Chapter 2
2100 hours
Vella La Cava
VMF 214 HQ
Kate downshifted the jeep and tried not to dwell on what the evening might entail. In spite of Greg's refusal to tell her any details he seemed confident she could handle it.
At least she'd look nice in the process, she mused. Her borrowed dress was a silky white and ivory affair printed with pink peonies. The daring neckline, combined with borrowed lingerie, put her breasts on what she thought was rather unnecessary display but Dee and the other nurses assured her she looked fit to play the part of a dazzling distraction. The borrowed high heels made it hard to drive. She would have kicked them off and driven back barefoot except it would have ruined the borrowed stockings. The only thing that was truly hers was her hair although she'd barely recognized herself after Dee and the other girls got done with her.
And she still didn't know what was going on. The nurses were as much in the dark as she was. Dee had shrugged her shoulders and said, "Casey wouldn't tell me anything. He just asked me to find something eye-catching you could wear on a date."
A date. Yeah. Whatever was going on, Kate was damned sure the evening's activity was not going to be anything resembling a date. She hoped fervently all that was required of her was to stand around and look ornamental. Between feeling like she was about to spill out of the dress or topple off the high heels, she doubted she could do much else.
To her right, the 214's flight line sprawled in the half-light of dusk. The line was unusually quiet this evening. In fact, she didn't see anyone there at all. That was odd. Master Sergeant Andy Micklin usually kept the mechanics working long into the night to put the Black Sheep's birds back together in time for the next day's mission. That was especially true now, with so many of the planes returning to base on a wing and a prayer.
To her left, a trailhead sloped through a tangle of palms and low scrub. Beyond lay the enticing expanse of the beach. Sheltered from the wind in the island's lee, the white sand and crystal blue water provided the closest thing to privacy the inhabitants of La Cava could find. The boys and the nurses put it to use in a variety of creative ways. It was absolutely the last place Kate intended to go in Jim's company but she had a feeling it wouldn't come to that. Greg's orders for her to meet Jim at the flight line had been too specific. The truck containing the mis-delivered shipment of parts was parked only fifty yards away. Coincidence? She thought not.
She eased the jeep past the cargo truck and waved at the bored looking master-at-arms sitting on the running board. He brightened and returned the wave, then watched with more than casual interest as she parked the jeep by the mechanic's shed nearby. Kate paused to pat at her hair and made an attempt at tugging up the dress's neckline. It refused to cooperate She wished she was here for a genuine date with Greg, not this clandestine meeting with his executive officer. If she were meeting Greg, she had the high probability of the dress coming off to look forward to. With Jim, she would be stuck in it for the duration of the evening.
She was aware of the guard watching with undisguised interest as she swung her legs out of the jeep. "In for a dime, in for a dollar," she muttered and paused, well aware the dress had ridden up above her knees. Careful not to snag the silk stockings, she maneuvered her way off the seat, then paused to tug her skirt back down. The second guard joined the first. She could feel their eyes on her like oily fingerprints.
She looked around. The mixed scents of aviation fuel and jungle foliage filled the warm air. She walked toward the flight line, elements slowly falling together like jigsaw puzzle pieces. The loaded cargo truck. The loitering guards. The absence of mechanics on the line. Greg's insistence she meet Jim at this specific location, dressed to the nines.
Distract the Navy, my sweet aunt, Kate thought. Distract them so he can steal them blind. But how did he intend to pull it off? Even if he got rid of the guards, the second those crates were discovered missing, the finger of blame would be pointed straight at the Black Sheep.
"Hey, darlin'!"
Kate turned to see a figure push off the wing of the nearest Corsair. Tall and lanky, Jim Gutterman was freshly showered, wearing a clean khaki uniform and a devil-may-care smile. A bottle of Scotch swung loosely from one hand as he sauntered across the packed ground to greet her.
"You look lovely this evening." His eyes lingered in places they shouldn't.
Kate glared at him and forced her hands not to tug at the dress's neckline. "I understand we have a date."
Jim offered her his arm. "Smile and act like you're enjoying it."
Kate plastered on a smile and linked her arm through his. They strolled a few steps.
"I think this would be more realistic if you kissed me," he said.
"In your dreams. What's going on?"
"You couldn't get it out of Greg? I'm surprised." Jim chuckled.
"I didn't have time," Kate said through gritted teeth. "But I imagine it involves stealing things."
