Not too much standing involved, as I recall, unless you consider perching on a bar stool-
Hey, I was there, thats what counts. Ready and willing to lend you a shoulder if you needed one.
The way I remember it, you were the one needing a shoulder-not to mention a ride home, and on one memorable occasion, at least, bail.
Tony gave an affronted snort. Dont try to sidetrack me, Mr. Wordman. Whatever was between you and Amelia Earhart had to be something major. Hell, you know me-when it comes to understanding women, Im no Dr. Phil, and even I felt it. Out there. Just now. The way the sparks were flying back and forth, its a wonder you two didnt set the damn plane on fire.
Cory didnt reply, just gave him a hard, steely stare, a look that normally would have had Tony backing off. This time it didnt work, and after a moment Cory put his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.
It took a long, slow ten-count before Tony succeeded in throttling back enough to press on in a calmer, quieter voice. Look, man, you know me, I dont butt in where its not my business. But this isnt exactly a picnic in the park were going on. I mean, here we are, heading into a place thats supposedly so dangerous no commercial airline or boat or bus service is even willing to take us there, supposedly to interview a major terrorist who, if he had his druthers, would probably just as soon kill us as look at us. If youve got history with the woman were trusting to get us in and out of there alive, I think I ought to know about it.
There was a long, suspenseful silence, during which Tony watched, with a sinking feeling in his gut, the little muscles working in the side of Corys jaw, and wondered if he was going to have to start looking for a new best friend.
Then, to his great relief, Cory straightened abruptly and said, Youre right, you do. Tony let out a silent, careful breath.
He waited, heart thumping, while Cory glanced over his shoulder toward the terminal buildings, again took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes. Put the glasses back on. Leaned toward him across the aisle and spoke in a soft, conspiratorial way, although there was no one else around to hear.
You know I was a prisoner in Iraq, right?
Yeah, sure-about ten years ago, wasnt it? Special Forces went in and got you out in the middle of the Second Iraq War. Didnt you win the Pulitzer with some of the articles you wrote about it afterward?
Cory nodded in a dismissive way. So you probably also remember there was another guy rescued same time I was. Tomcat pilot-hed been shot down over the no-fly zone between the two Gulf wars. Given up for dead. Theyd had him for eight years, and nobody knew.
Holy jumpin jeezits, Tony exclaimed, whacking the armrest with an open palm, I remember that! I was working in Richmond at the time-I think it was maybe my second or third big assignment-they sent me to Andrews to cover his return. Had all us media people corralled away from the action behind a chain-link fence so we wouldnt interfere with the big family reunion. Never got one decent shot. Lets seeI seem to remember he had a wifea daughter
Cory nodded, took a breath and let it out. He did. And that pilot out there, Samantha Bauer- he dipped his head toward the windows -Amelia Earhart, as you call her
Dont tell me, Tony said, in the same reverent tone with which hed first spoken of the airplane they were sitting in.
Yep, said Cory, in a voice like the echoes of doom. Shes the Top Guns daughter.
Chapter 2
I met her in the White House rose garden, Cory said, following a gleefully profane exclamation from Tony.
He could still smile, remembering that day, but carefully, tentatively, with great care not to jostle the memories too hard. The turbulence of seeing her again had shifted and tumbled them-and the feelings that went with them-inside the compartment hed stuffed them into years ago, and right now he feared if he opened that door too wide and too suddenly they might tumble out and bury him.
He spoke rapidly to get past the danger.
There was a reception for us-for him, really-Lieutenant Bauer-I was more or less an afterthought. The guy was a genuine hero, and you know what the media does with heroes.
Arent you the media?
Thats why I get to bad-mouth-its like family. Anyway, youre not the media when youre part of the story.
But you wrote those stories.
Yeah, mainly to get through it. Get past it. I wonder, sometimes, how it wouldve been if I hadnt had that outlet. I know Tristan had a tough time of it-of course hed been gone a lot longer than I was. They only had me a few months. Him theyd had for eight years.
Hard to imagine. Impossible, maybe.
Cory nodded, the knots in his belly relaxing a little. He was always more comfortable concentrating on someone elses story. It was tough on his family. Theyd assumed all along he was dead. Jessie-his wife-hadnt remarried, though, which was one good thing. What a mess that wouldve been. Still, it was hard-they had a lot of readjusting to do. But it was hardest, I think, on Sammi-on Samantha. She was just a kid, a ten-year-old tomboy when she lost her dad. Thats how he remembered her-how he described her to me, when we were together in that Iraqi prison. He talked about her all the time. A tomboy with ponytails. With bandages on her knees from playing soccer. A smile fluttered like a leaf on the gust of his exhalation. Let me tell you, thats not what he came back to.
