“-actually means something to me. And if I’m supposed to-God knows why-go with you, then that’s what the hell we will do.”
Raine guessed he might still be amped by his bar scuffle.
In answer, the man opened the back door.
Raine got in, and with his escort sliding back in the passenger seat, the big black car pulled away from the front of the dive bar.
Out to a sleepy Flatbush Avenue.
It was getting late, so only a few places were now open as the dense area of Brooklyn gave way to open spaces near the Atlantic, places with tall grass, and what Raine thought had been the abandoned airfield named Floyd Bennett.
Been a while since he’d been out this way. Back then it was to Riis Park and sunny days at the beach. When Brooklyn was at its best.
At one time Raine knew there had been plans for housing to go up here, to transform the field-the historic airfield that once saw Amelia Earhart and Wiley Post fly away to smash world records-into a development.
But the economy, and then the history of the place, saved it. No money for development, but enough for a National Landmark designation that preserved many of the hangars and even kept a few airstrips in place. But nobody-military or commercial-used it.
Or so Raine thought.
They passed the Belt Parkway, to the beginning of the field. The fence on the side of the road showed the lack of attention. Weeds, debris. No money or nobody cared? Both probably.
“Why here?” Raine asked.
The driver didn’t say anything.
The escort did, though, turning around. “I don’t know, Lieutenant.”
Great help, that guy. Loaded with information.
He wished he hadn’t had that last beer. It would be nice to be totally clearheaded for whatever this thing turned out to be.
They stopped and turned at the entrance off Aviation Road. A pair of army soldiers stood guard, the wide gates swinging open just as the black car reached it, then quickly shutting behind them.
When they reached the runway, Raine leaned forward, looking for what he guessed would be a military transport. Instead, off at one end, he spotted the lights of a small jet.
As they got closer, Raine could see nothing military or commercial about it. Rather, it looked exactly like some fat cat’s private jet. A jet a businessman might use to run down to Palm Beach. Catch some rays in January. Play with the mistress. Rub in a rival’s face.
Not what he expected at all.
The driver pulled the car up to the side of the plane. On cue, the door of the plane opened, stairs gently tilting down to the tarmac.
The car stopped.
“Here we go, Lieutenant.”
The escort got out and Raine followed him.
TWO
The small jet seemed to leap into the night sky, then took a sharp angle that had it first racing out to the nearby Atlantic before banking and heading west.
Not going to Lejeune, then, Raine realized, thinking of the base in North Carolina he had been stationed out of before being sent home. Interesting.
He looked down and saw the lights of Coney Island. Another abandoned project. Somehow, the planned renovation of what they used to call “America’s Playground” never happened.
When there’s no money, things don’t happen.
Still, in the reflected glow of the lights left on at night, he saw the tall, always imposing spire of the parachute jump. Inactive for, what… sixty, seventy years? The once breathtaking ride had long been an inoperative landmark, a skeleton, a monument to times when such thrills could be created.
A time of great amusement parks and world’s fairs. His father used to talk about a place in Coney called Steeplechase.
“Nicky, I tell ya-you kids would’ve loved it. Crazy rides. Horses that raced around the perimeter. Made your heart race. And safe? Fugeddabout it. But now? All gone. Everything’s gotta be so damn safe these days.”
All gone.
One of his father’s favorite sayings.
This restaurant, that movie palace, his favorite fishing boat in Sheepshead Bay.
All gone.
Then his wife-Raine’s mom-died, and he hit his ultimate “all gone.”
Became a changed man. Quiet. Stayed to himself. As if he had given up. And when Chris came home in a box? The military escort. The salutes. The flags waving, and Raine fighting to keep from breaking down. His father had sobbed uncontrollably, showing Raine another part of what it meant to be a man.
All gone.
Raine had made a pledge to his brother then. A promise to keep fighting-to make sure that he never had to say “all gone.”
I’ll keep on for both of us, Chris. I’ll go back. I’ll do what they sent us over to do. Don’t you fucking worry about that.
And he would keep that promise until someone decided that whatever we were doing to keep the world free and safe was over.
He had to.
What was the expression? Ours not to question why. Ours but to do Coney and the coast faded into the background, the jet still climbing sharply.
“Lieutenant Raine?”
“Just Raine, Mister…”
“Raine it is. I’m Jackson. The plane has sandwiches and beverages. Maybe a beer?”
“Got any of those little packs of peanuts, Jackson?”
The joke finally made the man in a suit smile.
Barely.
“Don’t suppose you can tell me where we’re headed?”
“Actually, my orders allow me to now that we’re airborne.”
Raine raised his eyebrows.
“There really is a need for all this security, Lieutenant. I imagine it will be made clearer to you soon.”
“I hope so. The destination?”
“Buckley Air Force Base.”
“Colorado? Really? Pretty damn far away.” He shook his head. “And what awaits me in Buckley?”
Jackson stood up.
“Let me check on those peanuts.”
The night deepened. A moonless night, the stars bright and nearly unwavering in the cloudless sky. And every now and then Raine saw one.
A yellow-red streak in the sky.
For a week or so they’d been visible each night, this sporadic meteor shower connected to the asteroid-Apophis 96… 95… something-still way out there in space. Apparently a bunch of debris ran well ahead of it, hitting the atmosphere.
It was a big asteroid, too-nearly the size of the city. Good thing it was going to give them a miss.
There-another streak. This one turning fiery before it disappeared.
Giving us a miss.
Lucky thing. Because, after all… despite Hollywood’s mad plots of diverting a major asteroid, just what the hell would we really do?
Still-he had to wonder why we were getting so many of these meteorites. Seemed strange. Then again, what he didn’t know about astrophysics could fill a lot of books. And had, he thought.
He put his head against the porthole window, wedging a pillow into the crack between the window and the seat.
The window-cold, but soothing.
He shut his eyes.
He felt a change in angle.
He opened his eyes, and for a moment didn’t have a clue where he was. Totally disorienting, waking up on a plane. He wasn’t complaining, though-traveling this way was a damn sight better than bouncing around on a military transport.
He looked over at Jackson, who was looking out a window on the other side. Raine looked out his own window and down. There wasn’t much out there. The dots of houses and lights on the roads took on an eerie yellowish cast when seen from a few miles up. After a few minutes he could see an airstrip ahead.
Had to be Buckley.
Jackson looked over.
“Seat belt on?”
“Learn that in flight attendant school?”
Another small smile. Maybe this guy enjoyed knowing things that he didn’t. Something that security and spy types liked. Secrets. They were all about their damn secrets.
Raine wasn’t too big on secrets.