AIRSPACE OVER SOUTHWESTERN MEXICO
0446 ZULU
Dare looked at the disposition of forces display superimposed on the glass cockpit display and noted the apparent escape plan of the fleeing Ka-50. He was not about to allow that to happen.
"What're you cookin' up, Iron Horse?" Bull Gaspar asked.
Dare pointed at a choke point several miles ahead of the Black Shark's position. Beyond that point, the river was meandering across a wide shallow valley and would be very difficult to engage it there as it was an agile and formidable advisory.
"We'll box him in here. Have Lucky drive him to us with her Griffins."
"He keeps breaking the laser lock from Manta. What are you gonna use on him?"
Dare rolled Eagle One to 135ยบ of bank and pushed the nose down aggressively as he turned south.
"Radar missile or gun kill from the front. That is, if Jill can't nail his butt with a Stinger first."
"Sounds like a plan. You do know he has a gun, too?"
"Most of 'em do. It's what keeps it interesting."
Dare released the inter phone switch and moved his left thumb down to the radio position on the red rocker switch.
"Eagle Three, Eagle One."
"Go ahead, Iron Horse," Jill replied as she topped the intervening ridge and saw the computer depiction of the Ka-50 in the valley ahead. "Talley ho the Shark."
"Fox and hound to the choke point, one o'clock, six miles. Push him with your Griffins. Stinger if able, over."
"Eagle One, Eagle Three copies. In pursuit," Jill acknowledged as Glenn Haug pointed at the area terrain display.
"It should work if he doesn't reverse on us," Glenn said in his usual dry tone.
"You think he's gonna reverse? He doesn't even know we're here."
"Girl, he knows. Why do you think he's been jinking like a turpentined cat?"
"He's got laser sensors?"
"He has everything Russian petrodollars can buy. Russian, French and Israeli technology."
"I thought the French and Israelis were our allies!"
"Funny how that works out, huh? By the way, range to target, one point five miles."
"Gonna close it up to one mile and try a Griffin at max range," Jill advised.
"Won't touch him if he keeps braking lock."
"I know. May have to light him up with the G2 Bore sight."
Jill banked hard right to stay inside the canyon as it narrowed and the river cascaded over a hundred foot waterfall. It would have been quite a scenic trip in daylight and peacetime, but outside the ultramodern cockpit, the black night reigned supreme. Neither pilot in either aircraft would have dared to chance flying the canyon without the aid of FLIR or radar mapping and computer generated topography.
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Monday, June 27, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
EXCERPT from "Black Eagle Force - Sacred Mountain" - Chapt. 13
All eight engines spun at their max power settings as Mike clawed for altitude.
"Come on, baby you can do it, " Mike encouraged the little bird as it rocketed up the rapidly rising terrain with less than four feet clearance. We are gonna make it!
The computer generated terrain map on the primary screen took real time accurate radar imagery from Manta and created a view comparable to a flight simulator's depiction of the world. A small orange chevron shaped flying wing represented the aircraft and a curved magenta band out in front represented the projected flight path when descending or climbing. As Eagle Four neared the crest of the caldera, the image of a western juniper appeared above the magenta line.
"Tree!" both pilots exclaimed a quarter second before the Skycar® smashed into the four hundred year old gnarled trunk.
Both right nacelles were ripped off; the aircraft snapped violently to the right for a half second before the vertical stabilizer straightened it back. Mike pulled the two left side throttles to idle and fired the dual parachutes, sending the rocket deployed chutes out of their storage compartment mounted atop the fuselage. The drogue chutes quickly opened, followed a second later by loud pops as the mains caught air and yanked the still speeding craft to a near halt.
"Son of a bitch! Son of a bitch!" Mike cursed his performance. So damned close! We almost made it!
The damaged Eagle Four swung three times in the huge white chute before it settled down just below the top of the far side caldera rim.
"D, I wanted to..."
"Want to has nothing to do with it!" Maria shot back. Damned ground pounder tried to splatter my ass all over this mountain.
"I'm, uh, I'm …" Mike was at a loss for words.
