vicariously living your misspent youth all over again, here in the pay of the king of Arabia. '
''There may be something to your analysis, professor.' He touched her hand. She did not move it away. 'But mainly, this offer lets me continue to do what I think I do best. And some of the friends of my youth are here. It's not exactly the same as when we were in our thirties, of course, but I know this: Any professional fighter pilot would trade his front-row seat in hell to be with us.'
Claudia's professional instincts took over. 'What effect do you think your air force will have in the region?'
'It's hard to say; I just don't know.' Bennett concentrated hard on his thoughts. 'Maybe the F-20 force, if it's allowed to grow to maturity, can help stabilize things. If I make some contribution to the Saudis, maybe they'll be able to help moderate the harsher Arab states. They've done it in the past. I hope the king will be able to use his money and influence on some of the radical governments in the area. Especially those that want to throw the Israelis out of Jordan. I know things have been pretty quiet there, but it can't last indefinitely. '
Bennett was voicing thoughts he had seldom expressed. 'I really hope, though, that Tiger Force-that's what we're calling it now-can prevent the involvement of U. S. forces in this region. We've seen it for so long, Claudia. The '67 war, Beirut,
'Obviously, State shares your sentiment, as do I. But you know, John, the king really is becoming a captive of the Muslim radicals, and he remains in power only because they haven't organized to unseat him. The moment he becomes of little use to them, with his influence abroad, you can bet his regime will fall.' She lowered her voice without realizing it, continuing in an almost conspiratorial tone. 'I'd have to deny I said this, but there's evidence the king is serving as a back-channel intermediary between some U.N. committees and the Arab hard-liners. Everyone seems to hope there'll be a negotiated settlement leading to Israeli withdrawal from Jordan.'
Bennett pressed her hand. 'Do you think there's a chance?'
The hazel eyes lowered and the blond head shook ever so slightly. 'No, I don't.'
Bennett looked off into space for a moment, then turned to her again. 'All right, young lady, fair is fair. Now let me ask you a personal question.'
'Okay. '
'What's a good-looking girl like you doing on a day like this with an old fighter pilot like me?'
Claudia licked her lips and John thought it must have been a nervous reaction. 'At first it was curiosity. As I said, I've known lots of military people in my career. But you were different. I guess you described the difference yourself. You are a warrior. Most of the others-attaches and embassy guards-just wear uniforms.
'Then, as I got to know you more, I found there was more depth to you than I thought. Probably that night before you returned to the States, when we discussed the Koran. That's when I decided you were more than an airplane pilot. You were somebody I wanted to know.'
Outside, the capital city was gathering itself for the late afternoon ritual. Imams called the faithful to prayer from the minarets for one of five daily prayers which devout Muslims always make.
Claudia rose. 'We've been sitting too long. We could dance if you like.' She knelt beside her stereo and flipped through several albums. Finally she selected one, set the record and tone arm in place, and turned back to Bennett. She held out her arms. 'Here we go.”
Bennett stepped toward her. 'What's the song?'
'You'll see.'
They met in the middle of the room, pressing close together. As the first strains washed over them, John closed his eyes. 'Oh, wow. You can pick 'em.' They began to move.
'I'd almost forgotten 'Moon River,' ' he said. The languorous strains filled the room with a pleasant dizziness. Bennett pressed his face close to Claudia's, savoring the silky texture of her blond hair and the fragrance of her skin.
He spun her around and they danced in silence…
It was evening when Bennett quietly slipped from Claudia's bed.
Without disturbing her sleep, he padded from the room and picked up the phone on her desk. After a short delay he talked to the Saudi sergeant who was to have met him this evening. He left instructions to be picked up at the embassy at 0830 next morning. Then he eased himself back into bed, pressing close to Claudia and thanking Whomever had smiled on him.
PART II
Death was our new trade. We were training to be professional killers
Chapter 7
There was a noisy chatter as the forty instructor pilots settled themselves in the auditorium that night. They arranged themselves comfortably among the cushioned seats with folding-arm writing platforms. Each IP occupied two or even three seats to accommodate himself, his texts, and his notepaper.
Colonel John Bennett strolled down the aisle, pausing occasionally to exchange a word with one of the fliers. Then he climbed the podium and tapped on the microphone. In moments he had everyone's full attention.
'Gentlemen, I know you've been over this material before, and I know a lot of you are tired from flying two hops today. But it's important that we review this phase and coordinate our syllabus on vertical maneuvering. As you know, the F-20 is ideally suited to fight in the vertical plane, and we want to impress the students with that fact from the beginning. You guys whose students haven't reached the tactics phase can benefit from this discussion and file it for later reference.'
A mustached flier with flaxen hair raised his hand. Bennett nodded to him. 'Peter?'
'I don't wish to seem provincial, old man. But when it comes to combat maneuvering, one only wants a bit of viffing to get the job done. Works every time.'
This sparked laughter in the ranks. Peter Saint-Martin, one of the British instructors, had flown Harriers much of his career.
Bennett dimmed the lights from his console, focusing the men's attention on the screen behind him. 'Here you'll see the basic syllabus for this phase,' he said. 'It's the same material as written in your instructor's booklet.'
He picked up a pointer and ticked off the maneuvers each student would have to master. ''The cadets are now familiar with offensive and defensive maneuvers in the horizontal plane. You guys report that nearly all of them are proficient in these matters, and they understand the theory of energy management.'
'Good, maybe they can explain it to me.' This brought a chorus of laughter. Bennett wasn't sure, but it sounded a lot like Tim Ottman, the wisecracking Air Force veteran.
In jet fighters, inertia or momentum is characterized as energy-high airspeed or altitude which can be converted to energy. The objective of a pilot is to 'manage' his energy state, lest he find himself at a disadvantage. However, there are times when he desperately wants to reduce his energy, forcing an opponent behind him to overshoot and therefore become vulnerable.
A Navy pilot spoke volumes when he said, 'Nothing is true in tactics.'
'You've dealt with lag pursuit and displacement rolls,' Bennett continued. 'This, of course, is the logical
