Unlike the Jeep that’d been waiting for me when I flew in on the C-130 the security people would not let Tom’s Blazer out onto the tarmac. I got out, thanked him for helping me with my plan, and grabbed my bag and new briefcase. Tom had found a used Hartmann case of worn but beautiful leather inside which he’d stashed the plan photos, or so he said and I wasn’t going to open the thing to find out.

“You got the key for the latches?” I asked, peering out into the shimmering distance, where the C-130 sat, all four engines running and aimed toward the end of the runway and ready for takeoff.

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