Authors: Lindsay McKenna
Where was that bastard, Holt? Jack almost bit out the words in Design where everyone was gathered for the daily 7:00 a.m. meeting. Holt was late. Why? He sat at his desk and pretended to study a manual while his mind clicked off possibilities. Last night, Melody swore that there was something between him and that little redheaded school teacher, Megan Roberts. That was confirmed this morning by a crew chief who mentioned seeing Holt with her at Shady Lane yesterday evening.
Good, he had more shit on his archrival. That explained why Holt sided with the teacher when Scotty was attacked by that little brat, Patty Merrill. Jack lifted his head and zeroed in on Merrill, who was in a conference with Major Porter. They’d be flying shortly. He was about to begin needling Merrill when the door opened.
“Hey, boys and girls,” Holt announced, swinging through the entrance and lifting up two bakery boxes, “it’s doughnut time!”
Stang heard the fifteen people, both civilian and military, cheer and then break into applause. Dammit, Holt was late because he’d stopped at a bakery in Lancaster. Every once in a while, Holt would spring for doughnuts for those in Design. Reluctantly, Jack admitted he’d been upstaged—again. Why hadn’t he thought of this nice little touch? Melody was going to have to help him remember this kind of gesture to put him in good stead with these people. Maybe he ought to make a note on his event calendar so he wouldn’t forget.
Sam grinned over at Curt and Port and murmured a greeting to them as he opened the boxes. Immediately, everyone converged on him and the table where he’d spread out the offerings.
“Come on, pig-out time!” Holt called, laughing. Last night he’d slept for the first time without any nightmares. And Sam knew it was because of his growing closeness to Megan. This morning he’d awakened happier than he could ever recall. Wanting to share his happiness, Sam decided that doughnuts were always in vogue with the crew at Design. He saw Port give him a rolled-eyeballs look.
“Ahh, come on Port, you can have one.”
“Holt, those are fat city for my hips! No way.”
Sam picked up a cheese-filled Danish, took it over to her desk and held it provocatively under her nose. “Here, this is for you. I asked for a low-cal Danish, Port. The guy finally found one.” He held it out in her direction. “Honest, it’s fewer calories. It’s filled with soybean meal disguised with an almond flavoring added. Come on, be a good sport.”
“Better watch it,” Jack interrupted, standing in line to get his doughnut, “the hand that feeds you might bite you, Major.”
Lauren frowned. “Captain, as usual, you’re wrong,” and she claimed the Danish from Holt. “Sam, this better be low-cal or I’m going to get even with you.”
Grinning, Sam stepped aside, watching Stang. The officer was taut this morning. Yes, something was up. Sam could sense it around Stang. “I’ll live in dire straits until you weigh yourself tomorrow morning on your scale and see you haven’t gained an ounce on that dynamite frame of yours.”
Laughter bubbled up from Lauren, and she tasted the dish. “Ohhh, God, this is good, Holt. I hate you, but I love you. Thanks…”
“Hey,” Jack whispered over at Holt, “I thought you’d like to know Melody’s lodging a complaint with the assistant principal over Ms. Roberts’s poor conduct yesterday afternoon.”
Holt’s jaw snapped shut. He glared up at Stang. A warning went off deep inside him. Jamison was gunning for Megan anyway. This could get her fired. Jack was watching him closely for any kind of reaction, trying to gauge just how much Megan meant to him. If he let on, she could be in worse trouble, because Melody would make it tougher on her over at the school. Sam knew from experience that the Stangs, once they decided upon a sacrificial victim, wouldn’t let up until that person was effectively destroyed. And he didn’t want Megan run off Edwards because of constant, unrelieved pressure put on by the couple. Dammit, anyway!
“That’s her problem,” he lied smoothly, “not mine.”
“Yeah?” Jack gloated, watching for a possible flare of anger from the pilot. Holt’s eyes were opaque, unreadable.
“Yeah. Hey, listen, we’ve got a flight coming up in forty minutes. I’ve got paperwork to do before that.”
Rising, Stang smiled. “Roger.” He walked back to his desk and filed away Holt’s reactions. He made a few notes on the pad he kept under lock and key in his desk drawer, which he’d share with Melody tonight at their usual tac-and-strat session. Sitting down, he glanced at his watch. In exactly ten minutes, Melody would make her grand entrance to Brad Jamison’s office and put the final nails in Megan Roberts’s coffin. If she refused to stop making out reports on Scotty, then there were other ways to get her fired.
