Nighthawk (NUMA Files 14)

Kurt tapped her on the shoulder. “Are you okay?”

She turned his way. Her eyes suggested she was troubled, but the look was quickly covered. “Just disappointed,” she said. “We’re back to square one.”

He nodded. “In a single day’s work you uncovered a pair of top secret Russian projects. That’s got to be good for something—at least a smile.”

“Our mission was to find the Nighthawk,” she said.

“Relax,” he said. “We’ll find it.”

She glanced at her watch. “We’d better.”

As she turned back to the window

, Kurt considered her demeanor. She played it like she was feeling disappointment, but Kurt saw it differently. It was stress. She looked as if she was carrying the world on her shoulders and that the world was getting heavier.

He unlatched his harness, folded up the jump seat and moved aft. Their backpacks rested there, along with a hard-sided suitcase in which the flight data recorder from the Russian bomber had been stored. Next to the case lay an assortment of refreshments and a parting gift from the crew of the Reunion: a fruit bowl covered with plastic wrap. It held limes, apples, oranges and, of course, an assortment of kiwis.

Kurt grabbed an orange and then paused. He glanced over his shoulder toward the cockpit. Emma was still staring out the window. Joe was busy flying.

He hesitated for only a second and then did what he felt needed to be done. Finished, he returned to the cockpit with refreshments for everyone.

An hour later, they were on the ground. Two cars waited for them on the airport ramp. Standing in front of one vehicle was Rudi Gunn. Climbing out of the second were a pair of men in dark suits.

“Friends of yours?” Kurt said to Emma.

“Not friends,” she said. “Colleagues. I recognize the guy on the left. He works for Steve Gowdy. A personal right-hand man.”

Kurt had expected something like this. He grabbed the luggage and climbed out through the door.

The three groups met on the tarmac. Names were exchanged and ID badges flashed until everyone had been introduced.

Emma handed over the hard-sided case. “Inside, you’ll find a flight data recorder from a supersonic Russian bomber. Modified Blackjack, by the look of the wreckage.”

The lead agent, whose name was Hurns, took the case. “What about the submarine?”

“Extensively modified Typhoon,” she said, handing over a portable hard drive. “Photos and video are on here. We got some very clear shots.”

Hurns nodded. “The brass are going to be thrilled. At this rate, you’ll be a legend before you turn forty.”

His words didn’t seem to affect Emma in the least. “We all have our jobs to do,” she said. “I’m staying on with the NUMA group until this mission is complete. Tell Steve I’ll contact him as soon as I have anything else.”

Hurns nodded. Carried the case to the trunk of the car and placed it inside. “We’ll leave you to it,” he said.

As the two agents from the NSA drove off, Rudi Gunn took over. He leaned against the side of his car with his arms folded and a stern look on his face. He addressed Kurt. “So what’s this I hear about NUMA going into the vegetable business?”

“Fruit business,” Kurt corrected. “It’s an interesting story. If you’d like, I’ll tell you on the way.”

“On the way to where?”

“Consulate building,” Kurt said. “We need a secure satellite link so we can test a theory I’ve come up with.”

Rudi glanced Joe’s way.

“First I’ve heard of it,” Joe said.

Emma shot Kurt a suspicious glance, but he just smiled.

“Okay,” Rudi said. “I’m game. But this better be good. We’re already getting a lot of flak from the NSA about your methods.”