And she was his to command.
Outside the hangar the wind howled viciously. He thanked God his beautiful aircraft was protected tonight. Already registering gusts of up to eighty knots, the storm was by far the worst he’d witnessed during his total of twelve years maintaining aerial surveillance and security in the area. And it was getting worse. Predictions from the guys in meteorology suggested the strength was going to double through the night.
Maverick cautiously slid the large metal hangar door open a fraction to examine the force of the blizzard. It was a complete whiteout outside. The wind howled in through the gap with such vehemence it knocked him off his feet.
Three of his men rushed to get the door closed.
Maverick stood up and tidied his ruffled uniform. “Thank you gentlemen. I guess we can all go to bed early tonight. There will be no attacks in this weather — no one can fly in or out.”
He finished dismissing his men and watched until the last had left. Maverick had the first watch for the night, ending at 23:00. Not that much could be seen with the weather the way it was. It was good for him. It would give him time to write home to his baby sister. The only family he still had. Married to the Air Force, he’d never felt it was quite right to start a new family of his own. He was close to his sister though. It was about time he wrote to her. The last letter he received was nearly six months ago.
He studied the picture of his niece in her new school uniform. Cute kid. Striking green eyes. She’s going to cause some man a lot of trouble someday, no doubt.
He’d only met her once. It had been her second birthday. Alexis Schultz — her mother had kept the surname of the asshole who’d disappeared the same year she was born. Even back then, he knew the kid was going to be bright. She was a sweet kid, too. She called him Uncle Airplane because she struggled with the letter “J” in James.
He took the pleasure of re-reading the letter his little sister had written to accompany the latest picture. She’d written to say the teachers thought her daughter was gifted. Very gifted. Apparently, this meant that she shared the same sort of IQ as Einstein.
He watched the barometer drop further. The wind speed increased to 120 knots outside. He liked a good storm. It felt like it was his Maker providing him with protection and giving him some much needed rest.
His pen ran along the first line of paper –
Maverick stopped as the Staff Sergeant opened the door and approached him. There was a man with him. He wore a dark suit with a gray tie. Maybe mid-forties. Slightly balding in the middle, and his hair was noticeably combed over.
The Staff Sergeant saluted. “Sorry to interrupt, sir. This is Mr. Avery from the Pentagon. He says he needs to speak to you regarding something of national importance.”
“Okay, thank you Brian. You may go.” Maverick then looked at the stranger. “You got here rather quick.”
The man stared at him with a vacant expression. “Quick?”
Maverick stood up and approached the man. He offered his right hand out. “I assume you’re here about the photographs?”
Avery gripped his hand and shook. It was a weak handshake and further supported Maverick’s impression the man was somehow slimy and had been sent to make trouble for his men. “I haven’t heard of any photographs. I’m here about another matter entirely different.”
“Sorry,” Maverick said. He examined the stranger’s face. It was impassive and hard to read. Perhaps he really didn’t know about the photograph yet. Well, he’s about to find out. Then we’ll see how collected he really is. “We took the photographs of some men working on an iceberg in the middle of the Bering Strait a few hours ago. They’re still being developed.” Maverick smiled. “I figured with you being sent all the way here from the Pentagon the two incidences must have been connected.”
“Men working on an iceberg in the middle of the Bering Strait?” Avery shook his head. “No one told me. Interesting.”
Interesting what?
Interesting good. Or interesting we’re about to see the missiles fly?
Maverick studied the man. He wore a dark suit. His smile was grimy, the type generals seemed to practice. It meant, we’re on your side, just before they royally screw you by sending you on a mission where there’s no chance of survival.
“All right. So tell me, what can we do for you?” Maverick asked.
Avery handed him a piece of paper. “I was told to give you this. And then stay with you to see that your task is completed.”
Maverick didn’t respond. He simply unsealed the envelope, and looked at it.
On official Whitehouse paper, in a hastily written scrawl, were the simple words,
Major James Maverick,
Your aircraft and men are hereby formally seconded for a mission of utmost importance. Please follow Mr. Avery’s orders to their word. He will instruct you further on the details. May I please take this opportunity to thank you for your services? God willing, no one else will ever learn about them. Good luck. God bless you all. And God bless America.
At the bottom of the letter it was signed. Ronald Reagan. President of the United States of America.
Maverick grimaced. His day had just gotten worse. “All right Mr. Avery, what can we do for you?”
“That, I will explain in good time. But right now, we have to begin loading the Bomber.”
“Can I ask what it is we’re delivering?”
Avery took out a notepad and pen. It had the names of each of Maverick’s aircrew. Avery placed a tick next to Maverick’s name. “No. You most certainly may not.”
Maverick took a deep breath through his nose and then breathed out through his mouth before he spoke again. “Can I at least ask where it’s going?”
“Not until we’re off the ground. Then I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”
“How do I know how much fuel we’ll need? Flight plans, safety redundancies, etc.…” Maverick was angry at the man in front of him, but he was angrier at the machine he worked for. The U.S. Air Force knew best how to manage its missions. Only a bureaucrat would think a mission like this could be planned by a number of pen-pushers from the other side of the country.
“We have already planned that for you. You will have each of your fuel tanks filled to their caps. And your auxiliary tanks, too.”
“We, who?” Maverick raised his eyebrow. “I thought you said you were from the Pentagon?”
“I’m afraid I only informed your Staff Sergeant that to maintain secrecy.”
“So then, where are you from?”
“Langley.”
“Langley? What the hell is the CIA doing borrowing a military plane?”
“As far as anyone’s concerned, we never did.”
“All right. So you’re not going to help me with any of this are you?” Maverick sat down. Took notes. “When do we leave?”
“Tonight.”
Maverick examined the man’s impassive face. He was definitely serious. Even insane men believed with conviction things which simply aren’t true. He laughed. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard today. Have you even looked outside?”