Melody made sure her lavender suit was perfectly arranged over her hips before entering the school. She wore amethyst earrings and a simple, but elegant, Cartier gold watch on her right wrist. The children were already in class, the tile halls quiet as she made her way toward the principal’s office.
Smiling to herself, she wanted to be a fly on the wall when Megan Roberts was hauled in on the carpet and fired. The woman was really a poor excuse for a teacher in her estimation. She held the lavender leather purse a little more tightly, the matching leather heels complementing her expensive six-hundred-dollar suit.
Brad Jamison, dressed in a dark blue pinstripe suit, was consulting with his secretaries when she entered. She watched his eyes widen considerably when she stepped into the office. Good, her image had the desired effect on him. Melody completely disregarded the three women staring at her.
“Good morning, Mr. Jamison.” She held out her hand.
“Good morning, Mrs. Stang. I’m glad you could come. Step into my office?”
Smiling warmly, she came around the end of the counter. “Of course.”
Flushing, he gestured toward the open door to his office. “Of course! Come in. And might I say, you’re stunning looking in that suit.”
Smiling demurely, Melody nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Jamison.” She followed him into the spacious office. He shut the door and came around to his side of the desk.
Melody dropped all pretense once she knew they were out of sight and earshot of the secretaries. “We want Megan Roberts fired, Brad. That ridiculous scene at the O Club yesterday afternoon involving Scotty is the last straw.”
With a nod, Brad pulled a file from his drawer. “To make it worse, she’s filed another report on your son, Melody.” He handed her the file, watching her eyes narrow as she read it.
She threw it on his desk. “I thought the last check would cover problems like this,” she said tightly. “I’m sure you’re aware that Jack is chief test pilot on the Agile Eagle project over at Ops. If Roberts talks about this to other teachers, it could get around. We can’t afford to have General Dalton or Colonel Yale get ahold of this information. It would hurt Jack’s chance for an early promotion to major.”
Brad nodded. “I’ve warned her, even threatened her, but she won’t back off.”
“What does it boil down to? What has to be done to get rid of her?”
“I have to prove she’s inept.” Making a frustrated sound, he got up. “I have to lodge a protest with the union, which I’ve done. We have to have reason to fire her, Melody.”
“You’ve got plenty of them! She’s picking on Scotty, singling him out! The poor boy is a nervous wreck when he gets home. Both Jack and I will swear to that. He spends half his day in the nursing room instead of the classroom. What kind of an education is he getting?” Melody gripped the purse, emotion leaking through her carefully modulated voice. “I won’t have that, Brad. I simply won’t tolerate it.”
Scratching his head, Brad gave her an oblique look. “I’m doing what I can.”
“Jack wants her gone. The sooner, the better.”
“Are you aware that Megan is the daughter of Colonel Steven Roberts, the famous test pilot?”
Melody was unable to stifle her reaction. “What?”
Oh, my God!
The implications were there—Megan Roberts had a lot more clout than she’d suspected. In fact, Melody had completely underestimated Megan’s power base.
Clearing his throat, Brad went on. “Firing her is going to be a ticklish matter. She has power on this base if she wants to use it. Frankly, I don’t want a call from General Dalton over this. I’ll need at least twice as much as the last check to ramrod this through.”
Melody understood. “You’ll get it. I’ll put it into the mail today.” Inwardly she seethed, angry at her lack of investigation on Megan. She was a far more dangerous adversary than Melody first thought. Megan Roberts was the daughter of Colonel Roberts, one of the most famous test pilots since Edwards had come into existence! Taking a deep breath, Melody hurried out to her Mercedes-Benz, barely able to wait and speak with Jack tonight.
Megan sat very still as Brad Jamison shut the door with an ominous finality. The plastic chair made her back sweaty, and she longed for a cooling shower. The shirt-dress she wore was damp beneath the armpits. She prayed Jamison didn’t notice. Her school day was over when she received a call to come up to the head office. What was up? Was Jamison going to chew her out for the way she handled the Halloween fight between Patty and Scotty?
Jamison sat down and steepled his hands. “I think it’s only fair to tell you that I’ve notified your union that I want you fired.”
Megan sat up, her eyes going wide. “Fired?”
Working hard to curb a smile of satisfaction, he snapped, “That’s right.”
