Read Online By Break of Day (The Night Stalkers) by M. L. Buchman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: M. L. Buchman
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daunting than on his Calamity Jane , which was saying something. SOAR’s MH-47Gs had a whole lot more tech rigged up to them than your average Chinook: terrain avoidance, signal jamming, and advanced threat detection were only the start of what he’d had to learn when he transferred into the 160th Regiment. But the Gray Eagle specialized in signal interception and location, and had the hardware on show to back it up.
He looked over at Kara to see if she’d changed somehow. No and a little bit yes. Still beautiful and with a dancer’s upright posture—ballet as a kid that had never worn off, maybe—that could just kill a man. She walked like a confident soldier and stood like one. Her expression didn’t look any different as she baited the newcomer over what flavor of soda he wanted from the small fridge beneath the workbench.
But with this high-tech world wrapped tight around her, Kara looked as if she belonged. He supposed it was like how he felt when he settled into the pilot’s seat of the Jane ; everything just kind of fit.
This high-tech dungeon looked good on her, damned good.
“Don’t!” She aimed a finger at him and he knew exactly what she meant, though clearly the other two didn’t.
Justin couldn’t help himself, didn’t even bother to try.
He just kept smiling at her.
Chapter 6
Kara forced herself to look away from Justin. She could see by Major Wilson’s face that he’d been inside RPA coffins before. A sweeping glance, and no more. It told her something about his security clearance at least.
His eyes hesitated only twice: once on the poster of an MQ-1C Gray Eagle soaring among the clouds, and once on her Fordham University Rams banner. She made a guess based on his hesitation.
“The Lions suck, by the way.”
Wilson’s frown was as instantaneous as only a true Columbia University Lions football fan would have.
“And we’re going to kick your butts this year too.”
He actually growled, but it was hard to argue with Fordham’s winning streak. Reality sucks, dude! But she kept the last to herself, figuring that she’d pushed him hard enough.
She could also see Justin looking like a kid on Christmas morning, finding a new colt under the tree or something. She still wasn’t sure what instinct had made her force Wilson’s hand to let her bring Justin along.
It had been a hard-learned lesson to trust that instinct. But once she’d learned to listen to it, she’d graduated top of her ROTC class and eventually ended up sitting in this box in the Mediterranean.
Good little Instinct! She gave it a mental pat on the head and then shoved it aside. She was busy now.
“So, talk.” Kara gave it the full Brooklyn tawk , spun around her pilot’s chair, and dropped into it. At her nod, Justin took the copilot’s seat.
The Major dragged over a stool from the workbench; Michael remained standing.
“I can’t tell you who I work for and, no, pestering me isn’t going to—”
“Well then, I guess we’re done here.” Kara made to stand up. “C’mon, Justin.”
Michael watched her blandly, but she ignored him.
“Goddamn it!” Wilson cursed. “Will you sit still for a goddamn second, Moretti?”
She held out her hands as if intending no offense and dropped back into her seat. Kara had no intention of leaving, not when there was clearly something intense going on here.
“I’m—”
“—with The Activity,” Kara cut him off. She had no idea where that shot in the dark came from, but now that she’d said it, it made perfect sense.
Wilson’s blink of surprise was the only confirmation she needed.
“The Activity” was just one of the many nicknames for the former U.S. Army Intelligence Support Activity, which had been supposedly disbanded in 1989 and gone through a dozen incarnations since as it was vastly increased in size.
“Centra Spike, Gray Fox, Cemetery Wind…I’m guessing that you won’t be telling me your outfit’s current name.”
“How the fuck?”
He looked over at Kara to see if she’d changed somehow. No and a little bit yes. Still beautiful and with a dancer’s upright posture—ballet as a kid that had never worn off, maybe—that could just kill a man. She walked like a confident soldier and stood like one. Her expression didn’t look any different as she baited the newcomer over what flavor of soda he wanted from the small fridge beneath the workbench.
But with this high-tech world wrapped tight around her, Kara looked as if she belonged. He supposed it was like how he felt when he settled into the pilot’s seat of the Jane ; everything just kind of fit.
This high-tech dungeon looked good on her, damned good.
“Don’t!” She aimed a finger at him and he knew exactly what she meant, though clearly the other two didn’t.
Justin couldn’t help himself, didn’t even bother to try.
He just kept smiling at her.
Chapter 6
Kara forced herself to look away from Justin. She could see by Major Wilson’s face that he’d been inside RPA coffins before. A sweeping glance, and no more. It told her something about his security clearance at least.
His eyes hesitated only twice: once on the poster of an MQ-1C Gray Eagle soaring among the clouds, and once on her Fordham University Rams banner. She made a guess based on his hesitation.
“The Lions suck, by the way.”
Wilson’s frown was as instantaneous as only a true Columbia University Lions football fan would have.
“And we’re going to kick your butts this year too.”
He actually growled, but it was hard to argue with Fordham’s winning streak. Reality sucks, dude! But she kept the last to herself, figuring that she’d pushed him hard enough.
She could also see Justin looking like a kid on Christmas morning, finding a new colt under the tree or something. She still wasn’t sure what instinct had made her force Wilson’s hand to let her bring Justin along.
It had been a hard-learned lesson to trust that instinct. But once she’d learned to listen to it, she’d graduated top of her ROTC class and eventually ended up sitting in this box in the Mediterranean.
Good little Instinct! She gave it a mental pat on the head and then shoved it aside. She was busy now.
“So, talk.” Kara gave it the full Brooklyn tawk , spun around her pilot’s chair, and dropped into it. At her nod, Justin took the copilot’s seat.
The Major dragged over a stool from the workbench; Michael remained standing.
“I can’t tell you who I work for and, no, pestering me isn’t going to—”
“Well then, I guess we’re done here.” Kara made to stand up. “C’mon, Justin.”
Michael watched her blandly, but she ignored him.
“Goddamn it!” Wilson cursed. “Will you sit still for a goddamn second, Moretti?”
She held out her hands as if intending no offense and dropped back into her seat. Kara had no intention of leaving, not when there was clearly something intense going on here.
“I’m—”
“—with The Activity,” Kara cut him off. She had no idea where that shot in the dark came from, but now that she’d said it, it made perfect sense.
Wilson’s blink of surprise was the only confirmation she needed.
“The Activity” was just one of the many nicknames for the former U.S. Army Intelligence Support Activity, which had been supposedly disbanded in 1989 and gone through a dozen incarnations since as it was vastly increased in size.
“Centra Spike, Gray Fox, Cemetery Wind…I’m guessing that you won’t be telling me your outfit’s current name.”
“How the fuck?”
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