What followed was just about as bad as Will had feared. He looked on, sick to his stomach, wishing to hell that he’d just told Jennlynn to go and hide and put the reckoning off for another day. But, he knew that another day would come, and it probably was just as well to get it out in the open, and sooner rather than later. But that didn’t make it any less painful to watch.

If Jennlynn was reticent and icy when the subject came around to prostitution, Mallory was much less so, for she was not in the position of having to protect her employer and her co-workers. While she didn’t get detailed, she made no bones about the fact of what she did, and if someone got too pushy, she was willing to let a piece of pure professional meanness show through. That kept some of the heat off of Jennlynn, but only some, and there were plenty of reporters, both in the terminal and remote from networks in New York, who wanted to explore the more sensationalistic side of the revelations.

It was Barbara Bishop, still smarting from the icy slap she’d taken from Jennlynn, and wanting to avenge it, who turned the discussion to a different plane when she directed a question to Jeff: "Mr. Waldemer," she said. "In view of your position as a missionary, how do you react to these revelations?"

"Ma’am, I find myself deeply honored to have been allowed to witness and play a small part in this affair."

"Honored?" she replied with a frown. "I don’t understand."

"Ma’am, I am a professional pilot, just as qualified in my specialty as a pilot as Miss Swift is in hers. When I was called to the cockpit this afternoon, I was extremely concerned, because I knew that I would have been in far over my head. But I was given the privilege to watch a true professional pilot confront adversity with a calmness and professionalism I know I could not have managed. God’s hand was on all of us this afternoon, and I was honored to see it in action."

"But don’t the revelations about Miss Swift and Miss Fox bother you as a missionary?" she asked.

"Not really," he replied. "If you’re asking me if I approve of prostitution on a personal level, the answer is no, I do not. In fact, it troubles me. But I have to admit to its existence. At the same time, I’m troubled by the fact that the lands where our Savior walked and talked and taught and died lie in the hands of unbelievers, but I have to admit to it whether I like it or not. It bothers me deeply to see you people of the press trying to dig for dirt on these two women who through their actions this afternoon saved hundreds if not many thousands of lives. But I have to accept that as well, which is why I’m bothering to talk to you at all, to tell you that I saw God’s hand at work in many ways, both straightforward and subtle."

"God’s hand, sir?" Bishop asked, confused at his statement.

"God’s hand indeed," Jeff replied, warming to his topic. Missionary pilot though he was, he was a minister at heart, and he felt a sermon building with no better time than now to deliver it. "I have not talked with Miss Fox to any degree, but from the small amount that I’ve conversed with Miss Swift, I understand that she would not have been able to attain the skills that saved so many lives today had she not been a prostitute. It is expensive to learn to fly, ma’am. I spent many thousands of dollars acquiring my small talents, doing everything from delivering newspapers to frying hamburgers to raise the money. Miss Swift has had considerably more advanced and expensive training, and like me, she did what she had to do to be able to afford it. Were the results worth it? You have certainly seen that today. I’m sure there are other examples.

"The point, ma’am, is that as soon as the word ‘prostitute’ entered the discussion, all interest in the many other skills and accomplishments that Miss Swift and Miss Fox have acquired – including landing our plane today – were ignored if not forgotten totally. Again, I have not talked with Miss Fox much, but Miss Swift is an extraordinary pilot, holds a doctorate in electrical engineering, is an executive in a successful business, and is the owner of another successful one. You’ve been told all that, but with your minds deep in the gutter, all you can think is ‘prostitute.’ She admits to being that, but she is also everything else I mentioned, and I understand her discomfort at your focusing on one totally irrelevant part of the package when she is a complete package.

"Was God’s hand involved in this incident today? Of course it was! His hand was present in lives saved and tragedy averted, but over the years I have learned that God works in subtle and mysterious ways, many of which we may not understand for years, or may never understand. Just as a purely theoretical example, there may be a young prostitute watching today who will take Miss Swift as an example that she does not have to be just a prostitute, or maybe even not be a prostitute at all, that she can be far more if she will work at it. It might be that thirty years from now that same woman will discover the universal cure for cancer, and we will never know what caused her to elevate her goals.

