Free Return to Honor by Doug Beason

they say. We have never been on a real crew—our background clearances haven’t come in.”
    Hujr seemed to pale at this. He shot a glance at his companion. “When will the clearances come through, so you can accompany the President?”
    “Any day now, I suspect. Foreign nationals are looked at very closely, you know.”
    Hujr leaned forward and nodded at the traces of white powder remaining on the hand mirror. “And you’re not worried about this? What if they found out you were using drugs?”
    Aquinaldo covered his mouth and giggled. The whole question seemed, well … so absurd! “Of course I am not worried. In my barrio you can buy anything if you are old enough to hold the money up to the sari-sari counter. And nobody talks about it. It is the same way here. There is no way they will find out. Was it not like that in your barrio?”
    Hujr spread his mouth and showed white teeth. “Not on Mindanao. But what is the difference? I am enjoying so much the stories of your job.” He paused. “So you think you will have a chance to fly with the President soon?”
    They broke out in another giggling fit. Dimly, through all the euphoria, a fleeting thought crossed Aquinaldo’s mind—why weren’t Hujr and his companion laughing with them?—but the thought flew away in another spasm of silliness.
    Hujr waited with a smile painted on his face.
    Aquinaldo shook his head. “Uh?”
    Hujr repeated himself. “When will you fly with the President?”
    “Oh, not until after he gets back from this Russian-Israeli trip. They only use experienced crews for the international flights.” Aquinaldo looked sly. “But I tell you what, my friend … my buddy Ramis and I are the alternate stewards for this next trip. We were given the honor because of our hard work.” He shook his head sadly, suddenly changing his mood. “But the chances of the primary stewards not going are small. There are just no good excuses for missing such a trip.”
    “I see.” Hujr nodded toward his companion. “It is getting late, my friends, but before you go I would like to get rid of another line of this candy. Will you help me?”
    “I think another line would help us through the night,” giggled Aquinaldo. It felt so good to let loose. He watched as Hujr carefully cut out a long, thin line of cocaine, then eagerly sniffed the powder after Sicat.
    As the euphoria rolled over them they didn’t wonder why Hujr let them snort the last two lines alone, or why Hujr was talking on his cell phone in a low voice in the other room.

Chapter 5
    0945 ZULU: WEDNESDAY, 5 SEPTEMBER
    Ordinary men—and, above all, peculiarly little men—experience a charm, a certain pleasure, in attacking great men. There is much of the spirit of revenge mixed up with this.
    Ernest Hello
    Andrews Air Force Base, Washington, D.C.
    Major Gutiérrez loved his job. As officer-in-charge of scheduling details on every presidential flight, he was responsible for everything from the crypto gear down to the meals. It appealed to him. Before he came to Washington he had served as commissary and MWR officer at Offut AFB and had so impressed the generals with his sierra hotel service that they had told the air force chief of staff that this was his job.
    And he could get things hopping.
    As a mustang who had served nine years of prior enlisted service before coming up through OTS, Gutiérrez knew the ins-and-outs of how to get almost anything done. He couldn’t care less about the money he was making. LTU, the mammoth aerospace firm, had a standing offer to triple his salary if he ever decided to get out of the air force and work for them. He could get anything working anytime and anywhere.
    So Major Gutiérrez didn’t panic when, the morning before the president’s flight to Russia was supposed to launch, the police called from Washington General with the news that two of his stewards had been severely injured in a hit-and-run car accident. Gutiérrez thanked the officers, made a