Chapter 51
When Derek started talking to Dilya about her dog, Abby checked out.
She’d always been more of a cat person. It was hard to be a dog person when out on the sea for unpredictable hours.
Having a warm cat waiting for your lap at home was always a pleasant thing.
Of course, being in the Night Stalkers, she couldn’t have either, but she enjoyed them whenever she took leave.
Grabbing a radio, Abby stepped out of the hangar and onto the tarmac.
With the morning light and the rain clearing off, she could see the helo operations clearly.
As they worked different techniques, she called up tips and corrections to hone their skills.
With the chance to offer immediate feedback, rather than the usual after-action reports, she could watch them improve.
It also let her call in a few twists of her own, then watch their responses. That short-cycle feedback loop provided instant, quantifiable results. She’d definitely be implementing this type of training more widely in the teams when she reached home.
Group Captain Cutcher rolled her Land Rover straight into the hangar, but she was the only one to get out.
The DAGOR passed by outside and Abby could see through the glass that there were no other occupants in the vehicle.
She would feel sick to her stomach—later.
For the moment, she wished that her carbine rifle was not in the door clip on her helo.
She turned away enough to hide the motion as she placed her hand on her sidearm.
Because this was the UK, Cutcher exited to Abby’s side of the vehicle.
Abby glanced over the hood of the vehicle that now separated her from Derek.
From his angle, he saw her motion and gathered his rifle from where he’d leaned it beside him.
After signaling Dilya to stay put, he hot-footed it around the back of the vehicle.
“Where are your commanders?” Cutcher faced her squarely.
Abby almost stumbled forward in her shock. “They departed with you. What did you do with them?”
“I was called away at breakfast.” She glanced at her watch. “Only seventeen minutes ago. They must still be there.” Cutcher rubbed at her forehead as if that couldn’t be possible. It didn’t sound like a ploy.
Abby eased her stance as Derek came around behind Cutcher and slowed at her signal. Dilya remained in place—but Zackie didn’t.
The little dog trotted straight toward Cutcher despite a soft hiss from Dilya.
The sound had Cutcher twisting to face Dilya just as Zackie sat directly in front of her and began happily wagging her tail. She was focused on one of Cutcher’s hands.
“Hey!” This time Dilya shouted.
Derek glanced her way. In answer, Dilya nodded toward the dog.
Derek looked at Zackie, then shifted from a covering position to standing close behind Cutcher. Once there, he rested the barrel of his rifle against the small of Cutcher’s back.
Abby stepped in front of her. “You will want to think about your next actions very, very carefully, Group Captain Cutcher.”
“This is outrageou—”
“Zackie doesn’t make mistakes. There are only a few smells she’d react to like that.” Dilya stormed up to face her. So much for staying safely in Derek’s shadow.
“What are you talking about?” Cutcher scowled at her.
“Where is she?”
“I told you, they’re at breakfast.”
“Not them. Miss Watson!”
Abby held up a hand to stop Dilya physically throwing herself at Cutcher. The hand Dilya had placed inside the cuff of her opposite sleeve was a motion that no one had missed. “No, Dilya.”
A group of early-arriving mechanics at the planes farther along the big hangar noticed trouble brewing. They gathered up some heavy tools and rushed in their direction.
Abby knew it was getting out of hand, but didn’t know how to stop it.
Overwhelming force seemed the best option—her only option.
She managed to catch Misty’s attention out by Charlene One and gave a simple upsweep of her arm, the military hand sign for Come.
Then she fisted her hand and pumped the arm for Hurry!
Misty stepped on the running board of the DAGOR, shouted something to Compass, and the vehicle raced across the fifty meters from their practice area in seconds. Her own crew, led by Sam, arrived at a sprint less than ten seconds later.
The line of Delta operators and Night Stalkers with their carbines at the ready had the Brit mechanics skidding to a halt.
Once they all stopped moving, Abby waved for her people to lower their weapons. Everyone did—except Derek. He kept his rifle against the small of Cutcher’s back.
“Our dog…”
Cutcher looked down at the small Sheltie like it was an alien.
“…has traced a unique scent to your hand.”
Abby glanced at Dilya for confirmation and received an emphatic nod.
“This means you have been in recent contact with a forcibly kidnapped US citizen. One who is a very high-value asset.” Or at least Abby hoped that’s what was going on.
“I haven’t been in contact with anyone.”
Derek nudged Group Captain Cutcher’s spine enough to remind her this was not a good time for a lie.
She raised her hand as if to look at it, and Zackie’s gaze tracked it up. “I…brushed it over a, uh, hospital bed.”
Dilya whimpered.