She pressed her advantage. “Look, we’re on the same team here. I’ll tell you everything I know, but I can’t help if I don’t understand what happened.”
His eyes snapped open, and she could tell she hadn’t quite gotten through to him. “What happened,” he said, “is that something took control of my jet, and I almost crashed into the water. And when I tried warning CAG that something was wrong with the jet, he kicked me off the ship and promised to take my wings away.”
Punky had never served in the military, but she had been around the Navy her entire life. She knew what those wings of gold meant to Navy pilots and why Colt was so upset. “What if that
“Like sabotage,” Colt said, echoing the word she’d used earlier.
She nodded. “But there’s more you need to know.”
“Go on.” He folded his arms across his chest, waiting for her to convince him to trust her.
She didn’t know what information he had that put him in danger, but she couldn’t just let him leave and lose her only link to
“Outside?” She gestured to the parking lot. “Maybe I can give you a ride somewhere?”
He hesitated, then scooped up his parachute bag and nodded.
She led them through the hangar and out the same door she had exited in disgust earlier that morning. Next to the blue-and-gold starburst logo adorned with Pegasus, she saw her car still parked in the “CO’s Guest” spot and walked to the rear to open the trunk for him.
“A Corvette?” Colt asked, his tone one of both shock and amusement.
Like most fighter pilots, he probably had an affinity for things that were flashy and went fast, but she didn’t want to tell him it wouldn’t have mattered if it were a Mercury Bobcat. She didn’t drive it for the cool points, and her reason for having it was really none of his business, anyway. She opened the trunk and gestured for him to put his gear inside.
She climbed into the driver’s seat and waited until he had stowed his gear and climbed in next to her before turning the key and firing up the V8. Without another word, she backed out of the space and left the parking lot on Quentin Roosevelt Boulevard, driving north toward the traffic circle where she had seen the aircraft on static display. She took the first exit from the roundabout and drove east for the main gate on McCain Boulevard.
“So where am I taking you?”
“Montgomery Field,” he said as he ran his hands along the smooth dash, appreciating the car in a way she never would. She knew her dad had admired the Corvette’s lines in the same way. He leaned back into the seat and turned to her. “Know where that is?”
“Yes,” she said. “I know where that is.”
She steered the Corvette through the main gate, crossed Alameda Boulevard, and stomped on the gas, pressing them both back in their seats. The muscle car’s engine roared, echoing off the beach cottages on either side of the street, but her eyes never stopped scanning the familiar island scenery.
“So, what do I need to know?” Colt asked, shouting to be heard over the wind noise.
Punky raced around slower-moving cars, weaving the nimble sports car in and out of traffic as she made for the bridge. She checked her mirrors but saw nothing that set off alarm bells, and she turned to look at the pilot, who appeared at ease in the passenger seat.
It was a beautiful morning in the San Diego area, and Li Hu didn’t mind the break from the monotony. He and several others had been assigned to the Southern California city as a sort of Quick Reaction Force for the Ministry’s agents if they found themselves in need of firepower. But since their job was to remain within the shadows and avoid drawing undue attention to their activities, Li Hu thought of his posting as a brief respite following his decades in special operations.
“Ping it again,” he said.
The man in the passenger seat tapped an icon on the tablet computer resting in his lap. “It’s moving.”
Li Hu nodded, feeling a slight fluttering of excitement welling from within. After all, he was unaccustomed to a life of peace or of sitting on his hands, waiting for a chance to put his skills to use. So, when Chen had called and told him she needed him to kill a Navy pilot, he felt a tiny sliver of hope that his boredom was nearing an end.
“Where is it?”
“On McCain Boulevard, headed this way.”
Li Hu put his foot on the brake and shifted the large SUV into drive. He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw two more of his men sitting in silence as they scanned their sectors through the side windows. He picked up his phone and dialed Chen, listening to the call connect through the earpiece in his ear.
“Yes?”
“We are in position,” he said.
“Any sign of him?”
Almost as if the man in the passenger seat had heard the question, he pinged the target’s cell phone again. “Nearing the gate,” he whispered to Li Hu. “Ten seconds.”
“Ten seconds,” he told Chen.
