Assault on Alpha Base Page 5

  “The pit.” Vikki put her glass down and traced her finger over the top of the bar. “Now you’re talking nonsense.”

  Britnell laughed and drained his beer. He slid it across the bar top. “Another one, ‘keep.” He turned back to Vikki. “The Pit, my lady. It’s the place where the toughest, the crème la de crème work—you know, the best of the best.”

  Vikki kept a straight face at his pathetic attempt at French. “And … you work there.”

  Britnell just smiled. “Correct-o.”

  “I see.” Vikki tried to look bored. She swiftly ran her eyes around Shotgun Annie’s. She had to pull him along, ever so slowly….

  “Wait.” Britnell looked worried. “Uh, how about you, are you from around here?”

  Vikki smiled gently. “No, but I live here now. I work for one of the construction firms in town. We’re bidding the Wendover construction upgrade.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “California. The Bay Area.”

  “Hey, that’s great. California. I always wanted to visit, but haven’t found the time. I’m from Pennsylvania myself. Nevada’s the farthest west I’ve ever been. This place is about as far from the hills and trees as you can get. We—I mean, I—work with a lot of really high-tech gear. In fact, the best. You know, maybe we have something in common.”

  Vikki picked up her glass. “Maybe we do.” The bartender shoved another mug of icy draft in front of Britnell. Vikki waited until he drained half of it before asking, “Tell me, George Britnell, why is a good-looking guy like you buying drinks for an older woman? Why don’t you go after someone your own age?”

  Britnell held up a finger to the bartender, already signaling for another one. He belched lightly. “There’s something about you that knocked me out. You sure the hell didn’t look that old when I first saw you.” He flushed. “You know what I mean.”

  Vikki smiled tightly. “Tell me more about this high-tech business you’re in. Maybe it is fascinating.”

  Britnell laughed. He grabbed for the beer pushed in front of him. “High-tech business. That’s great.”

  Vikki sat with a smile painted on her face, waiting for Britnell to finish his third beer. She wanted him to talk, to tell her everything about himself. Britnell would never get close to her if she simply tried to pick him up; she had to cultivate a trust, stretch out the relationship so it wasn’t just based on sex.

  Which was important to her, too. The thought of prostituting her body, allowing her very essence to be used to further her goals, was something she didn’t take lightly. The guilt from her past, growing up in the Bible-banging foothills of Colorado Springs, was something she had overcome years ago. Or at least she had tried to overcome.

  She looked upon using her body as a means for accomplishing ends. Bringing Britnell into her confidence would take more than shaking her fanny at him. But if that’s what it took to initiate the relationship, then she would put her thoughts and emotions aside. For what was more important to her—chastity, or showing the world how easy it was to steal nuclear weapons?

  There was just no comparison.

  She quietly slipped the bartender more than enough cash to cover the additional drinks and the tip. When Britnell drained the last drop, she stood and took him by the elbow.

  “Hey—” he sputtered, not too coherently.

  “Let’s go to my place. I really do want to learn more about you.” She led him out the door, and once he hit the night air, almost collapsed into her arms.

  Chapter 6

  Friday, 3 June, 0230 local

  Wendover AFB’s “Hole in the Ground” Grill

  McGriffin sat munching an Army Air Force Exchange Service grease burger: easy on the meat and heavy on the grease. Actually, the sandwich had a lot going for it He’d first had the ubiquitous AAFES grease burger as an undergraduate pilot training student at Laughlin AFB, Texas. Every BX grill in the world boasted of it

  After stumbling in from a flight at zero dark early, it was usually the only thing he could find at the AAFES eatery. Heavy on the mayo, double pickles, and it would fill you right up. That and a cherry Coke.

  The hamburger hit the spot. It was like taking an old friend around with him. All he needed to do now was to find a plane to fly.

  An aero club was just around the corner—his private pilot’s license was still good, but he’d have to wait until they were open. Likewise, there had to be something to get him introduced to the local social scene—a dance group, a hiking club or even a church fellowship. Things were looking up.

  “Good morning, Major.” Chief Zolley pulled out a chair at the next table.

