Assault on Alpha Base Read Free Page A

guarding it.”
    “We do. It’s a crackerjack outfit. In reality, there’s so many checks to the high-tech security system, it’s mostly a baby-sitting job.”
    DeVries turned back to his desk and scanned a sheet of paper. “You’ll be rotating the command post duty with two other officers. Since you’re the new kid on the block, I’ve assigned you to the night shift—1800 to 0200.” He shoved the paper across the desk to McGriffin. “I hate to throw you right into the job, but we’re low on help around here. Any problem starting your duty tonight?”
    McGriffin’s eyes widened. “No, sir. I guess not.”
    “Good.” DeVries stood and extended his hand. “Glad to have you.”
    “Thanks, Colonel.”
    As McGriffin turned to leave, DeVries called after him. “Bill?”
    “Sir?”
    DeVries nodded his head toward McGriffin. “Nice hairs—but they won’t hack it at my base. You aren’t flying trash haulers anymore.”
    “I was just going to get a haircut this afternoon, sir.”
    “That’s what I like to hear.” DeVries turned to a pile of paper on his desk.
    Red-faced, McGriffin turned on his heel, executing the first perfect about-face he’d done since he was a dooley.

Chapter 2
    Wednesday, 1 June, 0830 local
    Wendover AFB, Nevada
    White noise washed over the area. Vikki Osborrn scrutinized the craft as it taxied off the end of the runway to the east of them. Although the plane was half a mile away, the sound from the jet’s engines made it impossible to speak. A truck with an oversized sign exclaiming follow me led the shrieking jet across an access road and past ten armored vehicles. Dozens of men clutching M-16’s stood vigil along the plane’s route.
    Engines running, the camouflaged aircraft slowly pivoted on the concrete apron. Sand, kicked up from the exhaust, swirled overhead in crazy patterns.
    A uniformed airman decked out in tan battle-dress uniform and wearing earphones held two bright orange flashlights. He kept his left arm parallel to the ground and urged the plane to keep turning with his right. Through the jet’s multifaceted window, the pilot kept his eyes glued on the airman until the airman crossed both arms over his head. The engines cut back and started winding down.
    When the plane’s engines grew quiet, Dr. Anthony Harding spoke.
    “Have you found it?”
    Vikki flipped through Jane’s All the World’s Aircraft, a large book filled with pictures of aircraft from every nation. “Not yet. I’ve found something like it—a C-5—but it looks too wide.”
    Harding glanced over at the book she held, then squinted back at the jet. “Keep looking. It’s got to be in there.”
    Vikki pushed her hair back. Bleached from the sun, long blond hair adorned her tan face. She’d cause a man’s head to turn, but only once. The appearance of glamor was striking, but up close the seriousness in her eyes overwhelmed the rest of her face. Upon inspection, the initial mid-twenties guess for her age melted to a figure closer to thirty-five.
    Premature wrinkles tattooed the area around her eyes, and her skin had started to show the effect of too much sun. In a few years her skin would take on the leathery look that cursed those who worked in the field. Her tank top fit nicely, revealing small, rounded breasts. She crossed her legs and nervously bounced her sandals against the van’s interior.
    Harding turned back to the plane. Along with the rest of the tourists gawking at the convoy, Harding and Vikki were inconspicuous in the long line of cars that were stopped by the runway.
    Harding studied the plane. “There are ten armored vehicles, two flatbeds, and about seventy-five men, all with automatic weapons. Not counting the fuel trucks, I’d guess the armored vehicles each have bazookas and various other nasty weapons on them.” He lifted his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
    Vikki stopped flipping through the pages. She squinted at one of the photographs, comparing it to the plane off to