Our aircraft pulled into the VIP terminal of Al Udeid Air Base, an hour southwest of Doha, and I wondered who would greet us. The entire coordination had been hastily done, and chances were high that someone on the tarmac was expecting a three-star general to march out and start handing out challenge coins. The only good thing about it was we were two hours ahead of Lucas. Just enough time to get set.
I’d given Brett and Decoy their marching orders to board Lucas’s plane, getting them out the door, then had Knuckles and Jennifer pack up while we waited on Kurt. He’d eventually called and said he had a C-21 aircraft at Ramstein Air Base an hour away from us. The C-21 was the military version of the Learjet 35 business jet and was used to transport dignitaries and generals around the world. This one was hauling a three-star around when it had broken down. It was in maintenance and due to continue its journey today. Somehow, Kurt had managed to cloak that it was ready to fly, with the general thinking he had another day of TDY in Germany. In the meantime, we’d stolen the plane. It was a one-way trip, with the general getting his bird back tomorrow morning none the wiser.
Now was the tricky part: getting out of this aircraft and off a U.S. Air Force base in a foreign country without anyone remembering who we were. Which would be tough considering we didn’t have any vehicles, and this base was treated as if it was in a war zone.
I looked out the window and saw two men in civilian safari clothes. The kind CIA office clerks wore whenever they went overseas. Zip-off cargo pants and multipocketed shirts. It was a good sign, especially since I didn’t see anyone in uniform.
The stairs lowered, and I went out first. A man walked up, and I prepared to roll with whatever came out of his mouth. A skill perfected over years of lying about who I was or what I was doing.
He stuck his hand out and said, “Channing Gray. I understand you’re here in support of security for State and need a vehicle.”
Wow. This is going to be easy.
I shook his hand and said, “Pike Logan, and yes. We’re behind schedule, so whatever you could do to expedite would be appreciated.”
He pointed at a white SUV and said, “That’s yours. I just need the fund cite to release it. My boss isn’t willing to pay, so it’s going on State’s bill.”
Dammit. It’s all taxpayer money. I faked a number, adding in an occasional letter, and praying he knew less about fund cites than I did. He studied the number, and I began coming up with excuses as to why it didn’t look right. A second later, he handed me the keys saying, “Inspect it for damage before you go. If it’s not noted, we’ll charge the fund cite when you return.”
I nodded my head, then completely ignored the request. We loaded up the SUV and headed out, seeing the massive search of inbound vehicles at the entrance gate, but we were free to go as a vehicle leaving.