Test Pilot's Daughter II: Dead Reckoning (10 page)

Lazer had offered nothing but encouragement in her life goal of being the first human to step on the surface of Mars. He even got her drunk one night and took her to a tattoo parlor. She got a small tattoo of the planet on her lower back, where it served as a symbol of her ambition and a constant reminder of his love making. She had to chuckle at the memory.
He loved to run his tongue over it and say, “That’s my little Mars bar.”
The red planet was crossed by a bold, blue laser beam as a symbol of their everlasting vows. Every time she showered, she looked back in the mirror and thought of him. She laughed at how Lazer had talked her into doing something so far out of character.
Christina Matthews, the PhD astronaut with a
tattoo?
God, I love that guy. . .I mean loved.

Fighting back tears and walking along a dark sidewalk, she tried to concentrate on the mission at hand. Someone in NASA or the FBI had allowed the shuttle Endeavor to be attacked, and she meant to get to the bottom of it. The problem was the complex web of obscurity. It seemed almost impossible to sort out exactly who, what, where, and, most of all,
why
. But nothing was impossible when she set her mind to it, and she had every intention of finding the bastard and delivering an ass load of justice.

The Moon was bright, and she tensed as she saw a man in a black trench-coat sitting at a park bench just ahead. She tried not to make eye contact as she picked up the pace. Reaching in her pocket, she took a firm grip on her keys. Well trained in martial arts, she wasn’t worried about an attack so much as any diversion that might interfere with her meeting. As she passed, there was a muffled voice. It was no more than a mumble:

Oh shit,
she thought,
busted!
She spun around and stopped in her tracks. “Who’s asking?”

The man pulled his hood back and looked in both directions to make sure the coast was clear. “I’m General Wallace. You remember me; I met you at the DROID briefing. We need to talk.” He opened his coat so she could get a clear view of his uniform and all four stars gleaming in the moonlight.

Crap,
she thought,
busted
for leaking secrets. Wonder what it’s like in jail?
She took a step in his direction but felt more like taking off in a dead run. “So General, may I ask what you are doing out here in the middle of the night?”

“Okay, I’m not admitting to anything, see? Innocent until proven guilty, you know.” Her quick mind was already structuring a defense. She wanted to scream out a warning to Michael, but the tavern was not in shouting distance.

“You’re not the one we’re worried about. Now listen, we believe this country is at risk of attack. Unfortunately, our Commander and Chief disagrees. We know you’ve been snooping around, and I want to caution you not to talk to
anyone
, no one but me.”

“Oh sure. Where have I heard that one before?” she said with inflection. “I don’t even know you. Why should I tell you anything?” Now
she
was looking around. There was a dark form walking down the sidewalk in their direction. . .it was an old lady and a dog. They both went silent until she passed. As the forms disappeared into the darkness Christina sighed, “Frankly, General Wallace, I don’t know who to trust anymore.”

“Listen Miss Matthews, your life is in jeopardy, not just from the terrorists but from people you know. Keep your head on a swivel, you can’t trust anyone. No one, of course, but me.”

“Of course, and how am I supposed to know you’re all right?”

“Your dad is a close friend of mine. Pat Matthews and I worked together on the supersonic transport X-99. Just give him a call and ask if Weenie can be trusted. Okay, yeah, it sounds silly, but that was my call name, Weenie. Then you can verify my real name, Air Force General Cogburn Wallace. Don’t tell him what it’s about. Just say you’re working with me on the DROID program, and you want to know if I can be trusted. The fewer people who know about this thing the better.”

“What thing?” She didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

“We have hard intelligence that the Iranians are planning a strike within the next few months, could be weeks. ‘The ultimate Jihad,’ they call it. They are going to attempt a nuclear attack on major cities in the U.S. with ICBMs. Crude as they are, with satellite assistance one or two might actually get through. Even worse, there’s a conspiracy here in the U.S. at the highest levels which is compromising our defense.”

“You gotta be kidding! I thought we had a missile shield that would take on anything, at least that’s what the American people have been led to believe.”

“It’s a farce.” He looked down and shook his head. “That perception was created to put off our enemies and keep Americans happy. The actual effectiveness of Patriot III against ICBMs is only about fifty percent. We might have a better chance with a shield of DROIDs in orbit, but that’ll take time.”

“But surely the Iranians know if we take a blow like that, they would be obliterated.” Christina had never really worried about nuclear war, because the nukes themselves had always been the biggest deterrent.

“Well yes, but that response requires a President willing to pull the trigger, and it only works on rational enemies, those who place some value on human life. These bastards, the Shiites and the Sunnis, they see it all different than the Russians in the Cold War. They don’t give a shit about life on earth. If they could kill a few million infidels, they truly believe they would fly right into the Garden of Eden. Virgins, fruit and cool waters, all that crap. Have you read the Quran?”

