Test Pilot's Daughter II: Dead Reckoning (11 page)

“Well, you have to give him that Christina; they don’t have a very good track record. Remember those weapons of mass destruction?”

Christina scanned the bar again and seemed to recognize someone across the room; the girl coming out of the bathroom. Michael was baffled when she got up and walked over to the hooker. The blonde smiled and gave her the hug of a long lost friend. Christina grabbed her hand and dragged her his way.

What in the hell?

“Michael hon, this is my very best friend in the whole world, Heather Daniels.” She turned to her friend and said, “Heather. . .Michael Jacobs.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Heather. Let’s see.” He turned to Christina. “Your very best friend just happened to be in this no name, piece of shit bar on a Tuesday night?” He looked at the girl again. She was decked out in a halter top and a micro-mini.
Wow, what a babe!

“No silly, I asked her to meet us here. She knows all about what we’re doing, and she’s gonna help.”

Holy shit! This whole nightmare is out of control
. Michael wondered why Christina would make such a decision without talking to him first. Alarms went off all over his brain. With her nothing was ever simple or predictable. He just hoped he could make it through without landing in jail, or dead. “Heather are you sure you want to get involved? This could be dangerous.”

“Listen honey, for God’s sake, don’t look so worried. I know all about dangerous. You can count on me, sweetie. Christina and I are like blood-sisters. We’ve been to hell and back together; she saved my life more than once. If she needs me, I’m in, don’t care what it is. Sounds like somebody’s got to save the planet. May as well be little ole me.”

Save it from what?
he thought as he tried not to stare at her heaving breasts. He wasn’t feeling much better when he turned to Christina. “So Nancy Drew, what do you have planned for Miss Heather, and why didn’t you tell
me
about this?”

“Easy Michael. Because of my security restrictions, I needed someone to get to Director Scott. I understand he has a soft spot, or maybe I should say a hard spot for young ladies. I do think Heather has all the necessary credentials to get in his knickers. Billy Rogers, another best friend, will be her backup. We need some evidence he’s involved in this conspiracy with Rhani. As long as he keeps rearranging shuttle missions, our country is at serious risk. Most everyone knows Scott goes trolling every Friday night at that big C&W place in Houston. What’s it called, the
Triple-R-Bar?
You know, it’s one of those huge dance bars with a mechanical bull.”

Heather squealed like a little girl, “I’ve always wanted to go to that place. This Friday night I’ll be there looking for my sugar-daddy. With a little luck, I might even end up in his mansion. Can’t wait to meet his wife,” she chuckled.

“From what I hear, she’s never there,” said Christina. She turned toward Michael. “If she can get access and slip him a mickie, we can get in there and look around, undetected.”

“Uhh, Friday night you say? Hummm, that’s right, errrr, oh yeah, got to do my laundry that night,” Michael tried not to sound the coward by joking around. “You’re serious? We’re going to break into Director Scott’s mansion? Holy smokes!”

Christina looked all around the bar and gave him a stern look. “Hold it down, loudmouth. Look Michael, we’ll get in and get out. He won’t know what hit him.”

“And I thought being an astronaut would be exciting,” he said staring into her eyes.

She batted her big eyelids as she reached up and brushed his hair to one side. Turning to Heather she said, “Isn’t he cute?”

“Sure is honey. Nice butt too. So how long has
this
been going on?” Heather probed.

The wind dumped out of Michael’s sail. He hated that feeling of rejection. “We’re more than good friends, dammit. It’s just that Nancy Drew here wants to move slowly. So far my feelings for her remain unrequited. If we survive all this bullshit, I’d like to marry her.”

Heather looked shocked. “Did you say
marry?
” She turned to Christina. “So what the hell are you waiting for, girl?” Heather rolled her eyes. She looked him up and down and said, “Besides, he looks good enough to eat.”

Christina jumped in to change the subject. “Okay, Heather, here’s the deal. You’re going to be wearing a panic button in case you run into trouble. If you can get him home and put to sleep, we’ll be just outside the property. After you call and say, ‘Geronimo,’ give us three minutes and we’ll be at the front door. Billy’s going to be nearby the whole time, so if you need him, just scream and do what you can to get away. No telling what Scott might do if he gets suspicious.”

“I do think I know how to handle a man, bi-atch,” Heather said in her sexy southern drawl. “As long as he’s straight, he doesn’t stand a chance. Just leave it to little ole me.”

Chapter Eight

Heather could feel the beat. It was Friday night and the
Triple R Bar
was rockin’. The
Kilgore Cowgirls
, one of the hottest CW bands around, had hundreds on the dance floor doing the Cotton Eyed Joe. Heather wasn’t much of a country music fan, but she took a small table near the front where she could see people paying the cover and ordered the house white. She tried not to draw attention, but hiding her in a room full of men was like trying to hide an elephant in a Volkswagen. She wore high-heeled boots, skintight denims and a low-cut blouse that left little to the imagination. Her blonde hair was done up western style in big cowgirl curls.

The waitress came back with her wine and said, “The gentleman at the bar, the one in the black hat, would like to buy you a drink.”

She hated drugstore cowboys, and from a distance the guy looked like he had just gotten off the plane from New York and went straight to Tony Lamas.
What a fake,
she thought. “Please tell the gentleman that I’m waiting for my husband. . .that’s my husband, Killer? He’s one of those cage-fighters.”