  McGriffin waved him over. “Have a seat.”

  “Thanks.” Zolley plopped down across from McGriffin. He glanced at McGriffin’s grease burger and shuddered.

  Pushing back his plate, McGriffin leaned back against his chair. “If every night’s like tonight, I’m going to have to find something to keep me from going crazy.”

  “It gets worse. At least tonight we had that killer rabbit attack for excitement.”

  “Great. I can see it now: three years of boredom punctuated with five minutes of terror.”

  Chief Zolley chewed on his sandwich before speaking. “Major, if I were you, I’d learn everything I could about our tenant units.”

  “Tenant units?”

  “Yes, sir. All we do is keep house. You know, supply the security guards, hospital, civil engineers, golf course—that sort of thing. Since you command the CP, you’ll come into contact with them one of these days. Besides, you might see something interesting.”

  McGriffin laughed in the middle of taking another bite. Choking, he brought up his napkin as he coughed. “I tried to stay as far away from those places as I could.” He shook his head. “I’m lucky to have been able to fly as long as I did without doing anything else. This nonrated nonsense is all new to me.”

  “Really, sir, give it a chance. You ought to at least take a trip out to Alpha Base. Wendover wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for them.”

  “We’ll see.” He dove back into his grease burger.

  When Chief Zolley and McGriffin departed the AAFES snack bar, Zolley threw McGriffin a salute. “Good luck, sir.”

  “Are you sure Alpha Base won’t mind me snooping around?”

  “Not at all. Once they know you’re from the command post, they’ll let you in with open arms. After all, they might need a favor someday.”

  “Thanks, Chief. I’ll see you at 1800—I’ve got to get my body adjusted to this new schedule.”

  Saturday, 4 June, 2135 local

  Wendover, Nevada

  The apartment complex sat in a dark neighborhood two streets from Main Street. Vikki Osborrn entered the door with her arm wrapped around Britnell’s waist. His youthful body felt firm. She grasped him tightly, uneasy about the place they entered.

  She left her purse and sweater in the car. A bare bulb burned at the top of the stairs. As they negotiated the wooden stairway, the boards creaked, adding to the music leaking from the door at the top. A shrill cry of laughter pierced the air. Vikki made out the music as an old punk classic. She drew in a breath as Britnell opened the door.

  The crowd barely noticed them, as if they were regulars.

  Sleep with a comrade and you’re one of the crowd, she thought.

  Britnell patted her fanny and squeezed his way to the drinks. Eight air force security policemen filled up the kitchen, popping beer, laughing. Most of the men had women standing next to them. The women listened, not talking, and smiled at the men’s words.

  Vikki sipped lightly at the glass of white wine Britnell thrust to her. She brushed back her hair. “I want to look around. Be right back.”

  The women around her reeked of youth—eighteen-year-old girlfriends of immaculately sculptured airmen. The music blared. It was so loud she couldn’t hear much more than garbled words over the monotone beats. One of the women—girls!—swayed slowly back and forth to the music,
her eyes glazed over. Vikki gave a silent praise of thanks that the girls weren’t popping gum.

  One of the women approached her. Her smile was friendly enough, but yet as the girl looked her over, Vikki saw her eye linger on her face, no doubt taking in the telltale marks of age. The girl smiled warmly.

  “I don’t believe I’ve met you. I’m Daria.”

  Vikki extended a hand. “Vikki. Glad to meet you.”

  Daria sipped coyly on her wine. “I haven’t seen you around. George has done well. Are you playing the Pit, or is he your first?”

  Vikki looked puzzled. “Playing the pit?”

  Daria glanced around at the faces of the other women who gathered around. She looked shocked. “Why surely you know that George works in the Pit?”

  “Sure. What about it?”

  Silence.

  From the kitchen laughter split the solemn moment for an instant. Daria regained her composure and took another sip of wine. “You really don’t know, do you?” Vikki just stared back at her. Daria put her drink down and grasped Vikki by the arm. “This is just so unusual, I’m really going to have to introduce you around.”

