Shadow Flight

Steve could see the concern on Becky's face. Of all the women he had known in his life, Rebecca Marchand was the first who had made him have second thoughts about marriage and his CIA career. He put his arms around his future wife, then placed her head on his shoulder. "Honey, I promise we'll talk about alternatives when I get home, okay?"

"I'll bet you tell that to all the girls," Becky replied, smiling slightly. "How long until they pick you up?"

Steve looked at his watch. "About two hours. A Tomcat is en route from Cubi Point — it was already airborne when I got the message."

"Well," Becky said as she untied her cover-up and let it drop to the floor, "let's enjoy the time we have."

Chapter Nine

LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

Norman Lasharr dropped his linen napkin on his dinner tray, pushed aside the plate holding the remains of his swordfish steak, then ran a rough hand over his white crew cut. "It would damn sure figure," Lasharr said to Hampton B. Milligan, director of CIA Clandestine Operations.

"Yes, sir," Milligan responded, avoiding the gaze of David Ridgefield. "At least we found him."

Ridgefield placed his tray aside and wiped his mouth. "Hamp, in the future — especially where Mister Wickham is concerned — have your people leave an address and phone number where they can be reached in an emergency."

"I've taken care of it, sir," the West Point graduate replied, chagrined. The bags under Milligan's eyes made him look older than his forty-seven years.

Lasharr swallowed the last of his tea. "When will they have Wickham in Key West?"

Milligan, a former Green Beret, looked the CIA director straight in the eyes. "They should be airborne fairly soon, generalCINCPAC estimates the aircraft will arrive at Key West between seven and eight tomorrow morning."

"Good," Lasharr replied as he extracted a sheaf of papers from his battered leather briefcase. "Hamp, I want you on the way to Key West as soon as we conclude this brief."

"Yes, sir," Milligan answered tersely. "I've got a C-20 waiting at Andrews."

Lasharr did not acknowledge.

"The vice president," Lasharr said, leafing through his papers, "and Secretary Kerchner are in battery. They made one thing very clear this afternoon. Results — now, whatever we have to do to accomplish the objective."

"Any clues, general?" Ridgefield asked.

Lasharr, unusually exasperated, studied his neatly printed remarks. "We have too many troops stirring this gumbo, but here's the current status."

The director put on his glasses and repositioned himself in his high-backed chair. "Satellite and reconnaissance photos were negative. The TR-1 made three passes, including a fairly low pass. The recon driver did a great job and the sky was crystal clear, but there wasn't anything that appeared unusual."

Ridgefield wrote himself a reminder, then looked up at his boss. "General, how do you plan to employ Wickham?"

"That depends," Lasharr replied, underlining one of his remarks, "on whether we receive any information from RAINDANCE before we introduce Wickham to Cuba."

"Excuse me, general," Ridgefield said with a surprised look, "but I thought we were going with the reconnoiter operation as expeditiously as possible."

Lasharr rolled his eyes to look at his deputy. "That's correct, Dave, but the vice president has really focused on the western end of the island."

"Any particular reason," Ridgefield asked, "or just intuition?"

Lasharr removed his military-style glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose gently. "Seems as if a Customs aircraft — one of our antidrug airborne early warning planes — witnessed something very unusual last night off the northwestern coast of Cuba."

Milligan's curiosity was aroused. "Oh?"

"They relayed the incident," Lasharr continued, placing his glasses back on, "through the FAA, and the White House had the story shortly thereafter."

"What did the Customs people see?" Ridgefield asked, intrigued by the possibility that the Stealth had been involved.

Lasharr looked at Milligan, then back to Ridgefield. "They witnessed four MiGs chase a low, slow-flying aircraft out to sea, where a melee occurred. One MiG apparently went into the drink, along with the small aircraft. The Customs crew watched a helicopter hover over the general area where the slow airplane went down, then return to shore."

"That's rather strange," Milligan responded. "Where did the chopper land?"

"Don't know," Lasharr answered. "The Customs folks lost it in ground clutter. However, they stated that it didn't appear to be returning to the base where the flight originated."

Ridgefield stood and walked to the lighted wall map displaying the locations of CIA station chiefs. "Does the vice president think the incident is related to the B-2 disappearance?"

"Yes," Lasharr answered, looking at the island of Cuba on the map. "So does Secretary Kerchner."

"What do you think, general?" Ridgefield asked as he walked back to his chair.