Assault on Alpha Base

Chapter 11

Britnell pulled a jug of wine from the picnic basket. He threw a smile at Vikki as he screwed open the top. High class, mused Vikki. Twist-top wine.

A helicopter beat overhead, flying away from Alpha Base. Vikki concentrated on the inside of the fence while Britnell poured the wine. The barracks, security building, and command post were arranged in a tight knot just inside the four fences. The picnic area seemed like an oasis in the shadow of the fortresslike Alpha Base. She compared the view with the drawings on the map Britnell had slipped her. The words for official use only were scratched out on the top and bottom of the document.

Britnell shoved Vikki a glass of pink Chablis. It tasted like wet cardboard, but she sipped delicately on it. She leaned back and ran a hand across his arm.

“I wish you didn’t have to go on duty. Seven days is a long time not to see you.”

Britnell broke into a smile. “There’s a way I might be able to get around that.”

“Really?”

“I was saving it for a surprise. I checked with my first sergeant. He’s scheduled my partner, Clayborn, and me on the Omega shift this week, patrolling Alpha Base from outside the fence. That killer rabbit we tracked down three weeks ago impressed the hell out of him, so he’s giving us a break.”

“Outside shift?”

“Yeah. One of the crews gets to patrol the area outside of Alpha Base instead of pulling guard duty inside.”

“Ummm. So we can see each other.” She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Why don’t I give you a call when I’m free?”

“Sure. When?”

Vikki thought rapidly — Harding needed at least a twenty-four-hour heads-up before starting the raid, and she still needed to get the call signs. “Let’s plan on tomorrow night, nine-thirty, unless I call.”

Britnell threw back the glass and chugged the wine. He poured himself another glass. “You got it. Tomorrow night, nine-thirty, unless I hear otherwise. We’ll meet right here, and I’ll take you out with us.”

She leaned over. She pushed him back onto the ground and kissed him hard. “What I’ve got in mind, I think maybe just you should show up and leave your partner back home.”

Britnell thought it over as Vikki kissed his neck; he caressed her hair and grinned. “Yeah. Clayborn can take a siesta. No problem.”

Vikki held him tight for some minutes. Rolling over, she brought up the map that he had given her. She studied the paper and waited a minute until he downed another glass. “What are these symbols?”

Britnell grabbed for the area map of Alpha Base and stabbed at the markings designated P, T, S, and M. “These are pressure, temperature, sonic, and motion sensors. Your company will have to avoid them when they build the new barracks. They’re buried all over the place.”

She folded the map and leaned over to kiss his neck. “I can’t wait until I see you again.”

“I’d like to see you tonight, but the first evening of my shift overlaps with the last shift’s — it’s all briefings for us tonight. But at least I’ll be there with a buzz on.” He eyed the remaining bottle of wine. “Want any more?”

Vikki shook her head.

He grinned lopsidedly and polished it off.

Vikki checked the number in the Wendover AFB phone book one more time before she called. Three phone numbers were listed under Base Operations. She entered the first, and as the phone rang, she hoped she had picked the right number.

“Base Ops.”

Vikki spoke quickly and tried to sound frantic. “My boyfriend is flying into Wendover tomorrow night. Is there any way to find out when he’s scheduled to arrive?”

A bored voice answered, “Do you have a call sign?”

“No, I don’t.” Vikki bit her lip. She knew that all aircraft used call signs, or a code name, to identify themselves over the radio. With the proper call sign, it was easy to masquerade as another plane. But according to Harding, the Air Force changed their call signs periodically.

“We usually don’t have the flights posted until several hours before they get here … but I have a C-130 out of Peterson AFB, Colorado, scheduled to get in at 2300 hours. Does that help?”

“Yes, it does. Do you have its call sign?”

“Merry Zero Three.”

“Thank you.” A thrill ran through her; that was almost too easy. After she hung up, she dialed again, carefully entering the international access code for Mexico. The phone was answered on the seventh ring.

