Free Deathrace by Keith Douglass Page A

one of those times.
    He had the Spanish rice simmering when Milly came in the door.
    “Don’t ask,” she said, tossing her purse on the kitchen table and dropping into a chair. “Everything went wrong. I’ve never seen such a foul-up. I never get the little problems, just the ones nobody else knows how to fix.”
    He kissed her and put his arms around her, chair and all. “Bet you solved the problem in a rush. Hey, you have to earn the big bucks they pay you.”
    She sighed, and kissed him back. “I guess. Sometimes I just wish that I could stay home and raise babies. There, I said it. My nesting instincts are high right now.” She gently moved his arms and went to the stove.
    “Smells good. Spanish rice always is great the first day, but a bummer for warming up. I wonder why.”
    She turned. “Hey, I’m sorry. Me, me, me. So how was your day? How is that new civilian working out?”
    “Need to talk to you about that.” He led her back to a chair and pulled one up facing her. He sat down.
    “Hey, you look serious. You proposing or something?”
    “Something, yes. I never tell you much about what I’m doing, or where we go. I can’t. This time I’ve got to. Top secret—not even your best friend can find out about this. Our civilian is from the AEC or some such group. This person is an expert at dismantling nuclear warheads and bombs. This person is a woman.”
    He stopped, and watched her. Milly frowned. “You mean the CIA is sending a woman with you on your next mission to dismantle some atomic warheads or bombs?”
    “Exactly right.”
    “No woman can take all the physical punishment you guys go through. I’ve seen you black and blue with bruisesfrom head to foot. I’ve watched your bones knit back together and changed bandages on your bullet wounds. They must be crazy sending a woman in with you.”
    “That’s what we thought. The problem is the President said that this woman is going. We can’t really get around an order from our Commander in Chief.”
    Milly eyed him seriously, then her face melded into a small frown. “Have you met this woman?”
    “Yes, she’s on base, began training this morning.”
    “I’m curious. What’s she like?”
    He gave a quick description of Kat.
    “Yes, yes, but is she pretty? You said she was about thirty. Is she pretty?”
    “Pretty? A vague term. She’s attractive, fit, seems to have a good attitude. Did I tell you she’s a Ph.D. in nuclear physics?”
    “No. How can she hold up on your long marches, your swims? Can she parachute?”
    “She won the second Hawaiian Iron-Man woman’s triathlon—the swim, bike riding, and marathon. Yes, she’s fit and strong.”
    “I just don’t understand why they would pick a woman for this job.”
    “Evidently she was the best person to get the work done.”
    “So you got the job of training her in SEAL techniques.”
    “Afraid so. We were on the small arms range this morning. We ran both ways, six miles round trip. She never faltered.”
    Tears welled in Milly’s eyes. They spilled over. “You want me to move out?”
    “Milly, of course not. Why on earth would I want that? She’s not personal. It’s my job to train her well enough so we can get her to the target. After her work is done, she has to be able to get out of there with us, and not be such a liability that half the platoon gets killed.”
    Milly began sobbing, and reached out and clung to him.
    “Oh, God, not that. I pray every time you leave me. I know you’re doing something important for our country— but it’s so dangerous. I don’t sleep much while you’re gone. Did I ever tell you that? I’m not sure if I eat anything. I always lose about ten pounds when you’re gone. Oh, damn, I wasn’t ever going to tell you that.”
    “I didn’t know.” He took her in his arms and held her.
    After a while, she stopped crying.
    “I’ll be putting in some extra time. It’s my job to teach her how to shoot our weapons, show her what we do,