User Guide

[Many thanks to the CEO and Board of
MAXIMA for their kind permission to
publicize select details regarding this
classified operation. As per agreement,
certain facts (such as names, dates and
other potentially compromising indicia)
have been altered; otherwise, every
operational detail regarding the mission
itself, and all portions involving the Wildcat
squadron, their actions, planning and so
forth, are accurately represented in order
to give the reader a sense of how Wildcat
tactical exercises proceed. -Ed.]
1000 Hours
After driving through the congested
morning traffic of Uskudar, proceeding
northeast past the Selimiye Barracks, I
finally reach the narrow dirt road that
leads to the Wildcat Base, which some of
the Wildcats refer to affectionately as the
“Lair.” My jeep is greeted by a single
yapping malamute. The base appears
deserted, until the dog’s barking draws an
armed sentry from one of the rather
dilapidated buildings that make up the
base. He regards me with suspicion, Uzi
lowered but ready in his right hand.
“I’m Duhm, with SUDDEN DEATH.” I
offer him my press card. He studies it
carefully, then waves me on.
“You can park your jeep over there.”
“Where is everyone?”
“Asleep.” He looks vaguely annoyed at
the question. “Help yourself to coffee in
the hangar. They’ll be up sooner or later.”
1233 Hours
A man whom I recognize from my
background reading as Clayton “Tex”
Travis staggers into the hangar, dressed
in torn jeans and an unbuttoned,
western-cut shirt. Squinting against the
blinding Istanbul sun, he glances in my
direction, then makes for the coffee. “Who
the hell are you?”
“I’m Duhm, the reporter. I’ve come for
the SUDDEN DEATH interview.”
“Oh.” He sips the coffee and winces.
Lyle “Baseline” Richards enters the
hangar, sees me and glances at Tex. “The
magazine,” Tex mutters in explanation.
Baseline’s reaction to my presence is
no more enthusiastic than his partner’s.
He just shakes his head and mutters
something about “no fragging peace
around here.” Within the next thirty
minutes most of the Wildcat pilots have
stopped by the coffee pot and ignored me,
until finally at 1327 a short, balding man,
dressed in suit and tie despite the midday
heat, sweeps into the hangar and pumps
my arm profusely.
“Sorry, oh so sorry to keep you waiting.
I thought I’d made myself clear regarding
the time.” I realize it is Virgil Beetlebaum,
the Wildcat accountant. He has been
instrumental in setting up this article,
although I’ve paid for the service many
times over, in phone bills and ear-leather.
“You said the start of the business day,
didn’t you?”
He nods emphatically. “Yes, but I
meant for you to arrive at the start of a
Wildcat workday.” I stare at him blankly.
“I am so sorry about this. Let me fill you
in over lunch, okay?”
He leads me by the arm out of the
hangar. I hear the rest of the squadron
behind me chuckle in apparent sym-
pathy, for what reason I’m not sure. But
as I listen to Virgil yammer on, I begin to
get a pretty good idea.
“When we’re between jobs, as we are
12
July 2011 • SUDDEN DEATH
A Typical Wildcat Mission
•
by D. Duhm
Day 1
Day 1
SELL
&
SCRAMBLE
SELL
&
SCRAMBLE