  She steered Vikki back past the kitchen and into a cramped living room. Music pulsated from two speakers at opposite ends of the room. Wire ran up the walls from the amplifier to each of the speakers. Daria raised her voice over the music.

  “Hey, everybody—we’ve got a virgin!” Vikki rolled her eyes as Daria clicked off the amplifier. She stood unsteadily in the center of the room. “George’s date is a virgin.”

  “Welcome to the club, sister. Put your name in the hat and grab a date.”

  “Sit down, Daria. You’ve had too much to drink.”

  Daria lifted her glass in a mock toast. “Well, George’s date is free game, and I don’t want anyone to spoil it for her.”

  A catcall accompanied Daria’s reply. Daria stuck out her tongue at the group and paced back to Vikki. She looped her arm over Vikki’s. Someone flicked back on the stereo.

  Vikki shook her off. “What was that all about?” she demanded.

  Daria laughed. “You, my dear, are an endangered species.”

  Vikki lowered her voice. “You are going to be endangered if you don’t explain. What is going on?”

  Daria sobered up at Vikki’s tone. “The guys who work in the Pit—Alpha Base, to the uninitiated—are the top security policemen in the air force. They’ve been specially selected to work there. It’s an honor assignment for them. Their air force career is in the bag, and they’ll be getting choice jobs, assignments and promotions from here on out.” She sipped unsteadily at her wine. “What I’m getting at is, if you can hook one of them, you’re going places—you’ve got it made. And since you’ve never dated one of them before, you’re a special commodity.”

  “What’s so special about it?”

  “For one thing, you’re not a secondhand gal, jumping from one bed to the next. The guys tend to look up to you for that.”

  Vikki studied Daria. She wasn’t drunk, but from the edge in her voice, Vikki could tell that she hit a nerve. Maybe it explained the tenseness in the room when she was around, Vikki thought. She decided to take a chance. She said coyly, “Not like you, I take it.”

  “That’s right. Not like me.” Daria quickly drained the rest of her wine. She giggled and toyed with the glass. “I must have dated every guy in the Pit, and slept with half of them.” She motioned with her head to the women in the room. “Most of these girls are in the same boat—they didn’t stay with their original guy. After all, take a look.” She swept an unsteady hand toward the kitchen. “Where else can you find so many studs in one place? But watch out. Once you make the mistake of going for someone else, you’re passed around Alpha Base like a piece of meat.”

  Vikki felt a pang of sorrow for her. She tried to squash the feeling, embarrassed at her empathy. “Surely everyone’s not in the same situation.”

  Daria’s voice was bitter. “Why do you think we’re not mixing with the women in the kitchen? Or in the other room? The ‘truly faithful’ are clinging to their men. Like you should be, dear.”

  Vikki made up her mind. If she was going to pull this off, she couldn’t afford to be seen mingling with Daria’s crowd. It wouldn’t do to have George Britnell’s suspicion’s raised.

  Vikki smiled sweetly and handed her drink to Daria. “Thanks for the advice, dear.”

  Daria blinked. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

  Vikki stopped before leaving, her curiosity getting the best of her. “By the way, if you’ve been passed around Alpha Base, then why are you staying? Why don’t you find another crowd?”

  Daria looked shocked. “And miss a chance to nail one of these guys? You’ll find out. Once you’ve tasted steak, it’s hard to get excited about hamburger.”

  Vikki just smiled and headed for the kitchen. Spotting Britnell, she moved next to him and slipped an arm around his waist. He patted her hand and didn’t even look up.

  Chapter 7

  Wednesday, 8 June, 1500 local

  Wendover AFB, Nevada

  McGriffin wound his way past the flight line. His blue ‘vette was fourteen years old, but it handled like new. It was his cadet car—bought during his Firstie, or senior year, at the Academy. Since only first classmen were allowed cars when he was a cadet, the corvette remained special.

  He turned off the air conditioner and rolled down his window, allowing the dry desert heat to roll in. The air contained a potpourri of JP-4 and engine exhaust. The smell took getting used to, but McGriffin was addicted to it. Like a hearty stout, the fragrance of flying was acquired.

