Read Online Fallout by James W. Huston - Free Book Online Page A

Thud said, smiling as he evaluated the man on whom so much might depend.
    Luke said, “But I’m not sure they’ll let you come with us.”
    “They must,” Vlad said with confidence. “First you check into VOQ,” he said, putting the emphasis on the O of the acronym for the Visiting Officer’s Quarters. “I will drive you there. Then we go to find MiGs.”
    Luke looked at Thud, who said, “Forget the VOQ. Let’s see the MiGs. It’s already almost 1400.”
    Luke and Thud followed Vlad out of the small building to the parking lot by the operations building. “What is your last name?” Luke asked.
    Vlad fished in the pocket of his tight polyester pants for the rental-car keys. “Petkov,” he replied in such a way that the name sounded like an explosion.
    “Nice to meet you,” Luke said. “Where’d you get this . . . car?” he asked, suddenly concerned.
    “Cheapest rental car place I could find. Nineteen and ninety-five per every day.”
    “I’ll drive. I’ve been on this base before—” Luke said.
    “I know base. I got here before you. I was driving around, until I saw Navy pilots do snappy break in F-18s, not pull up rolling break like Air Force. Then I just watched where you go.”
    “You’re very clever.”
    “Yes, very clever. I can do anything,” he said, stating a simple fact as he saw it.
    “Keys,” Luke said, holding out his hand.
    Vlad looked at Luke and immediately saw that this was nonnegotiable.
    Luke opened the driver’s door, unlocked the other doors, and pushed the button that released the trunk. They tossed their bags into the back and climbed in, with Vlad in the backseat. Luke and Thud glanced at each other as the body odor that was following Vlad around settled inside the car. They made quick faces of horror at each other but said nothing.
    “You could trust my driving. I was MiG pilot before maintenance,” Vlad said.
    Luke was surprised. “What kind?”
    “MiG-29. NATO calls Fulcrum. The ones we are now going to see.”
    “Then you stopped being a pilot?”
    “Yes,” he said bitterly.
    “Why?” Luke asked, watching him through the rearview mirror.
    Vlad turned his head to look out the window at the passing buildings. He was surprised at the beauty of the base, the officers’ brick homes, the lush trees, the groomed golf course, and the pond. It was somehow comforting. “Disagreement with my commanding officer. It was unwise on my part.”
    “So what happened?”
    “So I left Air Force and went to work with MAPS. Much easier. Plus we get paid.”
    “You live in Germany?” Thud asked.
    “Yes, but . . .” he said loudly and then paused. “When you—Turn here—” he yelled at Luke, who had almost missed the turn. “When you two start your own TOPGUN school in Nevada, I hope to be there to help you with MiGs. As chief maintenance officer.”
    “That would be great,” Luke responded with a tone of caution.
    “And then maybe you will help
me
get to be American citizen.”
    Luke glanced at Thud, then at his watch. “We’re supposed to meet a PAO at the operations building at 1400,” he said.
    “Yes, it is right over there,” Vlad said, pointing from the backseat.
    Luke drove right to it. They climbed out and walked stiffly into the lobby. Luke saw a female officer standing there, obviously waiting. She looked at his flight suit and quickly examined his patches—his NSAWC patch, the round TOPGUN patch on his right shoulder—and the brown leather nametag that had Navy gold wings, topgun, and stick on it. “Good afternoon, sirs,” she said. “Welcome to Wright-Patterson Air Force Base. I’m Captain Lisa Gannon.” She wasn’t sure exactly whom to talk to, who was in charge. “It’s my understanding you wanted to see the MiG-29s,” she said.
    “We’re here from TOPGUN,” Luke said. “We’re preparing a presentation to the DOD, a part of which will be about these MiGs,” he said seriously, implying much more than was there.
    “Yes, sir,