Not even close.
Oblivious to nuances, Tony whistled. I guess not. Shed have been what, then-eighteen?
Yeah. In college. A grown-up woman, the way she saw it.
Still just a kid, though, Tony said in a musing tone, then threw Cory a quick frown as it finally hit him. What, youre telling me you had something going with her? I never figured you for a cradle robber, man. You must have, what, ten or twelve years on her?
It wasnt my intention, Cory said, putting his head back with a sigh. Believe me. Well- the smile this time was brief and wry -not at first, anyway. Not that I didnt fall for her. That happened probably the first minute I laid eyes on her. He threw Tony a look and shifted uncomfortably. Well, youve seen her. He glanced toward the window and his heart gave a jolt as he saw the tall wavery figure in khakis and a baseball cap striding toward them across the scorched grass.
Alerted by what he saw in Corys face, Tony, too, turned to look out the window. After a long moment he said in a reverent tone, I can see how shed get your attention, yeah. Even dressed like that I can see it.
It wasnt about her looks, though. Cory waggled his shoulders, uncomfortable even with the thought. Blond hair, brown eyes, long legsgreat legsokay, sure, shed had all that. So had any number of other women hed met in his lifetime and over the course of his career, in one variation or another. But Sammi June-Samantha-thered just been something about her. So muchmore.
So, you had it bad for the college kid, Tony said. So, what happened?
About what youd expect, I guess. Didnt work out. Cory lifted one shoulder and closed his eyes, hoping maybe Tony would take the hint and let it drop.
Naturally, he didnt. Didnt work out? Thats all you have to say? His voice rose in pitch as it lowered in volume. Look, man, I know you. Youll make a story out of a trip to the 7-Eleven. With his eyes shut Cory felt the voice come nearer, and drop to a conspirators mutter. Hey-I saw your face when you recognized that woman out there a while ago. Like youd been whacked upside the head with a plank. There was another pause while Tony settled back in his seat again.
After a moment he exhaled in an exasperated way. Look. Three years ago I stood by your side and handed you the ring while you got married to a woman who just happens to bear an uncanny resemblance to this pilot of ours-dont think I didnt notice that-and I gave up my couch when you divorced that same woman barely a year later-not that I minded. I never liked her that much, anyway. Now, I may be crazy, but Im getting the idea theres a connection there somewhere. So trust me, didnt work out aint gonna cut it.
What do you want me to do? I cant very well get into it now, Cory threw back at him in an exasperated whisper. Shes gonna be back in here in a minute.
Yeah, welldont think Im letting you off the hook on this one, pal. First thing when we get to Zamboanga-okay the second, but once weve got a couple of cold brewskies in front of us, I want the whole story. Im not kiddin, man.
Cory let out his breath in a gusty sigh.
Of all things to happen, he thought. On this, of all assignments. It had to be the mother of all coincidences.
Or maybe just fate, catching up with him.
Outside on the steps, Sam paused with one hand braced on each side of the door as if she were preparing to withstand a gale-force wind. Which she supposed she was in a way, or at least the emotional equivalent. And so far she wasnt pleased with the way shed held up in the face of it. No excuses, shed had plenty of time to prepare. She should have had her emotions battened down a whole lot better than this.
One thing, one small triumph she could cling to: the look on Corys face when hed realized who his pilot was. Hah-complete and total shock. His face had gone ash-white. You might be able to control your expressions and voice, Pearse, but theres not much you can do about your blood vessels.
Hed had absolutely no clue, she was sure of it. And his reaction to seeing her again told her one thing: The man still had some feelings for her.
Okay, so she was probably never going to know exactly what those feelings were, but at least she knew he wasnt indifferent.
A little buzz of something-excitement? Triumph?-zinged through her and a smile curved her lips. Indifferent? Not by a long shot.
The smile stayed put while she got the steps pulled up and stowed away and the door secured. The smile was still in place, feeling as if it had been molded out of clay and drying fast, as she started up the aisle, nodding at Tony Whitehall, who had turned to look at her with an expression of unabashed curiosity, and a glint in his exotic golden eyes.
She wondered what Coryd been telling him; she knew Tony had to have asked about her the minute she was out of earshot. And what an internal battle that must have been, she thought, between Corys two selves: On the one hand, the reporter, whod made a life and a career out of finding out secrets, getting to the bottom of things, solving mysteries, telling the story. On the other, the intensely private man whod mastered the art of protecting his own secrets.