Читать книгу An Honorable Woman - Lindsay McKenna - Страница 11

Exhausted, Cam walked down to her small room on the first floor of the barracks—her “home” until she could find an apartment near the base. Darkness had fallen. After spending so much energy talking individually to the two arrogant Mexican pilots, she was emotionally whipped. Gus had been a dream in comparison. He’d hung on every word of her critique of his flight performance, asked good questions on how to become better the next time around. Gus was her only bright spot in the whole day.

Heart heavy, Cam realized she wasn’t even hungry. It was 1900 and she knew she should eat, but she was too upset. Being a leader was harder than she’d ever envisioned. Gaining a new respect for her own C.O., Major Stevenson, Cam unlocked the door to her room. Stepping in, she turned on the overhead light. Earlier in the day, when she’d arrived at the base via commercial airline, she’d thrown her two pieces of luggage into the room, shed her civilian clothes and quickly donned the dark green flight suit worn by U.S. Army aviators.

Looking around as she quietly closed the door, Cam decided that even though this was a spare room, it was posh in comparison to her digs at the cave in Peru where the squadron was based. Here she had a double bed, a wooden dresser with a mirror, and two large metal lockers to store her few clothes in. A television, DVD player and radio were all unexpected bonuses to her. At BJS, no one had these things, though one building on the other side of the mountain—the mining operation that was a front for their black ops—had a satellite dish where off-duty personnel could go watch television and find out what was happening in the rest of the world. It was a treat to have time to do that.

Cam’s new room had a small desk and a phone, and she’d brought her Mac titanium G4 laptop, which she’d use to communicate with her colleagues. Next to it she placed the very expensive iridium satellite phone.

Cam reached for the Velcro closing at the top of her flight suit and tugged it open. Pulling out the white silk scarf she always wore around her neck in order to stop the uniform from chafing her skin as she scanned the skies, Cam sat down. She needed someone to talk to. Someone whose advice could help her get through this messy situation. Picking up the satellite phone, she dialed a number.

“Stevenson here.”

“Maya? This is Cam. I hope it’s not too late?”

Chuckling, Maya said, “I figured I’d hear from you. And late? When I’m known to stay up half the night and then crash for a few hours on the bunk in my office? I don’t think so.”

“It’s great to hear a friendly voice,” Cam said, meaning it. She gripped the phone anxiously.

“So, you hit a brick wall with your pilots?”

Sighing, she nodded. “Yeah, two out of the three are challenges. Only one, Chief Gus Morales, is the material we’re looking for.”

“So, give me the down and dirty on all of them. Let’s talk.”

Relieved, Cam quickly related the day’s events. Her heart was beating hard in her chest because she didn’t want to disappoint Maya. She didn’t want her to think she wasn’t up to the job before her. Right now, Cam felt like a loser.

“Let me do some more background snooping on Dominguez and Zaragoza, okay? If they’re that bad, why the hell did the army allow them to pass? That’s my first question. Secondly, I know that the Mexican military have been putting only two students per rotation through Apache school. Why should these two get it, instead of guys who really want the training?”

Rubbing her aching head, Cam muttered, “I don’t know. There’s nothing in their personnel jackets to indicate why.”

Chuckling darkly, Maya said, “Personnel jackets are sanitized versions of reality, and tell you little. Don’t worry, I’ll get to Morgan and have him do some looking into the real records at the flight school at Fort Rucker, to find out what you need to know.”

“I feel inept, Maya.”

Laughing, she said, “Welcome to the real world of being a leader. Crappy, isn’t it?”

“No kidding. I sure have a new respect for you…for what you must go through every day down there, while all we do is climb into the cockpit and fly.”

“Well, Cam, you pilots put your lives on the line. I don’t. I fly a desk most of the time. I take other slings and arrows—glares, silent name-calling and outbursts of anger from time to time with my people, but that’s not often. And you’re in another league on this. With an all-woman squadron down here, we have a natural tendency toward teamwork and helping one another. Whereas with men, at least most macho ones, there’s nothing but rivalry. Some guys just don’t like to work together. They like to show off—strut their stuff and show you what they know as an individual, not a team member.”