“Gotcha.” The waitress wandered off to report the bad news.

Heather hardly got a sip of her wine when another cowboy--this one looked real--came over and asked her to dance. He was real all right; he had cow dung on his boots. The boy looked like he needed a new pair of Levis. She told him the same story, but he was persistent.

“But maaa’am, I surely wud like ta daince if yud do me tha honor.”

“What do I have to do?” she shouted over the music. “Put up a sign? NOT AVAILABLE!”

The bowlegged fellow looked dejected and sauntered away.
Her cell phone went off, and it was Christina letting her know her mark was in the parking lot approaching the establishment. Scott came in, paid his cover and walked right toward her. She decided not to waste any time.

“Hey big guy, don’t I know you?”

He stopped in his tracks, eyes lit up like a jack-o-lantern. “I certainly hope so. Mind if I join you?”

“Well, I was waiting for my girlfriend, but she just called and said she isn’t coming. So I guess I could use some company. I swear I’ve met you before; your face is so familiar.”

“Probably saw me on TV,” he said sitting up straight.

“That’s it! You’re that weatherman aren’t you?” She made it up. “Knew I’d seen you.”

“You’re pretty sharp,” he lied. “Yeah, I do the local weather on Channel 47. My name is. . .” he frowned as though he was a bit confused, “my name is Tom Foley.”

“Do you always have trouble remembering your name?” she teased.

The waitress returned, and he ordered a Maker’s Mark double.

A couple of those and this guy will put himself to sleep,
she thought. “I’ll take another white wine, only give me the good stuff this time won’t you? He’s buying.” She turned back to Scott and reached out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Tom Foley. My name is Shirley Wingo. I just love the way you explain all those complicated fronts and high pressure thingies. For God’s sake, how do you do it?” she drawled as she bent in his direction. His eyes bulged as she almost fell out of her blouse. She reached out and put her hand on his leg.

After two drinks and the most boring small talk she had ever heard, he was practically drooling. “Why don’t we get out of this smoky place?” she suggested.

“Let’s. Would that be your place or mine?”

“Depends,” she said shyly. “I hardly know you, and I’m not that kind of a girl.” She raised her hand and stared at her nails. “I don’t go out with perfect strangers.”

“But you already said you know me.”

“Yeah, I guess I did. Well, since you’re a TV person and all, that should rule out axe murderer. So what’s your place like?” She batted her eyes trying to fake innocence.

“I have a huge house overlooking Moonlight Bay near Clearwater. The hot tub has an amazing view. I think you’ll find it very appealing. I have a large screen theater in the basement. Do you like old movies?”

“Love ‘em,” she said in her sexy voice. She sat up, took a deep breath and her wonder-bra almost exploded. “Do you have
An Affair to Remember?
”

“Yep. Got it. That’s a classic.”

“First, let me call my mom.” Heather thought it would be a nice touch. She dialed Christina and said, “Hi mom, guess who I just met? No, not some
loser
. . . It’s the weather man, that guy on channel 47. Just wanted to let you know I’m going out with him. . . No, no, I’ll be fine. Don’t wait up.”

Heather got in her rental and followed him for the thirty minute trek to his house. He was driving a 2009 Mercedes SLK-Class sports car.
Not bad,
she thought. He was visibly weaving.
I hope he’s sober enough to make it home.
The house was in a secluded area with a long paved entrance, and it sat right on the bay.
What a beautiful evening,
she thought,
and a gorgeous property. Too bad I won’t get to enjoy it for long.
She was amazed when she walked inside through huge stained-glass doors.
Holy bejesus, this place is worth millions!

“She’s in Boston. We have another house there. Now let’s change the subject. How about a dip in the hot tub? It hangs right over the bay, and the Moon is full. You’ve got to see it.”

“But I didn’t bring my swimsuit,” she giggled shyly.

“It’s an adult hot tub, doll. You don’t need one.”

“Oh, I guess so, but how about a drink first?” She walked over to the bar. “Why don’t you go get a couple of bath robes, and I’ll fix us a Maker’s Mark neat?”

He almost ran for the bedroom. “Great idea,” he said over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hall.

She took the Rohypnol pill out of her pocket and dropped it in a short glass. She poured him a double and a tiny bit of Maker’s Mark for herself. Before he could return, the Ruffy had already dissolved.

“Can I see the master bedroom?” she asked as she walked in his direction, a drink in each hand.

“Sure, follow me,” he said, grabbing his drink and leading the way.

“
Wow!”
she exclaimed. “This thing’s bigger than my mother’s house.” The bedroom was huge, with another large room attached as a sitting area. There were two fireplaces and a large flat screen TV built in. The walls were adorned with thick layers of crown molding and very expensive looking art. It smelled like money. The master bath was massive, gold plated, and it connected to a monstrous walk-in closet. All the clothes were in neat rows and everything aligned and pressed to perfection.
Wonder where he throws his dirty underwear?
she giggled
.
She took a sip of her drink and tried not to gasp. The bourbon was good, good and strong.

“Do you like it?” He sat on the bigger-than-king-size bed as she explored.

“Cheers,” she said as she clinked his glass. “Well, I have to say, I’ve seen some pretty nice bedrooms, but this takes the cake. I can’t imagine living in such grandeur. I’d be afraid to touch anything.” She walked over and sat beside him.