Targets of Opportunity (1993) (13 page)

Brad took a deep breath. "I'm not serving in the military at the present time," he confided, giving Leigh Ann time to digest that information. "I report to another organization in the government."

Leigh Ann sat for a moment, adding up the facts so far. "What part of our government," she asked with a skeptical look, "would get you out of Vietnam to fly some secret airplane?"

"I am not at liberty to discuss--"

"The CIA?" Leigh Ann asked with an ominous stare. "You're involved with the CIA, aren't you?"

His silence was her answer.

"Brad," Leigh Ann declared with a look of dismay, "this whole thing--the CIA, flying a secret plane, the mysterious blonde--is very weird. . . . It adds up to something dangerous for you, and it frightens me.

He placed his hand over hers. "Don't worry, okay? At least I'm not being shot at over North Vietnam."

Leigh Ann trembled. "Brad, I do worry about you . . . constantly. - She gave him a brief smile. "And Allison sure seems strange.
"

"Do I detect another trace of jealousy?"

"Well," Leigh Ann hesitated, hiding her trepidation about Allison, "perhaps so, but you, Captain Austin, are naive where women are concerned.
"

Nick Palmer walked down to the patio next to the courtyard and swimming pool. He gave Allison's red bikini an admiring glance as she dove off the diving board. She had left the apartment late in the afternoon, returning an hour later with her bathing suit and a change of clothes.

Selecting a chair with 'a view of the spacious pool, Palmer watched Allison swim toward her two friends who were lounging in the shallo
w w
ater. He darted a look at Lex Blackwell, then back to the women b y t he pool steps. "They're okay, but not in the same league with Allison."

"You're not going to hear any complaints out of me." Lex grinned, finishing another beer. "Where's the gyrene?"

"He just called a few minutes ago." Nick chuckled. "Seems as if Leigh Ann arrived a day early," he turned his head so Allison and her friends would not see him laugh, "and took a taxi to the apartment."

Lex opened another beer. "What's so funny?"

"Brad told me he was applying suntan oil to Allison's back--she was lying on her stomach, topless--when Leigh Ann rang the doorbell." Palmer punched Lex on the shoulder. "He thought it was you, and yelled that the screen door was open."

Blackwell doubled over and almost spit a mouthful of beer on the grass. "Jesus Christ," he guffawed, "is he in the hospital?"

"No," Nick replied, trying to contain himself "but he said he took some battle damage."

"Yeah," Blackwell laughed and admired the three women. "I remember a little filly I dated back in Texas. She caught me at a motel, at one o'clock in the morning, with my high-school sweetheart."

Nick watched Allison and her friends climb out of the pool. "What did she do?"

"Set fire to my pickup truck," he drawled, then smiled at Allison while she dried herself.

"You gotta be kidding me!" Palmer was incredulous. "What kind of women do you date?"

"I like feisty ones," Lex replied as the three women approached the patio table.

Nick was concerned that Blackwell was beginning to slur his words. He had been drinking one beer after another since midafternoon.

"Reckon I better put on the chow," Lex said, then reached for another beer and stood to greet Allison. "Little dahlin'," he asked unsteadily, "you wanta help me with the vittles?"

Allison smiled widely as she reached for a towel to wrap around her waist. "I would be happy to help you," she teased, "in any way I can."

"My kind of gal." Lex grinned at Nick as he wrapped an arm around Allison's shoulder. "Hold the fort, Nick, while we rustle up the grub."

Palmer nodded, concealing his worry. He engaged Allison's friends in conversation while he watched Blackwell stagger toward the barbecue grill.

"I understand that the three of you," Allison said when she and Le
x r
eached the grill, "do some kind of testing for the government?" The statement became a question.

Lex arched his brow. "Who told you that?"

"Brad mentioned that you test things, whatever they are, for a government agency."

Blackwell gave her a sly grin and started forking the meat on the cooker. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"I might," Allison replied with mock innocence, "if you told me the truth. I asked Brad if he was in the military--the three of you look like pilots, you know, with the sunglasses and all--and he evaded my question."

Lex poured a thick sauce on the sizzling ribs and sliced beef "We are in the military."

"Well," Allison huffed convincingly, "what's so secretive about what you do? Is it something that embarrasses you and your friends?"

Blackwell laughed and took a swig of beer. "This ain't for publication," Lex bragged, "but you're right, we are pilots . . . fighter pilots."

"I just knew it," Allison exclaimed. "I have an eye for guys like you. All of you have such a bold, reckless quality--sort of a carefree, cavalier air about you."

Flattered by her praise, Lex drained his beer. "If you promise me that you won't say anything to anyone, I'll tell ya what we're doin' here."

"Who would believe me?" Allison shrugged.

Blackwell glanced at Nick and the two women, then locked Allison in his stare. "We're testing an enemy fighter plane--a MiG that the CIA got aholt of "

"You're kidding?" she said, wide-eyed. "I won't tell a soul. Even I don't believe you."

"Nope," he burped drunkenly, "I'm not kiddin'."

Chapter
TWELVE

Brad inhaled deeply and stared at the ceiling in the darkened bedroom. Leigh Ann's head rested on his shoulder and her leg sprawled across his groin. They began to breathe more slowly as their damp bodies cooled. Leigh Ann blew softly on Brad's chest, then tilted her head back to kiss him on the neck.

"I can't believe," she murmured, running a finger lightly over his muscled stomach, "that you have to leave in the middle of the night."

He reached for his wristwatch and squinted at the face. "Unfortunately, I don't have any choice."

Leigh Ann held him tighter, savoring their last few minutes together. "I could hold you all night."

"Don't tempt me." Brad laughed quietly while he gently caressed her back. "The last thing I want to do is report for duty when I know that you're lying here."

