Targets of Opportunity

Chapter ELEVEN

Leigh Ann was overwhelmed when she saw the Hotel del Coronado. The monarch of Pacific Coast resort hotels was a magnificent example of elegant Victorian architecture.

After checking in and depositing their belongings in the oceanfront room, Brad and Leigh Ann went for a tour of the grand hotel. They explored the lush grounds before returning to browse through the quaint shops.

Passing the Ocean. Terrace, they decided to stop for a cocktail and unwind. Brad selected a table overlooking the ocean, and they ordered drinks.

When the waitress had left, Brad raised his glass, prompting Leigh Ann to do likewise. He clinked his glass against hers, then looked into her eyes. "To our weekend together."

"To us," she smiled gleefully, and tasted her cocktail.

Leigh Ann settled comfortably in her chair. "Can you tell me something about why you're in San Diego?"

Brad leaned closer to Leigh Ann. He hesitated a moment before answering.

"Nick and I have been asked, along with two other pilots, to evaluate a classified airplane."

A look of concern formed on Leigh Ann's face. "Is this secret airplane you're flying considered dangerous?"

"Honey," Brad teased, resorting to the black humor of all fighter pilots, "anytime you strap into something with an ejection seat, there is a certain amount of risk involved. That's the nature of my business."

They fell silent for a moment. Brad noticed that Leigh Ann nervously fingered her cocktail napkin.

"Leigh Ann, if I could tell you anything else, I would."

"I know." She knew Brad well enough to know that he thrived on excitement. How strange, she thought, that the same self-assurance and zest for life that made her fall in love with Brad, also made him pursue one of the most dangerous professions in the world.

They talked and laughed until the sun was barely suspended above the tranquil ocean.

Brad glanced at his watch. "I've got to give Nick a call. Excuse me," he apologized as he rose. "I'll be right back."

"Okay," Leigh Ann smiled with happiness, "but hurry."

Fortified by a second scotch and soda, Leigh Ann sat quietly and watched the golden sphere shimmer as it settled over the horizon. Her mind drifted back to the blonde at Brad's apartment. Although Leigh Ann had been initially outraged, she could now smile about the incident.

She turned to Brad when he returned and sat down. "Brad," she said sweetly, "tell me about Allison what's-her-name."

Unprepared for such a direct question, Brad stifled a nervous laugh and sat down.

"Actually," he began slowly, "Nick and I met her when we first got here. She had just arrived in San Diego to oversee the refurbishing of a yacht her father bought."

"Was that her Mercedes?" Leigh Ann asked dryly.

"Yes," Brad answered, wishing she would drop the subject. "Where was Nick when I was at the apartment?"

Brad squirmed in his chair. "Nick and Lex Blackwell — one of the other pilots — had gone to find a barbecue grill and get some meat for a cookout this evening."

"So," Leigh Ann sipped her drink, "Miss Short-shorts slipped over to have tea with you, while the other guys were gone?"

Brad burst out laughing. "Jealousy doesn't become you."

She frowned. "I don't think it's funny.…"

"Leigh Ann, she drove me to the supermarket. That's all there is to it. End of story."

"She went into the supermarket wearing that outfit?"

"Yes," Brad replied, suppressing a laugh. "In that outfit."

"Unbelievable," she muttered, then looked Brad straight in the eyes. "Let me understand this. Allison — what did you say her last name is?"

"Van Ingen, with a small v. She's from a Main Line family in Philadelphia."

Leigh Ann considered all the information carefully. "This woman — who appears to be about thirty, has a new Mercedes convertible, is overseeing her father's yacht, and looks like a Playboy centerfold — is hanging out with three military pilots in an apartment." She paused, staring at Brad. "Does that seem a little strange to you?"

"Probably," Brad shrugged uncomfortably, "but the friendship has been platonic. "

"So far," she replied with a taunting look.

Tilting her head, Leigh Ann gave Brad a smile. "Have you seen her father's yacht?"

"Come on, lighten up."

Leigh Ann was determined. "What's the name of the yacht?" He gave her a sidelong glance. -Bellwether"

She remained silent, fixing him with a cold stare while she made a mental note of the name of the yacht.

"Yes," he laughed, "I've been on the yacht. She invited the three of us to a cocktail buffet. She had a lot of other people there, of all age groups."

"So," Leigh Ann gave him a knowing look, "you reciprocated and invited Allison over for a party the night before I was scheduled to arrive."

"Correction," Brad declared. "Nick invited her."

Leigh Ann leaned back and studied Brad. "We're missing it — the party, or cookout, as you refer to it."

Brad inhaled, then slowly let the air out while he signaled the cocktail waitress for another scotch. "We aren't going to attend… for reasons other than you probably suspect."

It was Leigh Ann's turn to laugh. "I can't wait," she crossed her arms, "to hear this."

"I'll tell you as soon as the waitress leaves." Brad smiled broadly, wondering how he could explain the delicate situation to her. This should be interesting.

Leigh Ann never took her eyes off him.

Brad accepted his drink with a smile, then turned serious. "Allison knows that the three of us work for the government, but she doesn't know what we do."

"She's getting curious," Leigh Ann finished the disclosure, "and you think that I might inadvertently say something."

