One of the Boys

by Merline Lovelace

  “Maura and I have met,” McAllister replied with a wry glance over his daughter’s head. “And I hate to destroy my image of all-seeing, all-knowing omnipotence, but I don’t know the rules about finds like this.”

  Momentarily deflated, the teen quickly recovered. “I know! We take the pieces down to the museum and ask the folks there. Can you come with us?” she inquired, turning to Maura. “I know the museum’s open on Sunday afternoons. We can ask them about these pieces, and you can see the exhibits that they have.”

  “No, I can’t, Lisa.”

  “Not today, honey.”

  The teen blinked at the two simultaneous responses, looking from one adult to another in confusion.

  “We can’t go downtown now, Lisa. We’re supposed to go sailing with the Camerons this afternoon. That’s why I came looking for you.”

  “I forgot.” Not quite ready to admit defeat, she tried again. “Do you think the museum is open tomorrow evening? We could go after you get home from work.”

  “Why don’t I do some research?” Maura suggested instead. “I’ll check out the rules regarding finds like this.”

  There was no way she wanted to get involved with Jake McAllister again, even for a quick trip to the local cultural center.

  “Okay,” Lisa agreed reluctantly. “I’ll meet you here tomorrow afternoon and you can tell me what you found out.”

  “I may have to work late,” Maura warned.

  “That’s okay. We live just around the bend. I’ll watch for you.”

  She hesitated, searching for another excuse. As much as she liked this engaging young girl, she’d prefer not to tangle with her father again. Before she could come up with an out, however, Lisa scampered off.

  “See you tomorrow. Come on, Dad. We’re late.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  While his daughter splashed around the bend, Jake turned back to the woman almost lost under a floppy hat half the size of Texas. Despite himself, he couldn’t help running appreciative eyes over the body displayed so enticingly by her bathing suit. The high-cut tank showed off her neat curves and trim, tight behind to perfection.

  Appreciation surged into out-and-out lust when she scooped the cat under one arm and bent to fold up the lounger. Jake’s throat went dry, but he managed to keep his expression neutral as he reached down to help her climb the bank.

  He snatched his hand back again just in time to avoid a vicious swipe from a huge orange paw. “What is it with that animal?”

  “I told you, she doesn’t like men.”

  “Is that why you keep her?”

  “Hey, McAllister, you have your friends and I have mine. Bea happens to be the best kind of pet. She loves junk food and doesn’t care whether the bed ever gets made.”

  Ignoring what was obviously intended as a jab at uptight colonels with precisely arranged bookshelves, Jake reached down again. More warily this time. Maura hesitated a moment before putting her fingers in his.

  “Speaking of friends,” he commented when he got her on dry ground, “Lisa seems to have taken a liking to you.”

  The floppy hat tipped up. Hazel eyes narrowed. “And…?”

  “And I’ve only got my daughter for a couple of months each summer. She tends to get a little lonely.”

  “I see.” A foot clad in a wet, sandy sneaker tapped the bank. “So you’re worried Lisa may get desperate and attach herself to a breathless California ditz, is that it?”

  Jake had figured that would come back to haunt him. “Actually,” he said with a rueful grin, “I just wanted to explain that Lisa doesn’t have many acquaintances here. She might try to take advantage of you and your time.”

  Some of the belligerence went out of the woman facing him, but the stiffness still colored her voice.

  “Lisa’s a nice kid. I wouldn’t mind spending some time with her. But I don’t like the idea of her hanging out at this cove alone. Please tell her I’ll call her as soon as I find something out.”

  Nodding, Jake watched her stroll away. His own reactions to the woman remained decidedly mixed, but he’d sensed the instant rapport that seemed to have sprung up between her and his daughter. Maybe a little of Maura’s outgoing ebullience was what Lisa needed.

