"That might be a good idea, sir," Scott said.
The general mulled over the advice. "Captain Dalton, you know the threat facing you better than I. What do you suggest?"
"Increased gate security, including checking all vehicles for stowaways and bombs. Also, the entire perimeter of the base should be patrolled around the clock."
"Anything else?"
"Your Marines should be heavily armed. The people who put the bomb on my airplane are well equipped and ruthless."
"Terrorists?"
"We aren't sure yet. I'd say they're more like hired killers."
Grunewald's expression remained unchanged. "As I understand this, after you requalify in the Harrier, we need to send two of our trainers, along with a support team, to Miramar. Is that your understanding?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you have any idea how long my jets will be there?"
"No, sir."
"How about a guesstimate?"
"I'd say fifteen days, maybe less."
"Well, good luck to you," Grunewald said, rising from his chair to hand Scott a set of car keys. "We have transportation for you. It's the white four-door Chrysler directly in front of the building."
"Thank you, sir."
"Our pleasure. If you want to check into the BOQ, and then go over to 203, I'll call the CO and let him know you'll be there in about what — thirty to forty minutes?"
"That sounds great, sir. Who's the CO?"
"Lieutenant Colonel Reggie Warrington."
"Reggae Reggie?" Scott asked, and then stopped himself. "I apologize, sir, but he was one of my flight instructors when I transitioned into the Harrier."
"No apology needed. Everyone calls him Reggae — one of our best."
Grunewald shook hands with both of them. "Be careful."
"Thank you, sir," Scott said. "I'll try to take better care of your planes than I did of mine."
A slow smile crossed the general's weathered face. "Make damn sure you do, captain."
"Yes, sir."
Grunewald pointed at the table. "And take that wreckage with you."
Scott grabbed the twisted nosewheel and strut while Jackie picked up their singed, foam-stained luggage. Once they were outside, Scott loaded the nose gear in the trunk of the Chrysler and turned to Jackie. "Since you flew us here, I'll see if I can get us safely to our quarters."
"Is that a slam?"
"No. Besides, Hartwell gave me quite a bit of information, and I need your undivided attention."
"There you go again."
"What?"
"I can drive and listen at the same time."
Scott tossed her the keys.
When they drove away from the general's headquarters, Scott gave Jackie directions to the BOQ.
"First off, you were right," he began.
"About what?"
"There weren't any fingerprints on the note card from Z Y."
"Did you really think there would be?"
"No, but you always have to check. New subject?"
"Go."
"Our friend Merrick Hamilton was kidnapped by two guys masquerading as FBI agents."
"Kidnapped?"
"Yes, and one of them was Oriental."
"Do they still have her? Is she okay?"
"No, they don't have her, and, yes, she's fine. The real agents arrived at the hotel about thirty minutes after Merrick walked out of the lobby."
"The bogus agents must have been monitoring her calls."
"That's right. The FBI found two bugs in her room, one on the phone and one in the bathroom. When she was talking to us, the bad guys were listening to every word."
"Was she injured?"
"No — in fact, she's in better shape than one of her abductors."
"What do you mean?"
"She strangled him."
"Killed him?"
"That's right — graveyard dead."
Scott filled her in on the details leading to the encounter with the California highway patrolman.
"Where's she now?"
"Under the protection of the FBI. Her parents live in Denver and the FBI has stashed her in a top-notch hotel there."
"Good," Jackie said, genuinely concerned about her fellow aviator. "She needs protection until we can figure out what's going on.
Scott nodded. "We'll stop and visit her on our way to California — get the story directly from her. Maybe she has some information or minor detail that we wouldn't get otherwise."
"What about her obligation to the navy?"
"Hartwell has made arrangements for her to be placed in a temporary reserve status for the time being."
"Does she know about Lou Emerson?"
"Yes. The whole story was revealed when the FBI interviewed her in California. She didn't take it well."
"She's had a rough time."
"Let's hope it's over," Scott said. "She's been through enough."
"Anything else?"
"Well, not surprisingly, the FBI found evidence of foul play in the death of Cliff Earlywine. According to the coroner, and the FBI investigators, Earlywine was killed by blunt trauma to the back of his head. The medical examiner believes the injury that killed him was inconsistent with the type of accident he had."
"How did he arrive at that conclusion?"
"Earlywine's car ran off the road and plowed into a ravine. It never turned over and the damage wasn't severe enough to kill anyone, plus the airbags worked as advertised."
"Scott, why do I have a feeling Hartwell Prost isn't telling us everything he knows?"
"Because he hasn't been telling us everything."
Jackie turned into the BOQ parking area and abruptly stopped. "This had better be good, especially after surviving an explosion and a crash landing. Start talking and don't leave anything out — not one little tiny item."
"Hartwell convinced the president that we needed to know everything, including the classified information."
"Well, let's have it. I've trusted you to tell me everything you know about every operation we've worked together — no secrets."
"There aren't any secrets. Hartwell told me what he could over the phone before we went into General Grunewald's office. He wants to meet us in Denver and give us an up-to-the-minute brief on the whole picture. After our chat in Denver, he's going to Seattle, then he'll join us in San Diego for the Phantom operation."
"Yeah, that'll be a circus."
Scott glanced at a small group of Marines jogging along the road. "I'll tell you exactly what Hartwell told me. The Japanese AWACS that crashed, the article in USA Today…"
"Yes."
"Besides the flight-crew report of being harassed by an unidentified object, and the eyewitnesses on the trawler, our recon spacecraft have photographic and radar images of a blacked-out, stationary ship near the crash site."
"At night?"
"Yeah, they caught the ship in the flash of the explosion."
"Very interesting."
"I thought so."
"Where's the ship now?"
"It's headed toward the Strait of Korea. It's a Chinese cargo ship named Chiang Hai-ch'eng."
"Chinese," Jackie said with a thin smile. "That is interesting."
"It sure is — after what we've experienced."
"Are the Japanese going to get involved?"
"They're going to protest, as usual, but that's about it."
"What about the response from the White House? Are we going to pressure the Chinese for an explanation?"
"Well, from what Hartwell said, one of our frigates or destroyers is going to intercept the ship and request the master stop his vessel for consensual boarding. If the captain declines, I don't know what's going to happen next, if anything."
"Maybe we've caught a break." Jackie glanced at her watch. "We'd better pick up the pace and get out to Miramar."
"One other thing. Our Learjet will be here at fifteen-thirty, and the SEALs will be here at seventeen hundred."