This is a big day! Today, you get the first glimpse of some of what's in the Diablo Diaries! I think, with what's going on in the world today, the time is right. So here is the start. Enjoy this peek into my book series.
The clacker went off. The pilots tossed their Doritos and paperbacks overboard, and they hit their start switches. The fighters that sat on the alert pad came to life and immediately taxied for take off before the canopies were down and sealed. They rolled onto the runway without stopping and were already at good speed before even being lined up with the runway. Once lined up they went into full afterburner. The pipes were aflame alright. They left the ground, accelerated in their ground effect, picked up 350 knots, pulled 7.0 gee, went vertical, went inverted at altitude, rolled upright, and made a hard 90 degree bank to take the course to where a certain Gulfstream flew.
Shit.
The nervous young fighter pilots were reluctant, yet obedient. They rather liked their new King, or the guy who should be king. He was a young dude, like them, a few years younger actually – and he was into the same music and ideas as they. Like them, he stood hard for his country. He did macho things, and was noted as quite rowdy. He was always in the tabloids, in the midst of some kind of antic or sexual escapade. It really no longer was scandal, for it was a constant, a given, not the exception. Stephan never hid his little rebellions. Well, here he is now, rebelling in the fullest sense of the word, in some other monarch’s jet.
He’s a crazy mother-fucker. He should have been a fighter pilot.
#
Queen Helena’s Foreign Minister called. She took the call, of course. Her usual serene vibe and facial expression went straight into ire, and then worry.
“Could you please repeat that one?”
“Certainly, Your Majesty, His Highness Prince Stephan has just taken your plane into Montenegro’s Airspace. There are some fighters on their way to intercept him. They are to prevent him from landing.”
“Have you called the Montenegro Foreign Office yet?”
“I will.”
“Please do right away. Try and explain that this certainly does not involve Greece other than I loaned the jet to His Highness. I’ll call the Montnegro Prime Minister.”
She hung up, and out of anger threw a pen down and it bounced off the desk and clattered to the parquet floor. She brought a fist down onto her desk, something she never did. She was the model of calm wisdom. Damn. She’s a fool, getting too involved with a guy like Prince Stephan.
“I’m going to run your balls through this shredder, Stephan! Not just Venice Commission commentaries!” She said.
She got the Montenegro Foreign Minister on. She went right to ironing out the brewing international incident. She was good at that kind of thing.
“I will have you understand that this is not Greece’s doing. We are right now getting in touch with the passenger on board who ordered the jet into your airspace. He’ll cooperate. I believe that he simply wants to over fly Montenegro, Croatia and Serbia. That would be just like him, really, to bend the rules a bit. He’s too intelligent to simply enter the country without proper legitimacy or invitation.”
“His Highness Prince Stephan is not invited yet to return to our country.”
“I’m quite aware of that. If you wouldn’t mind, I am right now dialing my plane. If I reach him, you can personally talk to him and find his intent yourself.”
“Ah, certainly, Your Majesty.” A bit of surprise in the Prime Minister’s voice.
“Let me put the three of us on conference call. I do hope you understand that the real international incident will be his language until he realizes you’re on.”
The Prime Minister laughed.
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