Private Maneuvers (Wingmen Warriors 4)

Together they would locate the tap the Cantou government had placed on a U.S. military underwater communications cable.

A mission Keagan could not be allowed to accomplish. Too much valuable information filtered through that line.

The phone vibrated in Robin's hand with an incoming call. Encrypted cell phones made this too easy. "Yeah?"

"We expected an update yesterday."

"I'm on it. Keagan takes off before sunrise." Waves crashed against the rocky cliff. Salty spray stung the skin, the eyes, rasping against every sense and demanding remembrance of another time.

"Do you need more support?"

"Negative." Definitely not. No one else would get a shot at Max. Personal debts demanded payment face-to-face. "Give me time to monitor his underwater search pattern."

"Good point. With any luck he'll be miles off. As long as he and his dolphins aren't close to the transmitter, there's no need to risk riling the Agency by eliminating him."

Robin stifled the urge to argue. Not a chance would Keagan walk away. Max would die this time, even if it meant feeding him enough information to put him and his god awful flamboyant wet suits on top of that line tap.

If only it were as simple as just popping him. But without the payoff, there would be no plush retirement.

No. Better to make Keagan's death palatable to the other side. "I'll check back when I have more."

Robin disconnected. Anticipation stung with as much power as the exploding surf.

Only a few weeks at the most until the easy life in Switzerland, thanks to money saved from years of bartering secrets to other countries. Ensuring the security on that tap of the U.S. military's oceanic communications cable out of Guam would rake in the final jackpot.

Not to mention an added bonus in the sweetest payoff of all—finally delivering lethal revenge to Maxwell Keagan.

And heaven help anyone who stood in the way.

Chapter 2

Would you please get out of my way?" Darcy elbowed aside Crusty's arm before he could swipe her sunflower seeds from the C-17's control panel. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm trying to fly an airplane."

"Show some respect for your elders." Crusty's chuckling voice echoed through the headset from his seat behind her.

"Yeah, yeah." She pitched the bag over her shoulder while keeping her other hand steady on the stick.

The night sky swam before her windscreen. Stars dotted the panorama as if dropped there, like in one of her nephew's pop-up books. Bronco sprawled in the aircraft commander's seat beside her, reading a book and periodically checking her controls.

All in all, a great night for flying.

She glanced at the HUD, Heads-Up Display. The plexiglass screen at eye level mirrored the instrument panel so she never had to take her eyes off the sky. Not that there was much to see in the inky darkness, but a night flight had been crucial for temperature control for the dolphins.

Dolphins. Max Keagan.

Double damn and dirt.

One simple thought about the unusual freight blew her concentration. Her attention winged straight back to the cargo hold of dolphins and their spiky-haired trainer.

"Think about flying," she whispered, chanting, "charts, airspeed, whiz wheels, flight times."

The 4:00 a.m. takeoff from coastal San Diego would keep them in the dark as they chased time zones west. Even with their twelve hours in the air, the sun would only just be rising in Guam once they landed.

Then she wouldn't have the distractions of instrumentation checks and flight schedules to keep her thoughts from lofting along tempting routes. Sure the dolphin doctor's eyes had blazed interest initially. Until his brief. Then she might as well have been stuck behind a Vulcan cloaking device for all the notice he took of her.

Darcy sighed and wondered why the usual spice of flying seemed flat tonight, like unsalted sunflower seeds. She lived for these moments in the air. She'd fought a major battle with her father over entering pilot training.

Of course Pops had won big-time this week by keeping her out of any real war. Irritation tightened her grip on the stick.