"Sorry? That what you're trying to say? Sorry? Most useless word in…"
"All right, already. Got your point. I screwed up. Let's shut this sumbitch down and go see if we can do something—if that's all right with you," Mike said with determination.
"First smart thing you've said all day," Maria grumbled.
Before he turned off the battery, Cowboy keyed the microphone and made the one transmission he had hoped he never would have to make.
"Mike Charlie, Eagle Four."
"Eagle Four, go," replied Kit as he looked at the display and noticed for the first time that Cowboy's blue icon was stationary.
"Eagle Four is down, no injuries."
"Mike Charlie copies, be advised rescue pickup in two-five mikes with Eagle Five."
"Negative pickup, Mike Charlie, will assist Raptors as required."
Kit processed the unexpected news. Half his engaged attack air assets were down and now one crew was refusing rescue. He knew Cowboy had been awarded two silver stars in a Marine Corps ground unit and his WSO, Double D, had passed Marine Officer Training before her commission and flight training, but neither was equipped with the latest Raptor gear. All they had were their flight suits and survival weapons. The decision to assist the Raptors was not a wise one.
"Eagle Four, Mike Charlie."
Silence met his transmission. Kit began to become a little irritated.
"Eagle Four, Mike Charlie, over."
Again there was no response to Kit's radio call. Kit looked at Blaze seated at her weapons station to his left. The beautiful redhead shook her head and shrugged.
"That's Mike."
Kit pressed the transmit bar on his console gain.
"Cowboy, Mike Charlie, answer me, dammit!"
Mike had turned the battery switch off on Eagle Four after his last transmission. He removed his helmet and then he and Maria sat in the dark for a full ten seconds before he spoke.
"You coming, or what?"
"You don't think I'm gonna sit here and wait do you?" she shot back.
Mike fished the small plastic container of camo face paint out of the lower left zippered pocket on his survival vest. He pulled a small black Mag light out of the pocket on his left flight suit sleeve, twisted it on and placed it in his mouth. With the light shining on his face paint , he pried the top open and exposed the three colors of black, brown and green. Mike took his index and middle finger and dabbed them into the black and brown, and then, using the mirror mounted in the case top, applied the paint to his cheeks and forehead in long streaks. Satisfied with his artwork, he turned to Maria.
"Come here, D."
"What?"
"Don't argue. Your face'll shine like a new dollar. Makes a great target."
Reluctantly, she turned and faced the impatient Marine. He shined the flashlight on her neck as he began to apply the cammo grease. In less than a minute he was finished. She grabbed the mirror and checked out his handiwork.
"My God, I look like Geronimo!" she exclaimed.
"Nah, if you were Apache, I'da used red and yellow—Check your weapon, lock and load, girl. We're wastin' time."
She snapped the plastic cover on the face paint compact and handed it back to Mike. He had hit the switch to the entry door mechanism and it was already halfway up. A cold breeze blew in, reminding them both of the altitude at which they had crashed.
"We better get moving if we're gonna stay warm," she said.
"Point," he concurred as he stood up and stepped back out of the seat.
Maria pulled her Sig 250 pistol out of its holster on the lower left side of her vest. She pointed it toward the floor and pulled the slide back fully then released it. A shiny 40 cal S&W round popped out of the magazine and into the chamber as the slide slammed into battery. She dropped the hammer with the lever on the left side in front of the grip panel then stowed the pistol back in its holster and secured the Velcro retention strap.
Mike stepped back into the craft after standing in the cold wind for a few seconds.
"Hand me my helmet cap. Pretty nippy out there."
Maria reached over and snatched Mike's black cotton liner used to prevent hot spots from long periods of wearing the heavy helmets. It wasn't much protection, but it was better than nothing. The two reached the top of the rim where they could see the remains of two burning tanks. Flickering flames illuminated the area intermittently. Mike surveyed the caldera with his small binoculars, but could not spot any Raptors. The Lizard cloaking function worked as advertised.
"What's your plan, General Custer?" Maria asked.
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"Come on, baby you can do it, " Mike encouraged the little bird as it rocketed up the rapidly rising terrain with less than four feet clearance. We are gonna make it!