They remained silent, enjoying the quiet pleasure of the moment.

As much as she hated to see Brad leave, Leigh Ann was grateful that he was not going back into combat. The CIA program might be dangerous, she thought, but Brad would not be exposed to aerial combat.

Leigh Ann raised her head and looked into Brad's eyes. "When am I going to see you again?"

He brushed her forehead with his lips. "I don't know."

Leigh Ann nuzzled his chest. "I love you, Brad, and I'm worried about you. It would be different if I knew where you were and what you were doing."

"Not to worry." Brad sighed and caressed Leigh Ann's thigh. "What I'm doing at the present time is a hell of a lot safer than being shot at every day."

They remained quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. Leigh Ann was frightened by Brad's profession, but bravely kept most of her worries to herself.

A long silence followed before Brad roused himself. He slipped his arm from under Leigh Ann's neck. "I've got to shower and get out to Miramar. "

Leigh Ann forced Brad down and eased on top of him. "There's room for two in the shower."

Leading Nick and Lex, Brad clambered into the C-1A Trader and thought about Leigh Ann while the pilots taxied to the runway. She said that she loved him, but he still felt that Allison's presence was harming their relationship. He felt guilty without really knowing why; maybe just having to deceive Leigh Ann was enough cause.

The two and a half nights with Leigh Ann had left him physically and mentally spent, but he had to take his mind off his personal problems and concentrate on the immediate future. He dozed off and slept fitfully during the flight to the isolated base.

Arriving before daylight, Brad was jostled awake when the COD touched down at the desert landing strip.

Still groggy, Brad slung his overnight bag over his shoulder and trundled into the hangar. The MiG was parked on the far side of the F-8 Crusader, nose pointed at the hangar doors.

Grady Stanfield and Hollis Spencer were huddled in the briefing room when the three pilots entered. A freshly brewed pot of coffee sat on the table next to a plate stacked high with pastries.

Brad noticed that Spencer's normal, amiable mood had changed. He seemed oddly stiff and awkward as he stared into his coffee cup.

When the pilots had taken their seats, Spencer finally spoke. "Gentlemen, before we continue flying, I want to share some information with you."

Total silence surrounded the table.

"Conducting secret operations," Spencer said with a grim set to hi
s j
aw, "in an open democracy presents some very special problems."

Spencer's hand tightened around his cup. "When the CIA is aske
d t
o subvert foreign governments, support fledgling democracies , undermine dictators, or conduct covert operations, people like me salute and smartly get underway. We realize the consequences of our actions, and we take our daily responsibilities seriously." His single eye probed each of the three junior pilots. "In other words, we keep our secret missions secret."

A sense of foreboding swept over the wary pilots.

"We have had a breach in security," Spencer bluntly announced, then focused on Blackwell and Austin. "Lieutenant Blackwell, you are one phone call away from being the laundry officer in Adak, Alaska."

Stunned by the denunciation, Blackwell slumped in his chair. "Sir, I'm afraid I'rn not following you."

Brad cautiously looked at Lex, wondering if Hollis Spencer knew about Leigh Ann's visit. Something told him that Spencer knew everything.

With his jaw firmly clenched, Spencer gave Blackwell a look that would freeze water. "You told a civilian about this operation," he seethed. "A top-secret, White House--approved, covert operation! Do you know what you compromised?"

Mouth agape, Lex sat back in shock. His mind raced before he realized that Allison van Ingen was the only person he had spoken to about the MiG operation.

Before Lex could answer, Spencer turned to Brad. "And you violated my orders by inviting a lady friend to visit you in San Diego." Spencer hesitated a moment. "You were instructed not to contact anyone, were you not?"

Paralyzed, Brad glanced at Blackwell, wondering what Lex had revealed, and if he had said anything about Leigh Ann. Nothing made sense. "Yes, sir."

Ignoring their coffee, Nick Palmer and Grady Stanfield sat quietly, staring at the top of the table.

"However," Brad replied, suddenly growing angry, "I would like to make a statement. My 'lady friend' is not a threat to national security, and I have not compromised this operation by divulging what I am doing here.
"

Spencer's good eye narrowed. "The point is," he glared impatiently, "when you are told not to contact anyone, that's exactly what I mean. The words hissed from his mouth. "Do you read me?

"Yes, I read you," Brad replied tightly.

Spencer swung around to face Blackwell. "Lex, you're in the bullpen for now . . . until I decide if you'll remain a part of this operation or go back to a squadron.
"

Chagrined, Lex remained quiet, mentally kicking himself for getting plastered and shooting off his mouth. He wondered who in hell Allison had told about the MiG, and how it had reached Hollis Spencer so quickly.

"I want to explain something," Spencer declared as he reached to refill his mug. "We--the CIA--have an ongoing turf battle with the military intelligence empires. The navy, as I've previously mentioned, wants to take custody of our MiG."

"Sir," Brad interjected, "what difference does it make who controls the MiG, as long as we get the evaluation info to the pilots who are flying against it?"

Hollis Spencer stiffened as an awkward silence hung in the air. Finally, the project officer calmly folded his hands together. "Captain Austin, you do not understand the magnitude of Operation Achilles."

Everyone looked intently at Spencer, waiting to find out what the CIA agent had up his sleeve.

"I have received permission," Spencer continued patiently, "straight from Langley, to carry out the final phase of Operation Achilles."

The sounds of the hangar doors being opened momentarily interrupted him.

"Lex," Spencer said dryly, and paused. "Because of the time constraints of the mission, I'm going to keep you on the team . . . for now. - He watched the sudden relief sweep across Blackwell's face. "One little peep--one more cranial-rectal inversion, and you'll wish that you'd joined the Foreign Legion."

Spencer's single eye probed Lex for a long moment. "Any questions, Mister Blackwell?"