“Nice to meet you, Captain,” Tombstone said. He resisted the impulse to salute, and glanced back to make sure Jason understood. “Appreciate your hospitality.”
Lawson’s face quirked into a grin. “My people are used to welcoming folks to our island paradise. Even people like you. You won’t be asked any questions, and nobody’s going to call you sir. Unless you actually need something, we’ll pretend you don’t exist. I hope that’s okay with you.”
“Sounds just right, Captain. Appreciate the consideration.”
“Even if anyone recognizes you, they’ll pretend they don’t,” Lawson said neutrally. “And some people will think that they do.”
“Present company not excluded,” Tombstone said softly.
Lawson nodded. “So if you don’t mind, I’m going to escort you to your quarters myself. The fewer people in the loop, the better. Nobody will think it’s unusual — it happens fairly often. Depending on the circumstances.” He patted the side of Tombstone’s Tomcat affectionately. “And we have the finest technicians in the world, si—” He cut off the word “sir” before he could finish it, and shook his head. “Sorry about that. Anyway, as I was saying, our technicians will take care of your bird. Between what we have onboard and those that flew in two days ago—”
“Flew in two days ago?” Tombstone asked, his voice incredulous. “But I didn’t — never mind, Commander Lawson. Never mind.”
As they followed Lawson off to a secluded corner of the hanger, Greene said softly, “There’s more to this cloak and dagger business than I thought.”
“I should’ve worn a ski mask. Or let you do all the talking.”
Jason turned to take one last look at the Tomcat. “We’ll figure out how to handle it next time, Tombstone. I mean, Admir — I mean — uhhh…”
“Ah, what the hell,” Tombstone said, disgusted. It had been foolish to think he could manage to stay unrecognized.
One corner of the hangar had been converted into a sleeping area, with additional sound-deadening materials lining the walls. Commander Lawson showed them to a sparsely furnished compartment which was more than adequately equipped for what they needed: sleep. The schedule allotted them twelve hours before they were due back in the air.
Tombstone stretched out on the rack furthest away from the door, and Jason settled down on the other. Within moments, the younger pilot was asleep, his breathing low and regular.
I remember when I could do that. You sleep, piss and eat when you can, because you don’t know when you’ll get another chance.
Nine and a half hours later, they were rousted by a mess cook knocking on the door. He bustled in carrying a large insulated pot of coffee and a number of covered plates. Delicious smells filled the room.
“Wasn’t sure if you guys would be wanting breakfast, lunch, or dinner. So I settled on breakfast — pilots can always eat breakfast.”
“Breakfast is fine.”
With a flourish, the mess cook pulled off the silver tops from the dishes to reveal healthy portions of scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes and sausage. Additional dishes contained fresh fruit, butter and syrup.
“Eat hearty, gents,” he said serenely. Then he produced a bag and held it out to them. “I packed you a little lunch, just in case you didn’t have time to cook.”
“Thank you,” Tombstone said.
The mess cook grinned. “My pleasure, sir. And whatever you’re up to — if you’re up to anything, and I wouldn’t know — you give ’em hell.”
“Say, this is really good,” Jason said around a mouthful of food. “You’re quite a cook.”
“Oh, I didn’t make this,” the man said. “The mess management specialist did. I’m just the delivery boy.”
Tombstone and Jason exchanged a glance. “Then convey our compliments to the chef,” Tombstone said. “How come he’s not here himself?”
“It’s a she, sir. And reason she isn’t here is that she doesn’t have a clearance. I do.”
“So who the hell are you?” Jason asked, still wolfing down pancakes. “Pass the syrup, will you?”
“I’m the leading intelligence specialist here,” he said. “And ten days ago, I saw some very interesting pictures.” He caught himself, as though realizing he’d been presumptuous, and said, “Well, I’ll let you eat in peace and quiet. Like I said, give ’em hell. I figure a couple of days from now, I’ll know whether you did or not.”
He left, with a victorious grin on his face.
“There’s a lesson to be learned in this,” Tombstone said. “He caught what was going on and he wants to feel a part of the solution. He wants to see how his work fits into the larger picture, wants to know that what he does matters. He’s even willing to be a delivery boy to just get a look at us, and he’s risking a lot just letting us know who he is. You keep that in mind, Jason. That’s the sort of people we having backing us up, and with young men and women like that on our side, the Russians don’t stand a chance.”
Tombstone saw the reflective look on the younger pilot’s face, and felt a rush of pride. His words had hit home — maybe, just maybe, Jason Greene would be a better man because Tombstone had reminded him about the little people in the world, the support troops that made everything else possible.
Jason cleared his throat, then looked away.
Touched — by damn, I got to him. His skipper in his squadron couldn’t convince him to stay in the Navy, but maybe I’ve made a difference.
“What is it, son?” Tombstone asked gently, trying to encourage the younger man to voice his innermost thoughts. “What’s on your mind?”
“Well, sir, I was just wondering…” Jason’s voice trailed off.
“Go on,” Tombstone said encouragingly.
“It’s just that…”
“Whatever it is, I want to hear it.”
“Are you going to eat your cinnamon roll?”
After allowing an hour for their food to settle and for the necessary bathroom visits, Tombstone and Greene started their preflight. As Lawson had promised, the aircraft had been fueled, serviced, and was in perfect shape. They ran through the preflight, talked to the maintenance technician who’d checked her out, and then climbed up the boarding ladder, still in the heated hangar.
“I don’t have to tell you, you don’t want to be hanging around down on the ground,” the plane captain said. “You can ice up here in a heartbeat.”
“Don’t worry, we’re out of here.”
Tombstone slid the canopy forward and shut it, then checked to make sure the heat was working. The de-icers and the windscreen heaters worked perfectly. The temperature was actually quite comfortable inside the cockpit.
On signal, Tombstone started his engines, and then, after the doors slid back, commenced his taxi.
Once they cleared the hangar, the wind buffeted them. He could feel a chill radiating off the windscreen and he double-checked the heater.
“Tomcat, Tower, you’re cleared for takeoff at your discretion, runway seventy right. After departure, ascend to ten thousand feet and check in with — well, who wants to hear from you.” The controller continued with a quick weather brief, and then concluded with, “Good luck, gentlemen.”
Even as the controller was speaking, Tombstone was taxiing to the staging area. As soon as he was released, he shoved the throttles forward into military power and felt the Tomcat surge underneath him. The cold air was exceptionally dense, and the Tomcat required only a small portion of the runway before they rotated and were airborne.
Tombstone checked out with the Adak tower and follow their flight plan as briefed. He continued west for a while, and then rolled out to the south. As Jason completed their post-launch checklist, Tombstone studied the radar picture on his HUD.