G.I.Z.M.O.

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Chapter Forty-Nine

Current day, 10:30 PM,

Airspace Over Washington, D.C.

The only evidence of the black helicopter zipping across the nighttime skyline of the Capitol were its blinking landing lights and the pulsing drone of its rotating blades. Aaron stared out of the flying beast’s open bay door, observing the blanket of lights that covered the ground below like a twinkling blanket. It was beautiful...and he hoped it would stay that way. Aaron looked over at Mutt in the pilot’s seat and could tell the older man was carrying on a rather animated conversation with someone over the radio in his helmet.

“...that’s right, Cowboy. We’re comin’ in low and I’m plannin’ on landing on the front lawn...don’t care. Tell those guys not to shoot, dammit! It’s a matter of national security, dude! I got a couple of agents from the CIA onboard along with a VIP! Alright hang on, brother, let me ask!” Mutt shouted into his headset over the roar of the helicopter’s engine. “He wants to speak to you, sir.”

“Fine, patch him back...” Aaron moved his mic closer to his face. “This is Field Commander Aaron Hinds with the Central Intelligence Agency, sir! My authorization number is 98723. No, I do not wish to speak with the President...I know he’s not there. I need to meet with the Vice President and he is there in a late night strategy session with the Presidential cabinet...how did I know? I saw it on the damn news...c’mon everyone knows. Yeah, alright...okay. Now, are you going to allow us to land without harm, then? Millions of lives may be a risk if you do not!”

Mutt looked over his shoulder at Aaron. “Well?” The agent nodded in affirmation and gave the veteran biker a thumb up. Mutt keyed up his mic, “Hey, Cowboy, I owe you one, brother! ETA one minute. Keep the grounds clear.”

“How do you know this Secret Service guy?” Aaron asked, his voice competing with the wind, the engine, and thumping rotors overhead.

“Cowboy and I served together in Saigon. That old warhorse should have tapped out years ago, but he says the White House won’t let him retire. Everyone figures it’s ’cause he scares the shit out of ’em with what he knows. Heh, the political types would rather keep him in-house, close to the vest, I suppose.”

“I’ll make sure he gets a medal if we make it through all this in one piece!” Aaron said as he peered out of the open door of the helicopter, watching the lights of the White House growing closer and closer.

“He’ll probably just ask you to let him live after he retires,” Mutt said with a grin.

Aaron laughed, shaking his head in amusement.

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