My Girlfriend's BOMBER

My Girlfriend's BOMBER

James Fairchild

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Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Downfall Press

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ISBN: 09854002310

ISBN-13: 978-0985402318

LCCN:

Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

Table of Contents

DEDICATION

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

CHAPTER ONE - THE GIRL

CHAPTER TWO - THE GENERAL & THE ADMIRAL

CHAPTER THREE - THE GIRL

CHAPTER FOUR - THE PICNIC

CHAPTER FIVE - THE MOUNTAIN

CHAPTER SIX - THE BOMBER

CHAPTER SEVEN - THE ENEMY

CHAPTER EIGHT - THE MANUSCRIPT

CHAPTER NINE - THE COLONEL

CHAPTER TEN - THE SESSION

CHAPTER ELEVEN - THE EVENT

CHAPTER TWELVE - END GAME

HISTORICAL NOTES

NEW BOOKS BY JAMES FAIRCHILD

DEDICATION

With grateful thanks to the men and women of the Armed Services of the Allied Coalition, who with their service and sacrifice have secured the blessings of freedom for our country and for future generations

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

For my beautiful, smart editor who always takes the time to read and edit my works

CHAPTER ONE

THE GIRL

I understand, my uncle William told me, that she is a beautiful blonde.

And that, officially, is how I was recruited into the service of my country for my first intelligence assignment.

My uncle William, on the other hand, had been in this profession for years. He had served in the CIA during the Cold War before moving to his private law practice in Connecticut. Obviously, he had kept up his intelligence community connections, or he wouldn't be calling me with this job offer.

Who is she? I asked, quite reasonably.

She is a person of interest to a certain government agency, he replied, avoiding my question, and it is quite important that you make contact with her.

I had been at home, officially doing work online but in reality goofing off, when my uncle had called.

Although he is one of my only living relatives, and literally the only one left alive in our family from his generation, in reality we do not talk a lot. He lives in Connecticut and I live in California, and neither of us gets out to the other coast often.

Still, when he calls, it is almost always important, and without exception interesting, so when I saw his name on my phone I was immediately intrigued.

For the record, I have no connection with our country's intelligence community. I have never worked for the CIA, or the NSA, or any other of the numerous intelligence services at any time under any conditions.

My service to my country was in the Army, where I served in combat arms. I had liked serving in the Army, regardless of how inefficient it was and the occasional bureaucratic screwup, and eventually I was discharged and returned home to California.

It is for this reason, I suspect, that my uncle had called me with this little side job. I am family, which means he knows my complete history, I have a security clearance from my Army days, and as I have no official connection to any intelligence agency it means that I am apparently a good person to serve as an occasional consultant for intelligence work.

But this was the first time anyone had called and asked me to take a girl out to dinner on behalf on my country.

Tell me about her, I prompted him, probably annoying him because I didn't jump at the chance, but I've dated a lot of blondes and have learned to be careful.

He gave me a quick briefing. She is young, in her late teens or early twenties, blonde hair -

How long? I asked. I have a thing for girls with long blonde hair.

I'm not certain, William replied. There hasn't been time to obtain a photograph.

Go on, I said, and he did.

She is apparently quite fit, an athlete, he went on, and her hobby is archery. Educated at Yale in literature.

I thought a moment. OK, so do you know if she is single or has a boyfriend?

William was already ahead of me. A check of her social media profile shows she is not in a relationship.

Wow. That was interesting. William is actually quite advanced in years and for him to be perusing Facebook shows how urgent this matter must be.

What do you want me to do with this girl? I asked him.

If you are agreeable to a meeting with this young lady, he said, the first thing is for you to attend a more formal briefing with a military officer who will provide you with a complete background and mission profile.

Where is this meeting to take place? I asked.

William responded quickly. About a half a mile away from your home, he said. This plays a large part in why you were selected for this mission.

Half a mile away? Now I was beginning to get the picture. Whoever this girl was, she was in my neighborhood, and I had been selected because I was nearby more than any other reason.

When would this happen? I asked him.

