Mark knew Emily was only trying to distract him with the suggestion, but it was hard to complain. He hadn’t flown in a week, not since the night Emily had been blinded and he’d come running to the States. He could feel his night-flying skills slipping away, losing that biting edge honed by constant practice.
A couple of judicious phone calls and a bit begging on his part had convinced his uncle to lend SOAR two Black Hawks, and a pair of copilots and crew chiefs. His uncle had bought the line about Mark having leave, and being in DC to check on his temporarily reassigned Captain Beale. At least he hoped his uncle had. Either way, he’d released the birds.
Mark had left the Secret Service HQ as Marky Herman, Mr. Useless. Three cabs and two clothing changes later, he arrived at the Anacosti
