In Sheep's Clothing: An Action-Packed Political Thriller (Matthew Richter Thriller Series Book 1) (13 page)

“So how was the show?”  McKay asked as he joined Major Lewis, Colonel Zweig, and Captain Thomas at the table.  The Indian restaurant was crowded. 

“I thought it was enjoyable.  A very nice production.”  Lewis replied.

“I should have come with you instead,” Colonel Zweig stated.  “Total chick play.  The captain and I were the only guys in the audience.” 

Lewis looked hurt for a moment.  “No, it wasn’t, and no, you weren’t.”

The waiter arrived and took McKay’s drink order.  

“So…that bad, Colonel?”  McKay asked after the waiter left. 

“The estrogen was so thick you could have cut it with a knife.”  Zweig replied.  Both Thomas and McKay laughed.

“You wouldn’t know culture if it bit you in the ass.”  Lewis countered, frustrated.  She turned red and added in a much softer voice, “Colonel.” 

“At ease, Major,” Zweig replied.  “I’m just yanking your chain.”  He waited a second until she relaxed.  “Actually, I enjoyed the show,” he said.  “I’m not sure if I would have chosen it on my own, but I’m glad I went.  Thanks.”

Lewis smiled.  “You’re welcome, sir.”  Feeling better, she turned to McKay.  “Did you find anything special at the baseball card store?”

“Oh, it was much more than a baseball card store.”  McKay smiled despite his unease.  “They had lots of autographed items: uniforms and jerseys, Super Bowl game balls, helmets, pucks from the Stanley Cup, the bat A-Rod used in the last World Series.  The place was incredible.”

“A-Rod?”  Lewis asked.

“Alex Rodriguez,” Captain Thomas answered.  “New York Yankees.”

Lewis shook her head. 

The waiter returned with McKay’s Diet Coke.  “Are you ready to order?”

“What do you recommend, Colonel?” Thomas asked as he scanned the menu.  “I wouldn’t have a clue what I was ordering.”  

“You all okay if I order for the table?”

“Sure, why not.” Lewis said closing her menu and handing it to the waiter.  “I guess if you can tolerate my choice in theater, the least I can do is let you choose the meal.” 

McKay half listened as the Colonel ordered.  He had been feeling anxious and queasy since his trip to the mall.  Secretly, he had been hoping that the storage locker would be empty, or that the key wouldn’t work.  He should have declined the dinner invitation.  Ever since the trip to the mall, he felt like a freight train was speeding towards him and he couldn’t jump out of the way.  He took a sip of his soda and told himself to calm down.  Everything was set.  It was only pre-game jitters.  He just had to focus on getting through the evening.  Thankfully, no one noticed his growing anxiety. 

It was 9:45 p.m. when the president returned to his suite.  Agents Richter and Sartori took up their posts in the hall outside his room.  Richter glanced at his watch.  Fifteen more minutes to go before his shift ended.  He hadn’t eaten yet and considered asking Stephanie to join him for a sandwich in the hotel restaurant.  He only wanted dinner and a chance to sit and talk; he wasn’t interested in anything more.  Or so he kept telling himself.  

But would she say yes?   Stephanie was driven and very serious about her job, but she had a human side too.  She could be playful at times.  Not quite flirting with him, but what?  He wasn’t sure.  Maybe she felt at ease with him, the way many people do when they worked together, especially after sharing some intense and challenging moments.  But every time she began to let her guard down, to show him she might be interested, she seemed to catch herself.

She’s only being friendly
, he chastised himself. 
Forget about her and do your job
.

The trouble was, he couldn’t. 

Colonel Zweig turned on the TV when he got back to his hotel room.  He burped twice as he undressed and got ready for bed. 
I’ll need to work this dinner off
, he thought, as he set his alarm clock early so he could go to the gym.

His thoughts were interrupted by the TV. 

“A series of Pacific storms will hit the western half of the U.S. over the next few days and we can expect to see near blizzard conditions and dangerous if not impossible travel conditions in much of the northwest.”

“Blizzard conditions?  This is a little unusual for this time of year, isn’t it, Katy?” 

“Right you are, Wayne.  And this is going to be a big one.  The National Weather Service has issued a winter storm warning for several western states effective this evening through Sunday morning.” 

Colonel Zweig studied the weather map on the TV.

