cutting off my circulation. How do you wear these things on long flights?”
The pilot smiled patiently. “Well, ma’am, we don’t usually wear them upside down.”
• • •
Poised at the end of the runway, engines throbbing beneath her, Rachel felt like a bullet in a gun waiting for someone to pull the trigger. When the pilot pushed the throttle forward, the Tomcat’s twin Lockheed 345 engines roared to life, and the entire world shook. The brakes released, and Rachel slammed backward in her seat. The jet tore down the runway and lifted off within a matter of seconds. Outside, the earth dropped away at a dizzying rate.
Rachel closed her eyes as the plane rocketed skyward. She wondered where she had gone wrong this morning. She was supposed to be at a desk writing gists. Now she was straddling a testosterone-fueled torpedo and breathing through an oxygen mask.
By the time the Tomcat leveled out at forty-five thousand feet, Rachel was feeling queasy. She willed herself to focus her thoughts elsewhere. Gazing down at the ocean nine miles below, Rachel felt suddenly far from home.
Up front, the pilot was talking to someone on the radio. When the conversation ended, the pilot hung up the radio, and immediately banked the Tomcat sharply left. The plane tipped almost to the vertical, and Rachel felt her stomach do a somersault. Finally, the plane leveled out again.
Rachel groaned. “Thanks for the warning, hotshot.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’ve just been given the classified coordinates of your meeting with the administrator.”
“Let me guess,” Rachel said. “Due north?”
The pilot seemed confused. “How did you know that!”
Rachel sighed. You gotta love these computer-trained pilots. “It’s nine A.M., sport, and the sun is on our right. We’re flying north.”
There was a moment of silence from the cockpit. “Yes, ma’am, we’ll be traveling north this morning.”
“And how far north are we going?”
The pilot checked the coordinates. “Approximately three thousand miles.”
Rachel sat bolt upright. “What!” She tried to picture a map, unable even to imagine what was that far north. “That’s a four-hour flight!”
“At our current speed, yes,” the pilot said. “Hold on, please.”
Before Rachel could respond, the man retracted the F-14’s wings into low-drag position. An instant later, Rachel felt herself slammed into her seat yet again as the plane shot forward as though it had been standing still. Within a minute they were cruising at almost 1,500 miles per hour.
Rachel was feeling dizzy now. As the sky tore by with blinding speed, she felt an uncontrollable wave of nausea hit her. The President’s voice echoed faintly. I assure you, Rachel, you will not regret assisting me in this matter.
Groaning, Rachel reached for her hack sack. Never trust a politician.
13
A lthough he disliked the menial filth of public taxis, Senator Sedgewick Sexton had learned to endure the occasional demeaning moment along his road to glory. The grungy Mayflower cab that had just deposited him in the lower parking garage of the Purdue Hotel afforded Sexton something his stretch limousine could not—anonymity.
He was pleased to find this lower level deserted, only a few dusty cars dotting a forest of cement pillars. As he made his way diagonally across the garage on foot, Sexton glanced at his watch.
11:15 A .M. Perfect.
The man with whom Sexton was meeting was always touchy about punctuality. Then again, Sexton reminded himself, considering who the man represented, he could be touchy about any damned thing he wanted.
Sexton saw the white Ford Windstar minivan parked in exactly the same spot as it had been for every one of their meetings—in the eastern corner of the garage, behind a row of trash bins. Sexton would have preferred to meet this man in a suite upstairs, but he certainly understood the precautions. This man’s friends had not gotten to where they were by
The pilot smiled patiently. “Well, ma’am, we don’t usually wear them upside down.”
• • •
Poised at the end of the runway, engines throbbing beneath her, Rachel felt like a bullet in a gun waiting for someone to pull the trigger. When the pilot pushed the throttle forward, the Tomcat’s twin Lockheed 345 engines roared to life, and the entire world shook. The brakes released, and Rachel slammed backward in her seat. The jet tore down the runway and lifted off within a matter of seconds. Outside, the earth dropped away at a dizzying rate.
Rachel closed her eyes as the plane rocketed skyward. She wondered where she had gone wrong this morning. She was supposed to be at a desk writing gists. Now she was straddling a testosterone-fueled torpedo and breathing through an oxygen mask.
By the time the Tomcat leveled out at forty-five thousand feet, Rachel was feeling queasy. She willed herself to focus her thoughts elsewhere. Gazing down at the ocean nine miles below, Rachel felt suddenly far from home.
Up front, the pilot was talking to someone on the radio. When the conversation ended, the pilot hung up the radio, and immediately banked the Tomcat sharply left. The plane tipped almost to the vertical, and Rachel felt her stomach do a somersault. Finally, the plane leveled out again.
Rachel groaned. “Thanks for the warning, hotshot.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’ve just been given the classified coordinates of your meeting with the administrator.”
“Let me guess,” Rachel said. “Due north?”
The pilot seemed confused. “How did you know that!”
Rachel sighed. You gotta love these computer-trained pilots. “It’s nine A.M., sport, and the sun is on our right. We’re flying north.”
There was a moment of silence from the cockpit. “Yes, ma’am, we’ll be traveling north this morning.”
“And how far north are we going?”
The pilot checked the coordinates. “Approximately three thousand miles.”
Rachel sat bolt upright. “What!” She tried to picture a map, unable even to imagine what was that far north. “That’s a four-hour flight!”
“At our current speed, yes,” the pilot said. “Hold on, please.”
Before Rachel could respond, the man retracted the F-14’s wings into low-drag position. An instant later, Rachel felt herself slammed into her seat yet again as the plane shot forward as though it had been standing still. Within a minute they were cruising at almost 1,500 miles per hour.
Rachel was feeling dizzy now. As the sky tore by with blinding speed, she felt an uncontrollable wave of nausea hit her. The President’s voice echoed faintly. I assure you, Rachel, you will not regret assisting me in this matter.
Groaning, Rachel reached for her hack sack. Never trust a politician.
13
A lthough he disliked the menial filth of public taxis, Senator Sedgewick Sexton had learned to endure the occasional demeaning moment along his road to glory. The grungy Mayflower cab that had just deposited him in the lower parking garage of the Purdue Hotel afforded Sexton something his stretch limousine could not—anonymity.
He was pleased to find this lower level deserted, only a few dusty cars dotting a forest of cement pillars. As he made his way diagonally across the garage on foot, Sexton glanced at his watch.
11:15 A .M. Perfect.
The man with whom Sexton was meeting was always touchy about punctuality. Then again, Sexton reminded himself, considering who the man represented, he could be touchy about any damned thing he wanted.
Sexton saw the white Ford Windstar minivan parked in exactly the same spot as it had been for every one of their meetings—in the eastern corner of the garage, behind a row of trash bins. Sexton would have preferred to meet this man in a suite upstairs, but he certainly understood the precautions. This man’s friends had not gotten to where they were by
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