Kapolski stared at his CO. “No more questions, sir.”
“Takeoff time is set for 0625 hours. Good luck.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Wilkinson smiled, then said, “I wish I was going with you.”
* * * *
SIXTY MILES SOUTHEAST OF TUNDRA ONE, NWT — 0513 HOURS (0713 EST)“We’re going to land soon, Claire. get the gear together.”
Ben Spencer and his wife watched through the starboard blister of the amphibious Catalina Flying Boat. The aircraft dropped slightly. At one hundred and fifty feet evergreens blurred past in a steady stream. Suddenly, water. The sun cast long shadows across a clear lake. Not a ripple. They were going in for one of those wet landings.
They were tired from the long, non-stop trip through most of the night, and a little airsick from the buzzing drone of the engines. Spencer reache