The computer generated terrain map on the primary screen took real time accurate radar imagery from Manta and created a view comparable to a flight simulator's depiction of the world. A small orange chevron shaped flying wing represented the aircraft and a curved magenta band out in front represented the projected flight path when descending or climbing. As Eagle Four neared the crest of the caldera, the image of a western juniper appeared above the magenta line.
"Tree!" both pilots exclaimed a quarter second before the Skycar® smashed into the four hundred year old gnarled trunk.
Both right nacelles were ripped off; the aircraft snapped violently to the right for a half second before the vertical stabilizer straightened it back. Mike pulled the two left side throttles to idle and fired the dual parachutes, sending the rocket deployed chutes out of their storage compartment mounted atop the fuselage. The drogue chutes quickly opened, followed a second later by loud pops as the mains caught air and yanked the still speeding craft to a near halt.
"Son of a bitch! Son of a bitch!" Mike cursed his performance. So damned close! We almost made it!
The damaged Eagle Four swung three times in the huge white chute before it settled down just below the top of the far side caldera rim.
"D, I wanted to..."
"Want to has nothing to do with it!" Maria shot back. Damned ground pounder tried to splatter my ass all over this mountain.
"I'm, uh, I'm …" Mike was at a loss for words.
"Sorry? That what you're trying to say? Sorry? Most useless word in…"
"All right, already. Got your point. I screwed up. Let's shut this sumbitch down and go see if we can do something—if that's all right with you," Mike said with determination.
"First smart thing you've said all day," Maria grumbled.
Before he turned off the battery, Cowboy keyed the microphone and made the one transmission he had hoped he never would have to make.
"Mike Charlie, Eagle Four."
"Eagle Four, go," replied Kit as he looked at the display and noticed for the first time that Cowboy's blue icon was stationary.
"Eagle Four is down, no injuries."
"Mike Charlie copies, be advised rescue pickup in two-five mikes with Eagle Five."
"Negative pickup, Mike Charlie, will assist Raptors as required."
Kit processed the unexpected news. Half his engaged attack air assets were down and now one crew was refusing rescue. He knew Cowboy had been awarded two silver stars in a Marine Corps ground unit and his WSO, Double D, had passed Marine Officer Training before her commission and flight training, but neither was equipped with the latest Raptor gear. All they had were their flight suits and survival weapons. The decision to assist the Raptors was not a wise one.
"Eagle Four, Mike Charlie."
Silence met his transmission. Kit began to become a little irritated.
"Eagle Four, Mike Charlie, over."
Again there was no response to Kit's radio call. Kit looked at Blaze seated at her weapons station to his left. The beautiful redhead shook her head and shrugged.
"That's Mike."
Kit pressed the transmit bar on his console gain.
"Cowboy, Mike Charlie, answer me, dammit!"
Mike had turned the battery switch off on Eagle Four after his last transmission. He removed his helmet and then he and Maria sat in the dark for a full ten seconds before he spoke.
"You coming, or what?"
"You don't think I'm gonna sit here and wait do you?" she shot back.
Mike fished the small plastic container of camo face paint out of the lower left zippered pocket on his survival vest. He pulled a small black Mag light out of the pocket on his left flight suit sleeve, twisted it on and placed it in his mouth. With the light shining on his face paint , he pried the top open and exposed the three colors of black, brown and green. Mike took his index and middle finger and dabbed them into the black and brown, and then, using the mirror mounted in the case top, applied the paint to his cheeks and forehead in long streaks. Satisfied with his artwork, he turned to Maria.
"Come here, D."
"What?"
"Don't argue. Your face'll shine like a new dollar. Makes a great target."
Reluctantly, she turned and faced the impatient Marine. He shined the flashlight on her neck as he began to apply the cammo grease. In less than a minute he was finished. She grabbed the mirror and checked out his handiwork.
"My God, I look like Geronimo!" she exclaimed.
"Nah, if you were Apache, I'da used red and yellow—Check your weapon, lock and load, girl. We're wastin' time."
She snapped the plastic cover on the face paint compact and handed it back to Mike. He had hit the switch to the entry door mechanism and it was already halfway up. A cold breeze blew in, reminding them both of the altitude at which they had crashed.
