Lt. Col. Steve “Smitty” Montoya, B-2 Spirit pilot, read the message traffic from Washington, double checking when this Captain Ford Stevens was going to arrive at Diego Garcia. Looks like tomorrow afternoon. Right on schedule, he thought.
“Hey, Steve. Our det. intel. officer just gave me a heads-up. Seems like you and the boss have a package here from Washington,” said a fellow officer.
Steve went from his office to the outer office shared with others in the group and shook hands with someone wearing casual clothing who had the title of courier. Steve had a quick chat. “Thank you. Please wait here,” he told him, then Steve walked a few offices down to Zeke’s office.
“Sir, excuse me. This laptop arrived for you via courier from Washington’s DIA Headquarters. Was hand delivered to me out there to give to you. Courier wants to ensure you received it and needs to see your ID,” Steve told Colonel Zeke Ziehmann.
“Sure. Send ’em in,” replied Zeke.
The courier dropped off the paperwork after checking credentials.
“Dat here’s for Captain Ford Stevens, eh?” Zeke said out loud.
“Emily, all I did was go down to the casino floor and take advantage of the free drinks at the tables. Came back up here and had a few nightcaps. Before you know it, I stumbled into the bathroom and got sick. I think I was leaning on the toilet rim… and slipped, and my ear hit the toilet. My head. I don’t know. Then, I didn’t realize how liquored up I was, and I peed all over myself,” Ford answered.
She looked him in the eye. “Do you realize now how your drinking affects more than just you? It’s a family disease. What I mean is that your drinking now affects you, me, Mark Savona, Mr. Burns. Even the secretary of defense.”
Ford remained silent.
“You need help, Ford. This is rock bottom. Lying in your urine and throw-up and missing a meeting with the secretary is bottom of the barrel, chap. Seek help. You need to dry out. You need in-residence rehab help if you can’t control your drinking, Ford.”
Ford shook his head no. “Emily, I can deal with this on my own. I don’t need help. I promise I’ll cut it down. OK?”
Emily held his hand. “This cannot turn out well. When does this end?”
“Em, let me do this mission first, and I will cut back big time when I get back. Two days, home quick, then a huge reduction in my drinking.”
Emily remained silent.
“Let’s talk about something more positive, OK? I did want to discuss us, though. You and me. Long term,” Ford said quietly.
Emily lit up at those words and had a glow to her face.
“I want to get married… spend the rest of my life with you.” Oh, man. I didn’t even ask her parents yet.
Emily’s heart melted. She was so in love with him and wanted the same long-term relationship that he sought. Together, forever. “Yes, I want that, too. I am in love with you, too, Ford.”
“You know I haven’t asked your parents yet, but we both know. Why don’t we go downstairs to Le Boulevard, just to look around? Take a look at all the jewelry stores. Try on some engagement rings for size?” Ford offered.
Emily bear hugged Ford.
“Emily, Emily. I said try them on for size, not purchase one.”
“I know. I’m just so excited we’ll be engaged soon! I can’t wait to tell my family!”
They went down to the stores in the Paris village on the hotel compound, and walked around hand in hand at all the shopping options. They looked into each other’s eyes with young love, committed to the other for life.
Ford’s mind started to race with nervousness, too, thinking of the articles he previously read on choosing diamonds. Purity, clearness, and rarity were his goal, and it was important to focus on workmanship but not get absorbed with marketing. He also was attracted to the romance part of the hunt, especially since it made Emily blissful. He was definitely in unchartered waters and felt anxious.
Staring in the window, Emily had her eye on a beautiful princess-cut ring, a one-carat stone, with fourteen-karat white gold. They went inside and tried it on, and she was as happy as she had ever been.
“Hello, Ravi, my name is Mark Savona, and this is Emily, Robert, and Pinky. It is a pleasure to meet you,” Mark said, wiping the sweat from his brow.
“Namaste. So happy to meet you. We were expecting you and your team. We are ready to support you, sir!” Group Captain Ravi Rahul told them. “Please allow me to introduce my superior officer, Air Commodore Vivhan Priya, base commander of Yelahanka.”
The team exchanged greetings and sought a hangar tour of where the Black Scorpion was to be parked. The Indian accent was thick and distinguished, and the hospitality of the Indian military officers was superior to much of what they had experienced in the past with other countries. There was no place like India in the world, with such top-notch, down-to-earth friendship and respect.
Robert, a man of action and usually of few words, was always on the lookout and checking his surroundings, always trying the simplest of things, talking on a variety of topics with people just to see who was doing what and where.
“Hello, I am Robert, and thank you again, Ravi. A few questions while we walk around the hangar. You have security both inside and out?”
“Yes, Robert. My pleasure to help. We have our security forces inside the hangar and outside the hangar, in addition to our perimeter fence that keeps out the street animals and people by razor-wire fence. Not a problem, sir,” Ravi answered.
Robert was full of questions, so he continued. “Ravi, just want to make sure, but… your hangar doors work? You have power? And if not, a manual override?”
Ravi answered nonverbally, giving Robert the famous Indian head bobble. The head bobble was a moving his head from side to side, a usual custom in this area of India, a simultaneous shake and nod. It meant “sure,” “OK,” and “I hear you” all in one. In western countries, it would be a nod of acknowledgement.
“Fuel. You have working fuel trucks?” Robert asked.
“Yes, of course,” he said, answering verbally and with a bobble. “We truck it in from the fuel farm in Bangalore, and before that, it comes from the refinery,” Ravi answered.
Mark looked around, too. “Thank you, Ravi. I know we are asking a lot of questions, but do you have a cart? A… an APU to get our aircraft started for the next night?”
“Yes, sir, we have that, too, sir. Full air. Variety of amps available.”
Robert looked in his pocket-sized notebook and didn’t see anything else in his notes to check. “Ravi, we are staying over at the Ritz-Carlton Bangalore during our stay here. Here is my hotel card. Please call me if something should develop. We will all be back here to receive the jet. Thank you, and see you then,” Robert told him.
Ravi smiled at everyone. “It is my pleasure to work with the US government. Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Mark.”
Emily was as quiet as ever and only talked as they were walking away and alone from Ravi. “Robert, did you see that old ass fuel truck? Dripping fuel… muddy tires? Looks like they use the same tank to haul all sorts of liquid, for heaven’s sake.”
Robert smiled. “Did I ever. I went over and looked at it. Mud on an airfield? It was a 1946 International Harvester. Still runs. Driver admits he uses it out in town when not refueling airplanes to haul water. I’ve made specific arrangements to be sure he cleans it out first.”
“Let’s perform the cruise checklist, do some functional check flight test card items for the left wing before we go any further,” aircraft commander Captain Dai Jian told copilot Captain Chung Kang.