Dedication: To our men & women of the Air Force. And to those veterans who flew in WWII. I salute you all!
"Off we go into the wild blue yonder…"
Chapter 1
She was called the Wings of War and was about 68,000 pounds. She still had her old tattoo – a graceful angel holding a bomb in her hands – on her left side, and was sixty-three years old. She was a fully restored Avro Lancaster bomber, brought to Miami International Airport for its annual air show thanks to the Royal Air Force. Her pilot was to be the Brad Pitt of all RAF pilots – Kyle Shannon.
The crowd was just coming into the hangar as Horatio Caine pulled the Hummer into the parking lot and he was amazed that he had butterflies in his stomach as he got out. He hadn't seen Kyle in years, and he wondered if that gifted young pilot had changed in the course of those years.
He removed his sunglasses to gaze upon the giant monstrosity called the Wings of War and was almost afraid to wonder if Kyle would be strong enough to even fly the damned thing.
Then he heard it coming from the dark recesses of the hangar: the definite sounds of Ultravox's "Dancing With Tears in My Eyes", and Horatio smiled. That was Kyle's song; he used to drive Horatio crazy by singing it into his cell phone whenever he called. Then he heard a familiar southern English accent call out:
"Well, well, well. Horatio Caine!"
Horatio only had time to turn around before a forceful pair of arms encircled his neck in a friendly, man-to-man embrace. The smell of Kyle's cologne hit him in full and it wasn't before long when Horatio was laughing.
"Kyle Shannon," he said once Kyle pulled away. "Still listening to that 80s crap? I thought you were passed that stage."
"If you thought that it was all a phase, Horatio, you are gravely mistaken." Kyle flashed him a brilliant smile and lightly punched Horatio in the arm. "Ultravox is one of the greats. So what the hell are you doing here? Still working your ass off in the crime lab?"
"Working and taking a break," replied Horatio sizing up his friend. No siree, Kyle hadn't changed. Still the same short and energetic young man that he always was, with a handsome square face and short well-kept dark brown hair and dark brown eyes, with a radiant smile to boot. Today he was dressed in the uniform of an RAF bomber pilot, complete with the Mae West. "That uniform suits you."
"Oh, you like my bosom?" retorted Kyle with the familiar grin. "My wife thought I looked rather becoming in this thing. I find it as uncomfortable as hell."
Horatio looked back to the Wings of War. "You really think you can fly this thing?" he asked. "Aren't you afraid that it'll fall apart on you?"
"She's restored," protested Kyle. "And yes, Horatio, I can fly it. For your information, I've been flying it for three months now and she is like a glove on my hand…comfortable and so lovely."
"Tell me a little about it."
"Well, she's a Lanc, the most famous bomber in WWII. She's 68,000 pounds, has a 102 feet wingspan, 69 feet and 4 inches long. Her maximum speed is 275 at 15,000 feet, and her cruising speed can reach up to 4572 miles at 15,000 feet also. She can also climb to 20,000 feet in 41 minutes, 36 seconds…so she's not that bad."
"I beg to differ," said Horatio.
Kyle looked mockingly shocked. He looked at the bomber. "It's all right, old girl," he called. "Lieutenant Caine is only joking. It's nothing against you."
"You talk to your bomber," remarked Horatio. "That's sweet."
"Stuff it, Caine." Kyle glanced at his watch. "Oh my God, look at the time!" He looked at Horatio. "Well, Horatio, it's been a barrel of giggles talking to you but I've got to take this grand lady up into the air now. Perhaps we could have a coffee after I land? Catch up on old times?"
Horatio smiled. "You bet," he said. "But you're buying. Bomber boy's privilege."
Kyle smirked. "Oh very funny," he said and walked toward the bomber, climbing into it. When Horatio saw him settled into the cockpit he waved and Kyle waved back.
Catch up on old times. Horatio had a lot to tell his old friend, and he looked foreword to being Kyle's unofficial shrink. That boy had a pretty rough life, and God knew that he needed all the venting he could get.
With one final wave he walked back out the meet the growing crowd.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The Wings of War made her grand appearance at about ten o'clock, much to the delight of the crowd. Horatio even spied a couple of veterans openly weeping at the sight of seeing a piece of their old glory days again, and he knew that Kyle was having a ball up there. Piloting was in his blood, it was a part of his soul, and Horatio knew that he lived his passion in full vigor.
He watched as Kyle flew in large circles above the crowd, the roar of the four Merlin engines echoing in the sky, eclipsing the sounds of Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries". A faint static sound came onto the loudspeakers and Kyle's voice burst forth:
"Hello all aircraft, I'm going in for attack."
The crowd cheered and watched, spellbound, as the bomber made a U-turn and started to fly north.
Suddenly, Kyle's voice came back and he sounded panicked.
"Uh, base, there seems to be a problem here."
Horatio's heart dropped into his shoes. What was wrong with the bomber? Was his prediction coming true?
The bomber's engines were sputtering, the noise loud and ominous. Kyle was shouting into the loudspeakers now: "Good God, I'm losing fuel! I need to bail out now, sorry folks!"
But he never had the chance.
The Wings of War circled once, then began to nose-dive toward the ground. Several people in the crowd began screaming and Horatio himself began running toward the bomber. But it was too late; the bomber crashed into the ground, arcs of flames exploding into the skies. In horror, Horatio saw Kyle's lifeless body fly away from the wreckage as if he were nothing but a piece of paper and he stopped dead in his tracks for a second, then began running once more.
When he reached him, Horatio was sickened to see Kyle's condition. Lying on his back, Kyle's oxygen mask was ripped away from his face and there was blood everywhere on the ground. Bloody vomit was splashed all over his shirt and he was choking on it. Horatio raced to him and knelt beside him, trying to wipe off the vomit with a handkerchief which he knew was useless.
"Kyle," he said. "Kyle…can you hear me?"
"Horatio…" choked Kyle, his eyes wide with agony. "I…don't know…what happened…."
"It's all right, partner. You keep breathing. Help's coming."
"She was fine…" Kyle's voice broke as he convulsed in a coughing fit. Blood spattered into Horatio's hand. "Ground crew….checked her…" His eyes fluttered open and shut for a second.
"Kyle! Keep breathing for me!" cried Horatio.
"My wife…my wife…" Kyle's eyes fell shut and he ceased breathing.