BAT-21 Read Online Free PDF Page A

turned off; arrangements made with the neighbors next door to
water the plants; picked up traveler's checks at the bank, and
passport and shot records from the safe-deposit box; arrangements
made at the kennel for Pierre. Now if she only had her airline
tickets...
    As if on cue the doorbell rang. Gwen answered it,
throwing open the door to admit a breathless young brunette. "Sylvia.
Great timing! I had just come to you on my checklist."
    "Sorry I'm late, Gwen. You know our
Fly-the-Coop Travel Agency. I consider it a success if we get tickets
to travelers before their plane leaves. But here's yours, finally.''
    She handed Gwen an airline ticket folder, then a
thick Manila envelope, adding "And here's a bunch of stuff I
scraped together on tours and things over there. Now don't forget to
see the royal barges. And the Buddha temples. And be sure to eat at
that fancy restaurant where they serve curry heartburn and the girls
dance with candles in their fingernails."
    "Thanks, Sylvia. I'll try and work it all
in."
    "How I envy you! Here I am in the travel
agency business and I haven't even been to Disneyland."
    They talked a while, then Sylvia decided she
better get on her way. "Good-bye, Gwen. Have a marvelous time.
You deserve it. And give old handsome Hambone a great big kiss for
me. Tell him to come back home where he belongs."
    "That I promise. And thanks again, Sylvia."
    As Sylvia's little Mustang disappeared round a
corner, Gwen turned to go back in. Then her attention was caught by
another car coming down the street. It was a blue staff car. The
markings indicated it was from nearby Davis-Monthan Air Base.
    Curious, she watched, her hand on the knob of the
screen door, wondering where it was headed. Then as it approached her
house and crunched to a stop, the curiosity was tinged by an
indefinable sense of dread. Unable to move, she leaned against the
screen door and watched several solemn people get out of the car and
approach her. There was Marge Wilson, her closest friend; then a
nurse; and... "Oh Lord, not that," she thought, the airline
tickets wadded in her hand. The base chaplain was with them.
    Hambleton stared cross-eyed at a caterpillar
inching across the mosquito netting in front of his nose. He had
never seen a caterpillar from the underside before, and it fascinated
him. Amazing the way the little feet grabbed hold as the multicolored
worm undulated across the netting, getting a good purchase with the
front feet, drawing the rear feet up as it humped, then repeating the
process.
    An absurd thought crossed Hambleton's mind. He and
this fuzzy little worm had something in common. Hambleton, too, was a
caterpillar, eligible to belong to the Caterpillar Club. Now that he
had punched out of an airplane he would be invited to join the
exclusive organization whose membership consisted of fliers who had
been saved by a parachute jump. The club had been so named because
the first parachutes were made of silk, which was made by
caterpillars. Maybe this little silk spinner would bring him good
luck. He suddenly felt a strange sense of kinship with the little
insect. He was definitely going to keep protective watch on his
fraternity brother.
    Must be worse things than being a caterpillar.
They don't have to pay taxes. They don't have to worry about their
golf swing. And when they get bored all they have to do is push a
button and they turn into a butterfly and buzz off. Not a bad deal.
    He wished to hell he could push a button and fly
away.
    Speaking of which, where were the Jolly Greens? He
raised up to look over the foliage at the countryside around him. The
ground fog was all but burned off. They should be coming along any
minute. He got his flares out and mentally practiced lighting them.
He was ready.
    He lay back, listening to the steady drone of the
heavy machinery pounding down the highway. Suddenly he jerked
upright. Good God! He hadn't reported that to Birddog! He had
been so concerned with getting gravel dropped to