The Big Burn. Terry Watkins
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tried to absorb what this guy was telling her. There wasn’t any chance that it was some kind of bad joke. He didn’t look like the joke type. Plus, he had a chopper, a marine officer accompanying him and the official ID. No, he was on the level.
Her father was alive? Given what she’d just gone through with the fire, dealing with this news was almost more than she could get herself around. She needed a moment for it to settle in.
“Let me take care of my business here—” Anna gestured to the students “—before I deal with this, if you don’t mind.”
“Go ahead.”
“Do you think you can spare some water?”
“No problem,” Brock said, and asked the marine to see what was on their chopper.
For the next fifteen minutes Anna stood with her group while each of them tried to make cell-phone calls to desperately worried parents and friends. The conversations touched on how great their rescuer was.
Their attitudes, now that they were assured of certain survival, became jovial. They had a great story to tell and they were already getting into it.
Meanwhile, the marine lieutenant, square jawed and rather gaunt-looking, fetched some much-needed water bottles and passed them around. Anna quickly guzzled one and went for a second.
John Brock was off pacing and talking on his cell phone. Occasionally he’d glance over at her as he talked, nod, as if she was the topic of conversation. He was well over six feet, had a beach tan and had gone a day or two without a shave. He sported square sunglasses, a loose-hanging blue shirt and khaki pants with side pockets.
When the rescue chopper appeared and landed on the valley floor, the hikers headed for it like refugees from a dying planet. While the students boarded, Anna finally turned and walked over to Brock. He had that look of someone who’d seen and done things that you would never hear about in the light of day.
She took a deep breath and said, “Okay, you’re telling me my father is alive, which I don’t believe. Was he a prisoner somewhere? Is that why he’s been missing all this time?”
“No. Not exactly. But that’s a story for another time. Right now he’s in trouble and we need to get to him as soon as possible.”
“Where is he?”
“Malaysia.”
“My father’s alive in Malaysia, and he’s in trouble? You came all the way out here to tell me that? I don’t understand.”
“You will.”
She brushed ash from her face and ran her tongue over her now extremely chapped lips as she struggled to get a grasp on what this man was telling her.
“When?”
“We’re here to take you to Miramar Air Base. You’ll be briefed there.”
She didn’t like the sound of this. “I usually get briefed when I’m going on a mission. But not from the military. I’m not in the military.”
“Actually, it’s a CIA mission. And I’m pretty sure you’ll want to go sign on. In fact, I’m positive.”
Anna stared at Brock. Eight years ago, her father had disappeared in Southeast Asia on a secret mission with the CIA. He was one of a long line of smoke jumpers who’d been recruited over the years. They were once called “cargo kickers” and worked for the CIA’s Air America, dropping supplies to pro-American guerrilla forces. Smoke jumpers were used extensively in the secret war in Tibet in the early 60’s and the practice never really stopped. Since her father’s disappearance, Anna had become an outspoken opponent of the relationship between the CIA and civilian smoke jumpers recruited into its ranks for special missions.
For a long time Anna had hated the secrecy that kept the truth from her and her mother. Though her mother and father had been divorced for several years before he vanished, they’d remained friends. Her mother was as upset over the lack of information as Anna. Divorce was hard enough, but his disappearance almost more than Anna could take.
The CIA had continually refused to tell her what exactly had happened to her father. The only official information she’d ever been able to get was that he’d disappeared on a mission.
“I want to know what happened to my father,” she said to Brock.
“I’m going to tell you…on the way.”
“To Miramar?”
“No. Guam.”
Her throat tightened. She drank more water, staring over the bottom of the upturned bottle at Brock. The man never flinched. A real poker face if ever there was one.
She was unbelievably calm. Must be the exhaustion, she thought. Anna finished the bottle. “Why Guam? You said he was in Malaysia?”
“Guam’s the jumping-off point. We’ve got a camp there. What we call an isolation camp, or IC. You’ll be trained there.”
A sardonic smile broke across her face. This whole thing was beginning to reek, and she wasn’t in the mood for it.
“Trained for what?”
“Again, I’ll tell you about it on the way. We don’t have much time.”
Until she knew more, Anna refused to succumb to his time schedule.
“All this robotic dialogue isn’t going to work on me. Just tell me now, or you can get into your unmarked chopper and fly back to wherever you came from.”
“Your father’s situation is grave. We need to get to him. He’s requesting you to help us.”
“Why would he do that when he has the military at his beck and call?”
“We don’t know why, exactly.”
“You mean you won’t tell me why.”
“If I knew the answer, I’d tell you. We don’t know why he’s asking for you. We can only assume it’s because he’s trapped on a burning island and probably thinks you’re the world’s greatest smoke jumper. Personally, I don’t buy it. We have the best jumpers on earth working for us and he knows that.”
Anna hadn’t had decent sleep in weeks. She was tired and dirty. That she was standing in a foot of ash in a burned-out ravine listening to this guy tell her not only that her father was alive, but he was trapped on some burning island and requesting her to jump in and get him out sounded, quite frankly, preposterous.
But if this guy was lying, why make up a lie so outrageous?
Unfortunately, he had the hook in her now and she desperately wanted to know the truth.
“I’ll go to Miramar with you, but that’s as far as I go without a better explanation.”
“All right.”
They both turned to wave at the rescue chopper as it began its assent. Anna watched it slant off into the sky carrying four very grateful people back home and wished she was inside that chopper with them.
Anna followed Brock and the marine lieutenant to the unmarked chopper, its rotors swirling languidly. The pilot turned toward them, the dark sun shield of his face helmet giving him a Star Wars look.
The flight to Miramar was a quick twenty-minute hop and Anna dozed for most of it. They landed and got out next to a C-17 transport plane parked just across from a squadron of jet fighters.
“This way.” Brock motioned toward the C-17 as he walked. She followed close behind.
“Isn’t there an office we can go to?”
“Not enough time. You’ll be briefed on the plane.”
“What if I don’t like the story?”
“You can leave anytime you want.”
She stopped on the tarmac.