“Not that I know of, Matthew. Straight translation work – in and out in little more than a day or so, I expect,” Mercer added, sounding bored now.

Matt sighed and closed his eyes. He drained his beer. “Okay, what are the flight details?”

Chapter 6

Hanscom Air Force Base, Massachusetts

The dark blue car eased to a stop and the door pushed open. Matt swiveled his legs out of the passenger side and dropped his bag on the ground, whistling as he looked up at the massive aircraft on the runway.

Beside him the driver leaned forward on the wheel and followed his gaze.

“Yep, she’s a big baby – C17 Globemaster III. That beautiful girl can lift well over half a million pounds of payload at a cruise speed of just under Mach 1.”

“Wow.” Matt turned. “Just how many of us will be onboard?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

The driver grinned. “Well, that there is one of our strategic airlift transports and can take one hundred and thirty fully kitted out troops.” His grin widened. “Or six VIPs, you being one of them.” He winked and then gave a small salute as Matt stepped out and closed the door.

The driver called, “Enjoy your holiday, sir.” He spun the wheel and the dark sedan accelerated away.

“Holiday, huh?” Matt picked up his pack, and headed toward the huge aircraft. The ramp was down at the rear, but the interior was nothing but a black hole at this distance. When he was still a hundred feet away, a figure half appeared at a tiny side door, spotted him, and came down the metal foldout steps quickly. She jogged to him, smiling, hand stuck out from twenty feet away.

“We meet again.” He grabbed her hand and shook it. “Hey, it wasn’t you that had anything to do with me being here, was it?”

She smiled wholesomely and disarmed him immediately. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for academics with charm and boyish good looks. Come on.” She turned and headed back to the plane.

“So, Syria, huh?” he asked, looking up and up at the enormous aircraft.

She nodded. “Now you’re here, we’ll do introductions, and then a formal briefing when we’re under way.”

“I’m the last?” Matt’s feet clanged on the incongruously flimsy metal steps.

“Yep, last but not least.” Tania stopped just inside, and held out an arm directed past the cockpit to the rear of the plane.

Hollow, was Matt’s first impression. Inside the metal skin of the aircraft, the slightly oval shape was enormous at nearly seventy feet in length, about twelve high and eighteen wide. But it was nearly empty. There were just six chairs – two by two in three rows, each fixed to the middle of the craft. There was a small bench-type structure in front of each – a small island for work and rest in a gigantic echo chamber.

A tall man stood at the front: mid forties, looking fit and only slightly army. However, either side of him there were two sharp-eyed military guys who looked tough enough to break boards with their hands and heads. Matt recognized the type – Special Forces. He also recognized the geologist Andy Bennet from the sinkhole at Iowa, and waved.