"That's what the man does best." They paused under a palm tree and he lifted the bottle. "Drink?"
She looked at him suspiciously. "Where'd you get that? I thought Greg had the remaining inventory under lock and key."
"He does." Jim hoisted the bottle again. "This is a special occasion."
"You're not trying to get me drunk, are you?"
Jim snorted. "I know better than that." He passed her the bottle, which she accepted with caution. "No, we're just two lonely souls enjoying one another's company on a tropical evening. Don't look now, but Operation Moonlight Serenade is about to commence."
"Operation Moonlight Serenade?" Kate looked at him in disbelief. It was bad enough everyone but her seemed to think this was a grand lark. Now they'd named it?
"Anderson's idea." Jim jerked a thumb upward. A full moon was visible through the palm fronds above them.
Kate shifted her vantage point so she had a clear view of the cargo truck. As she watched, Greg strolled down the track. He slapped one of the guards congenially on the shoulder. His voice carried on the warm evening air.
"Son, you've been doing a fine job guarding this truck for the Navy all week but that's thirsty work in this heat. How about you come into the Sheep Pen for a drink? Your partner can watch the truck for a bit. These supplies aren't going to walk off by themselves."
"I don't know, sir," the guard hesitated. "Colonel Lard warned us not to fraternize with your unit."
Greg made a dismissive gesture. "I don't see Colonel Lard around here, do you? Who's going to tell him? The transport will be here tomorrow morning, your job is done." He nodded at the other man. "Soon as the second shift gets here, you come in for a glass, too."
The younger man wavered. "I hear you boys have top shelf Scotch."
"Absolutely." Greg's grin invited good-natured camaraderie. "It's not polite to turn down a commanding officer's invitation, son. Let's just call it an evening of fellowship between men serving Uncle Sam."
Kate thought if he shoveled it on any thicker, a brass band would start playing the Star Spangled Banner and American flags would unfurl from the palm trees.
"Go ahead," the second guard said. "Nothing going on out here but those two love-birds." He jerked his head toward Jim and Kate, who made a show of passing the bottle back and forth between them.
Greg disappeared toward the Sheep Pen with the younger guard in tow.
"Pappy will have him drunk as a skunk on Sunday," Jim said approvingly. "One down, one to go."
"He's going to steal everything in that truck, isn't he?" Kate realized this wasn't a big surprise.
"Not steal, not exactly. More like a trade," Jim replied.
"Oh, lord. That rum! He's going to take the parts and fill the empty crates with bottles of rum!"
"Yepper," Jim said.
Kate groaned. "Does he really think he can pull that off?"
"What do you think?" Jim chuckled. "You know what he's like when he gets an idea in his head."
Kate had the decency to blush. Some of Greg's ideas were decidedly more attractive than others. But stealing a whole truckload of parts from right under the Navy's nose? This had disaster written all over it.
"Who's involved?" she asked.
"Everyone. All the boys and most of the ground crew."
Kate watched as TJ Wiley trotted up the steps and into the Sheep Pen. A few minutes later, Greg exited and disappeared.
"Now what's he doing?" Kate asked, confused. "I thought he was going to drink that guy under the table."
"Nah." Jim shook his head. "TJ's in charge of hospitality this evening. Greg just invited that guard in for a drink because he knew the kid wouldn't refuse him. He'll have made up some excuse to leave and TJ'll take it from here."
Kate stared at him, things becoming clearer by the minute. "Greg wouldn't ask the boys to do anything he wouldn't be in the middle of himself," she thought out loud. "If they get caught stealing Navy property, he'll take the charges and say they were just were following his orders."
"Yepper."
Kate groaned. Not even General Moore's intercession could get them out of the mess that would result if this went south. "So why are we out here?"
"We're gonna get rid of the second guard so the boys can get the truck unloaded. They'll have the crates emptied, refilled and back on the truck before the second guard shift gets here at 2300."
Kate thought getting rid of Guard Two sounded ominous and said as much.
"Nothing permanent," Jim assured her, "just a temporary inconvenience on his part. Pappy figured me and you were the best situated to create a distraction."
"Exactly what kind of distraction did he have in mind?" She was getting the feeling this might require more than flashing a little leg and standing around looking like a pin-up girl.
"What do you think?" Jim's eyes twinkled and he gave her a friendly leer.
Kate glared at him. He really didn't want to know what she thought. "Greg said you were the first one to volunteer for this."