  An ancient HH-53 roared overhead, its blades chopping at the air as it turned for the desert. A few miles to the north a flight of helicopters circled lazily, momentarily touching down in the desert on a pickup exercise. Across the runway a deserted hangar reflected the sun back into his eyes.

  Once past the flight line, the road dog-eared to the north, then back west, as it headed out to Alpha Base. At the end of the runway a camouflaged C-17B sat on the concrete apron. Red engine protectors sealed the engine inlets from the dust and wind. A series of lights surrounded the apron, glowing dimly in the bright sunlight.

  The road to Alpha Base was an anomaly. McGriffin thought that after building the world’s most advanced nuclear storage area, they would have spent a small percentage of the total funds on a decent road. Instead, the two-lane road wound around the desert as if designed by a drunk.

  The mammoth crater opened up before him. Five miles across and half a mile deep, the crater had a dirt floor with bunkers spread randomly throughout the area.

  He tried to count the bunkers, but quickly lost interest as more and more of the concrete shelters came into view. Four fences curled around the circumference, clearly demarcating the nuclear storage facility from the rest of the base.

  It seemed barren, almost as if he were alone out there; but after last night’s display of readiness, McGriffin shuddered to think what would happen if anyone would be crazy enough to infiltrate the fences.

  As he turned into the Alpha Base parking lot, he glanced at his watch: 1500. If the tour took any longer than an hour, it was AAFES burgers for dinner again.

  He positioned his cap before climbing from the car. A huge sign directed him toward a building marked in-processing. Set partially inside the fenced area, it appeared to be the only entrance to Alpha Base besides the main gate.

  A young officer stood when McGriffin entered the building. Decked out in smartly pressed battle fatigues, subdued insignia, and bloused boots, the man extended a mammoth ebony hand.

  “Good afternoon, sir. I’m Lieutenant Curtis Fellows, shift commander.” Fellows wore an infectious grin. Towering over McGriffin, he seemed the type to ride herd on a few hundred enlisted men.

  “Glad to meet you, Lieutenant. Thanks for arranging the tour on such short notice.”

  “No problem, sir. Chief Zolley sent your clearance over. As so
on as we’ve run you through the wringer, we’ll get you down in the Pit.”

  “The wringer?”

  “Part of our security measures.” Fellows swung the door open. A small, featureless room lay inside. “When you’re in the room, just do what you’re told, sir. I’ll meet you on the other side.”

  McGriffin straightened his shoulders and walked into the chamber. As the door clicked shut behind him, McGriffin noticed a mirror on one of the walls. A panel slid open directly under the mirror. One-way mirror, McGriffin thought. Nothing too unusual yet.

  A disembodied voice came from the panel. “Step up to the panel and look into the mirror.” McGriffin stared, as directed. A moment passed, then the voice announced, “Please step to your left.

  A door slid open, opposite from the direction he’d entered. Stepping out into a vacant hallway, McGriffin waited for Fellows.

  A moment passed before the lieutenant strode into the hall. “Ready, sir?”

  McGriffin frowned. “That’s it?”

  “Here.” Fellows led him into a small vestibule set off to the side. A security policeman nodded as they entered. Looking around, McGriffin spotted the one-way mirror and stared into the tiny room he had been locked in.

  Fellows pointed to several digital readouts. “When you entered the room, your weight was recorded from scales set into the floor.” He patted a telescopic object jutting close to the mirror. “This is an optical sensor that recorded your retina pattern and compared it to the digitized pattern that Chief Zolley sent over with your clearance. In addition, an ultrasound was made to see what you carried on your person. If we suspect that you aren’t who you’re supposed to be, the room seals off” and we send in an armed team to drag you out and really question you.”

  McGriffin whistled. “I’ll say. No wonder you call this the wringer.”

  “We normally serve seven-day shifts at Alpha Base, so we have to go through the wringer only once a week. And except for a team that patrols outside Alpha Base, no one enters or leaves during the week. Actually, it’s a lot faster than having guards strip-search us, like TSA would do at any airport.”