“This will affect parts of Washington, Oregon, Idaho, Utah, Colorado, Wyoming, and Montana.  The brunt of the storm front is expected to pass through northwestern Oregon and southwestern Washington between 2:00 a.m. and 10:00 a.m. and southwestern Idaho between 7:00 a.m. and 3:00 p.m. on Friday.  And Wayne, check this out.  Portions of Idaho and Montana could see two to three feet of snow above four thousand feet and three to five feet of snow above seven thousand feet.  In some areas, we can expect wind gusts up to eighty miles per hour.”

“Three to five feet?  Sounds like a good idea to stay home, Katy.”

“That’s right, Wayne.  Travelers should expect delays and possible road closures along Interstate 15, Interstate 80, Interstate 90, and along the many state and county highways in the region.  The Montana State Police have advised us that some mountain passes will be closed.  Travelers are urged to use extreme caution and avoid travel if at all possible.  If you do need to travel, carry chains, a shovel, blankets, and a winter survival kit.”

“Thanks, Katy.  We suggest that you stay tuned throughout the weekend as we continue to update you on this storm.”

The colonel reached for the room phone when his cell phone rang.  Dropping the receiver back in its cradle, he answered his cell.  “This is Colonel Zweig.”

“Colonel, this is Major Nelson from McCord Air Force Base.  Sir, the National Weather Service has issued winter storm warnings for the Pacific Northwest and surrounding states.”

“I’m watching the news right now, Major.”

“Yes, sir.  I’m sending you the details.  At this point, it looks like you should be fine getting out of Seattle tomorrow.  The forecast calls for freezing rain and winds of ten to fifteen miles an hour at Sea-Tac.  The heavy snow will be concentrated further east from Spokane down through southwestern Oregon, throughout much of central and southern Idaho into Montana about as far as Bozeman.”

“Thanks, Major.  Anything changes call me ASAP.”

Colonel Zweig hung up and dialed Major Lewis’s room.  She answered immediately.

“Major, I want to meet one hour earlier, let’s say zero four thirty.  It looks like we’re going to have to earn our pay tomorrow.”

Richter pushed the button for his floor.  As the doors began to close, Stephanie stepped in. 

“Gee, thanks for waiting for me.”  She playfully punched him in the arm. 

There it was again. 

“Sorry, Stephanie, I didn’t see you.”

“Oh, yes you did.  You were trying to get away.  Had too much of me for one day, did you?”

Richter didn’t hesitate.  “Okay.  You caught me.  How about I make it up to you and buy you a sandwich?  There’s a great deli around the corner.”

“Agent Richter?” She feigned surprise.  “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“A date?  Who said anything about a date?”  He smiled then hesitated a moment before continuing.  “I’m sure you haven’t eaten yet, and neither have I.”

“You know, you’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”  She smiled then paused, uncertain, as she studied him for a moment.  Then she smiled again.  “I have a better idea.  How about I order some sandwiches from room service?”

Richter was surprised.  “That sounds great.”

The elevator door opened and Stephanie stepped out.  “Okay.  Why don’t you come by in thirty minutes?”

It had been snowing for the last twelve hours, and Jack was not happy.  Derek watched him in the flickering light of the small candle lantern.  The lantern, a tube no bigger than a roll of quarters with a retractable, reflective dome on top, swayed gently above their heads.  Shadows danced on the walls of the tent. 

“Let’s at least wait until its light out, Jack.  It’s five-thirty in the morning for Christ’s sake.” 

Truth be told, Derek wasn’t happy either, but he was not about to admit that to Jack.  What made it worse was that Jack was right.  They didn’t have the gear for this weather.  Without ice gear and snowshoes, it would be foolish to continue their planned route.  They didn’t even have the right clothes, Derek realized, at least not for the blizzard outside.  

Jack had been packing his gear since returning from a morning nature call.  Thinking he was overreacting as usual, Derek had unzipped one of the window flaps and peeked outside.  Although he knew it was snowing—sleeping in a tent, he never had to guess the weather—he was surprised at how much snow had fallen already.  There appeared to be at least a foot on the ground, and it was still coming down.

“Look, Jack.  I agree it doesn’t make sense to continue in this weather.” 

Jack glared over his shoulder. 

“We have two choices.  We can pack our gear and head back.  Right now.  In the dark.  In this storm.”  He let that thought sink in.  “Or we can wait until its light out and see if the weather breaks.”  Derek reached into his pack and pulled out a small coffeepot.  “I can make some breakfast in the meantime.”