Jim's eyes drifted up and down her figure again. "Blame me, darlin'?"
Screened from view by the thick jungle undergrowth, Greg watched as Kate again linked her arm through Jim's. The couple began to stroll toward the trail head leading toward the beach. Even at this distance, he could read their expressions and smiled. Jim looked like he was in his element, while Kate radiated reluctant tension.
Greg trusted his executive officer with Kate, both to pull off their end of the mission, as well as to keep her out of harm's way if things went south, not that the girl would ever admit she needed keeping out of harm's way. Even though she and Jim mixed like oil and water, she was a Black Sheep through and through. He had no doubt she'd excel in her assigned role.
"Get ready," he said in a low voice. "The fireworks are about to start."
Behind him, Master Sergeant Andy Micklin chomped his cigar and muttered, "You sure that college boy and Miss Kate can pull this off? What if that guard don't care about no romantic dust up and just looks the other way? Then I'm stuck out here in the bushes twiddling my thumbs with my mechanics pulled off the line and no work gittin' done. Them planes ain't gonna fix themselves by tomorrow."
"You don't have the parts to fix those planes unless we pull this off so quit your bitchin'," Greg said. "She'll make sure she gets the guard's attention." Then he added, "She's hard to ignore."
Bobby Boyle turned an outburst of laughter into a muted cough. "I almost feel bad for Gutterman," he said. "Almost."
"Hell, he volunteered," Bobby Anderson pointed out. "The mission does have its appeal. With all due respect, Pappy."
"Shut up," Greg said. "Let's run this again. TJ's pouring Scotch into the first guard in the Sheep Pen. That guy's not going anywhere. Soon as Jim and Kate take out the second guard, it's go time. Bragg, you and Anderson get in the back of the truck and start offloading crates. Gutterman will make sure Kate gets clear, then he'll get back here to help finish emptying the truck. French, Casey and Boyle will pull the contents out and Hutch and his boys will carry everything out to the line. We'll re-load the crates with those bottles of rum, then put everything back the way we found it. Casey and I did the calculations - the weights match up perfectly. No one will notice anything until the boys on New Caledonia open those boxes and by then, the parts will be in our birds with no way to trace them."
Casey looked concerned. "What happens if Jim can't take out the second guard? He's a pretty stout-looking fellow."
Greg rubbed a hand over his jaw. "Yeah, I thought about that but the only way I could get the younger guy off that truck was if the older guard stayed with it." He shrugged. "Jim will do fine. If he doesn't, that's where Kate comes in. She's the wild card." He wasn't entirely sure how she'd feel about that classification but it was too late to do anything about it now.
"Are you ready?" Jim asked softly. Kate heard the tension in his voice. The future of the squadron was riding on what happened in the next hour. Without replacement parts, Hutch and Micklin couldn't keep 15 birds in the air and if that happened, Lard wouldn't waste any time taking the Black Sheep down.
Jim squeezed her hand. "It's about time you and me have us a little lovers' quarrel. That anchor clanker over there will step in to defend your virtue, run into my fist and not wake up for a good long time."
Kate shot him a look. "That guy's no lightweight, Jim. He's shorter than you but he's got at least 30 pounds on you. What if you can't take him?"
Jim cast a sideways look at the remaining guard. "Size only matters if you know how to use it." He set the bottle against the tree trunk. Straightening, he slapped Kate's backside. "Here we go. Play your part, darlin'."
"Don't you 'darlin' me!" she snapped, then raising her voice, added, "You stop that! I thought you were a gentleman." It wasn't hard to put extra indignity into her voice and she made sure the words carried. She jerked her arm free of Jim's grip and wheeled toward the cargo truck. She wobbled slightly, cursing the borrowed heels.
Jim easily caught her and closed one hand around her upper arm. From the corner of her eye, Kate saw the remaining guard shift to watch the tableau.
"Aw, come on. I know a place we can be alone." Jim's words hung on the humid South Pacific air as if daring her to deny him. "Can't blame a guy when you show up lookin' so fine. We'll have us a night to remember."
"I said no and I mean it!" Kate's words were firm but she bit her lip to keep from laughing.
Jim glanced toward the truck, then lowered his voice. "Then you need to be a little louder about it. From what Greg's told me, that shouldn't be a problem."
Kate narrowed her eyes and glared at him through the twilight. "Greg hasn't told you anything and we both know it," she hissed.
