The Night Is Mine

Chapter 11

11

Mark had started with the carrier’s communications shack. No joy. They wouldn’t let him near the door without the day’s password.

His next stop, after he’d washed off the worst of the soda, was Pri-Fly, perched high above the flight deck. He managed to sweet talk his way into the tower, since the Mini Boss on duty owed him. Jim wore a bright blue turtleneck with “Mini Boss” in six-inch letters across his back, and his attention was focused on the aircraft landing over the stern.

The Air Boss, in bright yellow with his own title stamped large, offered Mark only the briefest nod and then turned back to watch the deck. Between them they juggled the flight operations from Primary Flight. When they dropped from launching off two catapults to one, everybody eased down and Mark judged that was his moment.

“Hey, Jim.” He’d managed to find a spot to lean against the rail not far from the Mini Boss. “How’s the wife?”

Jim glanced over and swore, but softened it with a good smile and a punch on the arm. “What the hell happened to you? Go swimming?” He rubbed his hand against his pants. “Why are you sticky?”

Mark raised his mostly empty Coke can and wiggled it. “Someone shook it.”

“And you fell for it? Typical Army. You aboard tonight? Let the Navy teach you how to drink.”

No alcohol aboard, but that didn’t spare him the flak. Mark couldn’t think of what to say. He had to get back to base so that his crew could sleep through what was left of the day in case there was another mission tonight. A mission that would be flown without Captain Emily Beale.

“What do you need?”

“Can’t I come by and ask about my cousin? Old pals, cousin-in-law, and all that?” Mark did his best to sound innocent, but could tell Jim wasn’t buying in.

“Your cousin’s fine. More than.” He offered a wolfish grin, the kind that Christy had always elicited from men, especially her husband. “Even if you did introduce us, that’s not why you’re bothering me during active operations. So give. What do you need?”

Jim turned to scan the skies with his binoculars. For the moment the sky was as clear as the radar, but once a Mini Boss, always a Mini Boss.

“You shipped out one of mine about half an hour back. Can you tell me where and why?”

Jim glanced at him, then over at the Air Boss.

Commander Richards shrugged. “We should be clear for five. Be back in six.”

Jim nodded toward the glass door and led them out onto the narrow walkway that wrapped around the tower. It was mainly used for washing Pri-Fly’s windows.

As soon as the door was shut, Jim turned to face him. “You don’t know?”

Mark could only shake his head. He didn’t like it. On a couple levels. One, that his best pilot had been pulled and he didn’t have a clue why. Two, that he cared so much about the fact that it was Emily Beale.

“Ramstein is all I know.” Jim looked down as a lowly C-2 cargo plane fired off the catapult.

“s**t, Jim. I saw the orders. I already know that. What about past that point? The orders said stateside, but where?”

Jim shook his head and leaned on the steel rail facing out toward the stern of the ship. His eyes automatically scanning the sky for incoming.

“Well, thanks for nothing, pal.” Mark regretted it as soon as the words were out.

They earned him a sidelong look from Jim.

He shouldn’t have been allowed into Pri-Fly, and now he was heaping his own frustration on his friend.

Mark leaned his forearms on the rail so that they both stared aft at the glittering sea.

“Something’s got you on this one.”

“I’m worried because she’s my best pilot.” Sounded plausible enough.

“She?” Jim shot an elbow at his ribs and Mark barely blocked it.

“Eat hot lead!”

“Ooo! Touchy, touchy!” Jim started laughing, then chopped it off. “One of yours? She? Tell me you’re not going there, Mark.”

“I’m not going there.” Only one kiss worth, and all that had earned him was a wrenched arm and a Coke shower.

“Don’t go there. You know that.” Jim looked around and then leaned in close. “And don’t be telling me this. I can’t know this. Stick around. I’ll hook you up with a cute midshipman. At least she’ll be in another service. Please tell me she’s not part of your squad.”

Mark did his best to look bland, but knew it didn’t work.

Jim let out a low whistle.

“You got it bad?”

Mark shrugged.

“Aw, s**t!” Jim hung his head, staring down toward the deck.

They went back to summer camp, cabinmates for crying out loud. How was Mark supposed to hide anything from him?

“I got it bad the first damn time I saw her. Not that she knows that. I stayed clear.” Until he’d blown it all thirty-six minutes ago.

“Shit.” Jim cursed much more quietly before looking up at Mark. “Okay, here’s what I know. Rear Admiral James Parker comes winging in here c***k of dawn this morning. He was supposed to be rotated stateside for a couple weeks, then he’s back three days later. Goes straight to the Captain’s office. No one’s seen him since. You and your girl hit the deck about two hours later. I know where you’re stationed, so the call to you had to be within five minutes of his arrival. Forty-five minutes after you smacked that puppy down,” he nodded toward Mark’s helicopter below, “trying to put a hole in our pretty deck, we get a call to scramble a Super Hornet two-seater for Ramstein to the head of the queue for passenger unspecified. Someone climbed aboard, I spotted a purple helmet, and we kicked them into the sky. That’s it. It’s all I got for you.”

Mark nodded and mumbled out, “Thanks.” He must look beyond miserable if Jim wasn’t teasing him more about that landing. He’d never bounced a Black Hawk before outside of training and emergencies. Only dumb luck and the angle of arrival had kept him from bouncing them right off the side and into the ocean. He kept his attention north by west, the heading for Germany.

“Are you sure about this?” Jim broke the silence.

Mark could only shrug. Suddenly he wasn’t sure about anything. Except one thing, he never should have kissed her. At least then it would have remained his problem alone.

Jim stood up straight. Instead of the standard punch, he rested his hand on Mark’s shoulder for a long moment.

“Fly low, buddy mine. Way below the radar.”

Jim headed back inside, but Mark stayed watching the water and the sky.

Fly low? Didn’t have a lot of choice, did he? Emily Beale had flown right off the edge of the map.