"Having had a few minutes to reflect on it, however, I am most awed by the subtle and ironic message that God sent to all of us today through the actions of these two women. Stop and think about it for a moment. There are thousands of people qualified to fly heavy jets, even Airbus 300s. There are thousands of people who are masters of martial arts and combat skills – Army Special Forces, Navy Seals, and so on. With all those people available, why did God arrange for these two women to be on this plane so that they could do this heroic deed today? One cannot always know the mind of God, but I have an observation. The hijackers who attempted to capture Southern one-eleven and fly it into the grandstands at Daytona today are believed to be Muslim fundamentalists. If they are like others, they are heedless of human life, especially their own. To them, Christians are an abomination. To them, women are subhuman at best, mere property. To them, prostitutes are subject to being stoned to death. So, I find it very interesting that out of all the people who God could have chosen to thwart their evil scheme, he chose two women – these two women – to show the pure contempt in which he holds those who would attempt to carry out such a deed. Those people thought they were going to see Allah today. These women showed them that only Iblis awaits them. If that doesn’t show the wisdom of God at work, I don’t know what does. So, yes, ma’am, I’m grateful to think I have seen God’s hand at work today, and I’m here to tell you that these are two of God’s chosen people. I for one think he chose very well."

"Uh, thank you, Mr. Waldemer," Bishop said, more than a little overwhelmed by the power and the passion of the message that Jeff delivered off the cuff.

Looking to end things on a high note and realizing that this was a darn good one, Will took the opportunity that Bishop handed him. He stood at the microphone, and in a loud voice said, "Thank you all for coming, but we’re going to have to wrap this up. FBI agents are here, and want to take statements from all of these people, and from many of the passengers on Southern one-eleven. I don’t know how long this will take, but it could be hours. I’m informed that Southern is sending another airplane here to take most of the passengers on to Chicago, but the timing and arrangements haven’t been firmed up yet. I’ll issue a statement to you as soon as we know. Again, I’m Master Sergeant Will Hoffman, Keesler Air Force Base Public Information NCO, and I thank you for your cooperation." Such as it was, he added mentally.

* * *

"Good grief, what a zoo," General Ronstadt said. "I’m glad you were here. You handled that well. Those really are a couple of pretty extraordinary women, aren’t they?"

"Yes sir, they are," he nodded. "I don’t know Miss Fox as well as I do Miss Swift, but I do know they’re both well out of the ordinary. Sir, can I point out that we’ve still got a problem?"

"Sergeant?"

"We’re not going to get the press out of here easily unless we turn the SP’s loose on them, and we don’t want to do that. Yet as soon as Miss Swift and Miss Fox – and Mr. Waldemer for that matter – stick their noses out in the open they’re going to be inundated with press. I’d like to make some arrangements to get them off base and out of town quietly so they’re not bothered any more than necessary."

"That sounds wise, Sergeant," the general nodded. "Do you have any ideas?"

"Yes sir, several," he said. "Do you know General Michael Hanneman?"

"Sure, I was his wingman when we were in the 304th. Do you know him?"

"Not well, sir, but I’ve met him a couple times. He’s now Miss Swift’s chief pilot."

"I’ll be damned. Mike Hanneman?"

"Yes sir. He lives in Phoenix. I’m thinking that if you got hold of him, he could fly Miss Swift’s plane in here. Well, not here, but maybe Gulfport-Biloxi. I’m thinking that we sneak the two women and maybe Mr. Waldemer off base as soon as the FBI is done with them, and have General Hanneman pick them up in the morning."

"We could probably put them on base somewhere," the general submitted.

"Yes sir, but that leaves the problem of getting them off base in the daylight," Will noted.

"You have some idea of where to hide them?"

"Yes, sir, I’ve got some friends here who know Miss Swift and possibly Miss Fox. I’m sure they can take care of the problem."

