“Vladimir Putin is going to be livid,” the Secretary of State said. “We’ve been tredding very carefully on military contact with the Ukrainians because the situation is so delicate. And this jumps right past half a dozen normal steps. The press release… Brilliant. Just brilliant.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Pierson sighed. “We’ll just fly them commercial to Tblisi, then. Mike has ammo; they can draw on him. The mission won’t be all that long and by the time they’re on their way back we’ll probably have taskable birds so they can get their jump in… ”
“Colonel, at what point did I indicate that I don’t want Vladimir Putin livid?” the SecState asked. “You were right to bring this to my attention. Here’s what we’ll do… ”
Chapter Eighteen
As soon as the door closed to the office, Kacey shook her head.
“That man is insane,” she muttered. “Totally, completely and utterly insane.”
“Yep,” Tammie said, still in that strange voice. “So insane that he’d swim ashore on an island overrun by terrorists, kill them all and still come rescue us and the Marines with a boat. Even though he looked like a colander at the time.”
“Sure, but that doesn’t mean I want to attach myself to his coat-strings,” Kacey said, biting her lip. “I mean, he survives but what about the body count around him. Doing this sort of shit for SAR, with FAST, that’s one thing. God and country and all that. But we’re doing it for money, Tams. Is that worth getting our ass shot off?”
“Okay, great,” Tammie said. “We say ‘No thanks’ take our showing up bonus and head back to the States. Wait on one of our many solicitous phone calls. Eat high until the money runs out and then get a job at the 7/11. What are we waiting for? Sounds great. Get a cat.”
“Very funny.” Kacey was allergic. “I’m serious, Tammie. This is serious. I mean, so we don’t get a flying job. We’re both Naval Academy graduates. We don’t have to work at the 7/11.”
“Sure,” Tammie said, her eyes wide. “You’ve got a creative writing degree, I’ve got one in English lit. You write them and I’ll critique them and we’ll make a mint.”
“Oh, God,” Kacey groaned. “The guy’s obviously American military of some sort, although you notice he didn’t mention what sort. But if he’s got a harem, he’s bound to have a bar. We’ll find it. You get drunk. I’ll watch.”
“I’d rather check this place out,” Tammie said. “It’s really cool.”
“You’re in love,” Kacey said. “Mystery and romance and castles in the sky. As always, I’ve got to keep you grounded.”
“Which is just what we’re both going to be if we don’t take the gig,” Tammie pointed out, walking down the corridor. “First we find the harem girls. They’ll lead us to somebody who speaks English. I mean, they’ve been taking classes.”
“Pillow classes,” Kacey snorted but she followed.
When they got to the front room, though, the cluster of girls had disappeared. Tammie was standing with her hands on her hips when the front door opened and a big bald guy in digicam, clearly directly off the range from the smell, stepped into the area and paused, looking them over.
“Oh, Christ, not more harem girls,” the man muttered in an annoyed tone. “That boy’s got a serious problem.”
“Fuck you, asshole,” Kacey snapped back.
“We’re not harem girls,” Tammie replied at the same time. “We’re pilots.”
“Pilots?” the man said, his eyes flying wide in joy. “We’ve got pilots? Halle-fucking-leuia! We’ve got PILOTS!”
“Not yet,” Kacey said, angrily. She was still pissed about the Harem Girl crack. She also wanted to know more about the “harem.” She was hoping, at a certain level, that it was a joke but she suspected it wasn’t. “We’re still considering it. Carefully.”
“Oh, well, in that case you definitely want the job,” the guy said, fullsomely. “The living conditions are great, the food’s excellent, the beer’s outstanding and the pay is awesome. What more could you ask?”
“I don’t drink,” Kacey said. “And a guarantee that we’ll survive would be nice.”
“Nope, can’t do that one,” the guy admitted. “Can’t guarantee I’ll survive. But the missions are worth it and the people are top-notch. If you end up taking the Valkyrie ride you’ll be in plenty of bad company. We will guarantee that.”
As he said that a side door opened and an absolutely beautiful woman walked into the foyer. Kacey wasn’t kinked that way but she knew fucking beautiful when she saw it. Neither she nor Tammie were slouches in the looks department, but this lady put them both to shame. She looked like a supermodel. Blonde, blue eyes, low to mid-twenties, stacked and an absolutely gorgeous face. She was wearing a lot of make-up but so artfully applied it looked almost as if she wasn’t wearing any. Blue, probably silk again, pant-suit that looked as if it was a Paris original. And graceful as hell. Probably Russian at a guess, definitely not American. She reminded Kacey of a young duchess character in an old movie. The lady had that look about her, like Zha Zha Gabor when she was young.
“Master Chief,” the woman said, nodding. “I see you have met our visitors.” Her English was impeccable but there was a definite slavic accent. “I zee you haff met our vizeetors.”
“Christ, I hope they’re not just visitors,” the “master chief” grunted. “We are screwed without pilots.”
“We’re still considering,” Tammie said, much more gently than Kacey. “And we haven’t been introduced.”
“Ah, this is my fault,” the woman replied. “I was supposed to be your tour guide but I expected your meeting to be longer. I am Anastasia Rakovich, the Kildar’s administrative manager. This is Master Chief Adams, late of the United States Navy Sea Air and Land commandoes, the Kildar’s field tactical manager. Master Chief Adams, Captains Bathlick and Wilson, late of the United States Marine Corps.”
“Who’s the Kildar?” Tammie said at the same time as Kacey said: “SEALs?” and Adams said: “You’re Marines?”
“I am given to understand that they have combat experience with the United States Marine Corps,” Anastasia said, answering the Master Chief first. “The Kildar is Mr. Jenkins. It is his title. I will explain. And, yes, Master Chief Adams is a former SEAL as they say. I understand that ‘ex’ is looked upon poorly.”
“Yeah, we’ve got experience,” Tammie said with a snort. “We pulled your boss out of the drink one time. Or… Well, he sort of pulled us… It’s complicated.”