The man shook Peter’s hand with gusto. “My name is Lon.” He pointed to the oxygen unit and backpack. “Can I take those for you?”
Peter handed over only the oxygen unit. “Thanks, but I’d like to hold onto the backpack.”
“Do you have any other luggage?”
Peter grinned; all he had was the backpack he took to Nevada. Only difference was all the clothes in it were dirty. “Nope, that’s it.”
Lon gestured toward the cabin. “Please make yourself comfortable.”
Peter wiped the perspiration off his forehead. “Thanks, Lon.” Before taking his seat, he had to take in the plane’s plush interior. He scanned the elegant, narrow cabin that had seating for six. Three pairs of luxury lounge chairs were positioned in rows with the aisle splitting them, the first two turned backward. Since he was going to be the lone passenger, he had his choice of seat. Other than the black carpet and small, black, glossy tables, the rest of the well-lit interior was in a crisp cool white, like a suave nightclub. The smell of genuine leather filled his senses. He turned to Lon. “This is very nice.”
“I am glad you approve. Can I get you a cocktail before taking off?”
Peter figured what the hell, his throat was parched anyway. “Sure, a beer would be great.” He assumed the second man in the cockpit was the commander. He boldly stuck his head in. “Hello.”
The man turned and extended his hand. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Novak.”
Peter shook the man’s hand as he examined the impressive control panel. “Any chance I’ll get to fly this baby?”
The pilot spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “How about you just sit back and enjoy the luxuries this plane has to offer?”
Peter took that as a nice way of saying, no. “Got it, will do.” He started working his way down the slim aisle in a slightly crouched position. The plane was designed for speed, not roominess. He selected one of the seats aimed forward. Soon Lon was walking up with a beer in hand, a white cocktail napkin underneath. He had an odd look as he stared at Peter’s shirt. “Do you need a wash cloth or anything?”
Peter grabbed the beer before looking down at the big, blue stain splattered all over his white polo shirt. He had forgotten about the mess. “Oh, don’t worry, it’s dry. I had a little accident.”
“Got it. Well, Mr. Harmon wants you to enjoy yourself. Whatever you need, just let me know.”
Peter assumed that was the plane’s owner. “Will do.”
As Lon went about storing the oxygen unit, Peter settled in and enjoyed the ice-cold beer. A sly smirk crossed his face as he looked back down at the ridiculous stain, knowing he was lucky to be onboard the jet after escaping EarthOrbit with the oxygen pack. He was pleased he didn’t damage it, confirming it was operable before boarding the jet. If only the guards knew he was stealing the unit to save one of their own.
Soon Peter was pushed back in his seat by the plane’s muscle as it smoothly cut through the thick Texas air at an aggressive rate of climb, its powerful engines humming in the background. As the pilot put the plane in a sharp bank, Peter looked out over southern Houston in the direction of his home. Guilt washed over him as he thought of Anya. He wished he could have stopped by before taking off, if even for just a quick hug. But there wasn’t time. Damn, she didn’t even know I was in town. He needed to give her a call.
He pulled out his phone and dialed up Anya.
“Hello,” she answered in a soothing voice, putting him at ease.
“Hey beautiful.”
Her tone became lively as her voice vibrated out of the receiver. “I sure hope you’re on your way home. Guess what I’m wearing?”
Peter let himself get a little excited with that question as he allowed his mind to go wild. “My favorite high heeled boots with fishnet stockings?”
Anya giggled. “Well I know where your head’s at, which isn’t such a bad thing. Sorry, but no. I got off work early today to buy a dress for the White House. I’m trying it on now.”
Peter felt bad the visit wasn’t going to happen as planned. He didn’t feel right blurting it out right away. Instead, he imagined her checking herself out in the new dress in front of their full-length mirror.
She broke the silence. “Though I went for elegant, I kept it on the sexy side just for you.”
“I bet it’s beautiful.” Peter got an idea. He had a photo of Anya on his last two missions. Why break the tradition now? “Do me a favor—take a picture and send it to my phone. I want to see it.”
“Okay, hold on.”
Peter looked out the window as he visualized her taking the picture. He thought of jokingly asking her to go put on the boots and stockings instead, but any X-rated picture would only distract him in space.
“Okay, sent.”
“Just a sec.” Peter brought up the snapshot. A broad smile instantly emerged. As expected, she looked stunning. The stylish dress was red and form fitting. “I love it. You look gorgeous.”
“You’re sweet, thanks. So it sounds like you’re on a plane. Are you on your way home?”
Peter rubbed his hand up and down his leg. He felt it best to be vague. “I am on a plane, but unfortunately it’s not taking me home.”
Her tone lowered with disappointment. “How come?”
“I was put on a new assignment, and as you know, I can’t elaborate. Sadly, we’ll have to postpone the White House visit, but I promise that dress won’t go to waste. I should be home next week.”
Frustration resonated from her voice. “I guess this is what I should expect if I’m going to be married to Mr. James Bond.”
“Remember, Double-O 14.”
“I remember. I just hope that doesn’t mean double the missions.”
“Nope, just double the man.”
“THAT DAMN AMERICAN keeps slipping through our fingers,” Kuang barked. Ming had just informed him that Peter Novak had escaped certain capture at the headquarters of the American space company. Kuang pounded his fist hard on his desk. This man had become a pest he wanted to crush. “I want that man killed!”
Ming bowed his head. “Yes, sir.” He slowly lifted. “Sir, you should also be aware of something else.”
Kuang’s face tightened as he shot the small man an intense stare. “What?”
The assistant director spoke in a timid voice. “Novak stole a portable oxygen unit.”
Kuang launched to his feet, causing his chair with its small wheels to slam hard against the wall behind him. “He’s going to try to save those men. I know it.”
Ming gave an affirmative nod. “MSS concurs with your assessment, though they doubt he will be able to launch into space.”
“Don’t underestimate that man. He almost singlehandedly exposed our moon operation to the world.” Kuang pointed to his assistant. “I want you to inform me of any rocket launched out of the United States. I’m sure he has some plan on how to foil Tianlong. He must not succeed. Our careers depend on it!”
PETER FELT THE pressure as he ended the call with Gavin. His boss gave him an ultimatum, save the astronauts within thirty-six hours or the CIA would storm EarthOrbit’s facility. Such action would certainly be a death sentence for his friends on the Iris. After updating Gavin on his idea of flying the Newton rocket, it was obvious the SID director was uncomfortable trying a rescue while a bomb was floating around in orbit. After Peter assured Gavin that the men were not scheduled to rendezvous with the ISS for two and a half days, his boss relented and gave him the firm deadline. Gavin stressed that America had too much to lose to risk the station being destroyed. Peter understood.