Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 09 (74 page)

           
But at that exact moment, the
doorbell rang. Dev made a big, demonstrative pantomime of disappointment,
punching and kicking the air in mock animal frustration. “We’ll reheat it.
Don’t worry. You go ahead and start, and I’ll be right there.” He collected
cash from his wallet and went to the door, mentally calculating the amount and
the tip and getting the cash ready in his hand to hurry things up as he opened
the door . . . . and saw Colonel David Luger standing there. He shook off the
confusion and embarrassment quickly. “Hello, sir.”

           
“Dev.” Luger noticed that Deverill
was definitely blocking not just his way but his view of his apartment, so he
didn’t try to look around him. “Could you ask Annie to come out to the patio
and have a few words with me?”

           
“Maybe," Dev said.

 
          
“Maybe?”

 
          
Dev
eyed Luger suspiciously. “We heard that you were decertified. sir.” he said.
“The last we heard, you were being evaluated at Brooks for delayed stress
syndrome.”

 
          
“Something
like that.”

           
“You on medication?”

 
          
“None
of your business.”

 
          
“That’s
where you’re wrong, sir,” Deverill said. “You’re at my house, we’re not in
uniform, and Annie’s a friend and my aircraft commander. It
is
my
business.” He looked carefully into Luger’s eyes. He couldn’t tell if Luger was
on antidepressants or sedatives—he looked perfectly normal—but he knew he was
no expert. “Were you discharged from Brooks? Are you coming back to the
Lake
?”

 
          
“Ask
her to come out here, please,” Luger said.

 
          
“When
were you released from Brooks, Colonel?” Dev asked. “Or ... were you released
from Brooks?”

 
          
“None
of your
fucking
business.”

 
          
“Hostile,
Colonel, very hostile,” Deverill said. “Could it be possible you broke out of
the hospital? Maybe I should call the sky cops and ask them.”

 
          
“Do
what you want. Just ask Annie to come out here.”

 
          
“I
don't think so,” Deverill said. “If you’re okay and you’ve been released from
Brooks, you can see Annie at the
Lake
tomorrow. But if not... you might be dangerous.”

 
          
“Dangerous?
What the hell do you mean? What do you think you’re doing?” He saw Luger’s face
and neck muscles tense up.

 
          
He
went on full alert, eyes narrowed, measuring Luger up. They were of equal
height; Luger was younger, but Dev had at least forty pounds on him. “I don't
think I like your tone of voice, sir. I’m asking you to leave.”

 
          
“I
asked you to ask Annie to come out and talk with me,” David said evenly,
controlling his temper. Dev stood his ground. He knew he had absolutely nothing
to stand on—if Dev said no, that was it, unless Annie herself knew he was here.
He raised his voice and peered over Dev’s left shoulder, “Annie, it’s David.
Would you come talk to me?”

 
          
Dev
put his hands on Luger’s chest and tried to push him away from the door. “I
asked you to leave, Luger. Now I’m telling you
—get out.”

 
          
Luger
swept Deverill’s hands away from his chest with a speed that surprised him.
“Don’t push me, Deverill.”

           
“Don't raise your voice at me in my
own house, Luger," Deverill snapped.

 
          
“David?"
Annie was standing behind Dev in the doorway, wearing one of Dev’s tank tops,
which barely covered her bikini bathing suit bottoms. “What are you doing
here?”

 
          
“Annie,
I want to—“

 
          
“I
told you to leave, sir,” Deverill said, quickly restoring his polite but firm,
protective voice. It was too late to try to keep them apart. He turned to
Annie. “The colonel is being loud and rude, and he’s not being very
straightforward about his mental condition.”

           
“His
mental condition?"
Annie charged to the front door and tried to push Dev away. “Dev, move aside
...”

 
          
“This
is not a good idea, Heels,” Dev said. He had one more chance to break the bond
that still existed between these two, and he decided in that instant to go for
it. “I think he broke out of whatever medical mental exam program he was going
through. I think he’s AWOL. Look at his eyes—I think he’s on drugs. He came up
here looking for you and itching for a fight.”

 
          
“Screw
you. Deverill.”

 
          
“Tell
her. Colonel,” Deverill goaded him. “Tell her. Are you supposed to be here? Or
are you AWOL?”

 
          
“Fuck
you, Deverill!”

 
          
Deverill
couldn't believe it—maybe he had happened on the
real
reason for how
Luger was here. Could it be that Luger really had escaped from Brooks? Had they
had him in the loony bin, or almost there, and he’d escaped? “Which is it, sir?
Are you on drugs? Did you break out of custody somewhere?”

 
          
“Dev,
stop it!” Annie shouted. “What are you doing?”

           
“You want to take me out now, don’t
you. Colonel?” Dev shouted. “You gonna take a shot at me?”

 
          
He
did. It came out of nowhere, with a snap that surprised Deverill again, even
though he was on full alert and he had already seen Luger move once tonight.
The blow landed on the left side of Dev’s face, staggering him.