“A cup of your lousy coffee and a frozen granola bar.”  Jack smiled for the first time that morning.  “Actually, that sounds pretty good.”  The tension inside the tent eased.

Derek smiled back.  “Why don’t you set up the stove?  I’ll go fill the pot up with snow.”

“Just make sure it’s not yellow,” Jack joked as Derek crawled outside. 

At least he’s in a better mood,
Derek thought as he tried to orient himself in the darkness and the swirling snow.  They were going to have trouble enough finding their way today. 

“You haven’t said much this morning, Lieutenant.  Are you okay?” 

It was still dark as the shuttle bus drove over to the Air Cargo section of the airport, where Air Force One was under heavy guard.

McKay grunted.  “Dinner tasted much better last night than it feels right now.”

“So that’s why I didn’t see you in the gym this morning,” Captain Thomas responded. “I thought studs like you liked spicy food.” 

“Give him a break,” Major Lewis ordered.  “Lieutenant.  Here….catch.”

McKay caught the package of Pepto Bismol.  He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing slowly.  He didn’t feel well, but it had nothing to do with last night’s meal.

Richter woke, and it took him a couple of seconds before he realized where he was.  He cursed silently.

He got out of bed, careful not to make any sound.  Grabbing his clothes, he tiptoed to the bathroom, silently closing the door.  He started to put on his pants then hesitated.  He felt conflicted.  Part of him was upset.  He knew he had broken a professional code.  He told himself that it was a mistake.  That it would never work. 

Then another part of him said,
So what?  You need to enjoy life more!
  He had one leg in his pants when he realized that this was the first night in a long time when the nightmares and bad dreams hadn’t invaded his sleep.  He had slept well.

He sat on the edge of the tub for a few moments.  Then he took his pants off and tiptoed back to bed.

He lay down and pulled the sheets up, trying not to make any noise.

Stephanie rolled over into his arms. 

“I was hoping you’d come back.”

Four hours before the scheduled departure of Air Force One, an E-3 Sentry Airborne Warning and Control System, or AWACS aircraft, took off from Tinker Air Force base in Oklahoma and headed northwest.  The plane, based on a Boeing 707-320B airframe, had a flight crew of four in the cockpit with eighteen AWACS officers operating the highly sophisticated electronic systems in the rear.  In addition to assisting in the monitoring of all commercial, civilian, military, and private aircraft in its sector as part of the North American Aerospace Defense Command, or NORAD, whenever Air Force One was in the air, the E-3 provided surveillance and threat detection and coordinated the communications with and control over other Air Force assets assigned to defend and protect the president.

Two and a half hours later, when the E-3 reached its station over central Oregon, it began to fly an oval pattern.

Air Force One sat on the tarmac at Seattle Tacoma International Airport, waiting for clearance from the control tower.  Unlike commercial aircraft, which had to wait in a queue, Air Force One was always given priority clearance by Air Traffic Control.  They didn’t have to wait long.

“Air Force One, you’re cleared to taxi to runway Three Four Right via Bravo.”

Colonel Zweig stowed the flight plan while Major Tammy Lewis keyed her mic.

“Roger Sea-Tac Ground.  Air Force One taxi to Three Four Right via Bravo.”

Zweig eased the throttles forward, the four engines instantly responding.  Eight hundred thousand pounds of metal, instruments, fuel, and people began to move down the taxiway as the ground crew, standing at attention in the freezing rain, saluted.

As Zweig entered the runway, Lewis glanced again, for the third time, at the preflight checklist.  Despite the fact that she, Thomas, and Zweig had completed the pre-flight over one hour earlier, she found herself checking again.  Double, triple, even quadruple redundancy was the norm.  She glanced at Zweig and gave a thumbs-up, signaling that they were ready to depart.

“Air Force One, you’re cleared for takeoff on Runway Three Four Right.  Have a pleasant flight and do come back and see us again real soon.”

“Roger, Sea-Tac Tower.  Cleared for takeoff on Three Four Right.  Thanks for the hospitality.”  Lewis shared a quick grin with Zweig and then turned her attention to the numerous control gauges and warning lights on the instrument panel as Zweig gently pushed the throttles forward to full power.  The aircraft began to accelerate down the runway.

Once airborne, Colonel Zweig began a slow turn to the east.  The flight plan called for a route across the state of Washington, into Idaho and then Montana.  They would pass over South Dakota, Iowa, and Illinois, where they would fly south of Chicago and follow a direct path to Washington, DC.

And so, the fateful flight of Air Force One had begun.