by Rachel Lee
“Pleasantly so.” Tilting her head, she looked up at him. “Do you have something in mind?”
“Like a starving man has food in mind.”
A chuckle escaped Andrea. “You’re not starving.”
Dare turned a little, bringing Andrea closer. “Oh, yes, I am. I haven’t made love to you in ten whole hours.”
“Well, you were the one who wanted to play games.”
“How about a game right now?”
“I might be persuaded,” she said demurely.
“What kind of persuasion do you need?”
“Oh, a little of this and a little of that.”
“A little of this?” he asked, his hand grazing her breast. “Or some of that?” He slipped his hand between her legs and pressed gently.
Andrea’s eyes grew wide. “All of it,” she answered, suddenly breathless. “All of it.”
But all too soon it was time for Andrea to leave. They both needed their sleep, for tomorrow was a duty day, and neither of them argued against the inevitable. Still, they lingered over a last cup of coffee in the kitchen, watching the clock tick steadily toward midnight, knowing the fantasy was over.
“Andrea?” Dare spoke into a silence that had grown too long.
She lifted her head and gave him a questioning look.
“I just want you to know. Regardless of what your father told you about pilots, I’ve never gone in for one night stands or casual relationships.”
“Oh.” Her color heightened a shade.
“In fact,” he continued, “this is the first time in my life I’ve gone into something like this knowing there was no future.”
Her eyes shied away from the intensity of his stare, and she concentrated on her coffee cup. “Are you saying it shouldn’t have happened?”
“No, I’m saying I don’t give myself cheaply. I know you don’t, either. So someday, down the road, when you think back over this, don’t feel cheapened by it.”
Slowly, very slowly, her eyes rose to meet his once again. “No,” she whispered. “Oh, no, I wouldn’t ever think that. But, Dare…”
He waved a dismissing hand. “Forget it, Andrea. I told you, I already know all the arguments and all the reasons. Your career comes first. Don’t worry about it. Tomorrow, when we’re captain and colonel again, I just want you to be sure that this is one of my treasured memories. Don’t ever doubt it.” Standing, he reached for her, pulling her to her feet.
“One last kiss, Andrea,” he said. “One last kiss. And if you ever, ever again think you’d like to be with me, don’t hesitate to call me. I mean it.”
Before she could answer, he covered her mouth with his, drinking deeply of the sweetness he feared he might never know again. One last time he held her close, squeezing his eyes shut against the ache that had taken root in his heart. “This is a relationship, Andrea,” he whispered. “Like it or not. We’ll do it on your terms, but you can’t escape the fact that it exists.”
“All quiet on the Northern Front, skipper,” Nickerson said to her the following morning as he entered her office. “Nothing happened, and Lieutenant Dolan managed nothing very well.”
Halting before her desk, he peered down at her. “And you look like the morning after a heavy-duty night before. You get hit by a truck or something?”
“Or something.” Andrea managed a travesty of a smile. “Just some trouble sleeping, Nick. Nothing exciting.”
“I’ve seen Marines look better after a forty-eight-hour pass in the desert.”
Andrea chuckled. “I imagine they didn’t feel much worse.”
“Shoulder bothering you?”
“A little.” Which was the truth, although not the truth of why she hadn’t slept. No, she’d lain awake all night wishing she were in Dare’s bed instead of her own, which was why she should never have broken her own rules by going over there in the first place. And Nick’s eyes were too sharp and too wise for her comfort.
Nick poured himself a cup of coffee and sat in one of the straight-backed metal chairs that faced her desk. “You sure nothing’s wrong?”
“What could be wrong? Honestly, I just didn’t get enough sleep. A few more cups of coffee and I’ll pass for normal. So we didn’t have any more intruders?”
“Not a thing. Never fear, we’ll make up for all the peace and quiet on New Year’s Eve. You know, I was talking to Halliday about how somebody could slip past the electronic security system, and he says it can’t be done.”
Andrea rubbed her forehead. “That’s Halliday. Those circuits of his are infallible. Somebody got past them.”
“I told him that. I think I’m in his black books.”
“That’ll do it, all right.”
“But I was thinking, what if Halliday’s right?”
Alerted, Andrea dropped her hand from her forehead and looked at Nick. “What if?”
“If Halliday’s right, then it’s an inside job, right?”
“What’s an inside job?”
“Scuttlebutt has it that it wasn’t a goose that took out the nose of that B-52.”
Andrea gripped the edge of her desk. “I’d be very interested in the source of this scuttlebutt.”
Nickerson ran his index finger alongside his jaw. “You know what they say. You can’t keep a secret from military wives, and once a military wife knows, it ain’t no secret.”
“Damn.” Andrea slumped back in her chair. Unfortunately she’d experienced the truth of that sexist military aphorism more than once during her life. Like the time the Tactical Fighter Wing had been secretly sent to Cambodia. They were not to tell their wives a thing except that they were flying out for a few days. Before the first plane even took off, all twenty-five thousand people at the air base had known their departure time and destination. Too often GIs felt that keeping a secret didn’t mean they couldn’t tell their wives. And unfortunately the wives too often felt that rules about secrecy didn’t apply to them, because they were civilians.
