Free Top Hook by Gordon Kent Page A

had been ordered so that this one could be sent in for rehab. Mendez dug out the sheets and showed him that this engine was two hundred hours overdue for rehab. Alan started to ask why and realized that he could only put Mendez on the spot with such a question, even if he knew the answer. Then he saw Stevens, a short, thick officer in a flight suit, come in with a chief, and he thanked Mendez and the others and moved toward the new pair.
    Stevens turned his head, saw Alan, and went right back to his conversation. Alan smiled, an angry tic that never moved his lower lip. They had met for two minutes at Pax River; now, Stevens chose to be a horse’s ass.
    â€œLieutenant-Commander Stevens?”
    â€œHey, Craik.”
    Alan excused himself to the chief, who moved a few feet off. “You in charge of this?” he said to Stevens. Alan raised one hand. He did not say “this mess,” but the motion accused.
    â€œIf you’re the new boss man, I guess you’re in charge.”
    â€œWell, the new boss man would like to see the launch plan. And a flight sked that doesn’t include officers who haven’t reported aboard yet.”
    â€œI didn’t write either one of them.” Stevens hitched at an imaginary belt, as if he was pulling up his guns.
    Alan sighed. “Mister Stevens, why don’t you call me ‘Alan’? Or you can call me ‘sir.’” He looked around. “Who’s running maintenance?”
    Stevens jerked his head at the chief he had come in with, a short, intense man in khakis.
    â€œSenior Chief Frazer runs maintenance, with Mister Cohen as department head,” the chief said. “He’s up topside. I’m Navarro, sir. Intel chief.”
    â€œLinguist?” Alan looked for a handle to remember the man.
    â€œFarsi and Hindi.” Alan let part of his mind chew over the implications of those two languages.
    â€œYou following the traffic on India and Pakistan?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œIs this the same crap they do every time?”
    â€œSir, this is from the hip, but I’d say it looks fucking serious.”
    â€œMore serious than Kosovo?”
    Stevens cut in.
    â€œYou done with me? I’m on the flight sked later today.”
    â€œSo am I.” Alan looked him in the eye, enjoying Stevens’s surprise. “Just walk with me a minute.” Heshook hands with Navarro and said he’d see him later, then walked Stevens a dozen paces away and turned on him. “You’re the senior pilot in this outfit, right?”
    â€œYep.”
    â€œGot a problem?”
    Stevens hitched up the imaginary belt again. He talked to the air just off Alan’s right shoulder. “This divided command shit. You don’t like my ops plan? Tough. It shouldn’t be two guys, one in the air, one on the ground. I’m just being straight with you.”
    â€œThere won’t be any divided command. I’m in charge. I expect the cooperation of my officers. I’m just being straight with you. ”
    Stevens kept his voice low, but the tone was bitter. “ Your officers! Some of us have been working on this project for a year. You walk in like we’re all dicked up and you’re gonna save us. Or is it that maybe you didn’t want this job in the first place? Maybe you were going someplace better?”
    Alan set his jaw, controlled his hands, his temper. Rafe had been right—there certainly had been talk. “Mister Stevens, I’m your commanding officer—”
    â€œCraik, everybody’s heard of your father. He was a pilot. He might have belonged here. You don’t!”
    Alan didn’t blink, and his eyes didn’t move. Stevens couldn’t hold that look for more than two seconds. Alan became very cold and very formal. “Mister Stevens, I don’t have time right now for you to have a tantrum. It looks to me as if we’re way behind and we have to get a plane