“Harding.”

“Tomorrow night at eleven o’clock a C-130 is due to land at Wendover. I’ve got the call sign.”

“Good. We can fly into Wendover AFB using that call sign a half hour before it’s due and not raise any suspicion; but it gives us only a half hour to get everything unloaded. What about the IFF? Are you going to be able to get hold of one to get around Alpha Base’s sensors?”

Remembering Britnell’s boast of having an IFF on his Bronco, Vikki said, “I should be able to do it.”

It sounded like Harding placed a hand over the receiver; he came back a minute later. “Okay, tomorrow night is the night. We’ll meet you at the staging area tomorrow morning, sunrise.” The line went dead.

Vikki hung up, flush with excitement that the assault was coming together.

“A penny for your thoughts.”

“Huh?” Vikki shook her head. McGriffin sat across from her and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. Vikki flushed, suddenly feeling foolish that she hadn’t been listening to him. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”

“I could tell.” McGriffin pushed his vegetables to one side of his plate. He cut into his prime rib, took a bit. “I really appreciate you spending an early dinner with me.”

“What?” Vikki swung her hand around, taking in the casino. “And miss all this?”

McGriffin laughed. “I know four in the afternoon isn’t good for the appetite, but since I have to work—”

Vikki placed a hand on top of McGriffin’s. He stopped talking. She smiled. “I said, don’t worry about it. It’s nice to be able to just talk. Besides, like I said, I’ll be gone for a few weeks.”

“I’m glad you told me. Maybe we can see each other when you get back.”

“Yeah.” She set her mouth.

He didn’t move his hand. She felt awkward at first, like a teenager. But it felt so good just to be able to sit and talk, and know he wasn’t trying to get her in bed. Withdrawing her hand, she toyed with her food. “So don’t you ever get a break?”

“We’re kind of shorthanded now — but I thought we weren’t going to pry into each other’s life.”

“You’re right.” She took a bite and chewed slowly, watching him. McGriffin cut at his steak and wolfed the food down; but unlike Britnell — or Harding, for that matter — even in his haste his manners were impeccable.

She toyed with her food. “You know, when we first met, you said you didn’t go out and do the tourist bit. Especially where you used to live.”

McGriffin swallowed. “Yeah. I could never seem to find the time to relax, enjoy the sights. I’ve always had to have something going on. You know, busy jogging, working on the house …” He drew quiet at the mention of his house, as if something bothered him.

Vikki studied his face. His dark hair was stylishly cut, but it was a bit on the short side, even though it was long compared to how Britnell wore his hair. McGriffin was solidly built and quite good-looking; and even though he was suddenly withdrawn, he had a playful gleam in his eye. Whatever had been in his past, she would be very surprised if he had not been intimately involved with someone. She felt close to him.

Vikki said, “I know what you mean. I grew up in Colorado and never got a chance to see some of the touristy areas, like Pikes Peak, Garden of the Gods, the Air Force Academy—”

McGriffin started coughing.

Vikki frowned. “Are you all right?”

“Fine. I’m okay.” McGriffin wiped at his mouth. He wet his lips as if he wanted to say something.

Vikki cocked her head. “Is anything the matter?”

“No.” He picked up his fork. “Ah, where in Colorado did you say you lived?”

“Monument. That’s about ten miles from Colorado Springs, just north of the Air Force Academy.”

McGriffin’s eyes widened. “Yeah, I know.”

“You do? How’s that?”

He cut a slice of prime rib. “It’s a long story.” He glanced at his watch. “Uh, I’ve really got to hurry. Do you think we can get together for a real date after you get back — you know, spend some time where I don’t have to worry about getting to work?”

“Sure.” Vikki smiled and brushed back her hair. She didn’t know if she could ever make it, but even if she had to come back to Wendover as a fugitive, McGriffin might be worth the risk. He seemed to be everything that Harding had never turned out to be.

What’s more, McGriffin was just the thing she needed to get her mind off the assault.