"I've heard the name," Troy said. It sounded only vaguely familiar. "What is it that you do?"
"It's a private military contractor, a PMC," Jenna said. "It's like an NGO, a nongovernmental organization, like Doctors Without Borders, but military."
"What does it… do you… actually do?" Troy asked.
"It's like a private security firm… only a lot bigger," Hal said. "It's almost like a… Well it is like a private army."
"Is that legal?" Troy asked.
"You can't swear allegiance to a foreign army," Hal said. "Doesn't mean you can't work for a private company."
"Now that Congress has curtailed overseas deployments, warfighting is gonna be outsourced." Jenna shrugged. "The Germans and the French have been doing this for years. The Bundestag won't let German forces operate overseas in a combat role because of that nastiness back in World War Two… so they contract with private firms."
"I thought the Germans were in Afghanistan," Troy said.
"But only in Regional Command North," Jenna replied, sipping her Merlot. "They were about as far from where the Taliban is shooting as possible."
The food had come, and Troy found the rib eye to be the best he could remember. It was probably not worth the price, but it was good, and he wasn't paying.
"What's the convention that brings you to Vegas?" Troy asked as he glanced longingly at the citrus mascarpone cheesecake with fried pumpkin on the dessert menu.
"Global Security ExpoCon," Hal explained. "It's a meet and greet for PMCs and suppliers… hardware… software… all that stuff. You oughta come by tomorrow."
"Sounds interesting," Troy said. It was a strange concept, but it sounded intriguing. "Wish I could, but I got a flight at 0730… I fly for a courier company… the Vegas run is taking things back and forth to L. A. for the casino bosses."
"So you're still flying?" Hal said jealously, realizing that they'd been talking all evening about their company and hadn't asked what Troy was doing.
"Don't have the kind of expense account that you guys have, but I'm in the cockpit twenty hours every week… Sometimes more."
"Cool," Jenna said. "I sure miss it. That's the one thing about the Air Force that I do miss."
"What exactly do you guys do for Firehawk?" Troy asked.
"Operational planning," Hal said. "Figuring out what we need, and how to get the most out of it. It's a lot like the military, but the chain of command's a helluva lot shorter and decision times are a helluva lot quicker."
"I'm an administrative liaison," Jenna said. "I spend a lot of time schmoozing with customers — Pentagon, State Department…"
"State Department?" Troy said. "Weren't those the guys that got us shot down?"
"The person responsible for that took early retirement," Hal said conspiratorially. "Nobody really knows what happened to him."
Chapter 19
Conversation turned to less weighty topics, and at last the threesome was strolling back toward the Mirage in the warmth of the Vegas evening.
"I know of a table that's got my name on it," Hal said at last. "Care to join me?"
"No, the tables are never that good to me," Troy said. "And it's getting close to taps for this old dude."
"Me neither." Jenna laughed. "No table ever been good to this old country girl."
They parted with Hal inviting Troy to look them up if he ever came to Washington, and vowing that he and Jenna would visit Troy when they came to Southern California.
As Hal dashed off to find that special lucky table, Jenna shook Troy's hand and bade him good night.
Troy was just savoring the way her skirt swirled as she turned, when she turned back.
"Hey," she said, tossing her hair and slinging her purse onto her shoulder. "It's still pretty early; could I buy y'all a drink? I owe you a rain check from once back in Sudan."
"You got a long memory, Munrough….. Would this be on the Firehawk expense account?" Troy asked.
"You betcha, Loensch."
Through the lobby of the Palazzo and down an endless hallway was the entrance to a small — by Las Vegas standards — bar, with low light and dark wood. It was empty except for a couple in a booth, and three guys, obviously conventioneers and probably ExpoCon conventioneers, watching and probably betting on a televised basketball game.
Jenna and Troy slid into a booth as an attentive waitress arrived promptly to take care of them. Jenna ordered a bourbon neat, Troy another glass of Sprite. She knew not to question the drinking habits of a pilot on the eve of an early flight.
"You know, y'all really ought to think about coming to work at Firehawk," Jenna suggested. "We're always looking for a few good men."
"Thought occurred to me," Troy admitted. "But I like doing what I'm doing… and after that deal at Dhuladhiya, I'm pretty soured on the military."
"This ain't the military," she said. "We don't play with red tape."
"Mmmmm," Troy replied in a tone that said he really didn't want to talk about it.
"Besides, looking back at the way it ended over there, I thought our little adventure was kinda fun." Jenna smiled.
In the flickering light of the single candle, Troy found her really gorgeous. He almost said it, and if he'd had a drink, he probably would have. Instead, he just watched the dancing reflection of the candlelight in her eyes and in the strings of jewels that dangled from her ears.
"Remember that night at the well?" Jenna said.
"How can I forget? We blew those poor guys away."
"One dude was getting pretty frisky with his AK, and I sure didn't like the way he was looking at me." Jenna shrugged.
It was hard to imagine this beautiful woman in the candlelight as the same person who'd put two nine-millimeter rounds into a person's forehead.
"I was thinking more about what we were talking about before all that," Jenna explained.
"About taking a shower?" Troy smiled.
"And about how I had a kind of a thing for y'all. By the way, you sure do look pretty good when you're all cleaned up."
"You too, Munrough."
She reached across the table and gently touched his cheek, just as she had that night at the well.
"We never had a chance to finish that conversation," she drawled. "Seems like we got some unfinished business."
In one fluid motion, she slid around the table, snuggling next to him and stroking his back.
He looked into her eyes, at the dancing light and at the irresistible woman beside him.
When her lips brushed his, he succumbed. One passionate kiss was followed by another, yet more passionate. She pressed her body against his, and he felt her hand suddenly beneath his shirt.
He placed his hand on her bare thigh, and she moved as though encouraging him to move it higher. It was a good thing that the bar was dark and nearly deserted. It was a good thing that the television set at the bar was loud enough to drown out the murmur of groans coming from the booth.
"Let's go up to your room… now." She gasped as she fumbled to unbuckle his belt.
"I'm staying at a motel down by the airport," he whispered, his hand massaging the bare flesh well north of her thigh.
"My room, then," she said breathlessly.
"Isn't that also… y'know… Hal's room?" "He'll be at the tables all night."
"What if he's not?"
"I need y'all to—" she said, panting desperately.
So did Troy, but the image of Hal's face came to him, carrying the expression he'd had the first time they crossed paths after that night on the mountain in the Colville.
"We better not do this," Troy said, leaning back.
"What the hell?" Jenna said, her voice trembling with the desperation of interrupted passion. "I'm burnin' up here, y'all. I need you to come on in and finish me off."