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Elayne had taken careful note of what planes were visible at Diego Garcia. They hadn’t finished scouting the hangars when the Falcon 7X showed up.
When she’d seen Holly Harper climb down from the sweet jet, Elayne knew she had to take it. It was being offered to her and Holly would be shown up for a complete fool.
The others had said it was a reckless act in broad daylight.
Not reckless—calculated.
Calculated to cause Holly Harper the maximum amount of misery.
Like most Zaslon operators, Elayne had been trained in basic airplane and rotorcraft flight, precisely for situations like this one. But a twenty-four-meter-long trijet was a new experience. It would have been nice to get the Aussies’ cooperation, but there would be no way to trust them. She’d put a round in each one’s face,
