Recovery: V Plague Book 8 by Dirk Patton Read Free Book Online Page B

me.  I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her to me, enjoying the
feel of her body against mine.  We stayed that way for a few long moments
before continuing on.
    I had
guessed right that the group had brought luggage with them.  A large pile of
duffels was in one of the rooms they had used for sleeping.  Picking my way
through the rubble and broken bodies in shower shoes wasn’t exactly fun, but it
had to be done.  We’d stopped at a large gift shop and found plenty of T-shirts
and sweatshirts, but no pants.  At least they had underwear and both of us had
found a package in our sizes.
    As I pulled
each duffel free of the pile, I turned and tossed it through the missing
window.  Katie grabbed them, took them to an area that wasn’t carpeted in glass
and started going through the contents.  It took a while, but we were both
eventually dressed.
    I had hoped
for cargo pants, which are much more practical than jeans, but didn’t find any
so jeans it was.  A rough, canvas shirt completed my ensemble.  It would be hot
but it would also provide some protection.  Katie found a pair of jeans that
were so tight they looked like they had been painted on, but every other choice
was way too big.  We stopped in the gift shop on our way back so she could grab
a bikini top.  She hadn’t found any bras and that part of the bathing suit would
work as a substitute.
    It had taken
us a while and when we walked back into the VIP area Colonel Crawford and
Martinez were sharing a drink at the bar.  Dog was sprawled out near them, his
tail thumping the floor when he saw me.
    “Major. 
Ma’am,” he greeted us.
    “Please,
Colonel.  It’s Katie.  Ma’am is my mother.”
    Crawford
smiled and nodded before turning his attention to me.  “The Captain tells me we
need to transfer fuel to the Huey.”
    “Yes, sir.” 
I said, joining them after pulling a stool out for Katie.  “I’m thinking let’s
get in the air and start broadcasting for Scott and hope he’s in range.  Unless
you have a better idea.”
    “I do, but…
well, this is a little embarrassing.”  Crawford reached into his pocket and
placed a satellite phone on the bar in front of us.  “I had this and a charger
in my pack.  I’d love to place a call to Pearl Harbor and have them look on
satellite and find Scott, but I don’t know the number.”
    “Sir?”  I
asked, not understanding.  I knew he’d been talking to Admiral Packard for weeks.
    “This isn’t
my phone,” he confessed.  “Somehow I picked this one up when I was throwing
stuff in my pack and none of the working numbers at Pearl are in it.  Blanchard
had programmed them into my phone for me, so I just hit a speed dial button
without ever even seeing the number.”
    We all sat
there for a few moments, staring at the phone as if we could magically cause it
to have the information we needed suddenly appear.  I knew how Crawford felt,
but it didn’t have any bearing on my plan.
    “May I?” 
Katie asked, reaching out and holding her hand above the phone.
    “By all
means,” Crawford said, giving her a quizzical look.
    Katie picked
the phone off the bar and powered it on.  She sat staring at the screen for a
couple of minutes before standing.
    “No signal
in here,” she said.  “I’m going to the roof.”
    “Dog, go
with her,” I pointed.  He stood up, shook, and ran up the stairs ahead of
Katie.
    “Who’s she
calling?”  Crawford asked.
    “An old
boyfriend,” I said, suppressing a laugh at the look on his and Martinez’ faces. 
“He’s with the CIA, stationed at a listening post in Western Australia.  He’s
how she got out of Arizona and to Tinker.”
    “OK, sir,”
Martinez poured a drink and pushed it towards me.  “We’ve got time.  Give with
the story.”

9
     
    Tech
Sergeant Scott cursed in frustration, barely restraining himself from smashing
the FSOC communications panel.  It had worked fine the last time he’d spoken
with Colonel Blanchard but