“I take it,” Nickerson said, “that scuttlebutt is true. Which means we’ve got a king-size problem. What’s being done about it?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Well, damn near everybody’s talking about it, Captain. If that’s a problem, maybe you’d better tell Colonel MacLendon.”
Just then the phone on Andrea’s desk rang, and she looked at it as if it were a rattlesnake. “Speak of the devil,” she said to Nick. “How much do you want to bet?”
“I ain’t a betting man, skipper, but I might take this one. Bet his First Shirt’s just dumped the same story in his lap.”
Groaning inwardly, Andrea lifted the receiver. “Captain Burke.”
“Andrea, we have a problem,” Dare’s voice said into her ear. “I want you and Nickerson over here on the double.”
“What’s wrong?”
“The rumor mill’s running at full speed, and we need to take steps to contain it.”
“We’re on our way.” Replacing the receiver, Andrea looked at Nick. “You would have won this one. He wants us both over there five minutes ago.” Rising, she grabbed her parka from the coat tree in the corner. “You know, Nick, I could resign.”
“Been a long tour?” Nick asked, matching his pace to hers as they headed for the parking lot.
“No, just a long two months.”
“That’ll do it.”
Already present at Dare’s office were the base’s deputy commander, Major West, and the First Sergeant, Matt Hawley. Dare was nodding in response to something Hawley was saying, but his eyes followed Andrea as she entered and took a seat. Instantly he saw the weariness on her face and guessed she hadn’t slept any better than he had. When her eyes lifted to his, she colored faintly and looked quickly down. Dare forced himself to look away, worried that one of them would give the game away, wishing that he could just go to her and take her into his arms.
God! Andrea thought, clasping her hands to still their trembling. One look at him and her heart started thundering l
ike a stampeding horse. And how was it possible for him to look better this morning than she remembered him? How was she going to survive the next month if she felt this way every time she saw him?
“You’ve heard the rumors?” Dare asked Nickerson.
“Yes, sir. I was just telling Captain Burke about them when you called.”
“Well, we can’t have people buzzing about a terrorist attack on this base. First of all, we don’t know it was a terrorist act. It might have been the act of someone who’s mentally ill, or someone with a grudge. Secondly, if the rumor gets off the base, the locals will be upset, maybe panicked. Some of you remember the uproar a couple of years ago when a jet engine fell off a truck and word got around that it contained radioactive cesium. I don’t need to tell you that the Department of the Air Force isn’t going to be very happy with us if this hits the pages of the local newspaper. And if it makes headlines here, it’ll undoubtedly make the national news. So put your heads to work and come up with a suitably innocent official explanation for what happened to that plane.”
“Too bad a goose won’t hack it,” Hawley remarked. “None of the locals would believe that, though.”
“Even if we had feathers?” Major West asked. “What if we showed them feathers and blood and claimed it was a sick goose that hadn’t migrated.”
“A brain-sick goose,” suggested Nickerson. “Maybe the base vet could come up with some disease that could make a goose crazy.”
“Something that doesn’t kill,” Andrea put in. “The geese migrated more than a month before the accident.”
Dare nodded. “It would work if he can come up with something legitimate.” His eyes lingered on Andrea just an instant too long. “Hawley, get Captain Emory up here, will you?” Emory was the base veterinarian. As he was largely involved in the care of the police dogs and, when time allowed, servicemen’s pets, Dare doubted he would know much more than the rest of them about geese. Still, it was worth looking into.
Dare sat back in his chair, steepling his hands on his chest. “You know, the only people who knew this wasn’t a goose were a couple of mechanics, Captain Burke and myself. I guess one of the mechanics must have shot off his mouth. To his wife, probably.”
Andrea and Nickerson exchanged amused glances.
Major West spoke. “I’m not sure any of the pilots really believed it was a goose, sir. Somebody could have speculated.”
“I guess, but you’re telling me that somebody was talking about explosives.”
“When you’ve got a hole that size in the nose of an aircraft, explosives make sense in the absence of other causes.”
“Well, the source of the rumor has to be someone in the Bomb Wing,” Dare said. “West, you and Hawley see if you can track it down. I know it’ll be damn near impossible, but try anyhow.”
Dare swiveled his chair suddenly and looked at Andrea. “I know you’ve beefed up security, but damn it, I want something more than that. I want to get to the bottom of this, Burke.”
“We all do, sir.”
One corner of his mouth quirked. “Point taken. Sorry. I had trouble sleeping last night.”
Andrea felt Nickerson glance at her, but she managed to keep her face impassive, although some perverse part of her took delight in the fact that Dare had been as miserable as she was last night. And what had Nickerson sensed that made him look at her like that? Was she wearing a sign on her forehead?
Dare looked covertly at Andrea. She didn’t look as if she’d slept too well, either. He took some satisfaction in that, remembering how only a few short hours ago he’d been standing at his bedroom window wishing for sleep that wouldn’t come. He’d been doing too much of that since Andrea popped into his life.
Captain Emory arrived only a few minutes later. “I suppose,” he said when he’d been briefed, “there must be something I could come up with.” He pushed his glasses up on the narrow bridge of his nose. “You understand, I’ll need to research the problem, Colonel. I’m not exactly familiar with Canadian geese.”