"Give it your best shot." More loudly, Jim added, "Take off those stockings and come down to the beach with me. I'll make it worth your time." He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close.
Kate rolled her eyes. "All right, don't say you didn't ask for it," she muttered. She took a deep breath, then said, "I'm not that kind of girl, Captain, and I'm not doing that, no matter how much I've had to drink. I insist you take me back to the hospital right this minute!"
"And what if I don't?"
"You get your hands off me, you . . . you . . . skirt-chasing armadillo hugger!" She faked a struggle but Jim held tight to her upper arm.
He turned his face away from the guard. "Armadillo hugger? Really, Katie, is that the best you've got?"
"I'm just getting warmed up." She took a deep breath and shouted, "Listen, flyboy! Let go of me this instant or I'll have you brought up on charges. Lieutenant Commander Delmonte will hear about this and you won't see the outside of the brig until this war's over!" She staged an elaborate struggle to break free but Jim's grip on her arm was firm.
The sound of footsteps running in their direction grew louder and Kate gave Jim a brief smile of triumph before adopting a mask of feminine distress.
The master-at-arms she'd waved at before appeared out of the tropical night.
"Is there a problem?" he asked. "Ma'am, is this Marine bothering you?" He looked at Kate with concern. Jim's fake grip on her arm had tightened in the heat of the moment and the wince of pain across her face was real.
"Yes!" she said at the same time Jim snarled, "No. And this ain't none of your business, you nosy idiot, so shut your pie hole."
"Who are you calling an idiot?" The guard bristled. He was shorter than Jim but built like a bull. Kate saw both men's body language shift and knew where this was going. Her peripheral vision detected faint movement in the undergrowth near the truck and she pointedly looked away. Once again, she tried to pull free but Jim held tight.
The guard flexed his hands. "Let go of the lady, jarhead. I'm gonna teach you a lesson in manners."
"You're gonna teach me a lesson? I don't think so." Jim let go of Kate. He winked and pushed her out of the way. "You wait just a minute, darlin', and we'll have us a good time yet. Let me knock some sense into this squid first."
To his credit, Jim didn't take the first swing. Unfortunately, he didn't take the last one either. The guard was surprisingly light on his feet and landed a series of punches that left Jim on the defensive. The guard drove him back against the trunk of a palm tree before the Texan rallied. Fists pounded flesh, punctuated by grunts and curses. She dared a look toward the truck. The canvas flap fluttered as a large wooden crate emerged. It was grasped by waiting hands and disappeared into the jungle.
Kate refocused on the brawl in front of her in time to see Jim launch an aggressive volley of blows. For a minute, she thought his height advantage and experience had gained the upper hand but his opponent was no stranger to bare knuckle scrapping. Kate winced as a haymaker caught Jim across the jaw, snapping his head back, and he went down hard. Her wince turned to alarm when he sprawled in the dirt and didn't move.
Bloody fucking hell, she thought. The brawl was supposed to end with Jim taking the guard out of commission, not the other way around. She couldn't let the guard return to his post at the truck. If he'd been cooperatively unconscious, she and Jim would have drug him off to some nice, out of the way spot to regain consciousness – like the other side of the island.
The guard dropped to his knees, breathing hard but with a look of vindication on his face. He wiped blood from under his nose with the back of his hand.
"There now, miss, he won't bother you anymore." He glanced at Kate and mis-read her stricken look. "Oh, don't you worry about him," he continued. "When he comes around, maybe the two of you can talk things through. Although I don't know what a nice girl like you is doing with – "
The guard never got to express his opinion on Kate's dating habits. Stepping forward under the guise of concern for Jim, she picked up the nearly full bottle of Scotch and brought it down on the back of the man's head. It made a solid clunk as it connected with his skull and he collapsed without a word.
Kate knelt and checked Jim's pulse. It was strong and steady. She slapped his cheek.
"Jim? Jim!" He showed no sign of coming around. She slapped him harder. No response. "Hey! Gutterman, wake up! I need you." She rolled her eyes. If that didn't bring him around, nothing would. But it was to no avail. He remained out like a light.
Reluctantly, she left him and checked the guard. Good lord, what if she'd killed the man? She'd been in a few bar fights before but she'd never knocked anyone out. She exhaled in relief when she felt the rhythm of his heartbeat under her fingers.
She stood and looked around. It was full dark now but the moon washed the base in silver light. She could see dark shapes swarming around the truck, punctuated by low murmurs of conversation and the scrape of wood as the crates were unloaded.