“Yes, I have, and it’s scary as hell!” She had even memorized a few lines which she repeated, “When ye encounter the infidels, strike off their heads till ye have made a great slaughter among them, . . .and who so fight for the cause of God. . . he will bring them into the Paradise. . . Believers! If ye help God, God will help you, and will set your feet firm: But as for the infidels, let them perish.”

“Very good. My oh my, you
are
an impressive young lady. So now that you understand the threat, won’t you help me?” Wallace peered into her eyes with a look of desperation.

“I’ve already been to the President. What else can I do?”

“Well, my girl, I’m afraid that was a mistake.” There was a long pause as he looked around again. His head looked left and right, then left and right again as though he were about to cross an intersection. He whispered, “That’s exactly why I am here.”

“Haven’t you wondered why he wasn’t very interested in the information you gathered? Did it cross your mind that our country was attacked on worldwide TV, and he has done absolutely nothing?” Wallace’s voice rose in an emotional declaration, “Why do you suppose that is?”

“Look, I can’t quite process all that right now. I mean if you can’t trust the President of the United States. . .”

“Call your dad and check me out. Listen, time is short. I can tell you who not to trust: Gleason, Scott and Hussein. Now go on and meet with your friend. I’ll be in contact soon. I’ll try to cook up some official meeting on DROID. We want your patent on the system, but you’ll have to sign off on that. I’ll use it for an excuse to meet with you privately in the Judge Advocate’s office at Fort McPherson in Atlanta. In the meantime, keep your head low. We know that Michael Jacobs went with you to Washington, but don’t talk to anyone else. Got it?” Wallace squeezed her arm as though he really cared, got up and walked off into the darkness.

Christina sat stunned and stared at his disappearing frame. For once in her life she didn’t know what to do. Finally, she got up on wobbly knees and headed for the tavern. She took out her cell phone and called her dad.

* * *

Michael was on his third beer. Usually cool and collected, he was starting to fidget. This time she had promised to be on time.
Why is our relationship such a mess?
he wondered.
Why can’t we date like anybody else?
He knew the answer, but he loved feeling sorry for himself. He looked once again at the large clock hanging over the jukebox. His favorite Willie Nelson was playing for the fourth time,
Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground
. Not sure why, it always reminded him of Christina.
She’s no angel
, he thought,
nothin’ but trouble.
The clock showed 9:25 and no sign of her. All kinds of scary thoughts raced through his mind. C
aught by security? No, she would’ve called. Maybe she got nabbed by someone else. Maybe she’s sick. Maybe she’s dead. Maybe she’s been taken hostage.
With her, absolutely nothing could be eliminated.

“Would you just cut the crap and quit playin’ that mudder-humpin’ song?” A bag-lady complained from the end of the bar. She yelled in a drunken slur, “Willie sucks!”

“He’s a payin’ customer, lady. He can play anything he likes.” The bartender took up for him. “Who do you think you are, anyway?”

Michael nodded his appreciation and looked back at the door. He really didn’t want to talk to anyone in that sleazy joint. Thoughts returned to Christina.
Where the hell is she?

There was a good looking blonde in another booth across the room who kept turning her head to give him the eye. But she was clearly a working girl, the kind who made her living on her back. Michael didn’t consider himself much of a lady’s man, but he did know a thing or two.
I know a working girl when I see one
. He tried to avoid making eye contact. Finally, the little hottie got up and wiggled her luscious body into the Lady’s room.
Lord help me,
he thought.

About the time he started to panic the front door came open, and there she was.
My God!
She took his breath away. Christina was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in a tight sweater and faded jeans. Everything about her carried an aura of excitement. As she walked toward him, every man in the bar turned to look.
Down boys.
She’s mine you jackals!

“Michael, you’re not going to believe this.” She slid in beside him and put her hand on his knee.

Well that’s progress,
he thought. “What? You fell asleep?”

“The DROID briefing? I told you about him. He’s the one who laid out the mission to destroy the Iranian satellite,” she whispered in his ear, then kissed him gently there.

He was starting to feel better. “Since when do Generals hang out in parks at night? That’s creepy.”

“They know all about us, Michael, everything we’ve said and done in the last two weeks. He knew I would be walking through that park to meet you.”

“Yikes, we’re in deep do do. Let’s see, how many laws have we broken so far?”

“We’re not in trouble Michael. They want our help. Apparently we can’t even trust the President, according to Wallace. Says Gleason’s so caught up in the diplomacy thing, he won’t even consider Pentagon plans to attack preemptively. He refuses to shoot down that feakin’ satellite. Can you believe that?”

“And, how do you know to believe
him?”

“Don’t, but he sounds credible. Knows my dad. I called daddy and he said Wallace was a good guy. That’s all I know.”

“So where does that leave us?”

She looked to make sure no one was in the adjacent booths. “Loose lips sink ships,” she whispered. “They have hard evidence. We’re going to be attacked, and soon. Gleason won’t listen to the military. Claims our intelligence is always wrong.”