Page 135 of One Minute Out

She and I were also virtually the only survivors of a gunfight on a tarmac in the UK.

“Yeah,” I say. “It’s me.”

She lowers the pistol.

“This is a step down from that Gulfstream you used to ride on.”

“I believe that aircraft has been retired from service. Too many holes in it.” She smiles. “I’m just glad to be working. I never got a chance to thank you for saving my life.”

“Not how I remember it. You took an unlucky hit, I bandaged you up, and then I left. You’d have made it, anyway.”

She shakes her head. “But you taxied the jet out of danger and then you—”

In the back of the aircraft Zack says, “Are you fucking kidding me right now? You’ve charmed the stewardess?”

Now the woman glares at the big man in the cowboy boots. “I’m not a fucking stewardess, asshole!”

This makes me laugh, and I haven’t had much reason to laugh tonight.

“Check your loyalties, lady. I’m on an op for the DDO. This dude is freestyling.”

She looks at me as she replies to him. “I’m on the same op for the DDO that you’re on, Romantic. Doesn’t mean I can’t say hi to an old friend.” She taps her pistol against the side of her leg. “Also doesn’t mean I’m going to let him steal my jet.”

Right. I turn to Zack. “Call the pilots,” I say. “Let’s go to Langley.”

He looks at his watch. “Travers is thirty minutes away. The pilots will be here in five. We’re fueled and ready; they just have to light the fires and kick the tires. When the Ground Branch boys get here, we’ll go home. Just as we planned.”

I sit back in the cabin chair. Plan B is my only plan now, and I’m wondering if I would have had a better chance trying to fly the Falcon home myself.

I guess I’ll never know.

FORTY

Chris Travers is the last of the six CIA operators to board the Falcon, and I’m glad to see they all made it out of the gun battle. They cram into the tight confines of the jet, with Chris sitting in front of me.

Most of the guys look my way like I have a horn sticking out of my forehead, but Travers shakes my hand.

I’m not happy to see him, but I do owe him some thanks. “I appreciate the heads-up back there in the alleyway.”

Travers shrugs. “Was supposed to bring you back alive.”

“Right. So... you’re TL now. Congrats.”

He shrugs again, then takes a beer passed to him by one of his teammates. “It’s tough barking orders at these degenerates.” A couple guys laugh, but most of them are still securing their gear.

Then Travers says, “Quick question. The boys and I have a bet you can settle.”

“Okay.”

“Did you schwack Ratko Babic last week? I say yes, most of these other dipshits say no.”

“No,” I reply.

Travers grins, turns to his team. “That means yes!”

One of the other guys says, “It also means no, Chris.”

The Falcon 50 begins taxiing towards the runway while the SAC team argues.

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