"Why do I think that I’m talking to a master sergeant who’s more than meets the eye?" the general smiled.

"There’s a lot of that going around today, sir," Will grinned. "I’m from Nevada. We have a little different attitude toward our professional women than most people."

"No doubt you do," General Ronstadt laughed. "Something tells me you’ve been in this Redlite Ranch Bordello."

"Yes, sir," Will grinned. "I’d really rather it didn’t become general knowledge, but my grandmother manages it."

"I will be damned," Ronstadt shook his head. "All right, Sergeant, set it up, and I’ll call General Hanneman. If you think you need to go with them, do it, and I’ll square it with Lieutenant Maitland in the morning. If anyone asks, you’re traveling on verbal orders of the commanding general."

* * *

"What a zoo!" Jennlynn sighed from the right front seat of Will’s Chevy Citation. "I don’t think I’ve been so glad to be out of a place in my life."

"Could have been worse, Miz Swift," Will said, now comfortably back in Nevada cowboy. "Jeff, I want to thank you for what you said. I thought I was goin’ to have to call in the SPs to get them to shut up, and that wouldn’t have been pretty."

"It needed to be said," Waldemer replied from the back seat. "Sergeant, now what’s the plan?"

"We’re off base, please call me Will, sir," he said. "They’s still a pot load of press layin’ in wait for you. We’re gonna hide you off base tonight. Miz Swift, I had General Ronstadt call General Hanneman. He’s gonna be at Gulfport-Biloxi in the morning with the Learjet. He’ll fly you all on to Chicago or where ever you want to go."

"I’m not real sure I want to go to Chicago, at least to stay," Jennlynn sighed. "As soon as the press finds out that I’m going to be a booth bunny at the Industrial Electronics show, Lambdatron isn’t going to be able to talk or sell anything since the booth will be six deep in cameras."

"I cain’t answer to that one, Miz Swift, but if the Learjet is comin’ this way you might want to call someone from the company and have them bring a replacement for you for the show."

"Good thinking, Will," she said. "I know it was pure luck, but Jeff would say that God was watching over us when they sent us here to have you waiting."

"We did have a couple good pieces of luck, Miz Swift. It was right good to see your face again, although I’d really rather it wasn’t this way. Look, all of you. Right now if you show your faces, the press is going to be in them so quick it ain’t funny. But if you keep quiet the worst of it should blow through in a few days. Feed them puppies and they’s just gonna get hungrier. We fed ’em good for a while, maybe that’ll hold them if you don’t give them nothin’ else. Miz Swift, I’d like nothin’ better than for you to just go home and stay there for a while. You could maybe have Colonel Brockway meet you with Songbird at some place like Flagstaff where the press ain’t gonna be lookin’. Hang out at home for a week and a lot of it will have died down."

"I don’t really want to spend that much time there without you," she sighed, and turned to look over her shoulder. "Look, Jeff, Mallory," she said. "This is a big secret that I don’t want anyone outside this car to know. I don’t know if you’ve figured it out yet, but Will is my boyfriend, and maybe the closest thing to a fiancé I’ll ever have. When he said go home just now, he meant our home, out in the Nevada desert. You’re the only people besides us now who know this, and I’d be happy if you kept it that way."

"I thought there was something more going on than people were saying," Jeff grinned, as Jennlynn slid over to the center of the car and snuggled up against Will, who put his arm around her.

"Quite a bit more, sir," Will smiled, a relaxation coming over him with the feel of Jennlynn cuddled up next to him. "In case you ain’t figured it out yet, you’ve fallen in with not just two but three people that most missionaries would have a hairy fit over, but you seem pretty cool. You’re gonna be meetin’ another couple of us in a few minutes, and sir – again – the less said about it, the better. Miz Swift and Miss Fox, well, they’re outed now, but the two we’re goin’ to meet ain’t, and they want to keep it that way, OK? But we’re all people that are pretty good at keepin’ secrets if we have to, and nobody but us will ever know you was with us. If that ain’t OK, I’ll find you a motel and pick you up in the mornin’."

