“All this because of one woman? A rescue?” That’s what they said, but it didn’t sit well enough to not be questioned.
“Or are we kidnapping her?” Abby must be feeling the same uncertainty.
“They’re not going to bring along a civilian and her dog, no matter who she is, if it’s an execution.”
“So, when they said rescue, we should probably trust them on that.”
“For now.”
Derek liked the easy synchronicity of their thoughts. Yet another thing to like about Abby, as if he needed more.
“A test?”
He should have thought of that one. He inspected the plane, the scale of the crew they’d brought aboard, and that the colonels had come themselves despite two of them being retired. He shook his head. It didn’t fit. “The last two nights…”
“Those were our tests.” Abby finished the thought for him. “Unknown objective. Unknown opposing forces.”
“How do we plan when we don’t know anything. Yeah, I hear you.”
They sat through half a burrito each but neither of them had anything to add.
He tipped his head back, indicating the front of the plane behind them. “We’ve got a large crew here, but only a few of us in the know for what little bit of good that’s doing us. Security could be a real issue. Unless we use them…”
“…without using them,” Abby nodded slowly at first but then offered him the first real smile since they’d passed out in each other’s arms last night.
“A full-on Delta/Night Stalkers demonstration over here…”
“…so that no one notices whatever our small team is doing over there. I wish we had Trisha along.”
“Why?”
“The way she thinks is pure, out-of-the-box evil.”
Derek smiled. “Oh, I think the 1st Special Operations Force Detachment-Delta might be up to doing a little of that.”
38
“Have you decided if you trust us yet?” Colonel Beale sat in the airplane seat to Derek’s other side.
Abby took a careful breath before answering with, “No. At least not completely. Though it’s not like you gave us a lot of choice.”
“Or actual information,” Derek added.
Beale rubbed at her eyes. “I’ve never known so little going in. In the past there has always been a precise military objective. Rescue of a single civilian is not our normal bill of fare. Stopping a war or an attack with a weapon of mass destruction is more typical. Stopped a few presidential assassination attempts.”
She and Derek glanced at each other. There’d been a spectacular debacle a few years back in Colorado when every post analysis newscast said the President should have died—but he hadn’t. Had Beale been a part of that? No way to ask. Time taught a lot of lessons and they exchanged a nod confirming that Beale just might be what she seemed. She certainly seemed as authentic as anyone Abby had ever met. Still, she’d like more than a feeling to go on.
“Why her? Who is Miss Watson anyway? Why did the Brits grab her? Are we about to start a war with one of our closest allies because of her? Without knowing any of this, it’s hard to know what to think. Colonel, not to put too fine a point on it, but you sure you folks’ve got both your oars in the water? We can’t imagine the only other thing that fits, you three colonels all going rogue.”
That last evoked enough surprise on Beale’s features that Abby believed it caught her out.
Beale stared at the rear bulkhead of the C-5’s passenger cabin close in front of them. “Going rogue? I’ve been accused of many things, but that was never one of them. Trisha came close a couple times—very effectively I might add—but I never had the knack for that. That’s one of the reasons I chose her as my second in command, she doesn’t instinctively adhere to the rules and regulations the way I do. Mark too. We’re both creative in flight, but we like our boundaries. It’s hard to tell what Michael is thinking at the best of times. Asking his wife doesn’t help much. Though she’s a Night Stalker and is one of my closest friends, she’s as conversational as any Delta operator.”
Abby felt the shock all the way down to her boots. Trisha had married Bill Bruce, a D-boy. Colonel Gibson had married a Night Stalker. Sure, the two teams worked together, but this was ridiculous.
Derek was grinning at her until she thudded a bootheel down on his toes. She didn’t bother being subtle about it.
“Miss Watson,” Beale might have smiled at Abby’s action, but it was too brief to be sure, “is a national-level intelligence asset. No one except her, and perhaps Dilya, knows what she’s been into.”