"We better get moving if we're gonna stay warm," she said.
"Point," he concurred as he stood up and stepped back out of the seat.
Maria pulled her Sig 250 pistol out of its holster on the lower left side of her vest. She pointed it toward the floor and pulled the slide back fully then released it. A shiny 40 cal S&W round popped out of the magazine and into the chamber as the slide slammed into battery. She dropped the hammer with the lever on the left side in front of the grip panel then stowed the pistol back in its holster and secured the Velcro retention strap.
Mike stepped back into the craft after standing in the cold wind for a few seconds.
"Hand me my helmet cap. Pretty nippy out there."
Maria reached over and snatched Mike's black cotton liner used to prevent hot spots from long periods of wearing the heavy helmets. It wasn't much protection, but it was better than nothing. The two reached the top of the rim where they could see the remains of two burning tanks. Flickering flames illuminated the area intermittently. Mike surveyed the caldera with his small binoculars, but could not spot any Raptors. The Lizard cloaking function worked as advertised.
"What's your plan, General Custer?" Maria asked.
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Tuesday, May 31, 2011
EXCERPT from "Black Eagle Force - Eye of the Storm" - Chapt. 12
"We have our work cut out for us. Only have ten days to plan, prep and get into position. At least we got Admiral Valenti on board with the Navy's USS Iwo Jima. She can be on station in the Gulf in eight days out of Norfolk. The Marines of the 26th MEU will have four MV-22 Ospreys in addition to their regular compliment," Dare commented.
"Damn swabbie brass pukes can be such a pain in the ass. If they don't get to play, they want to cancel the whole ball game. Especially when they sit at the chair of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The guys are just politicians by the time they get that far up the chain," Kit muttered.
"Look, Kit, I don't like intra-service rivalries and Pentagon politics any more than you, but look at the bright side. The SecDef and the President are behind us and besides, the BEF itself has gotten over most of that internecine BS. It's one of our biggest strengths."
"You're right, as usual. Sorry if I get bent out of shape sometimes. What's new from the DIA?"
"Glad you reminded me. They tagged the cell phones used during the raid on the Eagle Nest and tracked them to six different accounts. One belonged to the head of the Tres Locos gang which was the primary organization behind the delivery of the murdered illegals. The CIA accessed his phone records and tied him to the Mexican Army Colonel arrested in Nuevo Laredo. It also tied him to a satellite phone number believed to be used by our new target, Javier Cojone."
"You are kidding, right?" Kit said incredulously.
"Kid you not. The DIA set up a special unit to monitor that phone frequency and record all transmissions. One of them was by the little blonde American cheerleader who disappeared from Barbados three years ago."
Kit pushed back his chair and exhaled slowly. He had a daughter by his ex-wife who was the same age as that girl who had been in the news for such a long time. That story had always had such an effect on him. He nodded his head slowly as he digested the information.
"So that's where the FBI fits in this puzzle. Some of the sex slaves being held are American."
Dare looked at his Chief of Operations and knew what he was thinking.
"Now you see why we need the Navy. There are between eighteen and twenty-five girls being held on Isla Gukumatz at any one time. We need the MEU's MV-22 Ospreys to get them off the island in a rapid manner. The Mexican government won't be happy when they find out we put one of their billionaires out of commission… Permanently."
Co-author - Ken Farmer
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Black-Eagle-Force/145501815492119
www.blackeagleforce.com
"Damn swabbie brass pukes can be such a pain in the ass. If they don't get to play, they want to cancel the whole ball game. Especially when they sit at the chair of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The guys are just politicians by the time they get that far up the chain," Kit muttered.
"Look, Kit, I don't like intra-service rivalries and Pentagon politics any more than you, but look at the bright side. The SecDef and the President are behind us and besides, the BEF itself has gotten over most of that internecine BS. It's one of our biggest strengths."
"You're right, as usual. Sorry if I get bent out of shape sometimes. What's new from the DIA?"
