“High-wire act, Cam the Tree Trimmer.”
“Funny, girls. Very funny…”
The door to the Quonset hut opened. “Chief Anderson?”
Jumping as her name was called, Cam whirled around. Sergeant Prater, dressed in her dark green cammies, stood expectant in the doorway, a serious look on her freckled face.
“Yeah?”
“Major Stevenson wants to see you, ma’am.”
“Er, thanks…yeah, I’ll be right there, Sergeant. Thank you.”
Prater smiled and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” The door closed.
“Ohh,” Wild Woman teased, “you’re gonna get this mission, I got that feelin’!”
Frowning, Cam set her empty cup on the counter. “Maybe, maybe not. Maybe the major is callin’ me in to tell me Pele or Storm Queen got it, instead.”
“You’re such a die-hard pessimist,” Snake groaned. “Gawd, gimme another cup of coffee….” Gracefully she unwound herself from the chair, a grin lurking at the corners of her mouth.
“You think?” Cam asked, heading for the door. “That I got it?”
Waving her hand, Wild Woman chortled. “Oh, honey, you’re such a widget at times! My gut says yes. What does yours say, Snake?”
“That I need another cup of java.”
Laughing, Cam headed out the door and waved goodbye to them. “I hope you two have a quiet shift.”
“Oh, yeah, right. That’s just what I want,” Snake growled.
“I’m bored already,” Wild Woman griped. “Don’t wish that on us, Cam!”
“Okay, ladies, may the Sharks come out and hunt your butts, then. See you later! I’ll let you know what happens!” Cam couldn’t keep the hope out of her voice. Closing the door, she turned to her right and hurried across the black lava floor of the cave. All around her, the noise of women’s voices as well as the clang of tools being used on the Apaches in the rear of the cave echoed and reechoed.
Wiping her mouth in a nervous gesture, Cam barely paid attention to the activity on the wide lip of the cave, their landing and takeoff point. At this time of morning the clouds were thick, hiding the cave entrance. The sun hadn’t come up yet so the fog hadn’t burned off. Hurrying across the mammoth cave complex to the two-story headquarters building on the other side, Cam felt her heart racing. Had she gotten the secret mission? Had Jenny Wright, the psychologist who worked for Perseus and who had interviewed her awhile back, chosen her to head this one up? Cam hoped so with all her heart and soul. Trying not to run, she hurried toward the steel grate stairs that wound up to the second floor of H.Q., where Major Maya Stevenson, her boss and commanding officer, had her office.
More than anything in the world, Cam wanted this mission. She had to prove to Maya that she was worthy, that she could be counted on not to run from a situation, as she’d run from the crash, leaving her superior behind to be captured.
Wiping her mouth again, she rapidly climbed the steps two at a time, her heavy black boots shaking the staircase in the process. She entered the door at the top, which led to a long passageway lined with open doors. The army personnel who ran the black ops base—those in charge of communications and planning—were all here. Cam hurried down the hall, nodding to various enlisted women as they came and went from their offices.
Cam headed to the last door on the right, Maya’s office. The C.O. was a woman of incredible ability and leadership. Many times Cam wished she had some of the confidence and wisdom her boss had. To Cam, Maya was a role model, someone she nearly worshipped. Though she’d been born in Brazil, Maya had been adopted by an American colonel and his wife early in her life, and had grown up in the United States. But rumor had it that Maya had a very mysterious background. Even her name suggested the mystery inherent in her birth, and pilots of the Black Jaguar Squadron were always whispering about her almost uncanny powers and abilities.
Maya had single-handedly fashioned this black ops out of nothing. She had been one of the first women to take Apache helicopter training at Fort Rucker, Alabama, getting badly burned by gender prejudice in the process. Afterward, she had contacted her father, a U.S. Army general by that time, and gotten him to help her set up the BJS base—a covert operation dedicated to stopping cocaine shipments from leaving Peru, one of the main producers of the drug. He’d agreed, and the rest was history. Now Maya was C.O. of the all-female Black Jaguar Squadron.
Cam had joined Maya when she’d graduated from the next class at Fort Rucker, volunteering to come down to the all-woman base. She’d never for a second regretted her decision.
Halting at Maya’s door, which was open as usual—part of her open-door policy so that anyone who needed to could see her—Cam nervously smoothed the fabric of her black uniform. Then she knocked briefly. “Major Stevenson? You sent for me?”
Maya lifted her head from her desk, which was covered with paperwork. “Yes, come in, Cam.”
Entering, Cam stood at attention. “Reporting as ordered, ma’am.”
“At ease, Cam. Have a seat.” Maya gestured toward a chair in front of the desk. “Oh…close the door?”
Feeling her heartbeat speed up, Cam gulped, did an about-face and closed it. Only rarely did Maya ask that her door be closed. It meant she was going to say something that she didn’t want to be overheard. Was she going to announce that Cam wasn’t getting the mission? Dying inwardly, Cam kept her expression carefully neutral and sat down gingerly in the chair. Placing her hands on her thighs, she waited, holding her breath as Maya placed a bunch of signed orders into her out basket for Sergeant Prater to distribute.
Smiling warmly, Maya set her pen aside and folded her hands in front of her. “I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your eyes or ears that Morgan Trayhern flew in this morning?”
Grinning a little and feeling like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar, Cam said, “No, ma’am, it hadn’t escaped me.”
“You know why he’s here?”
“I think so. The new mission is on the table?”
“Very good,” Maya murmured. “I’ve been in conference with Mr. Trayhern and Major York about it.”
Cam blinked. Maya’s large, emerald-green eyes glimmered with mirth. “Yes, ma’am?”
“You know,” she said, pulling a few files off a teetering stack to her right and placing them in front of her, “that three of you were interviewed by Jenny Wright, the Perseus psychologist, for this mission?”
“Yes, Storm Queen and Pele were interviewed, too.”
“Right.” Maya slowly opened Cam’s file, revealing a color photo of her stapled on the left side. “We’ve reviewed everything, Cam. I know none of you knew what the mission was about, and that was done on purpose. Ms. Wright knew the schematic on it, and conferred with Morgan and myself about the three of you. You were all good, strong candidates for the position.”
Heart sinking, Cam knotted her hands on her thighs. Maya was going to tell her she hadn’t gotten the mission. Straightening her spine, she tried to hide her disappointment. It was so important to her to have Maya look upon her as trustworthy once more. Since that horrific crash landing, Maya had never again flown with Cam. Which was unusual, because she routinely flew missions with all her pilots from time to time.
Lifting her head, she pinned Cam with her gaze and smiled. “We’ve chosen you to head up this mission, Cam. We felt you were the best qualified for it. Congratulations.” Maya rose and extended her hand.
Blinking, Cam stared at her superior. Then she leaped to her feet and thrust out her own hand.
“Thanks, Major! Thanks so much! You have no idea what this means