  The divorce had left her too serious, too quiet. Although Jake tried to involve her in local activities when she came to visit, she tended to withdraw into a reserved, self-sufficient shell. Her favorite activities seemed to be reading and the interest in archaeology she’d developed after talking to Maggie Wescott.

  Jake hadn’t missed the excited sparkle in Lisa’s eyes when she ran to show him the pottery shards. He’d felt a surge of love for his child so strong it almost overwhelmed him. If digging around in the mud with Maura Phillips gave Lisa that kind of pleasure, he wasn’t about to deny it. He’d just make sure he kept out of their way.

  “What do you think?”

  Spreading the pottery shards out on her desk Monday morning, Maura summoned several of her co-workers to show them her treasures.

  Pete poked a finger at the brown and red shapes. “They look like rocks to me.”

  “No, look at the designs,” Maura insisted. Somehow, in the space of a single evening, she’d become a devotee of prehistoric pottery. She’d even called her mom, who’d added to her enthusiasm about the little pieces.

  “Okay, they’re rocks with designs.” Pete grinned at the others peering over Maura’s shoulder.

  “Well, what tribe do you think made them? What do you know about the prehistoric Indians in this area?”

  Laughing, Pete edged away from her desk. “Look, I’m an electrical engineer. What I know about Indian artifacts you can fit sideways in a transistor.”

  “You might try the base civil engineers,” a short, gray-haired woman volunteered. “I think they’re responsible for that sort of stuff. Why don’t you start with them?”

  “Thanks, I will.”

  A call to the Environmental Protection Branch got Dr. Maggie Wescott on the line. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Maura described the find and asked about the rules governing their find.

  “Our regulations are pretty straightforward if artifacts are found on base,” Wescott advised. “Off base is a different story. We have an archaeologist on call from the University of Florida who comes in and catalogs the major finds. I can give you his number. Or the State Environmental Protection Agency in Pensacola. Also, there’s a historical society in downtown Fort Walton Beach that might help.”

  Maura took down the numbers and tried the last first. There was no answer at the historical society, and the other two were long distance, so she decided to call them from home. She scooped the pottery shards into the little box she’d found for them last night, put them in her desk drawer and turned to her work.

  Within minutes she was glued to her computer screen, running a series of simulations for the AGM-88 HARM—High Speed Anti-Radar Missile. Charts and computer runs were scattered across her desk and littered the large worktable in the center of the room. The good part about working in a secure area was being able to leave all this stuff lying out.

  The bad part was working in a windowless vault, of course. Shrugging off the closed-in feeling, Maura typed in the simulation parameters. She was soon so absorbed in her work that the shrill ring of her intercom caused her fingers to jump on the keyboard. With a muttered curse, she backspaced carefully and picked up the phone.

  “Dr. Phillips, this is Janet Simpson. The boss needs to see you. Can you come down now?”

  “Sure, Janet. Anything in particular I need to bring?”

  “Not that he mentioned.”

  “Okay, I’m on my way.”

  Carefully saving her work on both hard disk and a floppy file, Maura gathered up her scattered charts. Vault or no vault, years of working on highly classified advanced projects had ingrained a security awareness that made her especially cautious. She gave Pete a cheerful wave as she left the common work area and went down a s
hort flight of stairs to the director’s office.

  Her boss was waiting for her. She liked Ed Harrington. He was one of the original good ole boys—a local who had gone to the University of Alabama for his engineering degree, then come right back to start work at Eglin. He’d climbed his way up the bureaucratic ladder until he was promoted to this, the highest-ranking civilian position on base. He exuded a crusty, tough aura that didn’t fool Maura for a minute.

  “What’s up?” she asked as she strolled into his office. She was halfway to the big, overstuffed chair in front of his desk before she noticed the other figure standing off to one side.

  “Have you met Colonel McAllister?” Ed asked.

  “Yes,” Maura managed to say.

  She was beginning to feel haunted.

  Oblivious to the sudden electricity in the air, Ed chomped on the unlit cigar that never left his mouth and waved them both to a chair.

