Mark had his infamous yellow pad out, taking notes and scribbling all over it. He was daydreaming and thinking, really only having one ear on the conversation. He got like this when he was focused on an idea that he wanted to develop. “OK. Go ahead with your ideas. Continue.”
Ford, Robert, and Emily all gave each other dirty looks, then laughed at Mark.
“Hello, Mark? You even here? We just got done talking.” she said.
“Oh, sorry. Just thinking. Have an idea I’ve been working on with someone here at air force. Outside our team. I know we have more data to put together, but…” Mark said.
“But, what, kid? Let it roll,” Ford said, using the nickname usually reserved for him. Ford was busting Mark’s chops right back at him.
Mark’s tone changed. “Well, if Chen knows or will know that our decoys are horse crap, he may react by protecting the jet more than normal. Wu said he was fuming, a micromanager… short tempered. So, I’m thinking that sending Ford back in… to steal her… is not an option.”
“That’s bullshit!” Ford said, standing. “I can do this, Mark. We already did it as a team once, and we can do it again. I don’t know what the plan is yet… but we just did it successfully months ago, and there are no issues doing it a second time. Don’t be an asshole, man.” Heated, he sat down.
Mark put his hands up in a gentle wave. “Wait, Ford, wait. Hear me out. I do think we should retrieve the jet, like I said earlier. I do. I really do. But what if we… do it differently.”
Just as Mark was getting ready to explain his thought, into the room came a young twentysomething tanned girl with long blond hair; she entered their cubicle area. She was definitely an intelligence community employee because she was wearing her badge around her neck on a lanyard, but she did not look like a typical government analyst.
“Hi, Mark,” said Jeanie, Mark’s girlfriend. They had last seen each other on the Royal Caribbean cruise ship off Coco Cay near Nassau.
Jeanie Heller, a native of Denver, Colorado, was part of the Cyber Security Analyst Division at the Department of the Air Force. With her work background in information technology, a University of Maryland master’s degree in cybersecurity, and a high-end security clearance, she was worth her weight in gold to the air force. What also made her special was her experience, studying under the experts who did the damage assessment for the 2003 coordinated attacks on American computer systems, known as Titan Rain. With this experience, it enabled Jeanie to be a major player in other cyber program analysis, such as Agent.btz and Operation Aurora.
“Hey, Jeanie. Thanks for coming. Please, join us. Have a seat,” Mark told her, giving her a hug and a hidden squeeze of her behind.
“Oh, brother,” Emily said sarcastically, quietly and under her breath. Only Robert could hear her.
Mark wasn’t sure with the recent outburst from Ford if the timing was right since time was not on their side. Mark previously decided that this was really the only time to bring Jeanie in, so he made it happen. “Team, this is Jeanie Heller. She’s from Cyber over at air force. Can penetrate any IT system out there, track anything, crack anything, to include smartphones. Smart as a whip, and I invited her here.” Mark did the introductions to the team. “Yes, this is the same Jeanie I was in the Caribbean with.”
“For what reason? Why is she here, Mark?” Emily asked, defensive in nature.
“I’ll explain. Ford, let’s first get back to you. Hear me out. What I am saying is that I do want to get Black Scorpion. I want that aircraft as much as you,” Mark explained. “What I am getting at is… maybe getting Black Scorpion does not require your physical presence for us to steal her.”
Emily was puzzled, thinking about what he meant. Ford looked at Robert, then back at Mark. He adjusted himself in his seat, then pulled a pen out of his green flight suit pocket.
“You are going to convince, not one, but two Chinese military pilots we don’t know, to fly it to us?” Ford said, with some dripping sarcasm, raising his eyebrows with disbelief.
“No, no, not necessarily,” Mark answered.
“What then?” asked Robert.
“Remotely,” answered Mark.
“Remotely? Christ almighty,” Ford said loudly. “How the hell are you going to do that?”
Wearing tan sandals with bright-red nail polish, toe rings, and tight shorts — shorter than most human resources departments would ever normally allow — Jeanie put her hands on her hips. “That’s where I come in.”
Ford gave a big smile as he looked at her more closely this time. Emily gave him a stern look back.
Emily and Ford sat on the couch, and she ran her hands through his hair and thought twice about bringing something up, but went ahead and did it. “Ford, another item I need to talk to you about. It’s your… your drinking. This is uncomfortable for you, I understand. But you are drinking a tad much, just too much partying. To me, you’ve been plastered a lot over the past few months. Just pissed drunk. And the drunk texting, drunk emailing. Then there is your vomiting and hung-over, knackered state. You’re in shambles. I’m… just concerned, love.”
Ford, feeling irritated at her comments, was triggered. “Emily, I don’t have a goddamn drinking problem. You have no idea how I feel. You have no idea what I had to do, what it took. I had to fucking wingsuit my ass in there after nearly being air dropped to the wrong airport. Then, I had to fight and kill someone. After escaping that nuisance, I had to land a foreign bomber that I’ve never flown before, with no tailhook and no fuel, onto a moving aircraft carrier. The only other airplane and pilot to do that in history was a Marine Corps C-130 some forty years ago… come on, Emily.”
Ford pulled away from her arm.
Emily wasn’t being brash, but caring. “Love, I’m not doubting your courage or anything. You’re just vulnerable from a high-stress mission. Please let me help you.”
“Fuck. Emily, I had to fight and kill a guy so I could takeoff in that goddamn thing. Jesus! And I don’t appreciate your lecturing…”
Emily couldn’t believe Ford was denying his drinking. This is a giant issue, she thought.
Chen was already on his fourth drink when his Aide came to his cabin in the Dassault Falcon 8X. Chen was half reading a binder that was informing him where the air inflatable decoy Black Scorpion was today, reading it was way up in Harbin, northeast China.
“General, you have a phone call from the chief of maintenance.”
“No. No. I’ll talk to him when I land,” Chen replied, his attention focused on the girl in front of him, who was hidden from the aide’s view. Chen had other things on his mind, and talking to someone on the phone wasn’t important right now.
The Dassault Falcon 8X was a large-cabin, long-range, three-engine Pratt & Whitney business jet manufactured by Dassault Aviation. It was born from the Dassault Falcon 7X, with longer range built by engine upgrades, aerodynamic improvements, and an increase of fuel in the tanks. It was a beautiful aircraft by any standards.
Chen was considering the Gulfstream G280 if he was promoted but did enjoy this jet a lot. Knowing it could get him to the South China Sea islands, or Beijing, or Europe, while traveling in complete luxury, made him feel important. The two Chinese military pilots assigned to fly Chen were type-rated, able to fly the fully loaded jet of nineteen passengers nearly anywhere as needed. The eighty-foot length was long enough for Chen to have both an office and a bedroom, in addition to meeting spaces for subordinates or superiors. The empty weight of forty-one thousand pounds was light, but heavy enough so you didn’t feel every bump in medium-chop turbulence. Her max speed of six hundred knots and distance legs of 6,450 miles was outstanding performance, too.