Читать книгу Rogue Patriot - Mike Trial Trial - Страница 4

JD walked the four blocks to the training field where his people had been training the SEAL team in use of Ghost II drones. The afternoon heat and humidity were beginning to soften toward evening.

His lead trainer, Fredric ‘Flash’ Gordon, was under the netting, packing what looked like a grey plastic, four-prop helicopter, about 18” square, into its case. No one else was around.

“Hello, Flash.” JD let himself in through the gate. “Ready to go home?”

Flash got to his feet and adjusted the cowboy hat he was never without. “Yeah. But it has been fun training the SEAL team. Those guys are sharp. They’ll have no trouble using these things.” He wiped sweat off his brow and resettled his hat. “Your big emergency meeting already finished? Got the world’s problems solved?”

“Just a short break. I’ll need to go back in a few minutes,” JD said. He picked up a Ghost II drone. “Don’t go to the airport yet. And don’t ship this drone out yet either.”

“Does that mean I might get some field work?” His tone was hopeful.

“These things tested out OK, didn’t they?” JD changed the subject and handed Flash the drone.

“Perfectly. Easy to fly, almost silent, will carry a half-kilo explosive which is enough to disable most weapon electronics with an electromotive pulse. Only drawback is that they only have about a 100-meter control range. Our SEALS are going to have to be at the site where they want to do the damage. Can’t sit safe and sound in Japan and blow up stuff in North Korea. By the way, why did we keep that one Ghost boxed up?” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the secure-storage shipping container chained to the wall of the training building.

“That’s an experimental model,” JD said. “Carries a bigger explosive charge so that the EMP can be conducted at a greater distance, or it can be used like a steerable grenade to put an explosive on top of enemy troops hiding behind a barrier.”

Flash nodded.

“Everything is classified, but if I read Admiral Hallam correctly, you might get your wish yet,” JD told Flash. “I’ll Call Lori back at the office and tell her to change your ticket to an open departure date.”

Flash grinned. “If the operation calls for Ghosts I can still fly them better than the SEALS. They can go as my support.” Flash laughed. “They’d hate that, having to support a contractor in an Op.”

JD punched a contact on his phone. But it wasn’t Lori Turner, his Chief Operating Officer who answered. It was Cheryl, his soon-to-be ex-wife.

JD said nothing, started to disconnect, then said, “Hello Cheryl,” slowly.

“JD.”

Flash discreetly stepped away, eyebrows raised.

“Sorry, Cheryl, I hit the wrong button on my phone,” JD said.

After a silence, “That pretty well says where things are between us, wouldn’t you say?”

An image of Cheryl flooded into JD’s mind. She was beautiful, with dark hair, deep blue-grey eyes, and the figure of a woman half her age. She was smart, degree from Radcliffe, the only daughter of one of the best known international law attorneys in Washington, in the midst of a substantial career of her own at the State Department. Why I am divorcing her? JD wondered. Then he remembered how strained their time together had become.

“Look, JD,” Cheryl said, “I make it a point to always take your call no matter how busy I am, but I’m right in the middle of a meeting, and if you just rang me because you hit the wrong button on your phone, I’m hanging up.”

“I am really sorry, Cheryl,” JD stuttered. “I don’t want to...I mean I do want to...talk to you. Not here, not now, not over the phone. But I’ll be back in Washington in a few days and I would like for us to have dinner together, to talk about where we’re going. OK?”

There was a pause. “Alright, call me when you’re back in town and we’ll get together for dinner.” She disconnected and JD stood there looking at the phone but not seeing it, thinking about how good things had been right after they married six years ago, and how things seemed to have gotten lost in the last couple of years. Now they lived separate lives, both working sixty-hour weeks.

Flash strolled back over to JD and pushed his cowboy hat back on his head. “None of my business, but if I were you and had a chance at a woman like Cheryl, I wouldn’t let anything stand in my way.” He pushed his hat down low to hide his eyes. JD nodded, phoned Lori and asked her to change the tickets.

“JD, we’ve got a problem with the Ghost III prototype, the one you’ve got...” Lori told him.

“Here comes trouble,” Flash whispered to JD. He nodded in the direction of a Navy Lieutenant Commander coming through the gate into the training area.

“I’ll call you back, Lori. Promise. Just as soon as my conference with Admiral Hallam is over.” JD ended the call.

“Smarmy clods like this guy are the reason I left active duty,” Flash whispered. “Name’s Gary Hare. Comes for a visit every day to see what we are doing out here with our ‘toy airplanes’. “

“Hello, guys!” Hare called heartily as he approached. “Training all finished up?”

He held out his hand to JD, who reluctantly shook it. “I’m Gary Hare, base operations.”

“JD Iselin, ISO.”

Hare grinned a wide grin that made him look both ingratiating and stupid. “You mercenaries live the easy life.” He hooked a thumb at the SEAL barracks. “Those guys have to work for a living.”

Flash closed the shipping box and took it to the steel security container and locked it.

JD said nothing.

“But I guess your little toys here ought to make life easier for my SEALS”

His SEALS?

“How far can these little guys fly anyway?”

JD checked his watch. “That’s classified. Sorry.”

Hare held up his hands. “Just making conversation. Not trying to get state secrets out of you.” He laughed a shrill laugh. “Come by the O-club tonight and I’ll buy you a beer. You can meet some of the local girls. If secrets are going to be gotten, they are the ones to do it. Japanese girls are beautiful.”

JD’s phone beeped. “I’ve got to get back to my meeting.”