Read Wingmen (9781310207280) for Free Online Page B

flying upside down and sideways most of the morning. It had been
just as he had expected: Higgins had shot him down about a dozen
times. After an hour, though, Fred had caught on to most of his
moves and could escape for maybe two minutes before the Exec found
his way on to his tail and clung there as though tied on. He had
never seen anyone fly like that before, not even Deadly Deal.
    “Banger Leader,
estimate thirty-five minutes’ fuel remaining.”
    “Very well, One
Three. That was a good workout. Take us back to the strip.”
    “Roger.” Fred
caught a glimpse of a mountain peak in the distance, estimated
their position, and headed inland.
    “Negative, One
Three. That isn’t the established return route.” The Exec’s plane
had glided in on his left wing and was waggling back and forth.
    Fred looked
across the space between the two aircraft and saw the Exec remove
his oxygen mask. The older man made the sign for “follow me.” Then
he rolled off to the left. Fred sighed and followed him, wanting
only to get back on the ground and stretch his legs. The two
Hellcats cut through the scattered clouds and leveled off at three
thousand feet.
    “Tallyho.
Targets at eleven o’clock low.” Fred looked and saw a five- or
six-story building in the jungle just off the beach. “It’s the noon
hour, One Three. We should catch a few bandits on the beach.” The
two aircraft slowed and dropped to a thousand feet, turned gently
in to parallel the sand and breakers. Then Fred understood.
    The building
was probably a hospital; a dozen or so girls in bathing suits were
lounging around on the beach or splashing at the water’s edge.
Several waved as the two fighters passed over.
    “Wouldn’t mind
meeting a couple of those in close-in combat.” The Exec banked to
get a better look.
    “Message
understood, Banger Leader.” Even up here, thought Fred.
“Twenty-five minutes’ fuel remaining.”
    “All right, One
Three.” Higgins sounded miffed. “Think you can find you way
back?”
    “Affirmative,
Banger Leader,” Fred said, already beginning his turn toward the
heading of the airstrip. They made the flight in ten minutes,
neither offering a single word of conversation. Fred landed with
ten minutes’ of fuel in his tanks; this was a totally unacceptable
margin of safety for him. Duane landed with fifteen minutes’ worth,
which was twelve minutes more than he had had when he landed aboard
the Enterprise, a hunted, damaged carrier in the middle
of a hostile ocean, after the Hornet was hit. He could thus afford to be
a little blasé about the whole thing, and even enjoy a bird’s-eye
view of a little nooky while the needles were hovering around
“empty.” Fred Trusteau wondered what it was that caused most men to
do such ignorant things when it came to women.
     
     
6
    “Pass.”
    An explosive
thunderclap rattled the building. Torrents of tropical rain fell
outside the windows, pounded on the wooden roof, seeped in under
the outside door of the ready room. Fred looked at his cards
briefly, then folded them into a neat little pack which he set down
carefully in front of him.
    “Pass.”
    Three soaking
wet officers burst through the door and stood for a second,
dripping, cursing at the fates that had caused them to step from
the Navy bus moments before the downpour began. Fred looked at
Hammerstein, his bridge partner, and watched him study his hand. He
probably didn’t have anything worth bidding. Fred hoped the hand
would be passed out….
    “Pass.”
    Higgins poked
his head through the door at the other end of the room, surveyed
the scene, and said, “That does it for flying today, fellas. Smith,
get a haircut.” Higgins disappeared, banging the door shut behind
him.
    One of the wet
pilots wrung the water out of his garrison cap. “Goddamn rain,” he
said.
    “One
heart.”
    Damn, thought
Fred, now Bagley will come in with a spade bid and Levi will go to
two hearts and we’ll play a nothing hand.
    “Look,