  “Jake just got called in to see the general concerning a special project we’re working on. The old man wants us to pull out all the stops. I’ll let him explain.”

  McAllister took the seat opposite Maura’s. He was in uniform—dark blue slacks, light blue short-sleeved shirt with the silver eagles glistening on his shoulder tabs—and didn’t look particularly happy about this special project. Maura soon understood why.

  “We’ve been tapped to test a new mount for the Maverick missile on the F-117.”

  “The Nighthawk?”

  Maura’s pulse kicked up. She’d cut her teeth on the swept-wing Stealth fighter.

  “With all that’s going on in the Middle East,” McAllister continued, “the air staff wants to move up the test milestones. The general’s put me in charge of the project.”

  “So how does this involve me?”

  “I’ve told Ed I need his best test manager for this project. He tells me that’s you.”

  The compliment should have tickled her. Coming from anyone else, it would have.

  “I haven’t done much work on the Maverick,” she hedged. “Surely one of the other engineers who’ve handled the missile would be better for this project.”

  “We don’t need missile expertise as much as we need someone who knows the F-117,” Ed explained. “You worked the Nighthawk at Lockheed, Phillips. You know the plane’s material structure. I want you on this one.”

  Maura sat back in her chair. Excitement rippled through her at the prospect of working a modification to the weapons load of the Stealth.

  “Pete Hansen has been working on the project part-time,” Ed advised. “I want you to take the lead from here on, full-time. Pete can help, if necessary.”

  In his earnestness, Ed puffed energetically on his cigar. After a few seconds of wasted effort, he remembered it wasn’t lit, pulled the thing out of his mouth and stared at it in disgust.

  Maura bit back a grin at her boss’s disgruntled look and flashed a quick look at Jake. His gray eyes held banked laughter, but he managed to keep a straight face. The tension between them eased a bit, only to come back in full force with his next words.

  “I think we can work together as professionals on something as important as this,” he said quietly.

  His meaning was clear to Maura even if it went right over Ed’s head. Nobody, but nobody, had ever questioned her professional integrity before.

  “Yes, Colonel, I’m sure I can find a way to work with you on this.”

  Her voice dripped ice. Even Ed now noticed the tension crackling between them. His shaggy brows rose in a question. But before he could speak, Jake got to his feet.

  “I’ll need a complete rundown of where the project stands by tomorrow, including a synopsis of the simulations done to date. Call my secretary and schedule a time to brief me,” he ordered crisply, then left with a nod to them both.

  Chapter 3

  “Geez,” Maura muttered as the door closed behind the man who was fast becoming her nemesis. “Who does he think he is?”

  “One of the best deputy commanders for operations we’ve ever had at Eglin,” her boss replied with an understanding smile. “Jake can come on strong at times, but since he took over as D.O., we’ve doubled our test-flight sorties. Even more important, the sorties have produced results. Those bunker-busters that blasted al-Quaeda out of their caves in Afghanistan were developed and tested right here.”

  “I know, I know. The man just rubs me the wrong way.”

  “Well, get over it,” Ed advised. “I want you to give this your best shot. Stop by Security on your way back and get cleared into the project.”

  “Aye, aye, Admiral.”

  Snorting, Ed shifted his cigar to the other side of his mouth. “I don’t know why I let you get away with your lip, Phillips.”

  “Because I only give it to you in private,” she tossed back, getting to her feet. “And you need someone to prick your bubble once in a while. You may have everyone else around here buffaloed with your ‘senior statesman’ routine, but I know you’re just a frustrated engineer at heart. You’d give this fancy office up in a flash to get your hands on a slide rule again.”

  She opened the door to let herself out. “Too bad we don’t use slide rules anymore,” she tossed over her shoulder.

  Ed chuckled as the door closed behind her. He’d never admit it, of course, but he thoroughly enjoyed sparring with Maura. The woman possessed a lively sense of humor that had brought a healthy dose of laughter, among other things, into his staid engineering department.

