Attack on Area 51 by Mack Maloney Read Free Book Online Page A

with a thin smile.
    Hunter tasted his whiskey. “We’re looking for armed transport to fly to a location about fifteen hundred miles away,” he said. “We have to land with a few squads of operators, stay on the ground for a couple hours, and then bug out.”
    Roy thought a moment. “Level of opposition?”
    Hunter shrugged. “Moderate to possibly none.”
    Roy opened a huge binder in front of him. He went through it slowly, finally stopping at a well-worn page.
    “It’s a small market,” he said. “But maybe something like this?”
    He turned the book around so his visitors could see. The page held several photos showing a squadron of two-engine, prop-driven airplanes.
    “B-25 Mitchells?” Hunter asked.
    Roy nodded. “They’re small, versatile. They can carry more than a pilot and crew a fairly long distance, and they’re not bad on fuel. Plus they have firepower, if needed. Refit one to haul nothing but gas, and you’d get there and back no problem.”
    Hunter studied the photos. The Mitchell was a great airplane—elderly but great. They were used in World War II for everything from medium bombers to naval attack craft. But with the right modifications, more than a dozen people could ride in one.
    And while the B-25 was older than the F-86 Sabre, the line of Mitchells in Roy’s photos had obviously been reconditioned. They looked like new airplanes.
    St. Louis had told Hunter he would support any plan that would get him to Groom Lake to look for the AII research center. At that moment, Hunter thought these planes were just what he needed.
    But there was a problem.
    When Hunter asked for their price, Roy just shook his head. “For you, old friend, it would have been a very fair number.”
    “What do you mean, ‘would have been’?” JT asked him impatiently.
    “I mean I thought I had bought these beauties just a few days ago,” Roy said. “But no sooner did I deliver the asking price when someone stole them.”
    Hunter frowned. “Who swiped them?”
    Roy smiled grimly. “That’s the rub.”
    He showed them another photo. It depicted one of the reconditioned B-25s wearing the markings of the Red Army Mafia.
    “They’re up in Detroit?” Hunter asked, surprised.
    “They are,” Roy confirmed. “Along with a lot of other stuff.”
    Ben and JT got up to go, but Hunter stayed seated. He knew Roy better than they did.
    “You wouldn’t be telling me all this if there wasn’t some point to it,” he said.
    Roy waved his hand and the gunmen seated at the table got up and left the room.
    Once they were gone, he went on, “Hawk, I think it’s very opportune that after all these years, you walked into my shop today.”
    Hunter sipped his drink again. “How so?”
    Roy lowered his wheezy voice. “The RAM has been on a bomber-buying spree lately,” he said. “Anything with more than one engine that they can’t buy, they’re stealing. They’re trying to keep it secret, but I’ve been told those mooks are grabbing up every mud mover they can get their hands on. Plus they’ve bought up just about every aerial bomb in the country too. It’s very odd.”
    “Any idea what it’s about?” Hunter asked.
    Roy shook his head. “I don’t know. No one does …”
    The old man sipped his drink again. “So, Hawk, any suggestions?”
    Hunter knew where this was going. “You probably want us to go up to Detroit and snatch those Mitchells back for you.”
    Roy leaned forward and nodded. “Well, if you did,” he said, “I’d get my revenge, and you could use some of them for your little side mission—free of charge, of course.”
    JT piped up. “But grabbing those planes back from the RAM? They ain’t exactly Cub Scouts you know. We’d stir up a huge shit storm.”
    No one spoke for a moment. While nowhere near as powerful as the Asian Mercenary Cult, the Red Army Mafia was still bad news. They’d been ruling Detroit with an iron fist for years.
    “They have weaknesses,” Roy said. “As all