Brad raised his hands, palms up, and shrugged. "Look, we both have MiG kills to our credit. That's all I know, except that we can't take for granted that we're the only ones involved in this test-pilot crock of shit." He shook his head. "Besides, we'll probably find out what's going on tomorrow."
"I hope you're right," Palmer said curtly.
Brad turned and walked through the door of the smoke-filled lounge. He spied two empty bar stools, and they sat down and ordered drinks.
"Have you let anyone," Nick quietly asked, "know that you're in the States?"
Brad caught the eye of the attractive blonde who had walked in while they were in the parking lot. Embarrassed, he looked at Nick. "No, I haven't. I started to call Leigh Ann, but the more I think about it, the more paranoid I become."
Palmer nodded, eyeing the stylishly dressed blonde. The woman glanced at Nick and extracted a cigarette from a holder that matched her handbag. She definitely looked out of place in the small lounge.
Raising his glass, Brad stared at it a moment, then set it down. "Screw it… I'm going to call her."
"Why not," Palmer said as he formulated a plan to meet the stunning woman at the end of the bar.
After getting change for a five-dollar bill, Brad walked to the pay telephone next to the rest rooms. The continuous noise distracted him while he waited for Leigh Ann's phone to ring.
"Hello."
"Leigh Ann, this is Brad."
"Brad!" she said ecstatically. "Where are you? Your voice sounds so clear.
He hesitated, cupping the phone receiver in his hand. "Ah, I'm in California… on a special assignment."
"You're kidding." Leigh Ann's voice reflected her excitement. "Can you come to Memphis? I miss you so much!"
Brad watched Nick walk toward the comely blonde.
"I don't think so, at least not very soon. Any chance you could fly here?"
The line remained quiet for a moment. "I have finals coming up in a couple of weeks, but I could join you for a weekend."
"Great," Brad exclaimed as he saw Nick introduce himself to the woman. "Why don't you check on airline reservations, and I'll call you tomorrow evening to get your flight number and arrival time."
"Brad, where am I supposed to meet you?"
"Sorry," he said, distracted by Nick and the woman. "I'm in San Diego."
Leigh Ann paused, sensing a degree of tenseness in his response. "Brad, are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine… really."
"You don't sound like your normal sell" There was concern in her voice. "Why are you in San Diego?"
Brad watched the woman smile at one of Palmer's comments. "Leigh Ann, I can't discuss why I'm here. Just do me a favor, please." "Sure, but can you tell me what is going on?"
"No, not at the moment." Brad laughed. "Trust me, and don't tell anyone — not even your parents — that I called. It's very important that no one knows that I'm in the States."
He inhaled, then slowly let the air out. "Leigh Ann, I hold a secret clearance, so there are certain things that I cannot discuss… even with you. I hope you understand."
"Okay, whatever you say. I can't wait to see you."
He assured her once again that he was fine, and returned to his bar stool. He directed his attention to the neon beer logos over the mirror behind the counter. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Nick walking toward him.
"Brad, my man," Palmer beamed, "I hit pay dirt. Come on over and meet Allison."
"Give me a break." Brad quietly laughed. "I don't need to get involved with your pickup."
Nick chortled. "She's new in town, and she'd like to meet my long-lost friend."
"You're a real dandy," Brad said. "What did you tell her we do for a living?"
Palmer turned his head so the blonde could not see his face. "I told her that we work for the government."
Brad shook his head. "Games, games."
Feeling uncomfortable, Brad reluctantly followed Palmer to the end of the bar.
"Allison," Palmer smiled, "this is my friend, Brad Austin. Brad, Allison van Ingen."
"Hello," the woman said in a deep voice, extending her slender hand. She had an air of nonchalance and self-assurance. Definitely old money.
"It's a pleasure, Allison," Brad replied, shaking the delicate hand. "Ah, Nick told me that you are new to the San Diego area."
"Yes," she smiled, "I've been a resident of Philadelphia most of my life."
Brad noticed that she was not wearing a wedding band or engagement ring. Instead, Allison's left ring finger was adorned with a diamond-and-emerald cocktail ring.
"What made you decide," Brad cautiously asked, "to move to San Diego?"
She looked at them with amusement. "My father bought a company here, and a yacht that had been used for customers was included in the package."
Nick and Brad exchanged puzzled looks.
"So," she sipped her martini, "father asked me to supervise the redecorating. Bellwether is going to be refurbished for his personal use."
Allison van Ingen was obviously rich, but she didn't seem to hold herself above other people. "I just arrived this morning, so I've been busy looking for a nice home to lease."
"Did you find anything?" Nick asked, lighting her cigarette with her jeweled lighter.
"Yes." She smiled. "I was on my way to look at it again," she paused, "when I decided it was past the cocktail hour… and I saw this place." She gazed around the austere environment. "It's rather quaint, in its own special way."
"Yes," Nick chuckled, "it certainly is different."
Allison gave Palmer a radiant smile. "I don't know about the two of you, but I'm famished."
Palmer tried to hide his glee.
"Would you, both of you," Allison asked before Nick could say anything, "care to join me for dinner? Perhaps you could tell me all about San Diego?"
Brad started to reply, then hesitated.
Showing his surprise, Nick shoved his glass across the bar. "Sure. I know a nice place overlooking the bay."
Brad and Allison's eyes met for a moment.
"Thanks," Brad said, "but I'll let Nick give you the tour. He has spent more time here than I have."
"Won't you join us? Safety in numbers." She laughed, then added, "Besides, my father is paying for the evening."
Brad was captivated by her soft brown eyes. "Okay, I'll go — if you'll let us pay for everything," he said, without noticing the hit the road signal Palmer was giving him.
"Well, how nice of you to offer," she replied with a coy glance at Brad.
Chapter SIX
Brad gently raised his head from the pillow and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His head throbbed and his mouth tasted like sawdust. The night on the town with Allison van Ingen had been a nonstop drinking marathon. The former debutante from a Philadelphia Main Line family could more than hold her own with the two fighter pilots.
Reaching for his watch, Austin remembered the message that had been taped to his BOQ door. Palmer had received the same instructions. They were to report to Hollis Spencer at 0800 in the VF-121 training squadron hangar.
After quickly shaving and showering, Brad dressed in tan slacks and a polo shirt, then walked to Nick Palmer's room.
"Are you alive?" Brad asked after loudly knocking on Palmer's door. Nick opened the door, then slumped on his bed. "Barely," he groaned. "If I last until noon, I may pull through."
Brad looked at Palmer's bloodshot eyes before turning to gaze at his own in the mirror over the washbasin. "What the shit were we drinking — at the time of our last conscious thoughts?"
"Cocktails from hell," Palmer slowly whispered, "and they tasted like pelican piss."
Brad noticed that his friend's hair had not been combed. "We better get a move on, 'cause we're due at the hangar in fifteen minutes."