Armageddon

‘The contract people to fill your temporary positions?’

‘Yeah, okay. Right. Good.’

‘You will need to sign these or the men won’t get paid.’

Mack flipped through the folders; it would take him more than an hour to sign them all. He’d tried telling her two weeks ago to sign for him, but that, too, was a major breach of Brunei etiquette.

‘All right. I’ll leave them on your desk first thing in the morning. Good night.’

Souzou flashed a big smile before turning and heading back to the car that had brought her. Mack admired her walking style before turning to Han, who bowed stiffly and handed him an envelope.

‘Uh, I don’t get it,’ said Mack, taking the envelope.

Han said nothing.

‘This isn’t a resignation, is it?’

Han still refused to speak.

‘Yo, Han, my man. My main man – you can’t leave. We’re just getting going. Come on. We’re going places, my friend. Going places.’

It was debatable whether Mack’s attempt at camaraderie would have worked in the States, where someone at least would have understood the expressions he was using. The only effect it had on Han was to confuse him. Mack opened the letter reluctantly.

‘You’re really leaving me?’

Han’s English was heavily accented, but Mack got the gist of it. The new regime – Minister Mack – had brought too much change.

Mack waved his hand. ‘You’re free,’ he told him. ‘Go. Hit the road.’

Han bowed again. Mack simply shook his head. He was now down to four legitimate pilots, plus himself.

Breanna’s SUV appeared at the far end of the road, heading toward him. Mack waited with his hands on his hips, frowning as he saw that Zen was sitting in the front seat beside her. He’d shown up unannounced yesterday, but Breanna had insisted his visit wouldn’t interfere with the training schedule.

‘Captain,’ he said as she rolled down the window. ‘We’re running a little late.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Breanna. ‘We were detained.’

‘I’ll bet,’ he said, interpreting her words as a euphemism for sex.

‘We were at the police ministry,’ she said. ‘We tried calling you.’

‘Police ministry? What’d you do? Get nailed for speeding?’

Mack listened, dumbfounded, as Breanna explained what had happened that afternoon on the beach. It seemed far-fetched. People here left their doors unlocked and keys in their cars.

‘This for real, Bree?’ he asked.

‘Bet your ass it was real,’ growled Zen from the other side.

‘Who were these jokers?’

‘Police weren’t sure,’ said Breanna. ‘Possibly guerillas from Malaysia trying to kidnap tourists. There are Muslim extremists trying to take over the Malaysian part of the island.’

‘Not on that beach. That’s the prince’s beach,’ said Mack.

‘Maybe they missed the sign,’ said Zen.

‘Maybe they were trying to get the prince,’ said Mack.

‘Police said that was impossible,’ said Breanna.

‘That’s because they don’t think it’s possible,’ said Mack. ‘They don’t think that way – they don’t think like you and me.’

‘Listen, about the exercise tonight, we’re going to have to call it off,’ said Breanna. ‘The State Department wants to interview me.’

‘What?’ said Mack.

‘They asked me to go over to see one of their intelligence people for a debriefing. I told them fine.’

‘Well, sure, after the exercise.’

Breanna shook her head. ‘Sorry. We’re already late. And I haven’t had anything to eat, either.’

Mack had enough experience with Breanna to know it was useless to argue. ‘How about tomorrow night?’

‘Fine,’ said Breanna.

‘Oh wait, I can’t do it tomorrow night. I have some dinner with the prince.’

‘Blow it off,’ said Zen sardonically.

Mack pretended he didn’t hear. ‘How about early the next morning, just before dawn? Say four or five?’

‘Dawn?’

‘Yeah, that would work,’ said Mack. ‘What do you think?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Come on, Bree. You owe me.’

‘Owe you? How?’

‘I got you that beach,’ said Mack.

‘Oh there’s a debt to be repaid,’ said Zen.

‘I’ll do it. We’ll set it up tomorrow,’ said Breanna.