Read Honorable Enemies (1994) for Free Online

and exploded in a thunderous fireball. A huge pall of gloomy black smoke rose into the overcast sky while the melting tires exploded like shotgun blasts.
    O'HARE INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
    Steve Wickham gratefully accepted a steaming cup of tea and looked around the crowded hotel restaurant. Most of the early-morning travelers were dressed for business, with a sprinkling of vacationers clad in a wide variety of casual attire. A steady stream of jets roared overhead as the air traffic began to build toward maximum capacity of the system.
    Steve methodically stirred his tea while he patiently waite d f or his breakfast to be served. The harried waitress finally arrived with his ham and eggs at the same time the special agent from the FBI approached the table.
    Wickham guessed the man's height at six feet even and his weight at 190 pounds. He looked like he was in his early forties, but he had the solid, muscular appearance of a collegiate running back. There was little doubt that he had been an athlete in his younger years.
    "Marcus Callaway," the agent announced and motioned for Steve to remain seated. "Don't let me interrupt."
    Steve thanked the waitress and offered his hand. "Steve Wickham."
    "A pleasure," Callaway replied good-naturedly and shook hands before he seated himself. "I didn't even need your picture.
    "Do I look that obvious?" Steve grinned and plunged his fork into his scrambled eggs. He looked ordinary enough to blend in with most of the crowd, but his cautious eyes never stopped surveying everything and everyone around him.
    Marcus chuckled and ordered coffee. "Sitting with your back against the wall is a dead giveaway."
    "That's an old habit I picked up from a gunnery sergeant," Steve admitted and cut into his ham. "Aren't you going to have any breakfast?"
    Callaway leaned over and talked in a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't tell anyone that I told you this, but I honestly like airline food."
    Steve laughed aloud and almost choked. "You must have spent some time in the Marine Corps."
    "Close. I was an Army platoon commander."
    A black man from Baltimore's inner-city projects, Callaway had been a member of a neighborhood street gang until a concerned teacher rescued him from the streets. Mrs. Schapiro used her considerable influence and various contacts to help a gifted youngster reach his full potential.
    Marcus became one of the beneficiaries of a scholarship fund established for minorities with special aptitudes. Thanks to th e g enerosity of a wealthy philanthropist, who had known adversity and poverty before making his fortune, Callaway was able to finish high school at a private institution and thengraduated with honors from the University of Maryland.
    He faithfully corresponded with the frail white woman who had intervened to give him and other deserving youngsters a fresh start in life. The few times he had tried to thank Mrs. Schapiro, she had given him the same advice. "Thank me by helping someone else."
    A nineteen-year veteran of the Bureau, Callaway's experience with international terrorism had been invaluable during the lengthy investigation of the Pan Am crash near Lockerbie, Scotland. He also spent many years assisting numerous foreign officials to better understand the terrorist phenomenon.
    Wickham and Callaway were anxious to discuss the tragedy at Pearl Harbor, but they knew from experience that it was impossible to carry on an in-depth conversation amid the constant interruptions in a restaurant.
    Steve paid their tab and they grabbed their luggage, then caught the courtesy van to the airport terminal. When they reached the entrance to their concourse, Callaway held up his identification folder, identifying himself as a special agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
    The stodgy female attendant at the metal detector closely scrutinized his credentials and looked at the slight bulge under his jacket next to his left biceps, then reluctantly waved him around the metal detector and into the