He'd been left standing in the middle of the hangar in front of the aircraft he instantly loathed, and bagged bluntly in front of its proud technician....Reputations must be riding on his approval, John thought, because the Russians, technical and operations alike, had flown into a frenzy when he made his pronouncement.A figure came up alongside him. It was the woman, the blond test pilot he'd talked to in the dining hall. She was grinning evilly."You told them the MiG 3 is a piece of shit?" she. Which could only mean that Mary was in danger or worse. Just as he was plunging back into despair, Henry's cell phone rang. The caller-id was unknown to him but he had answered before he could consider the possible implication of the fact. "Henry Mortimer," he noticed as he spoke that his voice had turned into a hoarse rasp. "Stay there, I'm coming." a woman's voice replied followed by a click. Henry's face was creased by a broad smile: She had come after all. There had just been some. More

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