Chapter 9

And so it went.

It just so happened that the Italians had shipped an M-290 to the United States, (on spec [on speculation that the military might buy it]) but, evidently, the US didn't like it because the Italians still had it. Shipping it home wasn't that expensive, but the Embassy in Washington advertised it ... just in case ... and it Was just a tiny bit damaged after the first test flight.

Left to last while OTHER (read that as you wish) aircraft were being hangared to get them out of the coming storm, a single hailstone managed to put a hole straight through the left wing ... missed everything but the skin, a minor miracle because the stone was the size of a baseball.

"You get an A&P to fix that and sign off on it and you can fly it," said the FAA ... sign off being the operative word ... when one of the network of Time watchers just happened to see the advertisement ... accidentally. He called to check on it.

"The Princess collects aircraft like most stamp collectors collect stamps," he said to his wife. "I'll just give the network a call."

Everyone with a watch gets spammed by other watchers all the time ... well ... not like Email ... but maybe once or twice a week ... and Connie heard and responded.

It was cheap... 5,000.00 EUR which wasn't bad at all. In real money it was still a steal, $6,872.47, "I'll take it!"

She had the funds ... they got transferred ... she now owned a low mileage, very low hours, reasonably expensive new, mostly new, slightly used, six year old military trainer that wasn't out of airframe hours ... and she hadn't taken lesson one.

She just had to get it to Detroit.

The phone in his office rang, he answered it brusquely, "McIntyre." It had been a bad ... very bad ... day.

"Captain?"

"Connie." He was beginning to appreciate the girl ... she was decorative, smart and reasonably shy ... and she had a habit of showing up just when he needed cheering up.

"I'm at the gate ... be a sweetie and tell," she peered at the Corporal's blouse tag, "Lance Johns I can come in." Johns leered back ... Connie was wearing her Private Catholic Girls School uniform. (Connie didn't go to school ... she was graduated.)

"I can do that ... put him on." She did ... minutes later she was sitting in the gate house swiveling the counter stool and humming ... not at all off key. The captain was coming to pick her up.

'She acts like her IQ is the same as her bra size, ' thought Johns, 'but that's Mozart she's humming ... the Captain is in trouble.'

It was the Captain's clerk who showed up.

"Connie?" She was asking Lance Corporal Johns but Connie answered.

"I'm here ... how are you, Brenda?"

"I'm good ... the Captain isn't ... bad day at Black Rock. How's yourself?"

"I'll live."

Brenda knew a little about Connie. She had been part of the responders who took the Twins, Junior and Wendy Too off the 25 and to the base hospital. She would always be amazed at how well a young girl of 16 had handled a potentially deadly situation and remained calm and under control.

"It wouldn't do me a damn bit of good to freak out up there," she pointed at the sky, "And now I'm on the ground ... why bother," Connie had told her after the hairy-eyeball situation in the atmosphere had resolved itself.

That attitude had lasted long enough to get everybody to the infirmary and to have her concerns about Junior, the Twins and Too settled. Then she said, "Now?"

Brenda took a look and agreed, "Now." She watched as a tough, secure, focused woman fell apart and became a little girl. A very unhappy little girl.

Connie used Brenda as a listening post ... and moistened her Marine Corps blouse more than a little bit. Quite a lot about Connie's parents, brother and Cancun came out. Brenda was appalled.

'I'll live, ' from Connie was a tremendous improvement.

"He's in a bad mood?" she asked.