50
Emily circled them around the back of the grove of trees. She hated this. Far too many things could go wrong, already had gone wrong.
A downed jet in the middle of the desert could be written off as an accident. One parked on the tarmac with two head-shot pilots aboard couldn’t be so easily ignored. The heat that would land on them would be horrendous. Any attempt to fly home, day or night, would become almost impossible. It was banking a hell of a lot on that slim chance left by “almost.”
She’d had Archie bounce a call to the Hawkeye observer. He’d explained their plan briefly. And all she’d gotten back was, “Abort at pilot’s discretion.”
Completely useless. If she aborted now, she’d hit daylight an hour and a half before she hit the border. So, they’d have an international inciden
