Ernie watched as three large military-looking, tarp-covered cargo trucks pulled into the hangar.
“Hey, Joe. Where was this plane’s origin?” he nodded down to the hangar. “You know, the jet that just parked?”
He heard a clattering of keyboard keys before she responded. “The log says they started in Nuremburg, Germany, but stopped at Baltimore International to refuel before coming here.”
“They passed customs, right?” Ernie squinted his middle-aged eyes into the artificial lights that had kicked on since the sun set. He was trying to get a better look at the large black cases being transferred from the bird’s cargo hold to the trucks. The “passengers” looked well-organized and extremely efficient as they worked. Military.
Josephine didn’t answer right away, so Ernie glanced over his shoulder at her. He caught her shrugging and nodding. “They must have. We would’ve been contacted by the Feds by now if they tried to sneak past. Internationals don’t mess around.”
Ernie nodded, but continued to watch. Something about what he was seeing looked shady—he just couldn’t figure out what.
Within twenty minutes, the trucks were fully loaded with cargo and passengers. Ernie watched them exit his airfield as efficiently as they’d arrived. Their private jet was requesting permission to take off before the southbound trucks were even out of sight.
Whoever they were, Ernie recognized a well-funded campaign when he saw one. He also knew he was nicely compensated for his discretion. He walked a fine line, but he prided himself on his professionalism.
“As long as they weren’t using my field for drug running,” he muttered to himself. He couldn’t think of anything worse than that. After helping the empty jet exit his airspace, he stood and stretched.
The evening was growing late and his rather ample belly was growling for food.
“Let’s start winding down for the night shift, Joe,” he called out to the woman who had been chewing the same piece of gum since lunch.
“Where are you taking me to dinner tonight?” Her East Texas drawl still slipped out, thick and sweet, when she was tired.
He smiled across the room at her. “Your choice, woman.”
Ernie and Josephine smiled and waved to the two people just arriving. The newcomers hung their jackets and were already looking through the logs at the evening traffic—the night shift had arrived.
“Anything unusual today, boss?” the burlier one asked as Ernie and Josephine grabbed their coats and reached for each other’s hand, just as they had every night for twenty-two years.
Ernie sighed, thinking back to the jet from Germany. “Nothing I made note of,” he finally said.
Ernie and Joe pressed the elevator button and waited in comfortable silence.
“Dinner?” he asked.
“Buffet?” she offered.
“You are my kind of woman,” Ernie grinned. A hint of the handsome pilot he used to be echoed across his face. Josephine’s eyes crinkled as she smiled widely.
“I better be. After twenty-two years, you’re stuck with me, Ernie Messelton.”
“Luckiest man on earth, Josephine Messelton.”
She may make a crunchy cup of coffee—ironic considering her nickname “Joe”—but she was the love of his life.
Joe leaned over and kissed her husband sweetly as the elevator doors closed.
44 Welcome to Texas Y’all
“Company Leader Rhett Hays reporting, Director.”
“Status?” Williams had to raise his voice into the satellite phone to hear himself over the roar of the plane.
“We have arrived in Texas and are establishing base.”
“Good. Listen carefully. We’re going to be working in accord with Senator Donovan Arkdone’s metamonarchs on this objective. I will host a video conference in approximately two hours in which both our team and his will be present. I need to get everyone up to speed on the Winter Clan. They all need to know the enemy as we go into battle. Establish internet capabilities immediately and be ready for the conference invite.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How soon will your reconnaissance team be ready?”
“I’m heading up the recon personally. We leave in five minutes, sir.”
“You read her dossier?” Williams asked, something inside making him hesitate to speak Meg’s name.
“I’ve committed it to memory, sir.”
“Then let me reiterate before you begin: do not underestimate my daughter. She is by far the most powerful metahuman I have ever created. Her psychic powers are—extraordinary.”
“Your orders sir?”
Williams was staring off into space, thoughts of the girl flickering through his mind like firelight painting the darkness.
“Hm?”
“Sir, what are your orders for Meg Winter?”
Williams cleared his throat. “Tonight just establish visual confirmation of her presence. You’re only gathering intelligence.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Repeat your orders,” Williams commanded.
“Tonight we are to establish visual confirmation of Meg Winter and gather intelligence. That is all.”
“Do not engage. Clear?”