The Left Series (Book 3): Left On The Brink by Christian Fletcher Read Free Book Online

to the right of a vacant security and reception desk. The desk itself was cluttered with a blank computer screen, keyboard, a gray plastic phone and reams of scattered paperwork with a solitary, bloody hand print in the center, bonding the sheets together in a matted clump. Milner led the way up the staircase that zigzagged up the floor levels. 
    “Those guys guarding the door wore Air National Guard insignia,” Smith muttered. “Where the hell did they come from?”
    Milner either didn’t hear or deliberately didn’t answer. He strode up the stairs two at a time, Smith kept pace a few steps behind but Batfish and I struggled to keep up. I huffed and puffed and again silently vowed to give up smoking, once again.
    Eventually, the staircase leveled off into a large circular shaped area with a set of double doors in front of us. Milner led the way through the doors and we found ourselves at the summit of the glass covered, domed summit of the control tower. The room was dark except for a blue hue generated by various control panels positioned in rows across the floor so the user could sit behind them and still be able to attain a view of the airfield.
    I recognized Chief Cole huddled with some other military guys leaning over a desk , which was illuminated by a bright lamp. The Navy Chief was a huge, muscular black guy, whose physique more resembled a boxer rather than a member of the armed forces. He still wore green military fatigues and a dark blue peaked baseball cap with a U.S. Navy insignia emblazoned across the front. Cole told us when we last met that he had been running the show at the Airbase, since the chain of command had broken down in the absence of any commissioned officers.
    “Hey, Chief,” Milner called over.
    Chief Cole turned his head and waved us over. We tentatively approached the desk that Cole and the other three men were huddled around. 
    “We found who sent up that white flare,” Milner said. “Look who it is…”
    Cole stepped a few paces away from the desk and scowled at us standing in the gloom. His face suddenly changed to a look of pleasant surprise when recognition set in.
    “Smith, Wilde,” he croaked and turned to look at Batfish. “You found your friend , I assume?”
    Smith proffered his hand and the Chief shook it vigorously. “Good to see you again, Chief. Yeah, we went through hell in New Orleans but still successfully completed the mission. We got Batfish out of there.”
    I shook the Chief’s hand and gave him a pat on the shoulder. Batfish returned with a brief handshake and an even briefer smile.
    “Batfish? As in U.S.S. Batfish?” Cole beamed a smile.
    Batfish nodded. “My dad was a submariner in the Navy and he served onboard. He gave me a cap when I was little, a bit like the one you’re wearing.” She pointed to Cole’s headgear. “I always wore it and the name kind of stuck with me.”
    Cole nodded, still grinning. Somehow he didn’t look right with a happy expression. It was as though his facial expressions were destined to always be serious and stern.
    “We saw the red flares going up, Chief and wondered if you were in trouble,” Smith explained. “We were passing along on the river and came to see if you needed a hand after you and your guys saved our asses last time.”
    Cole shrugged, his mouth still hung open but the grin slipped from his face. Deep furrows appeared in his forehead as he raised his eyebrows towards the peak of his cap.
    “Ah, we weren’t in any kind of trouble here,” he sighed. “We were just lighting up the airfield a bit so we could see if we had a clear path to refuel and load the C-17. As you can imagine, the bird attracted a bit of attention when it landed.”
    “What’s going on here, Chief? Why all the sudden movement?” I asked.
    “And what was Milner talking about when he said you were heading to Europe?” Smith cut in.
    I turned to look for Milner but he had slinked away and out of the room at some point. I