Within five minutes, two black Chevy Suburban diplomatic vehicles parked in the street outside SkyTech Tower. The driver and his sidekick, both dressed in non-combat camouflaged fatigues with floppy caps, stepped out and opened the back doors and rear tailgate. James and Nathan carried the electronics between them, Obadiah and Emily took care of the rest. The driver rushed over to assist.
“Good morning, sirs, ma’am, my name is McBride,” the driver said, with stiff military formality. “Let me put your belongings in the back.”
McBride was surprised at how few personal effects the team had in their possession. He looked at Emily. “Ma’am, is there any additional baggage we can take care of for you?”
“No,” she said, pointing a thumb at Nathan. “Just him.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
McBride obviously didn’t have a sense of humour, she thought. Nathan clearly hadn’t lost his. She saw him chuckling quietly to himself as he turned towards the rear door of the leading Suburban. She also knew that he would get her back for that one.
They made JFK in record time. People automatically tended to give fast moving government vehicles a lot of space. Both vehicles drove directly through the runway access gate. Security had obviously been notified of their arrival. Passing a few commercial hangars, they arrived at the tail end of a Lockheed C-130 Hercules. Getting out of the vehicles, they were ushered to the open rear cargo ramp.
“We’ll take care of your luggage,” McBride informed them. He turned to Emily. “And also, that additional baggage, if you like.”
Emily laughed. “So, you do have a sense of humour after all?”
“What? Are we bringing tanks with us?” Nathan asked. “Why don’t we just use the regular passenger access?”
“C-130s don’t have them,” James said. “This is the only way in or out.”
Good thing she had a sense of adventure, Emily thought to herself. She almost expected they’d be handed parachutes with jumper helmets and strapped into hard, wooden benches on either side of the cargo area.
Her anxiety was unfounded. There was certainly a large cargo hold, but towards the front of the four-engine turbo-prop, a passenger compartment appeared to be very comfortably outfitted.
“We don’t only transport tanks,” McBride said to Nathan casually from behind, lugging most of the team’s belongings. “This particular aircraft has been outfitted to carry diplomats, and they like the comforts that match their importance.”
The only thing that was missing, Emily noted, were windows. The interior of the C-130 was much larger inside than that suggested from the outside.
McBride helped them get settled and strapped into their seats. “I won’t be coming with you,” he said. “But Major Kovak will be with you shortly. I hope you have a pleasant flight.”
They all thanked McBride for getting them here quickly and taking care of their possessions. Emily and Nathan sat facing the front of the aircraft; Obadiah and James, opposite them, faced the rear. There was a small service table between and they had ample leg room. Emily noticed a closed door just ahead and assumed that was the flight deck.
The interior lights flickered momentarily, and then dimmed as the engines started up. They felt the low rumble of the ramp closing. Emily turned around to have a look.
It didn’t take long to be airborne. Emily was surprised at how quickly it lifted off the ground and a little uneasy at how steeply the C-130 was able to climb.
“Please remain strapped in until we reach cruising altitude,” a metallic voice instructed over the speakers.
After a few minutes, the C-130 levelled off. A tall, muscular man with a Marine Corps haircut came through the door. He was wearing the same type of camouflage as McBride, but without the cap. Not the flight deck after all, Emily observed, looking past him through the door, but a very well laid out galley.
“My name is Kovak,” the soldier said, acknowledging each of them politely.
“Emily, Nate, Obadiah,” James said, gesturing with his hand. “And I’m James.”
Emily wondered if military personnel ever came with first names.
“Our flight time to Homey is approximately five hours,” Kovak informed them. “You won’t need to remain strapped in. Feel free to wander around wherever you wish, except the flight deck, of course. You will find the washroom through the galley on the right. I’ll bring refreshments and a lunch menu shortly.”
“Where do the pilots sit?” Emily asked, now curious.
“One level above the galley, ma’am,” Kovak answered. “If there’s anything at all that you need, just shout.” He walked back through the galley door, leaving it open.
“Lunch menu?” Nathan laughed. “This really is a diplomatic aircraft.”
Chapter Seventeen
The flight to Groom Lake, although a little noisier than a commercial passenger aircraft, was smooth and the SkyTech team had plenty of opportunity to chat, walk around, and generally stretch their legs. Kovak treated them with professional courtesy and attended to their every need. There was certainly no shortage of food and drink.
Emily did find it somewhat daunting not being able to see outside. She wondered how a steadfast military mind like Kovak’s managed to keep his faculties, dealing with a bunch of techies that never took anything seriously. She was sure McBride said that Kovak was a major. Strange to have such a high-ranking officer as a flight attendant, she thought, but there was no sense questioning military logic.
“Please take your seats and strap yourselves in,” the same metallic voice as before announced. “We will be arriving at Homey in exactly six minutes.”
“I didn’t know we had already started descending,” Emily said to Nathan.
Two minutes after the announcement, they were all securely seated and the C-130 dropped, but at such a rate, Emily thought she was going to leave her stomach behind.
“I guess that’s all military pilots know how to do,” Nathan commented. “Steep take-offs and landings.”
“They have to,” James said. “In a combat zone, it could mean the difference between success and failure of a mission. Get in and out as fast as possible.”
“I can just see a bunch of diplomats seated where we are, and spilling their delicately held cocktails all over the place,” Obadiah joined in. “If I were a pilot transporting politicians, I’d fly through the worst turbulence I could find.”
They all laughed.
“You know, Obadiah,” Emily said, leaning towards him. “You rarely have anything to say, but when you do, it’s either very profound or very funny.”
That brought further laughter.
Disembarking at the end of the runway, they waited in the oppressive late afternoon heat for transport to arrive. Beyond the security fences, maybe half a mile distant, Emily could just make out a cluster of people milling around on a small knoll.
“I wonder who those people are over there,” she said to no one in particular. “They don’t look like the military.”
Obadiah looked to where Emily was pointing. “Those are all the conspiracy theorists hoping to catch a glimpse of something.”
“Sven would have a field day with these guys,” Nathan said. “You know how he’s all into his conspiracy blogs.”
Carrying some equipment down the aircraft’s ramp, Kovak overheard the conversation. “You should see that place at night,” he said. “Literally hundreds of people. Some have camera lenses and telescopes that would have put the former Russian KGB to shame. Some of them will have their telescopic lenses stealing a look into the back of the C-130 right now.”