He took the time to force relaxation into his arms, his hands. He felt weak, as though his hands were shaking, though when he held one gloved fist up it was rock steady. What was wrong with him?
“You okay, Stoney?” Marusko asked from the backseat.
“Yeah, CAG. No problem.”
But there was a problem, and Tombstone knew what it was … or rather, who. The thought of Pamela came unbidden, a flash of memory, an image of her the last time he’d seen her in Bangkok. That had been two months ago, just after the
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coup attempt dial had nearly overthrown the government of Thailand and involved Carrier Battle Group 14 in a short, sharp air and ground action against rebel forces.
Pamela Drake was an ACN News reporter who had been covering the turmoil in Bangkok. Tombstone had gotten to know her pretty well during the crisis, well enough that they’d managed to fall in love with each other. She was back in Washington now, but her letters had been coming with each COD mail delivery to the Jefferson, and Tombstone, never much of a correspondent, had answered them all … all but the last two.
“Tango X-Ray One-one, this is Two-one-six.” Batman’s voice sounded steady over the radio. “Best lay we ever had. Slam, bam, and thank you, ma’am.”
“Our pleasure, Batman,” the tanker captain replied. His dry chuckle rasped in Tombstone’s headset. “Two-oh-one, Tango X-ray One-one. How’s it looking for you now, Stoney?” , Tombstone’s eyes scanned his instrument panel one last time. He’d been concerned that the impact of the basket might have damaged his fuel probe, but there were no signs of fuel or hydraulic leaks, no warning telltales on his caution advisory board.
“Green all the way,” he replied. He took a deep breadi. “Two-oh-one, in for another take.”
“You know what they say, Tombstone,” Batman said over flic headset. “Just try to imagine hair around it.”
“Roger.” The basket neared his canopy once more, closer . . . closer . . . Tombstone felt a tremor and glanced down. His hand was shaking now. Damn, he thought. Not now! Not now! Teeth grinding, he fought down the feeling of :weakness, blinked through the sweat that pricked at his eyes. He focused his concentration on the belly of the KA-6, aware of the basket’s jostling dance just beyond the canopy’s right front side out of the corner of his eye.
“Three feet, Stoney,” Marusko said, his voice emotionless. “Two feet. You’re right in the groove, guy. Left . . . left a bit more . . . Keep it coming . . .”
The refueling probe speared the basket dead center, with a thump and a jolt as the catches snapped home. ‘ Two-oh-one, contact,” Tombstone said. He snapped up die switches that opened the F-14’s tanks. “Ready to receive.”
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Kctth Dougbss
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“Capture confinned,” the tanker pilot said. “Here it comes.”
Fuel rushed down the narrow hose, greedily devoured by the Tomcat Tombstone kept his mind on maintaining the interval between the two aircraft. Mercifully, both CAG and Batman kept their silence.
Shit, Tombstone thought Sooner or later the odds are going to catch up to me. And when they do …
“We read you full, Two-oh-one.”
“Roger, Tango X-ray.” He snapped the switches closed. “Ready to disengage to port”
“We’re clear.”
Tombstone backed clear of the drogue, then broke left. The two Tomcats flew in formation with the KA-6D for a moment Then (he tanker began dropping away toward the sea, angling into a turn that would take him back toward the Jefferson. ‘ ‘It’s been grand, guys. Look me up again when you feel the need.”
“Thanks,” Batman radioed. “Just put it on Tombstone’s MasterCard, okay?”
Tombstone’s hand was no longer shaking. He flexed it a couple of times, then grasped the stick firmly.
Pamela’s last letters. What was he going to do about them? They’d arrived only three days earlier, both of them on the same COD flight in from Diego Garcia, and they were eating away at him. He’d not answered them because he didn’t know how, didn’t know the answer to what Pam was asking.