Tomorrow, he replied instantly. I cannot stress how important the time element is. You must be willing to contact her within 24 hours.

I thought a moment. I could get a day off work, especially if I would be in the area.

I also thought about my uncle William. He never called unless it was quite important. And I had certainly imposed on him in the last few years enough times.

And finally I thought about my country. America did not ask for my help often, and she had given me so much. There was nothing I would not do for her.

Sure, I told my uncle William, I'll take this girl to dinner for you.

Excellent, he breathed a sigh of relief, showing he had been clearly worried that I might turn him down. I must make a telephone call. Expect that someone from the US Navy will call you at three o'clock today to arrange a more formal briefing.

The Navy? I am an Army veteran. What do I know about the Navy?

Wait a minute, I interrupted, tell me something. Was it your idea to contact me about this mission?

No, he replied at once. I received a telephone call an hour ago asking about you. I vouched for your military service and integrity, and offered to make preliminary contact.

I was taken aback. From time to time uncle William asks for my help on certain government related work, but in this case someone neither I nor he knew had called asking for me by name to perform a very specific task.

Do you know who I am to report to? I pressed him.

Not at all, officially, he replied. However I have a very strong suspicion that you will be meeting with the base commander himself. This is a man named O'Kane, Admiral O'Kane.

An Admiral? I am going to a meeting with an Admiral?

Almost certainly, he responded, laughing, Fear not, Admirals are used to meeting with civilians.

Yeah, well I wasn't used to meeting with Admirals. The US Navy is an extremely formal and class conscious organization. Of which I am neither.

I thought rapidly. William, if I need your help, can I call you?

Of course, he replied, in those elegant patrician tones of the East Coast aristocracy, and I hope that you will.

He wasn't kidding. William was retired. He was a retired spy. Which makes him one of the most bored people in the entire world. He literally had nothing to do, mostly sat around in that big empty mansion of his. For him, a new assignment from the government, no matter how trivial, gave him new life.

At the time, I still thought it was a pretty trivial issue, anyway. Seemed simple. Take a girl to dinner. How difficult could that be?

All right then, I decided, I'll do it, I'll take this girl to dinner for you - but before I do that, I'll need your help on something.

There was a pause. I had captured his interest. What do you need my help for? Can't you charm a girl by yourself?

I got down to brass tacks with him immediately. I assume you want this mission to succeed, I began.

Certainly, he responded.

I pressed on. And I gather that the idea is for me to contact this girl and gain her confidence and trust.

He thought a moment. That seems likely, he agreed.

Well then, I went on, I want advice from an expert on how to flirt with a girl. And I'll need you to find the expert.

There was a long pause. To his credit, William did not laugh or make light of the situation. Instead he gave it serious and immediate thought.

Well, I can certainly appreciate your point about being coached on how to gain the trust of a woman you've never met, but I'm not sure if I know any experts in this area. William sounded a bit concerned.

Really? I asked him. Not even Gwendolyn St. James?

It took him a moment to get over the shock of her name.

.

Gwen St. James. Blonde, beautiful, brainy and busty. The first spy I had ever met. At least the first girl spy. Certainly the first blonde spy.

This little story was one in which uncle William had played a significant role. He had set the whole thing up.

I had been a sophomore in college working in a research lab when I saw, out of my office window, a gorgeous blonde in a tube top and Interlock shorts riding a bicycle by the building.

Tan skin, toned muscles, long blonde hair blowing in the wind - she was the perfect picture of my favorite physical specimen, the tall Nordic types which catch my interest.

I had just enough time to check out her breasts stuffed into that little tube top [they were 38C cups, I found out later] when her bike hit a patch of gravel. She skidded, lost control of the bike and crashed onto the grass.

She flew over the handlebars and tumbled across the grass, scraping her knees and elbows as she did so.

I was out the door instantly.

In less than a minute, I was at her side. She was trying to right herself.

I gently guided her into a sitting position.

Are you all right? I asked her.

Then she looked at me with those big blue eyes, and I was instantly smitten. I picked her up, dusted her off, and immediately got her phone number.