“But does it sound plausible?” Dare asked.
“Oh, yes, off the cuff, I’d say it’s a possibility. Of course, we really don’t understand all the mechanisms of migration. It’s entirely possible such an event could occur and we’d never know why. As in the case of that whale in Alaska. We may never understand what happened there.”
Dare rubbed his chin. “If worse comes to worse, I guess we’ll just call it a freak accident, but I’d really rather have something more convincing than that, given the rumors. And goose feathers. I need some goose feathers.”
Emory smiled. “Oh, I can provide those, Colonel. My wife makes artsy-craftsy things with them. She’ll never miss a couple.”
“Just make sure she doesn’t know you’ve taken them. All I need is another wife in on what’s going on. Okay, people, that’s our story, then. A goose hit the plane. If Captain Emory can come up with a disease, so much the better. If not, we’ll just go with the freak accident idea, unless somebody has a better one.”
But nobody had a better explanation for a six-foot hole in the cockpit of a B-52.
“What are we going to do about it, ma’am?” Nickerson asked Andrea as they drove back to the security squadron headquarters.
“Do?”
“Well, somebody blew a hole in a plane with plastique. That’s not something you overlook. We’ve got to find out who did it.”
“People are looking into it, Nick. I can’t tell you any more than that.”
“Why aren’t we looking into it?”
Andrea sighed. “I have it on good authority that we don’t have the training or experience to handle this case.”
Nick frowned. “Oh, yeah? Maybe not the technical end of it, but we know people, Skipper. We need a list of possible suspects, and then we find a motive. Basic police work.”
“The suspect list is pretty big. Just about any aircraft mechanic would have unsupervised access to those planes. If it wasn’t a mechanic, it could be one of our cops, because it had to be somebody who could get through security. That’s another couple of dozen people, even if we allow only a narrow time frame. It could be any one of the aircrews, too. So how long is the list now? A hundred? More?”
Nick scowled. “So we eliminate as many as we can.”
“Sure. Who do we eliminate? People without any gripes? Every GI has a gripe. Besides, it’s hands-off. I told you.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t think about it, ma’am.”
“I guess not.” Rubbing the back of her neck, Andrea sighed. “Sorry, Nick. Not enough sleep. You think about it. I’ll think about it. But frankly, I just can’t imagine anyone I know wanting to blow a hole in that aircraft.”
“Isn’t that always what the next door neighbor says after the ax murder? He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Tired or not, Andrea laughed. It was true, of course. Nobody could ever imagine that somebody they knew would do such a thing. “You’re right, Nick. That’s what they always say.”
Chapter 10
Several afternoons later, Andrea sat at her desk, studying the list of names her staff had compiled. Finding people with the opportunity to get to that aircraft had been easy. What with aircrews, mechanics, and cops, the list held thirty-three names. Discovering who might have a motive was a different matter altogether. OSI had probably compiled this same list of names weeks ago, and they’d gotten nowhere.
Absently rubbing her shoulder to ease the faint ache that still plagued her, Andrea leaned back in her chair and stared off into space. She would probably be long gone before they discovered the culprit, if they ever did. There just wasn’t enough evidence to go on.
Why would anyone do such a thing? Greed and revenge were the commonest motivations among people. It was possible that some airman had been paid to set an explosive on that bomber, but that still left the question of the motivation of whoever had paid him. Greed couldn’t be behind that, because it was against official policy for the Air Force
to give in to extortion. That left revenge and terrorism, and she had trouble accepting the notion of terrorism, because nobody had called the local or national news. Where was the point in doing something like this if you didn’t call the news and get your free publicity out of it? On the other hand, if somebody had a grudge against a member of that plane’s crew, then there were easier and surer ways of achieving revenge.
So what did that leave? No motive at all?
Frustrated with the circles she seemed to be going in, tired from too many nights of not enough sleep and too much thinking about a certain Colonel who appeared to have forgotten her existence, Andrea decided to leave Dolan in charge for the night. She would have an early dinner at the O-Club, followed by a hot shower, and then she’d hit the sack.
It wasn’t steak night, and it was too early for the evening crowd, so the dining room was fairly empty. A group of B-52 crew members on alert sat in one corner eating dinner and laughing together. Their flight suits indicated their alert status and gave them precedence, whether in being served dinner or in the checkout line at the exchange.
In another corner a young couple, looking as if they were barely old enough to be married, argued with quiet intensity. Andrea took a corner for herself and sat with her back to the wall as she nursed a beer and waited for her dinner.
The room was not brightly lit, and Andrea wasn’t certain how long she had stared absently at the laughing pilots before she realized that one of them, glimpsed occasionally as another pilot leaned backward, was Dare MacLendon.
What was he doing with the alert pilots? she wondered blankly, and then looked quickly away, unwilling to let him catch her staring. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, not when he’d ignored her since Christmas. But wasn’t that what she wanted? No strings? No messy involvement? Her mind said yes, but her heart kept clamoring for more.
Which was why she should never have broken her own rules. And why she must be sure never to break them again.