"Will, I thought I made myself pretty clear back there," Jeff said. "I’m just enjoying seeing God’s hand at work, and I don’t need to talk about it. God knows that I owe you all that much."

"Very good, sir," Will smiled. "Like I said, I thought you was pretty cool."

"One question, Will. Are we going to get some dinner some place? Right now I could eat a horse."

"Jeff, I’m a Nevada cowboy at heart, and horses is for ridin’, not eatin’," Will laughed. "We’re headin’ for the finest meal Biloxi has to offer, and we’ll be there in a couple minutes. They’d normally be closed by now, but I called ahead and they’re stayin’ open just for us."

"Jennlynn, you better keep him," Jeff laughed. "He sure seems to have a sure touch with these things."

"He has a sure touch with lots of things," she laughed. "That’s why I keep him."

A couple minutes later, they pulled into a large single-story restaurant with a big parking lot. The place seemed closed, and the neon sign was out; there was only one car visible. "We’re here," Will said. "I only discovered this place a couple weeks ago, but it’s somethin’ real special." He got out of the car and went around to help Jennlynn get out.

"Miss Fox," Jeff said in a gentlemanly manner, "Assuming my wife doesn’t find out, may I escort you?"

"Sure thing, Jeff," Mallory smiled as she allowed him to take her arm. "In our business, we’re used to going out of our way to keep wives from finding out."

Will opened the front door, and then the inside door, showing Jennlynn in, with Jeff and Mallory following. Inside, a slightly heavy-set blonde woman and a tall, red-haired woman stood waiting. "Welcome to C&C’s Cajun," they said in unison.

"Oh, my God!" Jennlynn cried, losing it. "Cindy! Claudia!" In an instant, there was a three-way hug with lots and lots of tears going on. "I wondered what happened to you!" Jennlynn babbled. "You’re the last people I expected to see, but today of all days it’s wonderful to see you!"

"Oh, Jennlynn, we were so proud when we heard it was you!" Claudia beamed. "You did good, kid!"

"We watched the whole thing on TV," Cindy added. "Those news people are a bunch of bastards, aren’t they?"

"This place was dead quiet when you were landing. People didn’t dare breathe, and then they cheered so loud they almost took the roof off," Claudia chimed in. "Jennlynn, that was so cool!"

"Oh, this is wonderful," Jennlynn said again. "You don’t know how much I’ve missed you and your Cajun cooking!" She caught her breath and continued, "I’m sorry, I’m forgetting my manners. This is Mallory Fox; she was the domme at the Redlite for a couple years after you left. She’s the real heroine of the story; it was basically she who recaptured the plane. And this is Jeff Waldemer; he was in the right seat with me when we landed."

"Oh, you’re the preacher man," Claudia said, breaking away and giving him a big hug. "That was one of the greatest reamings I ever heard! You did us all proud, sir! It’s an honor to have you at C&C’s. You all, you come in, sit down, we’ve got some special jambalaya to get started with and then we’ll get to the good stuff!"

"Will," Jennlynn said, shaking her head as her two old compatriots led them to a table, "You could have told me about this!"

"Like I said, Miz Swift, I only discovered it a couple weeks ago myself, and I was saving it for a special occasion." He turned to Jeff. "You was talking on the TV about prostitutes that could see they could make somethin’ better of themselves, and now you’re meetin’ these two. They saved their money for most of ten years so’s they could buy this place. This is one of the classiest and most popular restaurants in town, but they’s only a handful of people in town that know where they got the money to start it. They got a nice big house not far from here, and we’re gonna be spendin’ the night with them."

Jeff just shook his head. "You don’t have to worry about my telling my wife about this," he smiled. "She’d never believe it. I’m not sure I believe it myself."

* * *

"Christ, Will, I don’t know what to do," Jennlynn said softly in his ear as they lay snuggled together in an upstairs bedroom at Claudia and Cindy’s house. "I haven’t been this scared since I rang the bell at the Mustang."