She had gone on to try to recruit me to work for the Agency. It turns out, she was an intelligence operative herself [she was still in training] and had been recruited due to her language skills [officially] and her incredible good looks [the real reason] and she was occasionally used to catch the interest of a target [in this case me]. This is called a honey trap in the spy business.

My uncle William, who had connections at the Agency, knew I would likely turn him down flat if he brought up the idea of joining the intelligence community so it was his brilliant idea to send Gwen out to fake a bike accident in front of my laboratory.

Gwen was really good at her job. It was a week and half before she made her pitch to me to consider intelligence as a career, and by that time I was hopelessly in lust with her.

When I found out that my uncle William had set me up like this, I made a personal trip to his house in Connecticut and had a very short and one sided conversation with him regarding his conduct. Needless to say, I was not a happy man.

William has old school manners. He graciously admitted his little scheme and apologized, promising if he ever had a similar idea he would contact me directly.

So to have him calling me on this idea was a fairly major event.

But Gwen was still a sore spot between us.

What about Miss St. James? William inquired.

I want to talk with her, I returned, within the hour if you can arrange it.

William was torn between his intense curiosity about what had happened between us [I never told him we had a torrid affair, because spies are not supposed to have sex with their targets, Gwen could still get into real trouble about that] and his hesitancy regarding working again with Gwen.

Honestly, I have not kept in touch with her, he said quickly, I have no idea if she is still working with the agency or even where she is.

But you can find out, I said flatly.

A pause. Yes, I can find out, he confirmed.

Then do so, I told him. Have her set up a video chat over the Internet. As fast as possible.

He hung up.

I sat there for a minute thinking. If I was really going to have to meet a girl and charm her, I was going to have to be a bit more civilized. My last girlfriend had characterized my manners as barbaric [but that was ok, she liked me that way].

I turned on the computer and connected to the Internet so Gwen could reach me. I had not seen her in years. Would she remember me, I wondered.

I did not have long to wait to find out. In just a few minutes the chimes activated to let me know I had an incoming call. I clicked on.

Her image popped into view.

She was still the stunning young athlete I had known in college. Slim, trim, with a silken gold mop of hair drifting across her face, her high cheekbones accented her crystal blue eyes. It was Gwen.

Hello? she began. James? Is that you?

Hi Gwen, I responded after my initial daze at seeing her had worn off. Nice to see you again.

Likewise, she shot back, still the cheerful wiseass I had always known her to be. James, I just received a truly unusual phone call from a mutual friend. Can you tell me what is going on?

By that I assumed she was referring to the call from my uncle William telling her to call me immediately.

There was no time to waste. I need your help on a consulting matter, I told her, and I need it right away.

The phrase a consulting matter was a private code between us. Those were the words she had used all those years ago when she approached me. Now I was turning the tables.

I understand, she said, indicating she knew I was talking about an intelligence matter. Tell me what you need.

Gwen, what makes me attractive to women? I asked her bluntly.

A range of emotions ran across her face. At first, the was surprised, considering the question; then she was thoughtful as she composed her answer, and then she was amused as she realized the implications of the question I had asked her.

James, she laughed, do you mean to tell me you're going to work as a honey trap?

I grimaced. She was phenomenally intelligent, which is why she had figured it out so fast. It was one of the things I liked about her, but on the other hand, you couldn't hide anything from her.

Gwen, I responded, there is no time. I need this information at once.

And then she was gone. The Gwen I knew and had fallen for disappeared instantly. Gwen metamorphosed into a chillingly competent and composed intelligence professional. I recognized immediately why William had recruited her.

Your physical appearance is eye-catching, she began, dispassionately listing my positives and negatives as if I were a hot stock on the New York Stock Exchange. Your height makes you stand out and gets you noticed.

This was true. I am over six foot tall. However, I had hoped instead she would have said I was irresistibly handsome.

Also, you are reasonably fit. For a man of your height and weight, you move with a certain athletic ease, like a tomcat.

This I had not known about myself. It was fascinating to hear it from a former girlfriend.

