Stone grabbed his bag and followed the group to the rear of the giant airplane, where they simply walked up the lowered tail ramp and into the airplane. They deposited their luggage in bins as instructed, and Stone took a moment to look around. He was standing inside a cavernous space more than twenty feet wide and high. Ahead of them was an Airstream trailer, strapped down and with various cables and tubes attached. They walked past the trailer and found a dozen first-class airline seats bolted to the floor, then past that to the cockpit, which was big enough for two built-in, double-decker bunks and four jump seats behind the two pilots. The instrument panel was a maze of large glass screens, switches, warning lights, and circuit breakers. It was several times the size of the panel on Stone’s Mustang.

“Preflight’s all done, and we’re ready to go,” Mike said. “Take a jump seat next to me, Stone.”

Stone sat down, buckled in between Mike and Holly, and watched the pilots start the four engines and work their way through their checklists.

“This thing has four Pratt & Whitney engines,” Mike said, “each producing more than forty thousand pounds of thrust. We can carry more than a hundred and seventy thousand pounds of cargo.”

“How much runway are we going to need?” Stone asked, worried about what was available to them.

“The airplane can work out of a thirty-five-hundred-foot runway,” Mike said. “How’s that for short-takeoff performance?”

“Range and speed?”

“This is the ER, the Extended Range version. We can fly two thousand eight hundred miles without refueling. Today, we’ll refuel at an air force base at Lajes, in the Azores, then go on nonstop to Iraq. We should have a nice tailwind, too. Cruising speed is four hundred and fifty knots.”

The airplane began to taxi, with linemen at each wingtip, making sure they cleared any obstacles. Stone watched an airliner take off ahead of them and then, after a final cockpit check, they taxied onto the runway. The first officer shoved the throttles forward while the brakes were held, and when the engines reached full power, the captain released the brakes and the airplane moved forward faster than Stone would have thought possible, pressing him into his seat. They were in the air after a takeoff roll that seemed to take only seconds, and Stone put his headset on to keep out the noise. He could hear the captain talking to the tower, then to New York approach. Shortly, they were at flight level 290 and over the Atlantic Ocean.

“Come with me,” Mike said, unbuckling his seat belt.

Stone and Holly followed him to the Airstream, and he opened the door for them. Inside were four bunks, some comfortable chairs facing a large TV screen, and a galley.

“This is our rest area,” Mike said. “We’re flying with two crews, and the off-duty pilot and copilot can use the bunks in the cockpit.” He led them out of the trailer and pointed to what looked like a hotel laundry bin with canvas sides. “Our parachutes are in there. Has either of you ever jumped?”