Operator B by Edward Lee Read Free Book Online

mission which involved a low-altitude, low-opening air-drop of Army INSCOM field operatives over the province of Kosovo, twenty-four hours after which a brigade commander of Serbian security forces—a Colonel Zlav—was assassinated by long-range sniper fire?”
    “No,” Wentz said.
    The room stood momentarily silent.
    “All right, Wentz,” Rainier played along. “Here’s your passcard.”
    The General smiled sourly, then passed Wentz a 3x5 sealed plastic envelope that read:

    RESTRICTED, EYES ONLY, WENTZ, J.,
    USAF, 221-55-4668

    Wentz broke off the perforated edge, then withdrew another plastic card that read:

    4B6: VERBAL CLEARANCE.

    Smith cleared his throat. “General? If you will?”
    Wentz sighed. “Yeah, I led the Black Bird raids on the Iraqi HF radar sites twelve hours before the war started, and I did the same thing in Panama, and, yes, I LALO’d the INSCOM grunts that scratched that asshole in Kosovo. I flew the Aurora at Tonopah and the X-23 at Palmdale and the SCRAM-jets and nuclear ramjets at Holloman and Goodfellow. I’ve flown the YF-24, the F-22, the JSF, and the YF-118. When Lockheed got the bid for the B-3, I was their flight-profile consultant. I’ve flown every classified aircraft we have, and I’ve participated in more classified aerial ops than I can remember, and with all due respect, sir—”
    Rainier nodded. “We know, Wentz, you’re retiring tomorrow. The thing is we have a problem, and you seem to be the only one qualified enough to resolve it.”
    Wentz scratched his chin. “Why me?”
    The pretty colonel, Ashton, stood up from her chair. “Well, General, it comes on very good authority that you’re the best pilot in the world.”
    “Are you?” Rainier asked.
    Wentz didn’t like this kind of spotlight. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve probably got more black test flights than any one else. But there are plenty of guys out there who are top-notch.”
    “Top notch isn’t good enough,” Smith said.
    Then Rainier: “If you’re not the best, then who is?”
    It didn’t come easy, but Wentz put his ego aside. “Will Farrington,” he admitted.
    “You’ve flown with General Farrington?” Rainier asked.
    “Well, no, sir. He was Marine Corp,” Wentz said, “and what I heard was he retired as a colonel O-6.”
    Ashton again: “What do you know about Farrington?”
    It was a difficult question to answer or to even contemplate. Like asking a World War I vet about Sergeant York or the French Foreign Legion in Indochina. Farrington was a myth, a legend within the secret circle of classified aviation. Any pilot who ever saw Farrington fly would never forget it. They said that on their deathbeds, the last thought in any woman’s mind would be the first man she’d made love to.
    With black-op pilots, the last thought in your head would the time you saw Farrington fly…
    “He was the best test in the business, bar none,” Wentz said. “No one could touch him. When he grabbed the stick, he became part of the aircraft. In 1984 I saw him pull a barrel roll in a C-141. This guy could fly cargo planes like they were fighters, and he could pull Immelmann Turns in helicopters . In Vietnam he brought down sixteen MIGs in a Douglas Skyraider, guns only… There was a war correspondent in Hue who actually filmed Farrington in his Skyraider—a propeller-driven plane—shooting down four jet-powered MIGs like they were slow skeet—not with air-to-air missiles, with mounted guns. First day in test-pilot school, they show that film. Will Farrington was astounding. Kind of like everybody’s icon, the pilot’s pilot. He was the King Zeus of black-op flyers and restricted test pilots.”
    “What became of him?” inquired Smith. “Do you know? Did you ever hear any rumors?”
    “He disappeared in 88,” Wentz said. “Word is he retired and became a recluse; they said he burned out. Didn’t make sense for a driver that good to retire.”
    “That’s because he didn’t  retire,