Allie pursed her lips. “Put like that…”
“Then you’re not interested?” Drake asked.
Joe slapped his knee and stood. “Hell yeah, I am. When do we leave?”
“No reason we can’t go right now.”
“Let me pack some gear. Figure what, a week, tops?”
“You mentioned you knew other pilots. Anyone with a plane big enough to fly into an area close to the tomb?” Allie asked.
Joe’s eyes narrowed. “I might — it’ll be expensive.”
“There’s a shocker,” Drake said.
Allie glared at him. “In for a dollar…”
“I’ll need to look at the terrain some. And not to be a buzz kill, but there’s always the chance the Myanmar Army shoots us down. They might think we’re a Shan scouting flight or something.”
“You think that’s likely?”
“Not the way I fly!” Joe laughed, his eyes wild. “Let me check out the images. I still have the waypoint on my GPS.”
“We have a new one with a bigger screen,” Spencer offered.
“Cool. Hand it over.”
Five minutes later, Joe grinned like a crazy man. “Let me get on the radio. I know a dude up the way who has a little Piper Comanche we could squeeze into. Looks like there’s a dirt road we could land on that’s only a few hours of hard march from the cave,” he said, and strode back to his hut, mumbling to himself.
Spencer whistled softly. “He’s completely out of his mind. You do know that, right?”
“He’s going to help. So maybe having friends that are out of their minds isn’t such a bad thing,” Drake said. “I never held that against you.”
“Touché. But if what he said is right, we might be better off waiting until the Shans and the Myanmar regulars settle their differences.”
“We’re here now. We came for the tomb. Let’s get this over with. Besides, I’ve heard that some of us could use a slug of treasure…” Drake said.
“You had to remind me. As though the bullet wound doesn’t sting enough.”
Joe reappeared, carrying a different aluminum-framed backpack. “Lost the other one when the plane blew. I’ll add that to your tab. You need another sat phone?”
“I don’t think we can afford one,” Allie joked, and Drake shook his head.
“We got one in Thailand.”
“Okay, then. Plenty of ammo?”
“Yes.”
“I talked to my bud. He’s fueling up and should be here in an hour. Probably fifty-fifty that he shows. He’s usually drunk by now.”
“It’s ten in the morning,” Drake said.
Joe nodded sagely. “We all have different demons, man.”
Drake whispered to Allie, “Guess that answers any questions about whether he’s kicked his habits.”
Allie shrugged. “Whatever he’s on, I want some.”
Drake took another hard look at Joe. “Let’s just hope it burns off before he gets behind the wheel.”
“Hasn’t stopped him before.” She gave him a commiserating smile.
“Did I mention I hate small planes?”
“So far they’ve been better to you than helicopters.”
“Good point.”
Joe led them to the airstrip when the Piper appeared over the hills, and they waited as the single-engine prop plane touched down uncertainly, bounced twice as it struggled to stay on the uneven, muddy runway, and then taxied toward them. Joe gave the pilot a wave as the plane coasted to a stop, and Spencer snorted in disgust.
“What?” Allie asked him.
“The thing’s a piece of garbage,” Spencer griped. “Look at it.”
“We’re not flying to London,” Drake said.
“We’ll be lucky if we make it over the river.”
The door opened, and a thickset man with a full white beard stepped down heavily. As he approached, they got a strong whiff of alcohol. “Joe, you old bandit. Good to see you,” the pilot said.
“Graham, always a treat. These are my passengers. Is she fueled up?”
“Might want to top her off.”
Joe moved to his barrel and pumped as Graham held the nozzle, and soon they were in the plane and ready for takeoff. Graham had agreed to accept payment via wire, on Joe’s word that he’d vouch for his passengers, and they were now ten thousand dollars poorer for the transaction. Drake and Allie squeezed into the rear seat, with Spencer in the copilot position, and they were sweating bullets by the time the aircraft hurtled down the dirt strip. Allie caught the look on Drake’s face and took his hand, and for the first time that day he relaxed, all now right with the world, at least for a fleeting moment.
Chapter 51
General Brad Holt walked in measured steps along the Potomac River, whose jogging path was nearly empty at three in the afternoon. The wind ruffled his jacket as he stopped and looked across the river at where the center of the American government lay. After checking the time, he continued along the stretch until he reached a lone bench, where he sat, watching the breeze dimple the tall grass.
Colonel Sam Daniels appeared two minutes later from the opposite direction and sat next to him. Neither man spoke for several moments, and then Holt twisted to look at Daniels.
“We should have sent our team in. This is a disaster,” Holt growled.
“Hard to argue that in hindsight. But the odds were almost nil that she would have survived the crash, much less the rest.”
“You know how I feel about luck. There’s bad, and there’s worse. We just got both in one helping.”
Daniels nodded. “Yes, we did.”
“Who have we got in-country?”
“Several specialists are on their way.”
“If she goes public with what the damned boyfriend downloaded…”
“I know. So the question is, do we scuttle everything now and begin throwing up a smokescreen, or do we wait to see what happens?”
“There’s too damned much at play here. We can’t just pull the plug on some of these operations. They’ve been years in the planning, as you know.”
“Perhaps we should begin leaking our own snippets, to prepare the media for what’s to come? Diffuse the situation before it gets any worse? If we can control the spin, stay ahead of it…”
“How do we control the spin on domestic assassination, Sam? ‘They needed killing because they were onto us’ won’t wash, and we both know it.”
“In the end, it’s our word against hers. I’m thinking we need to discredit her before she can go live.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Maybe rumors of a drug problem? Orgies? Roommates that said she was taking antipsychotic meds?”
“Sure, but many won’t buy it. Those are the ones I’m worried about. Good Lord, think about how it will look if some of those documents were leaked in the New York Times? It could bring down the government.”
“We’d just deny they were genuine.”
“Right, but some of this speaks directly to what even a controlled press will construe as criminal. We won’t be able to play the national security card. There will be too many questions.” Holt turned to look directly at Daniels. “Questions we can’t answer. She’s got it all, Sam. The entire money chain. From the DOD, to the Saudis, to Wall Street, to you know who… we’re talking almost ten trillion. People will pay attention.”
“Then we’ll need to set up some fall guys. It worked with Iran Contra. We’ll find someone willing to take the heat for it who ultimately refuses to testify, who claims he was following orders. He’ll get a token sentence and then retire somewhere tropical with a ton of dough. It’s not like it hasn’t worked before.”