion of illicit activities, I might add.”
“Nice to know,” Mike said, chuckling as he hung up the phone. He dialed a number from memory before checking his watch. It was still the middle of the night in the U.S.
“Office of Special Operations Liaison, Navy Captain Parker speaking. How may I help you, sir or ma’am?”
“That’s a mouthful, Captain,” Mike said. “Mike Jenkins. I’m checking in. We’re landing in England and we’re apparently getting a deputation from the Brits. Comments?”
“Unknown at this time, Mr. Jenkins,” Parker said after a moment. “I’ll need to make some calls.”
“Please do,” Mike said. He picked up the phone and connected to the rear cabin.
“Yes, Kildar?”
“Greznya? I hope you got some sleep.”
“I got quite a good sleep, thank you, Kildar,” Greznya replied.
“Are Adams and Vanner functional?”
“They will be after another cup of coffee,” Greznya said. “And Vanner has something he’s looking at. Would you like them to step up front?”
“No, I’m going to head back,” Mike said. “See you in a bit.”
The rear of the plane was configured for about twice as many people as there were Keldara so Keldara were sprawled everywhere. Adams was getting them up and the seats reconfigured as Mike stepped through the door.
“Be with you in a second, Mike,” Adams called.
There were two flight attendants on the plane and Mike waved one of them over.
“Is there a way to access the intercom back here?” Mike asked.
“Right here, sir,” the woman said, picking up a phone and hitting the appropriate button.
“Rise and shine, Keldara,” Mike said in the Keldara dialect of Georgian, which he was fairly sure the crew wouldn’t be able to understand. “We’re about to land in England. When we do we’re going to be getting a visit from some representatives of the British government. I’m not sure what they’re going to be asking about, but I suspect it has to do with our visit to Romania and points south. In that case, nobody speaks English at all well and understands it even less. If it comes down to lawyers, guns and money we’ve got all three on our side as well as some very interesting video footage. Enough about that, though.