He had driven her over to Base Ops, where the C-20’s engines spun down and the hatch flopped down. “Well, I’ll be … that’s Colonel Stansell.” Locke shook his head. “I thought he was a firstclass ass when I first met him, comparing him to Waters. Turned out to be a decent guy.”
Locke saluted when the colonel was still several feet away. “Got your message, sir.”
Stansell waved a salute back and the three stood together for a few moments while Locke introduced Gillian. Not the type I’d have guessed Jack to marry, Stansell thought, she’s real pretty but not the flashy type our ace used to favor. I better quit trying to match up people. I’d never have put Waters with his wife Sara either …
“Gillian, you’ll have to excuse me, but I’ve got to talk to your husband and I am pressed for time.”
Gillian bestowed a dazzling smile on him. “I’ll wait, Colonel.” What else was new?
As the two officers walked along the ramp and passed the waiting C-20, Stansell was aware of the contrast between them — Locke, almost six feet tall, dark blond hair, rugged looking. His green Nomex flight suit looked like it was tailored for him, and he could model for an Air Force recruiting poster, except for the scars over his right eye and along his left jaw.
“Jack, I’m on a special project. I need your help. Can’t tell you much more except that it will mean temporary duty at Nellis for a few months and it could be … interesting …”
“Ah, damnit, Colonel. Gillian’s two months pregnant, I can’t leave her alone—”
“Thunder’s on board, he’s at Nellis right now.”
Locke froze. “He gave up his ASTRA assignment?”
Stansell nodded.
“It’s got to be the POWs,” Locke said, understanding. “Okay, okay, count me in, Colonel. I owe Waters and the 45th big time.” An emotion Locke could not identify worked through him. “I know most of them.” He didn’t trust himself to say more.
“Thanks. I need all the help I can get.”
“Then you need Chief Pullman. Best first sergeant and dog robber in the Air Force. He can cut through red tape faster than anyone. I think he holds markers on half the NCOs in the Air Force. He’s really a great first shirt.”
“I met him once,” Stansell said, “at Ras Assanya. Where is he now?” He remembered the big chief master sergeant who had helped with the evacuation of the 45th out of Ras Assanya. It had been Pullman who had shanghaied the extra C-130 that had made the difference for so many of them, except for the unlucky POWs.
“Still at RAF Stonewood in England. Why don’t you give him a call while I try to explain to Gillian what’s happening.”
They walked back into Base Ops. Locke found Gillian while Stansell used the AUTOVON line to England. Within minutes Stansell was back with them. “The retirement ceremony for Chief Master Sergeant Mortimer M. Pullman is Friday afternoon,” he said.
“He’ll cancel that if he knows. That C-20 belong to you?”
“For a while.”
“Let’s use it.” Locke turned to Gillian. “Sorry, honey. I’ve got to do this.”
“Not to worry, you go. I’ll get us moved to Las Vegas.” She touched her husband’s face. “I’m really a camp follower at heart, you know that.”
“Jack, you go home and pack,” Stansell said. “You’re going to Stonewood. I’ll have the crew refuel and file a clearance for England. I need to pick up my car, I’ll drive to Nellis.”
“You need to touch base with my boss,” Jack said.
“I’ll talk to your wing commander. He’s not going to like me stealing you so easy.”
Locke, often a joker in the past, looked at the colonel. “Sir, this mission may be impossible, but it’s my meat. Thanks.”
Barbara Lyon decided that her exercise classes were definitely worth the effort as she bicycled home. Four times a week she pedaled to the gym three miles from her condominium in Phoenix, went through the routine, studied herself in one of the wall mirrors, then went through the process of comparing herself to the young instructors.
I’ve still got a few good years left, she calculated. Not bad for a thirty-seven-year-old ex— She cut the thought off and pushed her bike through the condo gate, almost running into Colonel Stansell. “Well, Rupe”—she smiled warmly—“you’re back.” She leaned forward over the handlebars, looking at the suitcases he was carrying. “Trying to sneak out?”
“Caught.” Stansell laughed, dropping the bags. Barbara was hard to ignore, wearing tight shorts and a cut-off top. A scarf held her hair back in a loose ponytail. “I left a note under your door. Been reassigned to Nellis at Vegas.” He wanted to say more of what he felt but the words weren’t easy.
“Then we might see each other again. I go to Vegas quite a bit to take care of an apartment building I own there.” She sat back on the bicycle seat and stretched her legs out. “I just finished a major remodeling and most of the apartments are vacant. Why don’t you stay there?” She waited, hoping he would take her offer. He nodded. “Super,” she said. “Can I catch a ride with you? I need to see how things are going …”
And to herself: You’re not going to be the one that got away, Colonel Stansell.
CHAPTER 8
As the C-20 Gulfstream taxied into the blocks at RAF Stonewood the pilot turned around and frowned at Locke. “We’ve got to go into crew rest,” he announced, wondering why the captain was getting such VIP treatment. “Where to next?”
“Be back here in twelve hours,” Locke told him, “we’re going to Nellis.”
“Captain,” the pilot muttered at Locke’s back, “there’s a shorter way to Nellis from Luke.”
Locke commandeered the Follow Me truck and headed for Chief Pullman’s office, passing a parade practice being held in front of the Base Operations building. “For Chief Pullman’s retirement ceremony Friday morning,” the driver told him.
Locke found the chief in his office in wing headquarters. Pullman didn’t look surprised to see him. “Don’t tell me you came over here to wish me bon voyage and good luck in my future life.”
Locke shook his head. “Chief, this is important. I need your help for a few months. Will you postpone your retirement until then?”
The chief stared down his big nose at the captain. “I got me one great retirement ceremony going, complete with band and general. Now, you think I’m gonna shitcan that because you need my help?”
Locke tried to think of a way to convince Pullman without telling him about the rescue mission. “Chief, I’ve seen you kick the Air Force into action. I’m working on a special mission that’s going to take a lot of ass-kicking to make it work and you’ve got the best boot around.” Locke could tell the chief was not moved. “It’s for Waters,” he said, not wanting to say more.
“Waters is dead.” But there was some pain in the chiefs voice. Jack Locke knew what it would take to convince Pullman. “Chief, I’m calling in a marker on this one. You know about markers.”
“I don’t owe you, Captain.”
Nothing left but to tell him … “Colonel Stansell is putting together a rescue mission to get the POWs out of Iran. That’s close-hold information. You know a leak means it won’t go. We haven’t got much time. We need you.”
Pullman sat down, a pain shooting through his stomach. “Dammit. My stomach hasn’t squeaked since I decided to hang it up and retire. Now it’s squeaking like hell. Captain, my markers don’t go that high. Besides, you need the heavies backing you up, not me.”