  When he’d read the résumé she sent in response to their ad for an engineer, he’d almost bitten through his cigar. Ph.D. from Stanford. Elected into the prestigious International Society of Engineers within a year of graduation. Eight years in the research and development division at Lockheed, with hands-on experience in composites.

  Although she couldn’t detail all her experience in her résumé due to security considerations, Ed had been around long enough to read between the lines. He’d made a couple of phone calls to friends to verify her credentials and hired her, sight unseen.

  He had expected a female version of the stereotypical engineer, complete with plastic pocket holder full of pens and laptop computer. He was as amazed as everyone else in the directorate when a woman in silky red walking shorts and an animal-print blouse breezed in and announced she was his new test engineer.

  After the first five minutes of her incoming interview, Ed knew he had a winner. Her knowledge of the latest in materials engineering almost made him drool, but he’d restrained his enthusiasm enough to start her on a series of what he labeled category B projects until he could assess her work personally.

  Within two weeks he’d moved her to category A projects. And now she would be working this mount problem. If anyone could get the test back on track, Ed was certain she could.

  Maura had her doubts as she climbed the stairs after a quick detour to the security office. Although her heart thumped at the thought of working with the Nighthawk again, she worried that her knowledge was too dated, her expertise too stale. She’d have to get up to speed on this modification, and fast.

  “Hey, Pete,” she called as she hurried down the row of modular workstations. “I need your help.”

  “What’s up?” he asked, sauntering over with coffee cup in hand.

  “The Nighthawk, that’s what,” Maura answered. “Ed says all the milestones for the Maverick mounting mod have been moved up, and he’s put me on it full-time.”

  “But that’s my project.”

  “Ed mentioned you’ve been working it part-time, along with several other hot projects. I guess he figured I had more time available to work this one than you did.”

  Her attempt at diplomacy failed. A scowl settled over Pete’s face. “I’ve spent almost six months on this one already. Ed should have put me on it full-time.”

  Maura kept silent. She could understand his disappointment, but she wasn’t about to question Ed’s decisions in public. He was her boss and had her loyalty.

 
; “I need everything you’ve got, Pete. McAllister wants a status brief tomorrow morning.”

  Her co-worker made an obvious effort to shrug off his personal feelings. “I’ve got a couple of drawers full of data in addition to my electronic files. I’ll transfer them to you.”

  Maura gulped when he laid a stack of fat folders on her desk. Flipping on her computer, she started taking electronic notes as she scanned the files.

  Although still obviously upset, Pete’s professionalism surfaced. He stayed late to help her sort through the data. It wasn’t until early evening, after a break for a stale sandwich from the vending machines, that Maura found a note with a scribbled telephone number under the last file folder.

  “Oh, no! I forgot to call Lisa.”

  “Lisa who?”

  “Lisa McAllister. At least, I think that’s her name.”

  “Jake’s daughter?”

  “I met her on the beach yesterday. In fact, she was the one who got me digging in the sand for those bits of pottery.”

  “I forgot she was down here again. I think she spends every summer with Jake.”

  “How long have her parents been divorced?” Maura inquired casually. Not that she was really interested, she told herself. She just didn’t want to hurt Lisa by inadvertently saying the wrong thing.

  “Three or four years, I think. I know Jake was divorced, or at least separated when he came here. He’s been fighting off the local beauties ever since he arrived.”

  She looked up, startled at the touch of bitterness in his voice. She had a feeling he included his wife among those local beauties. Maura felt a little sorry for him but made herself shrug it off. Everyone had to work out their problems, as she knew all too well.

  Maura and Ed Harrington arrived at the test wing’s secure briefing room in the basement of the headquarters a few minutes before ten the following morning. She’d run through her briefing a couple of times, making last-minute changes with Pete’s help right up until she’d left her office a few minutes ago.