“Not domestic. Have you ever been searched after landing?” Jenn asked. “For reasons known only to the FAA, inbound domestic aircraft to Cat X airports are trusted entities. And so are the pilots. Even if their point of origin is some Podunk airstrip with no security whatsoever.”
Even to Gibson, who was accustomed to the vagaries of security, that sounded insane. She had to be overlooking something. “Are there at least separate runways? Fences?”
“Nope. There are only four runways at Dulles, and commercial and general aviation share them. General aviation flights simply taxi to separate hangars after landing.”
“You’re telling me that terrorists could land a plane, taxi to the commercial terminals, and launch an attack from the Jetway. And no one would know until bullets started flying?”
“As long as an aircraft has a legitimate tail number, it’s free to land at any airport in the United States. Cat X included.”
“That can’t possibly be a thing,” he said without much conviction.
“Afraid so. Good for us, though, huh?”
“So who’s the pilot?”
“You’re looking at her.”
“You’re a pilot?”
Jenn nodded. “Fixed wing and rotary. Just like my mom was.”
“Man, you think you know a person.”
“But that doesn’t mean they let pilots wander around the tarmac. I’ll need an escort once I exit the aircraft.”
Suddenly his newly acquired credentials made sense. Jenn would fly weapons in, and Gibson’s green badge would enable him to chaperone her anywhere she wanted to go. It shifted the terms of the engagement ever so slightly in their favor. Enough that, for the first time, Gibson could see how, if everything broke their way, they might just pull this off. A thought occurred to him.
“But, how do we—” Gibson began.
“Gibson,” she interrupted. “There are about a millions buts, and I want to cover every damn one of them. But can we get into it tomorrow when you get back from Dulles? It’s been a long day, and I just want to play cards.”
“So does that mean I passed the audition?”
“Only if we’re grading on a massive curve.”
She went to the refrigerator for two more beers to sweeten the deal. Gibson chuckled and leaned back in his chair and put his hands over his head in a big stretch. The only thing Jenn Charles loved more than a tightly run operation was planning a tightly run operation. Instead, she was plying him with beer to entice him to shut up and play cards. A more religious man might interpret this as a sign of the impending apocalypse. But a wise man took his beer, shut up, and shuffled.
They played until almost two in the morning. He lost far more than he won, but that made no difference to him. Kicking his butt seemed to unwind Jenn, and as she relaxed, she began talking. They both enjoyed the comforting camaraderie that comes of not having to pretend not to be broken. The high-tension wires that hummed constantly through his head these days subsided, and Gibson put everything else aside and focused on the simple task of making his friend smile. They swapped stories—Dan Hendricks a recurring theme—and Jenn even laughed a couple of times. She had a good laugh, and hearing it felt special, like catching a glimpse of a desert flower that bloomed only under extraordinary conditions.
Gibson’s curiosity got the better of him, so he asked how Jenn had come to work for George. He regretted it immediately as the sparkle went out of Jenn’s eyes, and she turned serious.
“You want to know why I’m doing this?”
“Something like that,” Gibson admitted.
“George saved my life. More or less.”
Gibson definitely hadn’t heard this story and waited for her to go on. She ran her tongue across her teeth.
“My last assignment with the Agency, I was attached to Camp Chapman,” she said. “Forward operating base in Afghanistan. Not far from the Pakistani border. I’d been on some remote bases before, but you needed a damn chopper just to get back to remote. You ever see Apocalypse Now? The scene where the Playboy Bunnies do a USO show and the troops literally riot at the sight of women? That’s what it was like. Every day.”
“I don’t like where this is going.”
Jenn smiled and tapped her front teeth. “These look pretty real, don’t you think? The doctors in Germany . . .” She trailed off. “After I left the CIA, I was in not good shape. Let’s leave it at that. Physically or spiritually. I wanted to press charges. The Agency made it clear they wouldn’t back me up. Advised me to drop it. The assault and attempted rape of CIA personnel on an Army base by two sergeants was bad for business. A severe hindrance to CIA operations in the region was how it was put to me. Plus the Army threatened to charge me over the death of the other sergeant.”
“You killed one?”
“Lost consciousness before I could kill the other one.” Jenn sounded disappointed.
“And Langley tried to sweep it all under the rug?”
“Let’s just say I found out that my loyalty was not reciprocal. I was a true believer—young, na?ve. I did not take it at all well. At all. Sounds stupid to say about a job, but it felt like I’d had my heart broken. I felt that I’d been betrayed. Anyway. I holed up in an apartment in Nashville. Just hiding from the world. Not working. Burned through my savings in about eight months. Drinking pretty hard too. Vodka, like my mom. Thought for a while there that I’d wind up at the bottom of the Cumberland River.”
“So what happened?”
“George Abe knocked on my door and offered me a job is what happened. I opened the door looking like something that would clog a garbage disposal, and there stood George in his perfectly pressed shirt and his perfectly pressed jeans. I mean, who presses their jeans?”
“That’s exactly what I thought!” said Gibson. “Did you know him from somewhere?”
“Never seen him before in my life. I thought he was there to give me the good word of the Lord. Still don’t know how he found me. Said I came highly recommended. But I still don’t know by whom. So after I say no in about a dozen unpleasant ways, he spends three days talking sense to me until I finally give in. Drove back to DC with him. Got my fresh start. George Abe saved my life. That’s why I’m doing it.”
“That’s a hell of a story,” Gibson said.
“I know there’s bad blood between you and him, but if we pull this off, I really suggest giving him a chance. He’s good people.”
“I might just do that.”
“And on that note, I’m going to bed,” Jenn said.
“Yeah, long day tomorrow.”
“They’re all long days from here on out.”
“Good night,” Gibson said, carrying their empties to the recycling bin.
“Gibson,” Jenn said, stopping him. “I didn’t mean what I said.”
“About what?”
“About not trusting anybody. I trust George Abe with my life.”
“I know you do.”
“And you. I trust you. Even if you’re an asshole sometimes.”
Gibson nodded. “Maybe some more cribbage tomorrow night? Now that I’m actually ahead for once.”
“In your dreams, Vaughn.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE