too. Seriously worried. But if we had to crash in a blizzard, having an intact plane is about as cozy as it could possibly be.”
“I guess. Right now it feels like a damn prison.”
“That, too.” He didn’t argue with her, and for a moment she felt a bit embarrassed by her ingratitude. But then she let it go. Right now this plane was a prison as much as it was a shelter.
“So what exactly do you do?” he asked her.
“I own a consulting firm. We prospect for oil, and supervise initial drilling to ensure that our clients locate the well optimally. Most of my work these days is in Mexico.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“It’s like a great big treasure hunt, in one way. In another it’s a pain.” “Why?”
“Because it’s a man’s world, why else? More so south of the border.”
He was silent for a minute. It was a silence so intense she could hear their breathing. Apparently, between the soundproofing of the plane and the mounding snow, nothing else could penetrate this cocoon.
“That would be rough,” he said finally. “I watched plenty of women pilots face that stuff in the military. At least they had regulations on their side. You wouldn’t.”
“And a whole culture against me. Well, not entirely, but you know how that goes. At one job, I had a curandera come out and promise to place a curse on anyone who gave me a hard time. It was a last resort, but it worked.”
“Can you work anywhere else?”
“Most of the oil in the world seems to be in the wrong places for women to go.”
“But you get hired anyway?”
“I’m good at what I do. It may be a boy’s game, but I play it with the best. So I charge enough to pay some bodyguards, and sometimes to get a bruja, a witch, on my side.”
“Sounds almost like being in a war zone.”
“Sometimes. It’s not the pros who give me trouble, it’s the local hires. Usually they settle down with time. They know where the pay is coming from.”
“But what about that blowout you mentioned?”
“Ah, that. Well, a couple of guys with more machismo than sense didn’t listen when I told them our seismograph readings indicated that we were about to hit a pocket of natural gas. You always hit some gas, and there are precautions to take. I mean, depending on the depth, that stuff explodes out of the well under some huge pressure and a single spark is enough to cause a conflagration. We weren’t ready to open the gas pocket, I told them to wait, but they had some kind of incentive or bet on the line and ignored me. I’m just glad I got everybody else out of the area. Then, of course, we had a messed-up rig and a roman candle to put out.”
“And the guys?”
“They lived. Nice burns, though. I don’t think they’ll ignore orders again.”
She saw him shake his head, though she couldn’t read his expression. “You live an exciting life.”
“Sometimes. Ah, I mostly like the people I meet down there. I love the little towns, the pace of life, the color, the music. Roughnecks are just a tough group anywhere. When I’m viewed as a tourist I have a great time. The problem starts when I’m the boss.”
“I guess I can see that.”
“And it would happen just about anywhere. It’s like anything—you take the good with the bad. So you were a military pilot?”
“Yeah. I flew off carriers.”
She leaned back a little and twisted, trying to see him better. “I read a story about that once. A true story.”
“What’s that?”
“It was in Korea, I think. Some navy and air-force pilots were arguing about whether the navy pilots had a tougher landing to make, and the air-force pilots claimed they could land on a carrier no problem.”
At that a snort escaped him. “Why do I know how this is going to end?”
“Probably because you’ve landed on carriers. I guess they went out and drew the outline of a carrier deck and took turns landing. Needless to say …”
“I can imagine. And the navy guys probably crowed that the deck wasn’t even moving.”
“I believe that was part of it.”
“There’s a part they probably left out, though.”
“Which is?”
“The tailhook.”
Rory wouldn’t have believed it was possible, but she laughed out loud. “You’re right. I don’t think that was mentioned.”
“Of course not,” he said drily. “Look, I won’t tell you it’s easier landing on a moving deck, but with the navigational aides we’ve got and the tailhook, it’s not as hard as trying to land in that amount of space on flat ground without a tailhook.”
“I don’t need a map to get that one.” She hesitated, then asked, “Why’d you leave? You seem too young to have retired.”
“I failed my flight physical. And before you get all upset because I’m still a pilot, let me explain. Flight physicals in the military are rigorous beyond belief. Most guys will fail before they reach thirty-five. So some little glitch shows up, one that won’t keep you from flying, won’t prevent you from getting a job with a commercial airline, but it will prevent you from flying combat missions or doing carrier landings. Those are the rules. We’re still allowed to fly, to keep our flight status, but we’re off the books for actual missions.”
“That seems extreme.”
“Probably not. We do pull a lot of high Gs. Anyway, once I couldn’t make carrier landings anymore, I didn’t want a desk job so I resigned.”
“And built your own little airline.”
“One plane and me, a long way from my own airline, but basically, yeah.”
“And now your livelihood is lying buried in snow on the side of a mountain.”
“So it is.” His voice sounded tight, but then he let out a breath. “The important thing is getting everyone out alive. Then I’ll deal with the NTSB, the company that did the overhaul and my insurance carrier. By the time all that’s taken care of, I would almost bet I’ll be ready to kill someone.”
“You’ll certainly be older.”
A quiet laugh escaped him. “Goes without saying.”
Concern for her sister, which had been eating her alive for weeks now, cracked open just a little, allowing her to feel for him. “I’m sorry. I know how miserable that crap can be. I went through it on the blowout. I don’t know what was worse—dealing with the investigators or dealing with the insurers.”
“They were probably both equally bad. They have the same goal after all—to give somebody else a hard time.”
Another chuckle escaped her. “Oh, yeah. And to pin blame, preferably somewhere that doesn’t cause them any problems.”
“So what did they decide on that blowout?”
“I feared it was going to be pinned on me as long as the roughnecks stuck together. Easier to blame the gringa than the guys you have to work with. I was more than a little surprised to find out that a certain amount of gratitude made them tell the truth, how I had ordered the drilling stopped, and then, when I was disobeyed, cleared the area. At least nobody tried to say I should have halted the drilling myself.”
“Could you have?”
“Short of shooting two men,