“Could be the good guys,” he said.
“Zelig?” That was Steve Romero, with his son, Sly, holding his arm.
“Might be.”
Nanci Simms whistled softly between her teeth. Jim Hilton had already noticed that she was somehow fully dressed and armed. The Port Royale machine pistol was in her left hand, the matched pair of Heckler & Koch P-111 automatics on each hip.
“Everyone for a hundred miles around’ll have heard them coming in.” It was almost as if she was talking to herself.
“Meaning what, Nanci?”
“Meaning that I hope they got a good ground lookout ahead of them.”
“The fake cops?” Jeff Thomas was one of the last to join the watchers.
“Very good, Jefferson,” she said sarcastically. “Your memory is getting better.”
“Think they might try and attack them?” Jim paused, struck by an afterthought. “Or us?”
A part of him wondered why he was deferring to Nanci Simms. What did a sixty-year-old teacher know about combat? Then again, what did a thirty-three-year-old United States space commander know about combat? Not a lot, he concluded.
“Going away,” said Sly in a booming voice. “Big noise going away.”
Everyone listened intently. Carrie Princip broke the silence. “Damned if he’s not right. Sound’s going to the east.”
“Good boy,” said Steve, patting the big teenager on the shoulder.
“Yeah, Dad, me heard it going away, the big, big noise.”
“Coming in on a figure-eight recon pattern,” said Nanci Simms.
“Who do you think it is?” Jim asked her.
“Know about the same as you do, Captain. You could engrave our joint knowledge on the head of a pin and still have room for an angelic host.”
“Swinging back again,” said Kyle Lynch. “Look, you can see its navigation lights.”
“Stupid bastards,” hissed Nanci with a sudden, surprising venom. “Why aren’t they playing ‘Hail to the Chief and letting off fireworks? If I was…” She allowed the sentence to trail off into the California night.
“How do we know they’re on our side?” asked Heather Hilton.
“We don’t. But it makes most sense, after the messages for us to be here in Calico. They’re heading away toward the west now.”
Kyle lynch looked around them. “Think we ought to try and show some lights for them to land? Some rough terrain here.”
Jim nodded. “Good idea. Could use the Mercedes for a start.”
“Don’t think that’s a good idea, Jim.”
Somehow the woman’s interruption wasn’t a surprise. “Why’s that, Nanci?” he asked, managing to keep a tight rein on his anger.
“They’ve got infrared night scopes on the Chinook. Been standard for ten or twenty years now. Also we don’t want to bring in anyone else who might be waiting and watching out there.”
“You’re paranoid, lady,” said Carrie Princip. “You reckon there’s black hats behind every cactus?”
Nanci turned slowly, smiling with perfect teeth at the younger woman. “I’m not paranoid, doctor. They really are out to get me. That was the old joke, Second Navigator Princip. Funny joke, in the old times. Sort of joke your parents might have found profoundly amusing—once.”
“What do you know about my parents?”
“Nothing. Semi wiped them away a couple of years or so ago. Silver wedding anniversary, was it not, Carrie?” A measured pause. “Not too far from Yellowstone, I believe.”
“How the fuck d’you know?”
“Obscenities in the mouth of a woman are as maggots within the heart of a rose.”
Carrie insisted, ignoring the gathering rumble as the chopper made another diagonal turn and came swooping in low toward them. “I asked how you know about my parents? How could you know?”
The light blue eyes seemed to reflect the moonlight like silvered contact lenses. Jim was watching Nanci and he saw the way her lips tightened.
“Jeff told me.”
Carrie spun around, staring at the journalist. “Did you?”
“What?”
“Tell her?”
Jeff shook his head, blinking, rubbing his eyes. “Sorry, Carrie, I didn’t…”
Nanci held her hand on his arm. “I was telling Carrie that you had recounted the dismal saga of her parents’ untimely ending, Jeff.”
“You were…” The wheels and gears moved slowly and meshed. “Oh, yeah. Sure. I told Nanci about it, Carrie.”
“Getting closer,” said Sly.