Fay looked up and to the southeast.
And the sudden arrival of a large contingent of American military.
She ran a hand over the sheet one last time.
Who was here that MI6 had and the Americans wanted badly enough to stage what amounted to an invasion of British soil? A Russian defector? A North Korean spy? The head of China’s weapons program?
Had the Americans already grabbed their target and were preparing to race out of the country? No, they still had the C-5 Galaxy parked on her runway.
Fay called the field’s control tower as she hurried out of the room. “Are the Americans showing any signs of leaving?”
“No, can’t say as they are, ma’am. And ma’am?”
“Yes?”
“They’re pretty darned fine at flying those Hooks, if I may say so, ma’am. Our boys could take lessons from these folks.”
“Just keep them here. As long as that C-5 Galaxy stays here, they won’t go anywhere. On the quiet.”
“We’re refueling them now. I’ll just make sure those chaps and their trucks happen to park in the way.”
“Excellent. No departure clearance without my personal say-so.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
51
When Derek started talking to Dilya about her dog, Abby checked out. She’d always been more of a cat person. It was hard to be a dog person when out on the sea for unpredictable hours. Having a warm cat waiting for your lap at home was always a pleasant thing. Of course, being in the Night Stalkers, she couldn’t have either, but she enjoyed them whenever she took leave.
Grabbing a radio, Abby stepped out of the hangar and onto the tarmac. With the morning light and the rain clearing off, she could see the helo operations clearly. As they worked different techniques, she called up tips and corrections to hone their skills. With the chance to offer immediate feedback, rather than the usual after-action reports, she could watch them improve.
It also let her call in a few twists of her own, then watch their responses. That short-cycle feedback loop provided instant, quantifiable results. She’d definitely be implementing this type of training more widely in the teams when she reached home.
Group Captain Cutcher rolled her Land Rover straight into the hangar, but she was the only one to get out. The DAGOR passed by outside and Abby could see through the glass that there were no other occupants in the vehicle. She would feel sick to her stomach—later. For the moment, she wished that her carbine rifle was not in the door clip on her helo. She turned away enough to hide the motion as she placed her hand on her sidearm.
Because this was the UK, Cutcher exited to Abby’s side of the vehicle. Abby glanced over the hood of the vehicle that now separated her from Derek. From his angle, he saw her motion and gathered his rifle from where he’d leaned it beside him. After signaling Dilya to stay put, he hot-footed it around the back of the vehicle.
“Where are your commanders?” Cutcher faced her squarely.
Abby almost stumbled forward in her shock. “They departed with you. What did you do with them?”
“I was called away at breakfast.” She glanced at her watch. “Only seventeen minutes ago. They must still be there.” Cutcher rubbed at her forehead as if that couldn’t be possible. It didn’t sound like a ploy.
Abby eased her stance as Derek came around behind Cutcher and slowed at her signal. Dilya remained in place—but Zackie didn’t.
The little dog trotted straight toward Cutcher despite a soft hiss from Dilya.
The sound had Cutcher twisting to face Dilya just as Zackie sat directly in front of her and began happily wagging her tail. She was focused on one of Cutcher’s hands.
“Hey!” This time Dilya shouted.
Derek glanced her way. In answer, Dilya nodded toward the dog.
Derek looked at Zackie, then shifted from a covering position to standing close behind Cutcher. Once there, he rested the barrel of his rifle against the small of Cutcher’s back.
Abby stepped in front of her. “You will want to think about your next actions very, very carefully, Group Captain Cutcher.”
“This is outrageou?—”
