by Holden, Abby
Fahim chuckled. "I will. I will. Do you think it is the rest of the Bactrian treasure?"
Megan shrugged. "My source didn't know either, but I would bet that it must be something of importance. What do you think?"
Fahim bowed and left with a bounce to his step, as Jake closed the door behind him.
Megan looked at Jake. "Are you still mad at me?"
Jake smiled. "A man?"
A shrug greeted him. "As I said awhile ago, I can blend in as a man if I dress right."
"What about your voice?"
Megan swallowed hard. She smiled at Jake as she spoke, her voice dropping an octave. Although it sounded like she had a very sore throat, it was so different from her natural voice that it could easily pass as a man's voice. "I can't talk for long speeches like this, but I can hold conversations if need be."
"That's incredible."
Megan shrugged. She swallowed again. Her voice returned to normal. "It just takes practice."
"Do you play 'dress up' often?"
"No. It's too dangerous."
"Yeah, I bet. And those other two times I saw you?" Jake leaned back in his chair.
"I was…" Megan hesitated. "Tracking down leads for other reasons."
"Like?"
Megan shook her head.
"So, just how many languages do you speak?"
"Four. Pashtu, Dari, Arabic, and French. I know a bit of Russian and Kurdish but I wouldn't say I speak either."
"Who taught you that?" Jake motioned with his hand to her neck and voice.
"My Dad." Megan looked down at the desk then suddenly stood up. "I'd appreciate it if you forgot this afternoon. My life depends on secrecy."
Jake stood with her. "You did a good thing here."
She could feel her cheeks turning hot and red.
Jake winked. "So beautiful." He walked out the door.
CHAPTER 11
Later that night, Jake stepped out onto the roof to find Megan again by herself looking at the mountains. He grabbed a chair and sat down by her without asking. He poured a drink out of his bottle and handed it to her, again without asking,
Megan took it without speaking and slugged it back, then handed the glass to Jake. He refused. Megan turned it several times in her hands then returned to looking at the mountains. Neither spoke for a long time.
"Today was his funeral," Megan said softly, hardly above a whisper. "I got a message from Todd."
"What was he like?" Jake asked, settling deeper into the chair.
"My Dad?" Megan asked rhetorically. She shrugged. "I don't know. Strong. Independent. A pig-headed bastard."
Jake poured himself another and held the bottle out to pour her one too.
She hesitated then held out the glass. She sniffled as she held the shot glass aloft. "Here's to you Dad. I hope you found happiness." She slugged it back, then glanced at Jake who didn't join the toast. She looked puzzled.
Jake tilted his head at her. "Your Dad. Your toast." He reached out and poured her another shot. "To his daughter." Jake lifted the glass and waited until Megan joined him. Together they toasted.
"He was a good guy. He tried hard, but I think a ten-year old daughter mystified him―a weenie for a son and a daughter that defied everyone." Megan smiled, looking into her empty glass. "He always called Todd 'his little girl.' "
Jake looked at her, incredulously.
"I'm not kidding. I think he was trying to get Todd to toughen up. He's eight years older than me. With me, Dad was clueless. I was the boy he wanted, wrapped in a girl's body." Megan chuckled. "When I was growing up, he didn't know whether to discipline me for my behavior or praise me for being my own person and thinking for myself. He settled for somewhere in between." She lapsed into silence.
Jake watched her. It was obvious that she needed to talk. He was glad that he had joined her. He hesitated at first to climb the stairs. He hated it when women cried, feeling useless, never knew what to do or say. "Your dad sounded like a fine man."
"Yeah. He was. Taught me a bunch of stuff that would have been useless except in my line of work. He saved my life numerous times with his warnings playing in my mind. Snotty, old bastard."
Jake smiled.
"He tried hard when he was around, which wasn't that often. When he wasn't around, he had people looking out for me. I got used to having someone watching my every move. Even that proved useful, the smart bastard."
Jake poured himself another and again offered her another. She held out the glass for a refill.
