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The tarmac on the Staten Island Naval Air Station bustled with activity. The noise from small jets and helicopters made it hard to communicate. Agents boarded several corporate jets, and others jumped into Hueys for the ride out to LaGuardia to take a larger plane to Kentucky.
“So I guess this is good-bye,” yelled Cade as he braced against the jet wash that buffeted the two of them.
“Just for now,” yelled Jana. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s the best thing. Uncle Bill wants your help deciphering Rupert Johnston’s papers. You knew him best, and we’re desperate to see if there are any hidden clues in those writings that might point us to a time or location. And,” she said, looking back at the plane, “the director thinks we’re headed into harm’s way. It’s a nuclear device we’re after. God help