"Glad you reminded me. They tagged the cell phones used during the raid on the Eagle Nest and tracked them to six different accounts. One belonged to the head of the Tres Locos gang which was the primary organization behind the delivery of the murdered illegals. The CIA accessed his phone records and tied him to the Mexican Army Colonel arrested in Nuevo Laredo. It also tied him to a satellite phone number believed to be used by our new target, Javier Cojone."
"You are kidding, right?" Kit said incredulously.
"Kid you not. The DIA set up a special unit to monitor that phone frequency and record all transmissions. One of them was by the little blonde American cheerleader who disappeared from Barbados three years ago."
Kit pushed back his chair and exhaled slowly. He had a daughter by his ex-wife who was the same age as that girl who had been in the news for such a long time. That story had always had such an effect on him. He nodded his head slowly as he digested the information.
"So that's where the FBI fits in this puzzle. Some of the sex slaves being held are American."
Dare looked at his Chief of Operations and knew what he was thinking.
"Now you see why we need the Navy. There are between eighteen and twenty-five girls being held on Isla Gukumatz at any one time. We need the MEU's MV-22 Ospreys to get them off the island in a rapid manner. The Mexican government won't be happy when they find out we put one of their billionaires out of commission… Permanently."
Co-author - Ken Farmer
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Black-Eagle-Force/145501815492119
www.blackeagleforce.com
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
M600/A Black Eagle docking with C-5M Super Galaxy, 12,000 MSL at 285 mph.
Mama Bird had leveled off at 12,000 feet AGL and reduced her cruise speed to 250 knots true airspeed. The rear clamshell doors were open and the ramp was in the level down position. Jill, in Eagle One, was on the ramp. Mike, in Eagle Two, was in the trail position fifty feet below and two hundred yards behind Mama Bird and had matched her 250 kts. speed while Jill was docking.
As Jill's Eagle One was being pulled inside Mama Bird, Jill came on the BEF common frequency,
"Not to worry, Cowboy, it's only like threading a needle at 285 miles per hour during an earthquake. Pieceacake."
"Easy for you to say," Mike responded as he gradually pushed the throttle and crept forward twenty feet below and fifty feet behind the ramp of the giant dark gray aircraft. He started to work his way into the somewhat stable air pocket just under her tail. Eagle One had disappeared into the black hole of Mama Bird's cargo bay.
Without warning, an invisible clear air mountain wave grabbed the massive cargo craft and shook her like a rag doll in its unyielding fingers. The four hundred thousand pound craft dropped almost ten feet instantaneously as the huge T-tail came down like a gigantic fly swatter toward the tiny Eagle Two. A split second later the same wave struck the much smaller fighter with more intensity. Mike instinctively slammed the stick forward to provide separation from his intended landing site. The Eagle pitched down and rolled hard left, then snapped right as each pilot's helmet, in turn, bounced hard off the canopy.
"Jesus!" Mike blurted as he fought to control the aircraft.
"Crap! What the hell was that?" asked Maria as she automatically covered Mike's hand on the stick.
"I got it," he said as the Eagle leveled off fifty feet below the extended ramp.
Excerpt from Black Eagle Force - Sacred Mountain - Chapter 3.
As Jill's Eagle One was being pulled inside Mama Bird, Jill came on the BEF common frequency,
"Not to worry, Cowboy, it's only like threading a needle at 285 miles per hour during an earthquake. Pieceacake."
"Easy for you to say," Mike responded as he gradually pushed the throttle and crept forward twenty feet below and fifty feet behind the ramp of the giant dark gray aircraft. He started to work his way into the somewhat stable air pocket just under her tail. Eagle One had disappeared into the black hole of Mama Bird's cargo bay.
Without warning, an invisible clear air mountain wave grabbed the massive cargo craft and shook her like a rag doll in its unyielding fingers. The four hundred thousand pound craft dropped almost ten feet instantaneously as the huge T-tail came down like a gigantic fly swatter toward the tiny Eagle Two. A split second later the same wave struck the much smaller fighter with more intensity. Mike instinctively slammed the stick forward to provide separation from his intended landing site. The Eagle pitched down and rolled hard left, then snapped right as each pilot's helmet, in turn, bounced hard off the canopy.
"Jesus!" Mike blurted as he fought to control the aircraft.