 
          
“David!”
Annie cried. She helped Dev into the living room, holding his face. There was a
drop of blood coming out of the corner of his left eye. “David, are you crazy?”
David Luger's face went blank, and his mouth dropped open in surprise. Her face
registered surprise when she realized what she'd said. “I... I didn't mean that...”
she stammered. “David ...”

           
“I'm leaving, Annie,” he said in a
low, solemn voice. The sight of her in his shirt, fresh out of the shower, from
his
shower, holding
his
face, was almost too much for him to
bear, “I won’t be back.”

           
“D-David? Where are you going?”

           
“Away.”

           
“Where? I don't understand.”

           
“There’s nothing to understand,
Annie,” Luger said. “I just came here to say good-bye.”

 
          
“What’s
going on?”

 
          
“I
can’t tell you. Annie.” he replied, the hurt obvious in his eyes. “But I’ll be
okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

           
“David, you're scaring me. Tell me
what’s going on. Please.”

           
“Good-bye, Annie,” he said. Annie
wanted to get up and follow him, but Dev grasped her wrist, and it froze her.
Luger didn’t seem like he was on any kind of drugs, not agitated or wild at
all—in fact, he seemed very calm. Too calm. What in
hell
was going on?

 
          
“Will
I ever see you again, David?” she asked. But he said nothing, only turned and
walked down the stairs and out to the parking lot until he was out of sight.

Sky Masters Inc. Corporate Headquarters,
Arkansas
International Jetport,

Blytheville
,
Arkansas

Several days later

           
Little Bradley J. McLanahan couldn’t
take his eyes off the big Sky Masters Inc. DC-10, brightly illuminated by banks
of ballpark lights, as the last forklifts moved away and the big port- side
cargo doors motored closed. He pulled on his mother’s blue jeans. “Are we going
flying, Mommy?”

           
“Not tonight, honey,” Wendy replied.
“Daddy’s going flying tonight.”

 
          
“I
need to go flying,” he protested. The big cargo plane/tanker/command aircraft
started up its fuselage engine. He turned to Patrick, realized he had not made
his request politely, and pleaded, “Please, can I go flying with you, Daddy?”

 
          
“Not
tonight, big guy,” Patrick replied, “When I get home, we’ll go fly the 210,
okay?” But his son’s attention was fully riveted on the DC-10, saving Patrick’s
heartstrings from his son’s earnest pleading.

 
          
“Stealing
away in the middle of the night,” Wendy said to Patrick. “This can’t be right
if we have to sneak away like this.”

 
          
“President
Martindale said go, so we’re going,” Patrick said. “I just wish you were coming
along.”

 
          
“Jon’s
still got a business to run,” Wendy said. “Helen and I are it.”

 
          
“Just
until things cool down.”

 
          
“Then
I think you’ll be gone an awful long time.” Wendy said, “because I think things
have barely begun to warm up.” She sighed, then asked. “Any idea where you’ll
be?”

 
          
‘
Turkey
or
Ukraine
,” Patrick replied. “We won’t make the final
decision until we depart our refueling stop, either in
Spain
or
Belgium
.”

 
          
“I
feel like we’re being pursued harder than the guy we’re trying to stop.”

 
          
“We
are—for now,” Patrick said. “Something will happen soon. My guess is that we’ll
get a sanction from the White House. Kevin will eventually make President Thorn
realize we’re not a threat to him or his administration.” They heard the port
engine on the DC-10 spool up. which was a signal to board. “I’d better go.” He
kissed his son on the cheek, then gave Wendy a hug and a kiss.

 
          
“I
wish I was coming along,” Wendy said. “No, actually, I wish we weren't doing
this. For some reason, it seems wrong.”

 
          
“I
don’t know if it’s wrong or not,” Patrick said as he hugged her tightly. “I
wish I knew,”

 
          
“Just
be safe, then.”

           
“I will.” He kissed her one last
time, then pulled away and headed for the airstairs. He took a seat near David
Luger, Jon Masters, Hal Briggs, Chris Wohl, and Marcia Preston. Moments later,
the starboard engine fired up. and they began taxiing for takeoff.

 
          
Patrick
was just settling into his palletized passenger seat when he heard via his
subcutaneous transceiver: “Patrick, this is Wendy. I see three helicopters in formation
coming in low over the airport. No marking that we can see.”

 
          
At
that same moment, Patrick heard on the cabin intercom: “General McLanahan,
you’d better get up here.”

 
          
Patrick
raced for the cockpit. Through the windscreen he saw the helicopters as they
raced in at treetop level from the southwest. They broke formation, so Patrick
could see only one of them.

 
          
“Who
are they?” the DC-l0’s copilot asked—then blanched as he heard an announcement
on the emergency UHF frequency. “Oh. shit...”

 
          
The
flight engineer handed Patrick a headset. “You'd better listen to this, sir,”
he said.

 
          
“Attention
Sky Masters DC-10 taxiing for takeoff, this is the FBI,” Patrick heard. “You
are hereby ordered to stop immediately and shut down your engines. Repeat, stop
and shut down immediately.”