Zoboa by Martin Caidin

Author:Martin Caidin [Caidin, Martin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Sci Fi & Fantasy
ISBN: 9780671655884
Google: 5qsiEZogdlcC
Amazon: 0671655884
Publisher: Baen
Published: 1986-09-01T23:00:00+00:00

SATURDAY

Lars Anderson stayed up all night. So did Wilbur Moreland and three other mechanics. They drank coffee until they were pissing every hour on the half-hour. It had been a hell of a night, getting ready for the Saturday early morning dawn patrol and the airshow scheduled for the afternoon. They’d held the federal agents shivering in their wet underwear until someone showed up from the local FBI office to take them away. Anderson and the FBI man, with whom he’d gone fishing many a time, grinned at one another and agreed to forget anything that happened during the night. Lars was glad for one small favor. He’d tried on Wilbur’s headset and the wild rock music punched through his ears into his head and made his eyes roll. He ripped the headset from his ears and handed it back to Wilbur.

"How in God’s name do you stand that there shit?" he demanded.

Wilbur gave him a cockeyed grin and snapped his fingers and rolled his butt from side to side. "You look like a goddamned snake,” Anderson chided him.

"It’s the beat, man, it's the beat,” Wilbur sang out, feet tapping, gliding in circles, elbows flapping. "You gotta go with the beat.”

"I’ll beat your fucking brains in if you don’t get to work, Chikowsky or whatever his goddamn name is.” Wilbur grinned again and whirled around on his skateboard, balancing tools in each hand and whistling tunelessly to the uproar pounding through his headset. Lars Anderson wouldn't have traded Wilbur for a dozen men.

Sometime during the night he saw Bannon’s Turkey gliding out of the darkness. He liked Bannon, but damnit, ne didn’t cotton to this crazy stuff of busting the law left and right on these dumb night runs of his. The torpedo bomber came down like a feather and a tire squealed like a whimpering puppy, and except for the engine that was all the sound Bannon made as he taxied by to his own hangar, he rolled out of sight behind the hangar and shut down. Anderson watched him go into his office.

Planes came in during the night without too much fuss. Just about two in the morning that big beautiful helicopter that Lansky owned flew in from the east. Lights blazed like a Christmas tree all about the chopper. The pilot set it down right on the flight line by the office. Lars got a good look at Charley walking with Lansky to the office door. They stood for a couple of minutes like two kids coming home from a date to the prom. Charley went inside and left Lansky standing by the door. For some reason Anderson felt good about that. Lansky had never fit into their group. Too big for his britches. Hoity-toity or whatever the hell they called it. It was a feeling.

At four o’clock in the morning Lars Anderson and the other men skinning their knuckles the long night through had the feeling they needn't have busted their chops without any sleep. The

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