Merrick complied and turned her head toward the patrolman. "Officer, the car I collided with is my rental car."
" Your rental car?"
"That's right."
"Well, after eighteen years on the job, that's a new one."
She looked straight ahead. "It might be a good idea to radio a description of the stolen vehicle — this isn't it."
More curious than concerned for his safety, the patrolman ignored her suggestion. "Ma'am, do you have any weapons on you?"
"No, but the FBI impostor lying in the front seat has a handgun."
"FBI impostor, huh?"
"That's right."
"Well, that's another first."
The trooper cautiously walked toward the driver's door. "Ma'am, have you been drinking?"
"Yes, I have, if you count one glass of wine with dinner about nine-thirty last night."
The officer shone his flashlight on Harrington for a long moment. "Has your passenger been drinking?"
"He was the driver until I saw you, and then I overpowered him. I think he may be dead."
"Overpowered him?"
"Pardon me, but do we have to go over everything twice?"
The patrolman slowly shook his head and cautiously walked to the front passenger door. He kept his light on Harrington while he checked his vital signs, then stepped back.
"You're right about that," he said without taking his eyes off Merrick. "He certainly is dead — looks like he was strangled."
"He was, with one of my belts."
More cautious now, the trooper returned to the back of the Mercury and shone his light in Merrick's face. "Let's start over. Do you have any identification with you?"
"Yes." She squinted at the light. "It's in my handbag in the car."
"Would you mind getting it for me?"
"I'd be happy to," Merrick said, and opened the rear door. She grabbed her purse and then gave the trooper her driver's license and her navy identification card.
He carefully inspected the IDs and handed them to her. "Well, Lieutenant Hamilton, what do you do in the navy?"
With the rush wearing off, Merrick chuckled. "I'm a fighter pilot."
The officer again shook his head. "Why does that not surprise me?"
The sun was barely above the horizon when a U.S. Air Force Titan 4B Centaur booster, carrying an advanced six-ton NRO Orion signal intelligence spacecraft, gracefully lifted off from Complex 40. Launched by Lockheed Martin and the 5th Space Launch Squadron of the 45th Space Wing, the intelligence-gathering spacecraft would be maneuvered into geosynchronous orbit over the equator north of the Solomon Islands.
Once safely in orbit, Orion, with its antenna spanning more than a hundred feet, would be released and parked at approximately twenty-three thousand miles above the earth to monitor communications from most of the Western Pacific.
Two days later, another Orion spacecraft would be parked on the equator north of French Polynesia in the Eastern Pacific. Working in concert with older KH-11 optical-imaging spacecraft and Lacrosse imaging radars, the latest evolution of sky spies would provide wide-area coverage and greatly bolster U.S. intelligence assessments.
The National Security Agency would be the primary user of the Orion spacecraft, with the CIA and State Department aiding in the interpretation of communication intercepts.
With Jackie in the left seat of the Beech A-36 Bonanza, she and Scott listened to the automatic terminal information service. The latest ATIS provided the ceilings, visibility, obstructions to visibility, current temperature, dew point, wind direction, wind speed, altimeter setting, remarks about the airport, instrument approaches, and the runways in use.
Next Scott called clearance delivery and copied his instrument clearance to MCAS Cherry Point, then read it back to the controller. Even though the weather was good, Scott preferred the safety of an IFR flight plan and the accompanying radar coverage. He called ground control and received permission to taxi to runway one-nine-left as Jackie smoothly added power and turned toward the taxiway.
Scott glanced at a sleek new Citation X that was about to land. "Sure beats the airlines."
"Yeah, no comparison."
"Going where you want, when you want." Scott watched the corporate jet touch down. "If everything goes smoothly this year, I'm hoping to move up to a King Air."
"Need a partner — in an airplane?"
"I'd have to think about that."
After reaching the departure end of the runway, Jackie gently braked to a halt. She completed a thorough engine run-up, checked the flight controls for proper response, glanced at the GPS unit, rechecked the trim and fuel selector valve, then looked at Scott. "I'm ready when you are."
"Dulles tower," Scott radioed, "Bonanza Seven-Seven Hotel Delta is ready to go."
"Bonanza Seven-Seven Hotel Delta, wind is one-six-zero at eight, runway one-nine-left, cleared for takeoff."
"Seven Hotel Delta is rolling."
Jackie turned the strobe lights on, then visually checked for approaching air traffic and taxied onto the active runway. Smoothly adding power, she glanced at the engine instruments while the Bonanza rapidly accelerated straight down the centerline of the runway. Approaching sixty-five knots, Jackie began easing back on the yoke and the airplane gently lifted off the ground.
"It looks like you've done this a time or two."
"Actually, I feel a little rusty," Jackie admitted, raising the landing gear. "I need to fly more often."
After the tower handed them off to departure control, Scott checked in with the controller while Jackie enjoyed hand-flying the Bonanza. Once they had been switched to the Washington Air Route Traffic Control Center, ackie continued the climb to seven thousand feet before engaging the autopilot.
"What a beautiful morning," she said, surveying the countryside. "This is the best time of day to fly."
"We'll have to do this more often."
"Let's plan on it." Jackie scanned the sky for other aircraft. "When are you going to take me flying in your Great Lakes?"
"As soon as we have time."
"Promise?"
"You have my word."
"Seriously, Mr. Dalton, would you consider a partnership in one of your planes — fifty-fifty?"
"That's how guys get into trouble."
"What do you mean?"
"A fifty-fifty partnership with a woman means the woman's in charge. That's how things work on this planet."
"You're incorrigible."
"Wake me when we get there."
"Aye, aye, Captain."
Scott napped while Jackie monitored the instruments, radios, and the GPS moving map. One hour and thirty-two minutes after takeoff, Jackie looked down at the Pamlico River and then studied the Neuse River. A few moments later, she was given permission to begin a descent and contact Cherry Point approach control.
Scott raised his head when Jackie eased the nose down. "When you talk to the tower, see if they'll clear us for a military break."
"Great idea."
"It's smooth this morning," he said. "You can make a shallow descent at cruise power and break at the bottom."
"Are you sure you don't want to fly?"
"You can do it as well as I can."
"Okay, but I don't think we'll get any vapes out of the break."
"If you pull that hard, we'll be landing without any wings."
Jackie keyed the radio. "Cherry Point approach, Bonanza Seven-Seven Hotel Delta is with you out of five point five for three thousand, negative ATIS."
While Scott surveyed the familiar terrain, Jackie was handed off to the tower controller. He gave her permission for a right downwind to runway three-two-left and a break over the middle of the runway. Keeping the power on, she flew downwind, turned base, then final.