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An Air Command major appeared and saluted formally. "You would be Colonel John Morgan. I'm Evan Harris. And you are Mrs. Neville? I've heard of you." |
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Anna aimed her camera at Harris and clicked the shutter. "No doubt, Major," Anna said. "I'm official, by the way. So please tell your men not to interfere when they see me taking pictures." Anna's voice was as cold as the wind. |
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"We all understand that," Major Harris said. "And may I say we are impressed by the hell you have raised, and damned grateful you did. I'm only sorry no one paid attention to you sooner." |
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"I'll need transport for Mrs. Neville, Academician Karmann, and myself," Morgan said. "How near to airworthy is the MH-53?" |
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"There's about four hours left to do on the rotor hub. It got bashed about rather badly when the Starlifter ran off the strip. Then there's another six or eight hours to install the floats," Harris said. "Don't worry." |
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"That thing in the bay goes off at 0830 hours local on the seventh, Major." |
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The Canadian's easy manner vanished, along with most of the color from his face. "Holy Mary, Mother of God. No one has bothered to tell me that bit." |
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"Your diving crew is on the ground in Montreal waiting for a team of Russian divers to join them. By the way, I heard a horrid rumor" |
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"You must mean the one about the PM and your President being silly enough to come see for themselves. No problem. That was just talk." |
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"Good," Morgan said, with a great sigh of relief. "Now, can you take us to the commo section? I need to call Washington." |
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"That part, at least, is easy," Harris said. "It's all the rest I worry about." |
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