This is complemented, she went on, by the fact that your clothing is custom fitted, which marks you with a sense of style.

This was true about the custom fitted clothes, but not from any sense of style. I am too tall and gangly so I have to have a tailor re-fit all my shirts. But it looks nice when he's finished so I guess that works to my advantage.

Combined, your height, build and clothing style catch the eye of any woman, she went on.

I listened to all of this with fascination. She paused.

What else would you like to know? she asked me, staring directly at me with those captivating blue eyes.

There was no diplomatic way to ask this so I did her the compliment of asking her directly.

So once I've caught a woman's eye, I continued, how do I best capture her interest?

She thought for a moment. The same way you did with me, she replied, the ghost of a smile flitting across her face. Listen to her.

That's all? I asked. Just listen to her.

That's your best start, she confirmed. A woman wants to be the center of your attention. Give her all of yours.

A pause while she collected her thoughts. Tell her the truth about yourself if not your mission; she will be able to tell if you do not.

She went on. Be yourself, you don't need to change your character to be attractive to women.

I let her continue. And spend time with her, to the extent that your mission permits, she finished. Pay attention to her.

I thought about this for a moment or two.

Did I give you all of my attention? I asked her.

She relaxed and laughed, once again the woman I had fallen for. Yes, you did, she returned, you certainly did.

And I had, too. We had fallen for each other in a serious way, and had spent a very passionate semester immersing ourselves in each other.

I looked at her steadily. If anything she was more beautiful now then when I had first met her.

What have you been up to? I asked her.

Work, work, work, she said. Can't really tell you what I do, but I'm sure you can figure it out.

So she had gone to work in the intelligence community full time after college.

Sure, I confirmed, I understand.

She turned her gaze on me. And what about you? she asked. Still single?

This was disconcerting.

Yes, I confessed, still single.

Never met the right girl? she bantered.

Wouldn't recognize the right girl if I met her, I blurted out, making a joke, but that's not the way she took it.

I know that, James, she said quietly, I know.

With that she hung up.

Well, I had what I needed. She had given me an honest and candid overview of myself. But I had not meant to hurt her.

I thought about Gwen for the rest of the day. I had not had time to ask her about her own personal life, or if she was happy, or if she regretted our affair or remembered it fondly.

But we had both been adults at the time - barely - and carefree, and we had not stopped to think how deeply we had cared for each other would affect us in the future.

A matter for another day, I decided, taking a moment to make a mental note to ask William to get me her personal contact information after all of this was over.

Right now, however, I had work to do. I called William back. He answered on the first ring.

Well? How did it go? he inquired.

As I expected and more, I reassured him, since contacting Gwen could not have been easy for him. I found out what I needed to know.

Then we can proceed? he asked.

By all means, I confirmed. Let's get this meeting set up with this Admiral O'Kane person.

I shall set it up at once, he said gratefully.

I decided what to do next. I will wait for this call from the Navy, I told him, and I'll call afterward, I have an idea I'm going to need your help.

Excellent, excellent, he responded happily, I am willing to assist in any way I can.

One last thing, I interjected. What is her name?"

There was a pause. William rarely thought about his agents as people, more as assets. I was not given that information, he replied. I assume you will be fully briefed on her when you are contacted.

Hmm, I said. All right, I'll be waiting for the call.

I hung up. Well, that had been an interesting phone call.

It was now 10:00 AM. The call would come in the next five hours.

In the meantime, I had work to do. Knowing that I had a scheduled meeting with a Flag Officer of the most tradition bound organization in the US, I felt this called for drastic action.

My usual dress code is jeans and a T-shirt. Nevertheless, my closet contains the appropriate gear for a number of formal occasions [I used to date a model who worked for a British tailor] running the spectrum from a tuxedo to a kilt, with everything in between.

As a civilian, I selected khaki slacks and a blue shirt. After a shower I looked reasonably presentable for a short meeting.

I also made sure I had decent socks. For shoes I selected bespoke Italian loafers. I had a pressed button down Oxford shirt in the closet.

I no longer have the baby face I did when I was 18, so the next step was a close shave.

The military is big