He scanned the services quickly. Army, Army, Air Force, Navy. All were represented. No Marines. He thought that odd. Likely none knew Russian. That was his first guess. His next qualifier was duty station. If he had to put a team together in only two days, they had to be stateside, or at least close enough he could pull them in quickly. That search narrowed them down to eight. Three women and five men. It was the same as Williams had said. One woman out, leaving two. Two men were close. The pilot was in Alaska. All the others were too far away. He picked up the phone and looked at the number he had jotted down on his scratch pad.
“Director Thorn, please. This is General Scott of the DOD.”
“I’ll put you right through, general.”
“Thorn.”
“Director? Fitz Scott. I’ve got a team.”
“Thank you General. That was fast. How soon can we get them?”
“Well, let me rephrase that. I have a list of names that we can pull together. It’ll take the better part of the day to get them all in place. And, well, how fast they can come together and work as a team, that’s just anybody’s guess. A military team takes time to gel, Director. They need to work together to become a unit.”
“I understand, General. We don’t have too much time for that. They leave in two days for this mission.”
“You know what you’re asking?” Scott replied. “You’re asking for a failed mission. And I’m guessing a mission in a foreign country, and I think I know which one.” The bitterness in his voice was beginning to show. You don’t send untrained teams into the field on a whim.
“I know the risks, General. I’ve commanded teams in the field. I’ve had them go bad. I still have nights that those failures rob me of sleep.”
“Then you understand.”
“I do. I’ve sent men to die, and I’ve almost died myself. I don’t want to do that again. These people have to be the best, General. They have to be able to think on their feet, and pull a trigger.” The conversation went quiet for a few seconds before the director asked the last question. “How soon can you get them here?”
“Noon tomorrow.”
“Thanks General. I’ll be in touch.”
“I have to go where?” Captain Will Jenner just stood before General Foxx with his mouth nearly hanging open.
“You are being ordered to Washington,” Foxx replied. “I think it has something to do with your work here. I just got the orders a few minutes ago.”
“Why me?”
“This came down from General Fitzroy Scott of DOD. I’m not his favorite person, so this is about you, or something you bring to the table.”
“For what?”
“I have no idea Captain,” Foxx answered. “But you leave within the hour. There’s an F-16 fueling now. You’re to be on it.”
“A Falcon? I’m riding down in a Falcon?”
“Actually, you’ll be the pilot. How rusty are your skills?”
“I’ll be honest, sir. It’s been a while.”
“That’s why you’re driving. It’s a two-seater, so you’ll have a rider.” Foxx turned and looked at the map taped together. “Any new insights on this?”
“Nothing sir. I think I’ve gone as far as I can go with the intel we can get up here.”
“I appreciate the effort you put into this. I hope what we passed on made a difference.”
“General, I appreciate being brought on board for this. I just wish I could have done more.”
“Captain, I think I just had a hare-brained idea.”
“I think it had merit, General. No one else thought to look into things like this.”
“Well, no one we know of anyway,” Foxx replied. The general extended his hand. “Captain, if there’s anything I can do for you, you just let me know. Now get going.”
Captain Jenner met his commander’s hand, then snapped off a smart salute. He took a final look at the map that had been hodge-podged together, his duty station for the past week. He turned, his mind immediately focusing on his next task; an F-16 Fighting Falcon. He slipped his left hand into his trouser pocket to keep it from shaking.
“Commander Lewis reporting as ordered, ma’am. ” Lt. Commander Jennifer Lewis pulled up a smart salute before sitting down across the desk from her commanding officer. “What gives? I’m not in trouble again. I’ve been a good girl.”
“This month, Commander.”
“What’s this about, Admiral?”
“I have rush orders for you. You are to report to Washington for special assignment.”
“As in the state of?”
“DC.”
“Any idea what this is about?”
“None.” Rear Admiral Danielle Howard tossed the papers on her desk. “The Navy doesn’t tell me everything, Commander. Sometimes I just pass along the paperwork.”
“How much time do I have?”
“None. You leave in two hours.”
“Two hours? I won’t have time to pack.”
“Then don’t. Grab a bag of necessities. I’ve put a call into my counterpart at Edwards. You’ll hop a Hornet up to Edwards where an F-15 is taking you directly there.”
“Why don’t I just ride a Hornet all the way?”
“With the Vinson deployed, I can’t spare the fighter. You’ll have to ride with the Air Force.” Admiral Howard leaned back as she assessed her commander. “Jen, this has the feel of something big. I don’t know why, it just feels that way.” She straightened and locked her fingers as she put her forearms on the desk. “You have top-notch credentials, Commander, but you’ve always fallen short of your ability. You need to nail this one, and I mean nail it hard.”
“No matter what it is?”
“No matter what. Shove off, Commander.”
“Yes ma’am.” Jennifer Lewis saluted crisply, turned in order and was out the door. “What the hell am I going to do in Washington?”
The Falcon slipped in below the KC-135, the boom steady as it hung in the rushing winds. Captain Will Jenner swallowed hard. He hadn’t done this in a very long time. He gripped the stick tightly with his right hand, and wrapped his left around the thrust control as much out of nervousness as it was to keep it from shaking. The voice in his headset helped to steady his nerves.
“That’s it. Just keep ‘er steady Captain. You’re doing great. Just a little closer.”
“Why am I doing this? Why aren’t you piloting this thing?”
“Those are my orders, Captain. You are to fly, and we’re too far away from DC to make it without refueling.”
“Even with the extra tanks?”
“Even with tanks.” The voice in his helmet went quiet for a second. “You know that.” Silence filled the cockpit again. “Almost there Captain.”
This is the part Jenner hated the most. Some fighters slipped up behind the fuel cone and pushed their nozzle in. They controlled it all. Falcons were different. The boom operator controlled the hookup because it was behind the cockpit and out of sight. Jenner watched as the winged boom eased over his cockpit. Five seconds later he heard the clunk of metal on metal and his panel told him the connection was made.
His flight screens took their agonizing time registering the added fuel. In-flight refueling was a dangerous but required procedure. Every pilot was rattled in his first attempt, and although he had done this many times, this felt like his first. The rush of fuel at last stopped and the boom disengaged. Jenner dropped a few feet before backing away. He looked up as the boom retracted into the massive plane, the Stratotanker’s shape silhouetted against bright sky. He breathed a sigh of relief as he flexed his hand, his palm now wet.