"Leigh Ann," Brad began patiently, "my situation is complicated, and I'm not supposed to say anything to anyone… including you."

She gave him a suspicious look. "Why can't you tell her the truth? You're military pilots who are evaluating an airplane. You don't have to tell her the plane is secret."

Brad took a deep breath. "I'm not serving in the military at the present time," he confided, giving Leigh Ann time to digest that information. "I report to another organization in the government."

Leigh Ann sat for a moment, adding up the facts so far. "What part of our government," she asked with a skeptical look, "would get you out of Vietnam to fly some secret airplane?"

"I am not at liberty to discuss—"

"The CIA?" Leigh Ann asked with an ominous stare. "You're involved with the CIA, aren't you?"

His silence was her answer.

"Brad," Leigh Ann declared with a look of dismay, "this whole thing — the CIA, flying a secret plane, the mysterious blonde — is very weird.… It adds up to something dangerous for you, and it frightens me.

He placed his hand over hers. "Don't worry, okay? At least I'm not being shot at over North Vietnam."

Leigh Ann trembled. "Brad, I do worry about you… constantly. - She gave him a brief smile. "And Allison sure seems strange."

"Do I detect another trace of jealousy?"

"Well," Leigh Ann hesitated, hiding her trepidation about Allison, "perhaps so, but you, Captain Austin, are naive where women are concerned."

Nick Palmer walked down to the patio next to the courtyard and swimming pool. He gave Allison's red bikini an admiring glance as she dove off the diving board. She had left the apartment late in the afternoon, returning an hour later with her bathing suit and a change of clothes.

Selecting a chair with 'a view of the spacious pool, Palmer watched Allison swim toward her two friends who were lounging in the shallow water. He darted a look at Lex Blackwell, then back to the women b y t he pool steps. "They're okay, but not in the same league with Allison."

"You're not going to hear any complaints out of me." Lex grinned, finishing another beer. "Where's the gyrene?"

"He just called a few minutes ago." Nick chuckled. "Seems as if Leigh Ann arrived a day early," he turned his head so Allison and her friends would not see him laugh, "and took a taxi to the apartment."

Lex opened another beer. "What's so funny?"

"Brad told me he was applying suntan oil to Allison's back — she was lying on her stomach, topless — when Leigh Ann rang the doorbell." Palmer punched Lex on the shoulder. "He thought it was you, and yelled that the screen door was open."

Blackwell doubled over and almost spit a mouthful of beer on the grass. "Jesus Christ," he guffawed, "is he in the hospital?"

"No," Nick replied, trying to contain himself "but he said he took some battle damage."

"Yeah," Blackwell laughed and admired the three women. "I remember a little filly I dated back in Texas. She caught me at a motel, at one o'clock in the morning, with my high-school sweetheart."

Nick watched Allison and her friends climb out of the pool. "What did she do?"

"Set fire to my pickup truck," he drawled, then smiled at Allison while she dried herself.

"You gotta be kidding me!" Palmer was incredulous. "What kind of women do you date?"

"I like feisty ones," Lex replied as the three women approached the patio table.

Nick was concerned that Blackwell was beginning to slur his words. He had been drinking one beer after another since midafternoon.

"Reckon I better put on the chow," Lex said, then reached for another beer and stood to greet Allison. "Little dahlin'," he asked unsteadily, "you wanta help me with the vittles?"

Allison smiled widely as she reached for a towel to wrap around her waist. "I would be happy to help you," she teased, "in any way I can."

"My kind of gal." Lex grinned at Nick as he wrapped an arm around Allison's shoulder. "Hold the fort, Nick, while we rustle up the grub."

Palmer nodded, concealing his worry. He engaged Allison's friends in conversation while he watched Blackwell stagger toward the barbecue grill.

"I understand that the three of you," Allison said when she and Lex reached the grill, "do some kind of testing for the government?" The statement became a question.

Lex arched his brow. "Who told you that?"

"Brad mentioned that you test things, whatever they are, for a government agency."

Blackwell gave her a sly grin and started forking the meat on the cooker. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"I might," Allison replied with mock innocence, "if you told me the truth. I asked Brad if he was in the military — the three of you look like pilots, you know, with the sunglasses and all — and he evaded my question."

Lex poured a thick sauce on the sizzling ribs and sliced beef "We are in the military."

"Well," Allison huffed convincingly, "what's so secretive about what you do? Is it something that embarrasses you and your friends?"

Blackwell laughed and took a swig of beer. "This ain't for publication," Lex bragged, "but you're right, we are pilots… fighter pilots."

"I just knew it," Allison exclaimed. "I have an eye for guys like you. All of you have such a bold, reckless quality — sort of a carefree, cavalier air about you."

Flattered by her praise, Lex drained his beer. "If you promise me that you won't say anything to anyone, I'll tell ya what we're doin' here."

"Who would believe me?" Allison shrugged.

Blackwell glanced at Nick and the two women, then locked Allison in his stare. "We're testing an enemy fighter plane — a MiG that the CIA got aholt of "

"You're kidding?" she said, wide-eyed. "I won't tell a soul. Even I don't believe you."

"Nope," he burped drunkenly, "I'm not kiddin'."