Free Purpose of Evasion by Greg Dinallo Page B

one-elevens were lost in the raid, we have to release the names of the pilotsthat went down with them, the assigned pilots. And we can’t have these guys walking around saying otherwise.”
    “What about incapacitating them somehow—a fender bender, food poisoning? Then we fly the mission, and release phony names and bios.”
    Larkin shook his head emphatically. “It’ll never hold water. The media is going to be all over this thing. They’ll want to interview the dead pilots’ families. The air force will hold a memorial service. The president will console their wives and kids—”
    “Hadn’t thought of that,” Applegate said, steering around some double-parked vehicles.
    “Besides, it’s not sure enough. What if one of them gets his gut pumped and shows up on the flight line? We can use phony IDs to cover a couple of nonexistent wizzos but not these guys. We’re not dealing with just planes, we’re dealing with assigned planes and assigned pilots and we have to account for both.”
    There was no more to be said on the matter. The scenario demanded stringent security. Extreme measures would be necessary to guarantee it wasn’t breached. The slightest chance that the top-secret mission would be revealed, the hostages imperiled, or the government compromised had to be eliminated in advance.
    “A couple of details still have to be covered,” Applegate said, as he turned off Lincoln Road, parking in front of Building 239. The pedestrian, postwar structure served as headquarters for U.S. 3rd Air Force.
    The place was buzzing with activity as the two officers cleared security and climbed a staircase to Applegate’s office at the far end of a second-floor corridor. The computer terminal was tied in to Mildenhall’s main frame. Larkin turned it on and typed in his security clearance code. The computer responded:
VERIFIED: CLEARED TO TOP SECRET: PROCEED
    Next, Larkin accessed the mission file and scrolled through the personnel roster, finding:
PILOT: SHEPHERD, MAJOR WALTER M.
    WIZZO: TO BE ASSIGNED
    He changed it to read WIZZO : ASSIGNED —ensuring a new weapons systems officer wouldn’t appear. He repeated the procedurefor the second pilot, then, accessing their personnel files, deleted the name of their commanding officers and inserted his own. This was preventative damage control; any queries from those not privy to the covert subtext, which might threaten the mission, would come to him rather than to 3rd Air Force personnel.
    Larkin was about to shut down the computer when something caught his eye. Along with personal information each file also contained a photograph. The images hadn’t registered during the data search, but now the colonel’s attention was drawn to the engaging smile and thoughtful eyes of Major Walter Shepherd.
    Their forthright stare filled Larkin with anxiety. It wasn’t the unconventional nature of the mission that troubled him; nor was it what those in the trade called the Nuremberg Syndrome, the specter of Nazi officers executed for carrying out orders they knew to be wrong rather than question them. No, what bothered Larkin was that the men he’d be acting against were on his side.
    He had steeled himself against it until now. A few minutes passed before he found the rationale. Yes, he could live with that, he thought, having convinced himself that the two pilots would be called upon to do no more than they had promised the day they were sworn into the military—indeed, no more than what might happen if they flew the mission; no more than Larkin, himself, would do should the need arise—die in the service of their country.

9
    THE FOLLOWING MORNING the rain had eased to a steady drizzle when Shepherd awoke in his quarters in the housing provided to newly arrived officers at Lakenheath Royal Air Force Base.
    Four days had passed since the encounter with the Soviet Forgers. After being debriefed by Applegate, Shepherd had immediately phoned Stephanie at their home on Andrews Air