“Hold on,” Matt said. “Preejection checklist.”
“Whaa …” Haney said. He had never heard of that emergency procedure.
“Preejection checklist,” Matt answered. “Remove helmet. Spread legs. Bend over. Kiss your ass good-bye.”
The simulator at Luke Air Force Base gave two hard jerks as the instruments indicated they had impacted the ground. The TV screens surrounding the mock-up of the cockpit went blank and the lights in the big room came up. The pilot from Standardization and Evaluation stuck his head out from behind the control console. “Very funny, Lieutenant, very funny.” There was no humor in his voice. “It was a decent check ride until the last wise-ass remark.”
“Miss Temple.” Gad Habish’s voice cut through the clamor surrounding the baggage turntable at the Málaga airport. “Here please.” Shoshana turned to see a paunchy, balding, middle-aged man holding her two suitcases. It was her case officer. So far so good. “LaziDaze Travel arranged for your transportation,” Habish added, confirming he was her contact. Shoshana followed him out to a waiting car, leaving the rest of the passengers who had flown in from Montreal, Canada, on the KLM flight with her still searching for their bags.
“How was the flight?” Habish asked as he wheeled the car into traffic and headed south for the town of Marbella on the Costa del Sol.
“Long and tiring,” she said. “But no problems.” Habish only nodded his head. He didn’t ask any more questions for she had told him all he needed to know — Shoshana had made the roundabout journey through Paris and Montreal without incident. As planned, she had made contact with a Mossad operative in Montreal and exchanged her Israeli passport for a Canadian one along with a batch of credit cards, health insurance card, a social security card, a California driver’s license and a U.S. Resident Alien card. All said she was a Canadian citizen named Rose Temple living and working in California.
“Why Rose Temple?” Shoshana asked, not liking her cover name.
Habish hid a grimace. She was obviously new at this with much to learn. “Easy to remember. Shoshana means ‘rose’ and Temple is very similar to your last name.” He didn’t remind her how an agent, even a very experienced one, could forget a cover name at an inopportune moment.
They drove in silence to the Atalaya Park Hotel. Habish deposited her at the entrance with a few instructions. “Take a few days to learn the town. The hotel has visiting privileges at the Marbella Beach Club so sunbathe and swim there. That’s the only reason we’ve booked you in here. Remember, you’re on an expense account. Use your credit cards when you can — keep a receipt for everything else. You’ll have to justify every penny. You’re not on a vacation. I’ll contact you in a few days.”
Shoshana’s spirits lifted and her fatigue yielded a notch when the bellboy escorted her through the large hotel to her room on the fourth floor. The small room had a balcony with a stunning view of the hotel’s gardens and the Mediterranean. She unpacked before changing into the swimsuit that had so upset her father. She thought about wearing the old shirt she used as a beach wrap and then about the casually undressed guests she had seen in the lobby. “Time for some sun,” she told herself. Then she tossed the shirt on the bed and left the room.
Every eye followed her progress through the lobby as she asked for directions to the Marbella Beach Club. So far, not bad, she decided.
“The boss man is gonna have a piece of us,” Haney warned his pilot. The two were in the squadron’s lounge at Luke Air Force Base, waiting for the squadron commander, Lieutenant Colonel Jack Locke, to call them into his office. “Stand Eval takes those check rides in the simulator very seriously.”
“What the hell,” Matt muttered. “We got the bomb on target. I thought that was the bottom line.”
“The mission of Standardization and Evaluation is to conduct evaluation flights to insure all crews are proficient in flying and adhering to standard procedures,” Haney parroted. “That’s why we have to fly a nuke mission in the simulator before Stand Eval certifies us as fully mission-ready.”
“Big efing deal,” Matt groused. “Just what chance is there that we would ever drop a nuke for real?” The squadron commander’s door opened and the Exec came out. He motioned for Matt and Haney to enter and closed the door after them.
Locke leaned back in his chair and kept the two young officers standing at attention while he studied the Standardization and Evaluation report on their check ride in the simulator. “Interesting,” he began. “You worked your way through exceptionally heavy defenses and still got your weapon on target, on time.” Locke raised his head and fixed Matt with a hard look. He does look like his grandfather, he allowed, sizing up the lieutenant — tall, sinewy, slightly hawk-nosed, fair complexion, sandy brown hair and possessed of the brightest blue eyes. “But you made some mistakes …”
“Yes, sir,” Matt interrupted. “We took a SAM hit when I ballooned the jet after a nuke blast. But that was a goat rope — a bad call by Stand Eval. No way a missile could track us in that environment.”
“Perhaps …” Locke wanted to say more, to get involved in a detailed discussion of weapons and tactics. But this wasn’t the place or time for that. The squadron commander kept comparing himself to the lieutenant, remembering when he had been young, full of piss and vinegar, and confident — exactly like Pontowski. But was the lieutenant a good stick with the potential to make him worth saving?
Matt sensed the hesitancy, mistaking it for weakness, and decided to press his advantage. “Sir, we did what we set out to do. We smoked the bad guys, made ‘em glow in the dark. And that’s what it’s all about.”
“It would’ve been nice if you had brought the jet back,” Locke said.
Before Matt could say more, Haney interrupted. “Matt, shut up.”
But Matt wouldn’t let it go. “Damn it, Colonel. We should have passed that check ride. Those Stand Eval pukes haven’t got a clue—”
Locke cut him off with a cutting chop of his right hand. “Wrongo. You haven’t got a clue. You assumed you flunked. Stand Eval passed you with a ‘marginal.’ They did comment on your attitude and that’s what’s got me worried. That’s why you’re in here.” He paused for effect, to let the news sink in. “Haney, you got high marks for your rapid decode of the message.” Locke threw the two message forms they had used in the simulator in front of them. “And for the IP-to-target run. The Stand Eval ‘puke’ claimed it was the best he’s ever seen. You”—he pointed a pencil at Matt—“didn’t even bother to finish decoding the message. That was dumb because two-man control and verification of release messages is critical to the way we operate. Luckily, your wizzo was right. Haney, disappear while your nose gunner gets his attitude adjusted.” The young captain saluted and beat a hasty retreat out of the office.
“Let’s get something straight, Pontowski,” Locke said, leaning back in his chair. “You passed that check ride because of your wizzo and the fact we need to get all our crews nuclear-mission qualified.”
“I’m not asking for any gifts, sir.”
“You’re getting a small one because the squadron is moving to England and picking up a NATO commitment. We need every body we can get. The bottom line is that you’re mission-qualified — barely. Normally, I don’t accept a ‘marginal’ and put a crew back into training until they are ‘satisfactory.’ ”
Matt was stunned by the news. “I didn’t know we were moving …”