"Crap! What the hell was that?" asked Maria as she automatically covered Mike's hand on the stick.
"I got it," he said as the Eagle leveled off fifty feet below the extended ramp.
Friday, May 20, 2011
BOOK REVIEWER ALERT
If you are an online reviewer and are interested in an ARC copy of BLACK EAGLE FORCE - Eye of the Storm for review purposes, please email blackeagleforce1@yahoo.com with your name, address, and the name of the publication, website or blog on which you review. Where applicable, please include a link!
Co-author Ken Farmer
www.blackeagleforce.com
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Black-Eagle-Force/145501815492119
Co-author Ken Farmer
www.blackeagleforce.com
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Black-Eagle-Force/145501815492119
Sunday, May 15, 2011
AUTHOR UPDATE
Whew! Been a busy last three days. Buck and I taught a three hour acting class Thursday night in Dallas. Got home at midnight, up at 5:30am and drove to Oklahoma City Friday morning to hold a six hour Screen Writing Workshop, starting at 10am, for a group of Tate authors wanting to learn how to adapt their novels to a screen play. Workshop over at 4:30pm, drove the two hours back to Gainesville. Saturday morning we drove to Denton, Tx to address the Denton Writers League at 10:30am. Met some great new writers and the league bought our lunch. Drove back to Gainesville and went to bed early.
Got the first three chapters of Honor Redeemed from Loree Lough and read them Sunday morning. Grab your butt, the second in Loree's First Responders is hot. You don't read Loree's novels, you experience them.
Now to get back to our second novel in our Black Eagle Force series, Sacred Mountain. Buck and I are right at 53,000 words, almost half way.
Ken Farmer
www.blackeagelforce.com
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Black-Eagle-Force/145501815492119
Got the first three chapters of Honor Redeemed from Loree Lough and read them Sunday morning. Grab your butt, the second in Loree's First Responders is hot. You don't read Loree's novels, you experience them.
Now to get back to our second novel in our Black Eagle Force series, Sacred Mountain. Buck and I are right at 53,000 words, almost half way.
Ken Farmer
www.blackeagelforce.com
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Black-Eagle-Force/145501815492119
Monday, May 9, 2011
EXCERPT from "Black Eagle Force - Sacred Mountain" - Chapt. 8
Mickey sat alone in the twelve foot diameter, multiple jet hot tub set flush with the floor, all jets running. The hot tub was positioned beside a twenty-four foot oblong, powered lap pool in the underground gym module. He was immersed up to his chin in the churning water with his head leaned back on the sky blue padded rim cushion when Maria entered the 1,500 square foot exercise module. Mickey looked up when he heard the door click closed and watched Maria walk in wearing a white heavy cotton terry cloth robe, flip flops and carrying two bottles of Eagle Nest Water. She stopped at a chair positioned beside the pool, set the bottles next to the rim, removed her robe and laid it on the chair. She was wearing a black French cut Tonga style bikini which matched her hair; now pulled back into a pony tail. The suit accentuated her hour glass figure and shapely toned legs. Mickey watched as she lithely stepped down into the bubbling water. Oh, my God. Nobody should look that good. I fully understand 'Double D' now, Mickey thought.
"Ooh, just right," she said as she settled down in the water on the blue merle fiberglass bench next to Mickey.
"I like it hot," Mickey said as he was finally able to get his mouth to work. "Well, I… uh, mean the water."
"I know what you mean," Maria said coquettishly. After a short beat, she added, "I brought you some water. Noticed you weren't carrying any."
"Duh, can't believe I forgot water, thanks." Mickey hesitated. "How long have you been with the BEF."
"Oh, just a little over three months… I had been flying F-18s off the Avenger…"
"Avenger?"
"USS George H.W. Bush—Part of her keel is made of salvaged steel from the Twin Towers."
"I knew that."
"Right—Anyway, I was coming up to the end of my original flight school commitment in the Corps and got a call direct from SecDef Baker that someone wanted to talk to me about my options. Well, turned out to be Dare and he offered me a position with the BEF. I had heard scuttlebutt, you know how that goes, but had no idea it actually existed."
