McCoy walked directly to the F-lll, a shining silver, twin-engine aircraft with American Air Force insignia. The F-lll's variable wings were in a swept-back position, and on the fuselage, under the pilot's side, was the name of the aircraft-The Bouncing Betty.
Jim McCoy said to Bill Satherwaite, "Well, here it is, buddy. Bring back any memories?"
Satherwaite stared at the sleek jet fighter, as if it were an angel, beckoning him to take her hand and fly.
No one spoke as Bill Satherwaite continued to stare, mesmerized by the vision of his past. Bill Satherwaite's eyes misted.
Jim McCoy was smiling. He said softly, "I named it after my wife."
Asad Khalil stared, recalling memories of his own.
Finally, Satherwaite approached the aircraft and touched its fuselage. He walked around the fighter, his fingers caressing the aluminum skin, his eyes taking in every detail of its perfect, sleek body.
He completed his walk-around, looked at McCoy and said, "We flew these, Jim. We actually flew these."
"Indeed, we did. A million years ago."
Asad Khalil turned away, giving the impression he was sensitive to this moment between old warriors, but in fact, he was sensitive only to his own moment, as their victim.
He heard the two men talking behind him, heard them laughing, heard words that brought joy to them. He closed his eyes and a memory of the blur coming toward him now took shape in his mind, and he could see this terrible war machine clearly, belching red fire from its tail like a demon from hell. He tried to block the memory of himself urinating in his trousers, but the memory was too strong, and he let it overtake him, knowing that this humiliation was about to be avenged.
He heard Satherwaite calling to him, and he turned around.
There was a rolling aluminum platform with a staircase beside the pilot's side of the fuselage now, and Satherwaite said to Asad Khalil, "Hey, can you shoot us in the cockpit?"
This was exactly what Khalil had in mind. Khalil said, "My pleasure."
Jim McCoy went first and climbed the staircase. The cockpit canopy was lifted, and McCoy lowered himself into the weapons officer's seat on the right. Satherwaite scrambled up the staircase, jumped into the pilot's seat, and let out a loud whooping sound. "Yoooweeey! Back in the saddle again. Let's kill some ragheads! Yeah!"
McCoy glanced at him disapprovingly, but said nothing to spoil his friend's moment.
Asad Khalil climbed the staircase.
Satherwaite said to McCoy, "Okay, wizo, we're off to Sandland. Hey, I wish you were with me that day instead of Chip. Fucking Chip can talk the balls off a brass bull." Satherwaite played with the controls, making mock engine noises. "Fire one, fire two." He smiled broadly. "Hell, I can remember the start-up drills as if we did them yesterday." He ran his hands across the cockpit controls, nodding in recognition. "I bet I could do the whole pre-take-off checklist from memory."
"I'll bet you could," McCoy said, indulging his friend.
Satherwaite said, "Okay, wizo, I want you to put one in that tent where Moammar is inside fucking a camel." He let out a loud laugh and made more engine noises.
Jim McCoy looked at Mr. Fanini, who stood on the platform at the top of the stairs. He forced a weak smile at his guest, wishing again that Satherwaite had come alone.
Asad Khalil raised his camera. He aimed it at the two men in the cockpit, and he said, "Are you ready?"
Satherwaite grinned into the camera. The flash went off. McCoy tried to keep a neutral expression as the flash went off again. Satherwaite raised his left hand and extended his middle finger as the flash went off yet again. McCoy said, "Okay-" The flash went off again. Satherwaite gripped McCoy's head playfully in an armlock and the flash went off once more. McCoy said, "Okay-" The flash went off again, then again. McCoy said, "Hey, that's enough-"
Asad Khalil dropped the camera into his black bag, and extracted the plastic bottle that he'd taken from the Sheraton. He said, "Just two more shots, gentlemen."
McCoy blinked to clear the flash from his eyes and looked at his guest. He blinked again and noticed the water bottle, which did not alarm him, but he also noticed a strange expression on Mr. Fanini's face. In an instant, he realized that something was terribly wrong.
Asad Khalil said, "So, gentlemen, you are having happy memories of your bombing mission?"
McCoy did not reply.
Satherwaite said, "This is a fucking gas. Hey, Mr. Fanini, crawl onto the nose and get a shot of us from the front."
Khalil did not move.
Jim McCoy said, "Okay, let's get out of here. Come on, Bill."
Khalil said, "Stay where you are."
McCoy stared at Asad Khalil, and his mouth suddenly went dry. Somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind, he knew this day would come. Now, it was here.
Satherwaite said to Khalil, "Roll the stairs around and take some shots from the other side. Get a few standing on the ground, too, then-"
"Shut up."
"Huh?"
"Shut your mouth."
"Hey, who the fuck-" Satherwaite found himself staring into the muzzle of a pistol, held close to his customer's body.
McCoy said softly, "Oh, God… oh, no-"
Khalil smiled and said, "So, Mr. McCoy, you have already guessed that I am not a maker of canvas. Perhaps I am a maker of shrouds."
"Oh, mother of God…"
Bill Satherwaite seemed confused. He looked at McCoy, then at Khalil, trying to figure out what they knew that he didn't know. "What's going on?"
"Bill, shut up." McCoy said to Khalil, "This place is full of armed guards and security cameras. I suggest you leave now, and I won't-"
"Quiet! I will do the talking, and I promise I will be brief. I have another appointment, and this will not take long."
McCoy did not reply.
For once, Bill Satherwaite did not say anything, but a glimmer of understanding began to penetrate his mind.
Asad Khalil said, "On April fifteen, nineteen eighty-six, I was a young boy living with my family in the place called Al Azziziyah, a place that both of you know."
Satherwaite said, "You lived there? In Libya?"
"Silence!" Khalil continued, "Both of you flew into my country, dropped bombs on my people, killed my family-my two brothers and two sisters and my mother-then went back to England, where I presume you celebrated your murders. Now, you are both going to pay for your crimes."
Satherwaite finally realized that he was going to die. He looked at Jim McCoy sitting beside him and said, "Sorry, buddy-"
"Shut up." Khalil continued, "First of all, thank you for inviting me to this little reunion. Also, I want you to know that I have already killed Colonel Hambrecht, General Waycliff and his wife-"
McCoy said softly, "You bastard."
"-Paul Grey, and now both of you. Next… well, I must decide if I should waste a bullet on Colonel Callum and end his suffering. Next is Mr. Wiggins and then-"
Bill Satherwaite extended his middle finger toward Khalil and shouted, "Fuck you, raghead! Fuck you, fuck that camel-fucking boss of yours, fuck-"
Khalil put the neck of the plastic bottle over the muzzle of the Glock and fired a single shot at close range into Bill Satherwaite's forehead. The muffled shot echoed in the cavernous hangar as Satherwaite's head snapped back in a splash of blood and bone, then fell forward on his chest.
Jim McCoy sat frozen in his seat, then his lips started to move in prayer. He bowed his head, praying, then made the sign of the cross, and continued to pray through trembling lips.
"Look at me."
McCoy continued to pray, and Khalil heard the words, "… the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil-"
"My favorite Hebrew psalm. For thou art with me-"
They finished the psalm together, "Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."