"I know you are, Miz Swift," he said, pulling her tight.

"I mean, not so much for me," she said. "But this could louse things up for Lambdatron, for lots of things. I mean, my God, after today I’m the most famous prostitute in America."

"They’s a good side to it too, Miz Swift," he told her. "It’s like Jeff done said, you got a chance to affect people’s thinking a little. I admit, my first reaction is to lie low until the feeding frenzy dies down. Then you can pretty well do what you’ve always done, admit it but not go into detail. It don’t mean that you gotta go on the talk show circuit like I bet Mallory’s gonna do. But I cain’t help but wonder if maybe the better thing to do is to ride it out."

"Ride it out?" she whispered.

"Let’s face it, Miz Swift, after the reaming you gave a couple reporters today, people are gonna think of you as something of a bitch, and they ain’t gonna press you real hard. You are not an elected official and your business is your business. But what I’m thinkin’ is maybe you just go about your business and try to make your point that you’re an engineer, a pilot, a business executive, and you can still be all those while being a prostitute. Damn it, Miz Swift, you’ve always understood that there’s a pride in all that. Maybe the thing to do is to show it. Things ain’t what they was this time yesterday, and it’ll be a long time before they’ll ever be that way again, if they ever will."

"I talked to Stan," she sighed. "Christ knows how they figured it out, but we hadn’t even landed and he was getting phone calls at home. He says he issued a statement to the effect that I’m one of the company’s most senior, trusted, and effective employees, that management was aware of my off-time activities before I was hired, and has always respected my right to choose those activities. That’s about what I’d expect him to say."

"How about going to Chicago?"

"Up to me," she shrugged. "But Jon and Tanisha will be on the Learjet tomorrow. You’ve never met them. They’re something else, but if they’re going to the show in Chicago, Stan thinks this is serious."

"How’s that?"

"He’s white, she’s black, and he’s from the Chicago area. They’ve avoided his dad for years, since he’d go up like a rocket if he knew about them, so they’ve never done the Chicago show; his dad’s in the business so it’s some place he might show up. But they sent me a message through Stan and said, ‘If you can come out on national TV, we can risk coming out in front of Jon’s dad.’" She let out a long breath. "I’m more than half tempted to go to the show anyway, and talk about nothing but industrial electronics. I mean not even today, other than to admit who I am. If it turns into a zoo, then maybe yeah, it’s time to go home for a while."

"I could go with you for a couple days in Chicago," he said. "Or, I could easily get free for a couple weeks at home, if you need me to."

"I’d appreciate it, Will. I know the engineering is Greek to you, but it’d be good to know I had a friendly face in sight until I can get used to the new paradigm." She shook her head. "Damn, there’s a paradigm I never thought would get broken."

"Shit happens, you know that," he nodded. "Speaking from a public-affairs viewpoint, it could be a hell of a lot worse. This has got a lot of positive spin."

"Hell, even when you get past Lambdatron, I’m not sure the Redlite is going to be all that great anymore."

"I had a few brief moments of fun today, imaginin’ the dollar signs in George’s eyes every time the place was mentioned on national TV," Will laughed.

"How much you want to bet that the first thing tomorrow morning he’ll be canvassing the contractors in Las Vegas to see who can build a new addition the quickest?" she giggled. "But that’s the point. I’ve told you before, I miss the atmosphere we used to have at Bettye’s, and seeing Claudia and Cindy tonight has just driven it home. The Redlite has never been the sheer relaxing fun that Bettye’s was, and really, it’s becoming less and less fun. I don’t even get the fun of lineups anymore. It’s been weeks since I stood one, and after today, I could work full time off an appointment list and probably pick and choose my clients. And you think it won’t be a zoo the next time I go there? I can see the sign out front now: ‘As Seen On TV! Home of Learjet Jenn!’ George has to be going apeshit over the publicity bonanza, and it’s just going to be a pain in the ass. I’ll just be going there to get fucked, not to have fun. It’s almost to the point of ‘why bother?’"