"He tried to be around for me, which is hard, working for the company that we do. He was many times so far under that he couldn't even send a note on my birthday. I always received a card, he hired someone to do that, but I knew the difference." Megan slugged the drink back then set the shot glass on the rooftop.
"What about your mom?"
"She died when I was nine. Car accident. I was with her. It was scary. She was still alive after the accident. All she said to me was 'Stay alive.' I climbed out of the car and ran to get help. When I returned she was dead. Dad couldn't come home right away. Todd had turned eighteen so he got custody of me. I hated it. We fought like the Cold War. We have never gotten along. Dad came home some weeks later. At ten, I was shipped off to my first boarding school. Got kicked out and went to another. I got kicked out of around six of them over all. Finally Dad threatened me, said I would amount to nothing."
"He actually said that?"
Megan nodded. "He didn't know how to father. He was never around. He treated us more like employees. But I buckled down to prove him wrong. Which, of course, was exactly what he knew I would do. He tried to spend as much time with me as possible. Even took me to West Germany once before the Wall fell." Megan looked at Jake and smiled. "My first spy case."
"How old were you?"
"Sixteen."
Jake's jaw almost dropped.
"Yeah. He was meeting a contact, so he sent me to a café to hang out. I saw a drop happen before my eyes. I knew what it was because Dad liked to share things with me. Probably his big downfall as a spy. Anyway, I knew that the two guys were Russian. I heard them talking and recognized some of the words. Dad spoke flawless Russian. I figured out that it was important, but Dad was nowhere. So I nonchalantly picked the guy's pocket. Turned out, it was an extremely important piece of information."
"At sixteen?"
"Yeah. The Company recruited me out of high school. They sent me to college with an eye to working for them afterwards. Dad was both proud and saddened at the same time. He knew the life I was getting ready to lead, yet I could tell he was proud of me for finding my own way." Megan lapsed into silence as she stared into her hands loosely crossed on her lap. Finally after a long silence she looked up at Jake. "What about you? Your life? I only know the basics from your file."
"Not nearly as exciting as yours."
"Don't feel bad about that. My life wasn't that great. It sounds exciting, but it was mostly lonely."
Jake nodded, watching, for once, as emotions played on her face.
"When I was little I used to want a normal life. You know, a mom and dad that went to work and came home for supper. Holidays spent together. A real family."
"If your Dad was always gone and you were in a boarding school, where did you spend holidays?"
"If Dad happened to be free, with him. I've lived for short periods all over the world, but usually I stayed at school. Occasionally, I would spend time with Todd and his assortment of girlfriends or who ever. That never lasted long. As I said, we never got along. Mostly, I stayed at school. There was always one teacher who took pity on me or a classmate's family."
"Sounds sad."
Megan nodded, not looking up. "Yeah, but it taught me to rely on myself and how to really value friendships. I don't make friends easily but when I do, it's deep."
"Like Kelly?"
"Yeah. He's funny. We're total opposites, yet from the first day, I knew he'd be a great friend."
"
Anything romantic ever happen with him?"
"No. He loves his wife. And I've never had those types of feelings for him. I'd give my life for him, but I don't want to sleep with him." Megan smiled at Jake. "Purely platonic." She stared into his eyes. "You never answered my questions about your life."
"What's to tell?" Jake said. "I grew up in the All-American family. Five sisters and me. Four older, one younger. I excelled at sports. Went to college and joined the Army. Got picked for Ranger school. Excelled. Retired. Here I am." He smiled. "Not much to tell, really."
"What's it like living with that many siblings?" Megan leaned back relaxed in the chair.
Jake shrugged. He normally didn't think about things like this. He gazed into the distance. "I don't know. I got yelled at a lot for leaving the toilet seat up."
Megan chuckled.
"It was tough dodging hormones. If one sister wasn't pissy at me during her period, another one was. Guess I got used to dealing with difficult women." He shrugged. "I know more than most men about feminine hygiene products. Dad taught me how to keep my head down during the worst parts of the month, but it did foster in me a better understanding of women, I guess. Still didn't help in other aspects." He looked over to see Megan staring at him.