"Neither did I till that fracas in the Gulf last year and got to meet Dare and the rest of the team. They're something else."
"I met with Dare and Kit, they explained what the BEF was and how they worked. Did you know it was created by President Reagan?"
"No kidding?"
"Dare said that because of plausible deniability, we technically don't exist. No glory, no honors; just the satisfaction of knowing we're in the front line to protect our country. The Force had access to the very latest technology and weaponry. Much of it not even deployed to the regular services. Sounded good to me, so here I am—What about you?"
"Well, not a lot to tell. I'm adopted. Don't know who my real parents were. Raised by a wonderful family in Altus, Oklahoma. No brothers or sisters. My mom was a school teacher...
"Oh, wow! My mom was too. But I have two brothers," Maria interrupted.
"Cool—My dad was the mayor for ten years. He had a good friend who was a congressman. Got me an appointment to West Point. Played football. Did a couple of tours in Iraq with the Green Berets after I graduated. Got offered a move to the Secret Service and eventually was asked to head up the detail for President Thompson and—you know the rest."
Maria sensed Mickey's demeanor becoming morose. She placed her hand on his shoulder.
"Mickey, I think I know what you're feeling…"
Mickey turned and Maria embraced him.
"Maria, I can't help but feel I somehow let her down. It's eating me up."
"Mickey, Mickey, please believe me, we will get her back. I promise you that. I've never been around a team like this."
Mickey leaned back from the embrace and looked into her face.
"Thanks, Maria, I really needed that."
She hugged him again.
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Fan Page - http://www.facebook.com/pages/Black-Eagle-Force/145501815492119
"Ooh, just right," she said as she settled down in the water on the blue merle fiberglass bench next to Mickey.
"I like it hot," Mickey said as he was finally able to get his mouth to work. "Well, I… uh, mean the water."
"I know what you mean," Maria said coquettishly. After a short beat, she added, "I brought you some water. Noticed you weren't carrying any."
"Duh, can't believe I forgot water, thanks." Mickey hesitated. "How long have you been with the BEF."
"Oh, just a little over three months… I had been flying F-18s off the Avenger…"
"Avenger?"
"USS George H.W. Bush—Part of her keel is made of salvaged steel from the Twin Towers."
"I knew that."
"Right—Anyway, I was coming up to the end of my original flight school commitment in the Corps and got a call direct from SecDef Baker that someone wanted to talk to me about my options. Well, turned out to be Dare and he offered me a position with the BEF. I had heard scuttlebutt, you know how that goes, but had no idea it actually existed."
"Neither did I till that fracas in the Gulf last year and got to meet Dare and the rest of the team. They're something else."
"I met with Dare and Kit, they explained what the BEF was and how they worked. Did you know it was created by President Reagan?"
"No kidding?"
"Dare said that because of plausible deniability, we technically don't exist. No glory, no honors; just the satisfaction of knowing we're in the front line to protect our country. The Force had access to the very latest technology and weaponry. Much of it not even deployed to the regular services. Sounded good to me, so here I am—What about you?"
"Well, not a lot to tell. I'm adopted. Don't know who my real parents were. Raised by a wonderful family in Altus, Oklahoma. No brothers or sisters. My mom was a school teacher...
"Oh, wow! My mom was too. But I have two brothers," Maria interrupted.
"Cool—My dad was the mayor for ten years. He had a good friend who was a congressman. Got me an appointment to West Point. Played football. Did a couple of tours in Iraq with the Green Berets after I graduated. Got offered a move to the Secret Service and eventually was asked to head up the detail for President Thompson and—you know the rest."
Maria sensed Mickey's demeanor becoming morose. She placed her hand on his shoulder.
"Mickey, I think I know what you're feeling…"
Mickey turned and Maria embraced him.
"Maria, I can't help but feel I somehow let her down. It's eating me up."
"Mickey, Mickey, please believe me, we will get her back. I promise you that. I've never been around a team like this."
Mickey leaned back from the embrace and looked into her face.
"Thanks, Maria, I really needed that."
She hugged him again.
http://www.blackeagleforce.com
Fan Page - http://www.facebook.com/pages/Black-Eagle-Force/145501815492119
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