schedule with ACN keeps me on the road at least half of the year. Between
trips, I’m either trying to recover from jet lag or fighting off the latest
foreign bug I’ve caught.”
“Alone.” It was almost a question.
“Alone, yes. But not obsessed with wondering when the chaplain is going
to knock on my door and tell me I’m a widow. Stoney, the places you go, the
flying, the killing, what you do for a living–it’s too much. I could deal
with the flying, if it were for a civilian airliner, but not the continual
combat. Every time some pissant little spot on the globe decides to act out
its fantasies of world domination, you’re in the middle of it. I’d never be
able to do what I do for worrying about you.”
“And you don’t worry now?”
“You know I do. But for the most part, I simply try to forget you exist.
But pass up the chance to see you again–no, I couldn’t do that.”
It was his turn to study her. The brilliant green eyes, sleek dark
hair–a few faint lines had crept up around the corners of her eyes since the
last time they’d met. Otherwise, she could have been the same young reporter
he’d first met and fallen in love with back when he was a lieutenant
commander.
“I almost wish you had,” he said finally.
The buzz of his telephone saved him from having to explain. He picked it
up and said, “Admiral.”
“Admiral, sorry to bother you. I thought you’d want to know that the
Vincennes is setting flight quarters to launch her helo. You asked their CO
to see you this afternoon, I believe.”
Tombstone was faintly grateful to the cruiser CO for giving him a
graceful way to terminate his visit. “Thank you, COS. I’ll be right out.”
He replaced the receiver in its cradle and remained standing next to his
desk. “Pamela, it’s been good to see you again. I won’t deny that. But
knowing how things stand between us, I think you’ll understand if I don’t
spend too much time with YOU.”
He saw her face go stiff and wondered if a similar trick of expressions
had been what’d earned him his call sign, Tombstone. “I understand
completely, Admiral. You’re not willing to settle for what I can offer.
Let’s just leave it at that, shall we?” She picked up her cup and walked to
the door, her stiff back stilling the sway of her hips to a gentle twitch.
“I hope I can,” he said softly as he watched her go.
0930 local (Zulu -7)
Admiral’s Cabin
Captain Killington, Commanding Officer of the USS Vincennes, arrived
thirty minutes later. Tombstone stayed seated at his desk as COS showed the
man into his office. He motioned to a chair in front of his desk.
As the surface warfare officer settled into the sturdy Navy chair,
Tombstone looked him over carefully, searching for the key to the man’s
character. Their professional paths had crossed several times, but Tombstone
knew little about the man personally. The Aegis CO had assumed command of
Vincennes only two months before the deployment, when the prior Commanding
Officer suffered a stroke at sea one night. As a result, he’d missed most of
the workup and exercise schedule that would have given Tombstone a chance to
assess the man.
Captain Killington was several inches shorter than Tombstone, with a
solid, massive build. His hair was light brown, with no trace of gray or
thinning, carefully trimmed and brushed back from his face. His eyes were an
almost colorless shade of brown, one that would either be called hazel or warm
spit.
According to his professional reputation, he was an aggressive operator,
one who clearly envisioned stars on his collar in the not-too-distant future.
Most of his shore-duty tours had been in DC rather than in the Fleet. The
other surface warfare officers regarded him as a politician who believed
himself to be a warrior.
Tombstone held out his hand, and Captain Killington took it firmly. For
a moment, Tombstone wondered whether the man would try to apply hard pressure
and make him wince. Surely he wouldn’t be that stupid around the man who