Laughing softly, Cam nodded. “Well, the one bright spot, like I said, is Gus Morales. He’s a dream, really.”

“Yeah?”

Cam filled her in on the Mexican-American pilot.

“He was a good choice as X.O.,” Maya affirmed.

“Maya, I’m going to ask a stupid question.”

“No question is stupid, Cam. Only the one that goes unasked. What is it?”

Relieved that Maya didn’t mind holding her hand as she learned how to become a leader, Cam felt the courage to go on. She shifted in the chair and crossed her legs.

“I see the closeness and confidence you have with Dallas Klein, your X.O.—the confidence you have in her. I was wondering…well, do I want to create that same situation with Gus?”

Chuckling, Maya said, “X.O.’s are people, Cam. Sometimes you get lucky, like I did with Lieutenant Klein, who became an immediate friend. She’s someone I can blow off steam to, cry in front of, talk and laugh with. And whatever I say to her stays with her. She knows how to keep a confidence. She’s not a gossiper. As a leader, you can’t cry in front of your people. You have to look confident, strong and sure of yourself even if your gut feels like jelly and you’re questioning yourself every step of the way. The right X.O. can give you a safe harbor to vent your anger and frustration, share your humor over dumb things, mistakes, talk about your personnel, and in general, help you run the command. You want an X.O. who is perceptive, who can give you feedback and who isn’t afraid of you just because you’re the boss. You don’t want a boot licker.”

“Gus isn’t that.”

“Good. Is he reliable, you think?”

“In my gut, he’s like Dallas, I feel.”

“Trustworthy?”

“Yes, but I haven’t had time to really verify that. It’s just an instinct thing.”

“Well,” Maya drawled, humor in her husky tone, “you know how much we work on gut instinct around here. And you know how accurate it is. Often, it saves our lives when a Black Shark is lurking around and our Apache is unable to pick up its identification signal. The only thing keeping us from getting blasted out of the sky sometimes is our intuition. If Morales feels right to you, feels like he’s trustworthy, I’m sure he is, whether he’s proved it yet or not.”

“You’re right,” Cam murmured. “You’d like him, Maya. He’s enthusiastic, he’s smart and he catches on fast.”

“Well, at least one of the three is a winner, Cam. What you have to do as a leader is figure out how to bring these other two dudes not only into line, but also up to scratch with their air skills.”

“I’m going to work out a mission plan when I get off the phone with you. I’d like to discuss it with you tomorrow night, if that’s okay with you?”

“Sure.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Heck no! I’d be worried if you weren’t calling me, Cam. Good leaders aren’t born, they’re made one grueling day at a time.”

“Gosh, that’s true,” Cam whispered, wrinkling her brow. “I’ve got to learn not to get emotionally involved when dealing with those two pilots.”

“That’s right. They’ll teach you what I call the Zen-like art of detachment,” Maya chuckled. “You’ve got to change your attitude, Cam. Down here at BJS, everyone likes everyone else. We all get along. We’re one big team. We’re like a bunch of sisters out on this wild and crazy adventure together. From what you’ve said, Zaragoza and Dominguez want to set you up to fail, to embarrass you, to show your faults instead of reflecting on their own skills and weaknesses. It’s a game, and you’ve got to learn the game in a hurry and turn it back on them.”

“I have to be tough in ways I never wanted to be, Maya. The only way I got through today was to act like our Inspector Pilots back at Fort Rucker.”

“Yeah—lean, mean mother machines,” she said derisively.

“And mother wasn’t used as a nice word, either,” Cam said, smiling a little.

“Right on. So be a mean mother. Don’t give an inch. And don’t let them know they’ve taken a pound of flesh out of you. Keep them off balance. That means you have to be thinking way ahead of them. You have to know them so well, their individual personalities, that you know what their action or reaction is going to be before they initiate a response.”