"I understand, Miz Swift. I wish I could help, but, well, we’ve talked about it before."

"I know," she sighed. "You know, I had to give Jeff a quick explanation of why I was a hooker today, and right off the top of my head I called myself a nymphomaniac who keeps it under control by working occasionally as a hooker. I never thought of it quite that way, but as I think about it, it seems like a pretty good explanation."

"Hell, I understood that from pretty close to the first time I met you. Well, that weekend we spent at the Sagebrush, anyway. I always thought you understood it, and I always figured you had a pretty good handle on it, just like Gramma. I’ve always realized that there was no way I could ever satisfy you all by myself. You need the raw variety."

"I need you for the love and the finesse," she said. "But yeah, you’re right. And now the raw variety is going sour a little. Like I said, it’s been going sour, but now I’m afraid it’s just going to happen quicker."

"Well, there is a solid gold fallback position," he laughed. "If all else fails, we could still start Learjet Jenn’s Fantasy Ranch."

"You can laugh, but I’ve thought about it more than once since we talked about it up at home that time," she said. "If my fate is to take after your grandmother and wind up as a part-time hooker, part-time madam, I can think of worse fates. I could make a pretty good start toward financing it, and I think George would back me. I’ve had some ideas about things we could do, too."

"Well, I’ve got the property for it," he grinned, feeling good at seeing her think positive.

"No, not down in our little canyon," she protested. "That’s ours."

"Wasn’t thinking there," he smiled. "There’s a place you probably ain’t seen, about four miles northwest, up in the hills a bit. It’s larger than the canyon, with plenty of good building area, and it has a hell of a view. We might still use the same dry lake for an airstrip, but maybe not, there might be another spot closer if we were to use something like a Twin Otter. Might be worth the trouble of grading out, so you don’t run the risk of having a heavy rain turn the lake bed to mud for a few days."

"You’re serious, aren’t you?"

"A little," he said. "I thought about it, too. I don’t think it’s anything we’d want to rush into, but there ain’t nothin’ keepin’ us from plannin’ ahead a little. Miz Swift, I may be a Nevada cowboy at heart, but there is another family tradition I don’t have any problem with, too. Besides, you know why cowboys go to cathouses?"

"Why?" she giggled.

"’Cause you cain’t fuck cows and have as much fun."

"Yeah, you’re a cowboy, all right," she sighed when she got done laughing. "Will, it sounds like fun but I’d miss the engineering."

"No need to. These days, you could work at Lambdatron by telepresence and fly down for consultations once in a while if you need to. Or just hire yourself to them as a consultant, same thing. Miz Swift, I’ve wondered for years if we could actually be married or something like that, and I can see we’d have to make plenty of accommodations like that if we was going to make it work. Miz Swift, it’s like your money. I don’t have a lot of objection to you havin’ it, but you know why I won’t take anything from you? It’s because I don’t want you to think of me as your pimp, it’s that pure and simple. I can give you what I can because you’re my lady and I love you."

"I’ve always understood that, Will. It’s what’s made it so damn hard between you and me, and I love you for it." She let out a sigh. "Tell you what. I’ll try and ride it out and set a good example. But if it gets to be too much of a pain in the ass with Lambdatron or with the Redlite, let’s haul it up to the front burner."

"It works for me, Miz Swift," he told her. "I don’t know what I’m wishin’ for, but either way it’ll work out for the best."

They held onto each other wordlessly for a long time, sharing the intimacy between them that transcended mere sex. After some time, Jennlynn asked in a small voice, "Will?"

"Yes, Miz Swift?"

"Supposing we were to get married, would you still call me ‘Miz Swift’?"

"Of course not," he laughed. "I’d have to call you ‘Miz Hoffman.’"

She shook her head and giggled, "Oh damn, Will, I love you." Then they kissed, and there wasn’t much more need for talking.

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