enemy in a silver steed with magic weapons that Buck Rogers would envy.
That’s the stuff heroes are made of, Matt.”
“But I thought you wanted this series of yours to be about how expensive
aircraft carriers are!”
She laughed again. “We’ll get to that, don’t worry!” She turned
serious again. “What I really want to do is show the whole story, the
men as well as the machines. You can’t have one without the other.”
“I agree. But you know, us aviator types tend to steal the show. Maybe
you should show something about the ordinary guys who make Jefferson
run.
Most of them are kids, nineteen … twenty. They work sixteen-hour
days, and that’s routine. When the pressure’s on, I’ve seen them go all
out for forty-eight hours straight. Down in engineering they’re working
in hundred-ten-degree heat. Up on the flight deck there’s not a single
man among them who hasn’t come close one time or another to getting
blasted over the side by jet wash, or sucked into an engine intake, or
decapitated by a snapped arrestor cable. You know, the deck of an
aircraft carrier may be the most dangerous work place in the world, but
those kids do it, day after day.
They’re the heroes, not hot-dogs like me.”
“Can there really be such a thing as a modest fighter pilot?” Her lips
quirked up in a thoughtful smile. “I thought all fighter jocks were
supposed to be so arrogant and cocky!”
He grinned. “I guess it helps. Nowadays, though, you’re better off if
you have the temperament of an engineer.”
“Well, I don’t think I would have believed it if I hadn’t seen one with
my own eyes.” She looked at her watch. “I’d say we’ve done enough for
today.
Boys? Let’s wrap it.”
Tombstone studied her profile for a moment. Despite their differences,
he felt himself attracted to her. She seemed to feel his eyes on her
and turned suddenly, their eyes meeting.
“I tell you what,” he said. “It’s late and I haven’t had dinner yet.
Know someplace in Bangkok where we could have some authentic That food?”
She pursed her lips. “I should warn you, Commander, that I don’t get
involved with my … subjects.”
“That makes you sound like a lab technician. What am I, a rare
specimen?”
“Okay, I’ll tell you what. There are several restaurants right here in
the Dusit Thani. There’s the Mayflower … that’s Chinese. Or the
Shogun for Japanese food. Or the Hamilton for French cuisine. We’ll
have dinner, but only if it’s on my expense account.”
“Hey, how could any self-respecting hotdog refuse an offer like that?
Let’s go!”
They settled on the Mayflower. The food was good, but Tombstone
scarcely noticed it.
CHAPTER 8
0820 hours, 17 January
Thonbud Market, near Bangkok
Located across the Chao Phraya River from the capital, Thonburi was
supposed to be Bangkok’s sister city, but so far as Pamela could see,
the area was simply a continuation of the buildings and shanties,
Buddhist wats and tourist traps, dark-watered klongs and waterfront
piers making up the low, oriental urban sprawl that was Bangkok.
The district’s Kiong Dao Kanong carried a special reputation, however, a
place where visitors to Thailand could glimpse a fragment of a largely
vanished way of life, the floating markets of Thonburi.
She stole a sideways glance at her companion. During much of the
interview the night before, Matthew Magruder had seemed reserved, even
shy.
Now he displayed an animated, almost boyish exuberance as he studied a
guide booklet and pointed out landmarks and sights along the waterway.
Pamela was not a morning person, and she wondered if Tombstone’s Navy
hours were responsible for his break-of-day brightness.
Still, she had to admit she was enjoying herself … and enjoying his
company. This expedition had been rather hastily planned, and she’d not
been entirely certain at the time that it was a good idea.
It had been late enough the previous evening when Tombstone had decided
to stay in the city overnight. Today was Saturday and the aviator had
this weekend off, so there was no need for him to get back to the ship
until Monday.
Almost … almost she’d suggested that he spend the night with her, but