Trying to control her breathing, Megan asked, “Why?” It had to be the outdoor education proposal.
“Your inability to control the children in your class. Putting out weekly reports on Scotty Stang has gone too far. You’re singling out the child, making him an example. The parents are very upset, and I happen to agree with them—the problem isn’t with Scotty, it’s with the ability, or lack of it, of the teacher.”
Megan glared at him. “That child is hyperactive! And I’m not making him an example. I refuse to have him disrupt the rest of my class.”
With a shrug, Jamison muttered, “So, take it up with your union. I’ve filed for your firing.”
Inwardly, Megan quivered in fury. “I’ll fight you, Jamison. I’ll do whatever necessary to vindicate myself in this matter.”
“Go for it, Ms. Roberts. It won’t do you any good.”
She left quickly, clutching her briefcase, her fingers aching on the handle. Her mind clicked off the things that would have to be done. First, she’d have to call Linda Yarnell to get a copy of the request to have her fired. She had no experience in union matters. Could Jamison get his way? Or would the union be able to save her job? Suddenly, the need to speak to Sam was overwhelming. Would he still be at Ops? It was four o’clock. Turning, she went to the empty teachers’ lounge and picked up a phone. First, a call to Linda, and then, to Sam.
“Design, Major Porter,” Lauren said, answering the phone.
“Yes…is Captain Holt still there?”
“Sure is. May I ask who’s calling?”
“Megan. Megan Roberts.”
“One moment.” Lauren smiled and put the call on hold. She and Sam were the only ones left in the office. Everyone else had gone home for the day. “Hey, Holt, your lady’s on the line.”
Lifting his head from the report he was writing, Sam scowled. Port was grinning like she was sitting in the catbird seat. “What?”
“Megan Roberts is on the phone, dummy. Don’t you want to talk to her? She wants to speak to you. Line one.”
Shocked but pleased, Sam reached for his phone. “Thanks, Port.”
“I promise to plug my ears,” she answered dryly, returning her attention to her computer terminal.
Sam smiled. “I trust you Port. Eavesdrop all you want.” He knew she wouldn’t tell anyone of the conversation. He hit the button. “Megan?”
“Hi…I’m sorry to call you at work—”
“No, that’s okay. You don’t sound very good. What’s wrong?”
“C-could I see you after work? I need to talk. Friend to friend.”
His scowl deepened. “Sure. How about if, I meet you over at the O Club?” As soon as he said it, he regretted it. “No, forget that.” His mind whirled with options. He couldn’t invite Megan down here because it was restricted and off-limits without clearance. “How about at your school?”
“No, I’d rather not.”
Instantly, Holt knew that Melody Stang had something to do with it. “Okay, how about if I pick you up, in say—” he looked at his watch “—fifteen minutes? I’ll take you out to a nice little Italian restaurant in Lancaster, we’ll sit, talk and enjoy a good meal.”
“My car, though…”
“Leave it here on base for tonight. I’ll take you into work tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, Sam, that’s asking too much. I get up early.”
“So do I.”
“Five a.m.?”
“Yes. Fifteen minutes, Red, and I’ll be there.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Sam hung up the phone, disliking the tone he heard in Megan’s voice. She was upset. It had to be because of the Stangs.
“You look like a pit bull ready to bite someone,” Lauren noted drily.
With a snort, Holt got up. He jerked open a drawer, tossing the report inside it and then slammed it shut. “Yeah, I’d like to bite somebody.”
“Megan has a nice voice. Rich and husky.”
“Diverting me won’t do any good, Port. I’m madder than hell at Stang.”
“Oh, that little incident over at the O Club yesterday with his precious son?”
Holt felt his anger abate to a degree under Lauren’s insightful comment. “Roger that.” He hunted for his garrison cap and located it in one of the drawers of his desk.
“I don’t know what Stang thinks he’s going to gain by all of this,” Lauren muttered. “I’m sure not impressed with him or his methods.”
“Some four-star is upstairs. It would be my luck it’s the joint chiefs general,” Sam said, putting on his garrison cap. He noticed Merrill’s messy desk. Papers were strewn across the top of it. Of late, Curt had been less than organized. The old saying that if your desk was a mess, so was your flying, was an axiom around Design. Holt hoped for Merrill’s sake the axiom wasn’t true.
“I’ve never seen you like this,” Lauren said seriously, leaning back in her chair and watching him. “Sam?”