The Mission: The Elevator (part 1)
Ginny watched the man on the other side of the elevator for ten full seconds, then said, “You’re thinking about flying, aren’t you?” The ramrod straight, gray-haired man stared through her, then he slowly raised one eyebrow in response.
“But you are, aren’t you—thinking about flying?” she insisted, flashing a blinding smile.
” I was,” he admitted. “Who are you?”
Ginny took a step and stuck out her hand. “Ginny—Virginia Gregg. So what were you doing?”
“Doing?”
“You were thinking about flying. What were you doing?” persisted Ginny.
“I’d taken off in the dark, before dawn, and climbed high enough to be in sunlight. Then I rolled over to look at the lights, and the sleeping dark below. But how could you possibly know what I was thinking?”
“The look on your face; I’ve seen it before. What did you fly? F-14, F/A-18?”
He gave a short bark of a laugh. “Not hardly. F-15.”
She mimicked his laugh. “Well sure, if you want to drag around all that weight and burn up fuel.”
He appraised her through narrowed eyes. “You’re a Navy brat aren’t you?”
Ginny laughed, and nodded in agreement. “I am. Which would make you—”
“—Ah, don’t say it. This elevator’s not big enough.”
“So why don’t you go flying for lunch. Are you current?”
“You are a scrappy little thing, huh. Why aren’t you out flying for Navy?”
“My dad thought three Navy pilots in one family was enough,” Ginny said.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. He waited while she walked out.
“So if I take your advice and go flying for lunch, will you come with me?”
“Oh, I don’t think the suits on the ninth floor would appreciate me taking a three-hour lunch. But thanks, and have a good time, ok?” She smiled, held out her hand again, and he shook it. “Who are you, by the way?” she asked as he turned to walk away.
“One of the suits,” he laughed, pointing a finger up, “from the ninth floor.”
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