"Any one special woman?"
"No. I seem to have bad luck in that respect," Jake said staring into her brown, doe eyes. "I never found the right one. You?"
"Yeah right. Too busy. Oh, I'm not inexperienced. Lost my virginity at seventeen." She chuckled. "Still, I can't settle down. And most guys, although they don't like to admit it, are looking to settle down and breed. I can't see myself cooking and cleaning." She snorted a laugh. "I have to be honest. I can't cook. I'd starve any kids I had if it weren't for take out and ready made meals."
"Seriously? I thought all women could cook," Jake spoke teasingly.
"I guess Dad did okay raising me. I mean, I didn't end up in jail or dead. Yet."
Jake offered another drink, which she accepted. "So when your contract is up, what are you going to do?"
"I don't know. I guess try to stay Stateside. I mean, I have enough time in grade to pull it off. But the agency is so low on people who speak the languages and know the areas, that I might not have a choice. And now that Dad is gone, I've no reason to stay in the States. Still, it would be nice not to have to be on guard every second of every day."
Jake watched her closely. She looked like she wanted to talk or maybe the alcohol was making her tongue loose. He drank with her again.
"You?" Megan raised her eyes to meet his again. "Have you decided?"
Jake merely shook his head.
"No, you aren't, or no you haven't decided yet?"
"Haven't decided. If what they say is true, and I heard rumors before I even left Iraq that I'd get called back, I'll be heading back there anyway. So, I guess my real decision is in what capacity do I return?" Jake took a deep breath and looked out over the mountains.
"Both have their bad points," Megan said, stating the obvious.
"Yeah. And both have their good. I just need to let my mind work on it." Jake looked at her. "How long do you think he'll give me before he puts on pressure?"
Megan stared into his eyes. "Knowing Bill, don't be surprised if he contacts you tomorrow or every day until you give him an answer. He can be quite a prick."
Jake smiled. "Is it a prerequisite to be pushy to be CIA?"
"No." Megan smiled back. "But it helps."
***
Two days later Megan was flying for the first time again. They were helping transport military personnel to a small base in the mountains. This was a base near the Afghanistan/Pakistan border. The military needed extra troop transport vehicles since two of their Chinooks were down. Megan was flying Death with Cowboy, while Pucky and Stick were flying Pestilence with full troop capacity.
Bill's crew was also on the same mission. His pilots were flying the other two Chinooks. The third White Pine crew was flying two Black Hawks for cover. And along with them were four Army Chinooks and two other Black Hawks flying cover. It was rumored that al Qaeda didn't want the transfer of personnel, at least not this many on this day for some reason.
Megan thought it was a bunch of bunk, but they were flying fully loaded for a fight. In her Pave Hawk was Cupcake and Tiny, each manning a door gun and two others for back-up.
The day dawned bright, and they were in the air before the sun rose. Within minutes, the Chinooks were loaded with GIs and the whole group set off for the northeast. The convoy was less than five minutes out when one of White Pine's Black Hawks called that they were having problems with an engine and heading back to base.
Megan frowned at Cowboy. "Sounds suspicious."
"Could be a coincidence," Cowboy intoned, but the look on his face said otherwise.
"Do you believe in coincidences?"
"Not with you, Darlin'," Cowboy said with a huge smile. He noticed Megan chewing her lip. "What?"
She shook her head.
"Spit it out, Girl."
"One of my sources said that al Qaeda is unhappy with White Pine because they believe one of the personnel stole valuable merchandise from them."
Cowboy narrowed his eyes. "And?"
"I wouldn't rule out sabotage." Megan paused. "Last night I checked on the choppers. My gut was telling me that someone had been in the hanger, but I couldn't find proof of anything. This has me worried."
"Why wait until now? Why not just sabotage on the ground?" Cowboy shook his head. "I don't know."
Megan shrugged.
They flew in silence for a few more minutes. Suddenly, they heard cursing over the radio. "That sounds like Cruiser," Megan said. Cruiser was the co-pilot of the other White Pine Black Hawk. "Call 'em," she ordered Cowboy. As she did so, she fell out of formation and took a visual look.
