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Page 337
The captain grimaced. "There are supposed to be two more of you. Our orders are to wait for the rest of your White House people."
Morgan looked at his watch. Daylight was gone. Who else was going with them? He looked again at the huge plane and was struck by a thought. "Can you get that thing on the ground at Eskimo Point?"
The captain looked offended. "We'll get you there safely, Mister Morgan," he said.
"Colonel Morgan," the fighter pilot said sarcastically. "This is a genuine Marine half-colonel, son."
"Right," the captain said, unimpressed.
It began in the service academies, Morgan thought. And it took years to cut out the trade-school bullshit and learn to work and fight together. But the Canadian version of a single armed force with commands seemed to work no more smoothly. From all indications, their performance in this mess was far from exemplary. Air, Maritime, and Mobile Command each wanted a share of catastrophe.
Two White House limousines appeared driving up the concrete ramp led by the airdrome officer's blue staff car.
"Saddle up, Colonel," Morgan said to the fighter pilot.
"My pleasure." He sauntered back toward his flight. Had anyone briefed him on why he had orders for Eskimo Point and what was happening there, Morgan wondered. Did any of these people hastily gathered here? Probably not. One of the heavily tinted windows of the lead limo opened and Vincent Kellner's head appeared. "Over here, John."
Morgan trotted through the rain to the car. Kellner opened the door and said, "Get in."
Anna, wearing an air force flight suit and parka, was in the car, to his mingled pleasure and surprise. When he saw what she was wearing, it dawned on him that she planned to go north with the plane.
Kellner said, "Ryerson is under guard in the other car. He's going with you. His presence is one of the bargains I men-

 
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