Kate shifted uneasily in her heels. Would Guard Two remain unconscious long enough for the boys to get the truck unloaded, then re-loaded? What was she going to do if he didn't? Maybe Jim would come around soon and they still could haul him off. If the guard woke up to find himself stuffed in a tree behind the outdoor showers, he'd never admit to being bested by a Marine Corps pilot and a nurse. The fellow would slink back to camp and come up with another story to cover his tracks.
In the distance, headlights blazed and Kate's breath caught in her throat. It couldn't be much before 2200. With the Black Sheep and ground crew still scrambling to unload the truck, the headlights could only mean one thing - the second shift guards were arriving early. Damn Navy efficiency all to hell.
Behind her, someone groaned. Oh good, Jim was coming around. She turned. Jim was still out cold but she saw with horror that Guard Two was starting to stir. For half a second, she considered hitting him again. She looked toward the cargo truck. The boys faded into the underbrush as the jeep's engine grew louder. There were no other sounds except the hum of night insects.
Had Greg and the boys gotten all of the precious cargo spirited away? How long would it take for them to make the exchange? The second shift would immediately be suspicious when their colleagues didn't appear to greet them. The first shift guard Greg had lured away must have succumbed to TJ's hospitality in the Sheep Pen. The time it took to have "just one drink" was long past.
From what Jim told her, Greg was counting on having the truck reloaded before the shift change, but with Jim out like a light, Guard Two coming around and the second shift arriving early, Kate realized the wheels had completely fallen off. She'd have to keep Guards Three and Four occupied until she heard the all clear. It occurred to her she had no idea what the all clear signal was. What had Jim called this? Operation Moonlight Serenade? She liked Glenn Miller as much as the next person but this was ridiculous. Distracting one guard was all fine and good but what the hell was she going to do with three of them?
The oncoming jeep halted by the truck and two uniformed men jumped out.
"We came early to relieve you," one of them called out. "Did you hear the news – they cut orders for us to load this stuff out at 0700 tomorrow and then we can get off this God-forsaken rock. Hey – Calhoun, Jackson! Where are you guys?"
No one answered.
Behind her, Guard Two groaned loudly and started to sit up. Kate made a split-second decision. Standing tall, she stepped into the glare of the headlights. Even at 50 yards, the light was blinding and she put a hand in front of her face. She paused long enough to see Guards Three and Four's heads swivel toward her. She gave them time to notice the two bodies on the ground, then bolted for the shadows of the flight line.
"What the? Hey! You there! Stop!" one of them called.
Kate didn't stop. As she sprinted through the darkness, she was reminded of something her mother once said. "Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, just backwards and in high heels." Dancing backwards in heels would be a piece of cake compared to running over uneven ground in them. She had no idea where she was going and prayed she didn't turn an ankle before she got there. This game of cat and mouse depended on staying one step ahead, drawing the guards away from the truck. She dared a glance over her shoulder. One of the men knelt by the fallen guard and shouted to his partner.
"Calhoun says that girl cracked him over the head after he punched her boyfriend for being a jerk. I think he might have a concussion. I'm taking him to the hospital. You go find that girl." The man looked at Jim's fallen form. "That guy isn't going anywhere soon."
"Shouldn't someone stay with the truck?" Guard Four shouted back. "Where's Jackson?"
"Calhoun says Jackson went to have a drink with the unit's CO but that was over an hour ago. That kid never could hold his liquor. Don't worry about the truck. Base seems pretty quiet tonight. If those damn dumb Marines haven't stolen anything by now, they're not going to. Get that girl. She's got some questions to answer."
Kate heard footsteps pounding in her direction and started running again. Guard One was most likely drunk off his ass in the Sheep Pen. Guard Two clutched his head as he lurched woozily back to the jeep, supported by Guard Three. That only left Guard Four to elude and draw away from the truck. Boyle would tell her the odds were getting better. Boyle would probably put money on her, too. The thought was oddly comforting.
She ducked under the wing of a nearby plane, careful not to crack her head and started to edge around the tail assembly. The white and cream satin of the dress shimmered in the moonlight. Even in the dark, she stood out like a starlet on the silver screen. If she could slip into the thicker foliage edging the base, she could get back to her tent, change clothes and take stock of how things stood.
If she'd had any breath left in her lungs, she would have shrieked when a muscular arm snaked out of the night and hauled her backward into the shadows.
- To be continued -