A piece flew off of the tail rotor. The nose dipped then immediately came back up. The other Black Hawk slowed. Fast. And began spinning.
Cowboy hit the button. "XXO this is Famine. Come in―"
"Mayday… Mayday… Mayday… We lost our tail rotor… We are going down… Famine, we are going down…"
That was obvious. They could see the helicopter spinning its way to the ground. Megan flew in that direction even as Cowboy was calling out to the rest of the helicopters, which had of course already heard. There was pandemonium on the radio.
The damaged helicopter crashed hard into the ground.
"Survivors?" asked a military Black Hawk pilot.
Megan shook her head as she began landing.
"We don't know," Cowboy said.
Megan hit the intercom to the back. "Okay boys, you heard too. Tiny stay on a gun. Everyone else check to see if anyone survived," she said as she landed nearby. "Ask the military to keep one Black Hawk with us for a minute."
Cowboy complied. The others in the convoy slowed, but kept going. One military Black Hawk did wide circles as support. They could hear him calling back to base to dispatch any other helicopter available.
Megan turned to Cowboy. "I'm shutting down to take a closer look at the engines and tail rotor." She began to turn everything off.
As the other crewmen scrambled to the crashed helicopter, Megan jumped out of the cockpit and hurried to the tail rotor, which was just slowing down. She hurriedly inspected it. Soon Cowboy was helping. One on each side.
Megan glanced twice to the crashed helicopter to see that at least two men survived. Jake was directing the men in carrying survivors back to their helicopter. She was still looking at the end of the tail rotors when Jake ran up to her.
"Two dead. Two in critical, I don't want to move them if we don't have to. Two minor." His blue eyes bored into hers.
"Monitor the injured. Retrieve the bodies. The military's trying to get us help."
Jake patted her on the shoulder and moved off. He was already directing Bosser and Fisher to bring the bodies back to the helicopter.
Suddenly Tiny stuck his head out the op
en door. "Ghost!"
Megan looked to see him motioning for her. She looked at Cowboy on the other side of the tail rotor. "I didn't check this end."
"I'll get it. Go."
Megan ran back to Tiny. "Yeah?"
"Chicken Hawk…" He pointed up at the military Black Hawk circling them. "Reports four trucks approaching rapidly on the road. ETE about four minutes." He pointed down the road past where the Black Hawk had crashed. "Military wants to know what you're doing?"
"Damn." Megan looked over at Jake then spoke to Tiny. "Make room for the rest of the wounded. Stay on the radio. Tell them I'm fishing." She ran to the crash site. Her face screwed up in anger. It was every helicopter pilot's worse fear. "Cupcake, company approaching. Four minutes maybe. Move the wounded as best you can. Move it!" She ran back to the helicopter.
"Nuthin'," Cowboy informed her.
Megan chewed her lips and let her eyes rake the helicopter. "You check the oil lines. I'll do the engine. Hurry. Company. Four minutes if we're lucky."
"Shit. Even less. We gotta get airborne."
But Megan had already gone. She was climbing up the outside of the chopper. Cowboy checked the oil lines and fuel lines again. Nothing. He tried the linkages. Basically he was doing a preflight in a fraction of the normal time.
"Cowboy!" Megan yelled from the engine area on top of the Pave Hawk near the rotors. A glance to the downed Black Hawk showed that they were moving the last of the two injured. She looked down to see Cowboy waiting for her.
"Get me something heavy and metal. Fast." Megan looked up the road but no sign of company yet. She narrowed her eyes; in the distance she could see what looked like maybe a dust cloud. She looked down to see Cowboy searching. Then she turned her attention to the small black box attached to the non-rotating swash plate near the control tubes and main column that controlled the rotors on top of the helicopter. It was easy to miss on the pre-flight since it was the same color as the plate, and mighty hard to see unless you were looking for it. She studied it even as she heard gunshots. Her head flashed up, but still the trucks were at a distance. Yet.
