"Maloney, Mack - Wingman 07 - Skyfire" - читать интересную книгу автора (Maloney Mack)

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on. "And I know that the country isn't entirely safe yet. But the way things are right now . . . well, speaking frankly, sir, I just don't think you need me anymore."

For the briefest of moments, Jones was stunned.

"Hawk, your country will always need you," Jones told him, immediately realizing that this was one battle he was not going to win.

"And I will always need it," Hunter replied. "But you already have plenty of good men out there: Fitz. St. Louie. Ben and JT. Crunch and Elvis. The Cobras. All of them. Plus the Free Canadians. They're more than capable of carrying the ball.. ."

Hunter took a long swallow of beer to fortify himself. He'd been practicing this speech for days.

"Plus, things have finally settled down," he continued. "For the first time since the Big War, there's no major threat out on the horizon. Our borders are secure. The air pirates are practically extinct. We don't have to worry about Devillian and his kind anymore."

"That's all true, Hawk," Jones replied. "But, speaking not so much as a friend but as an objective observer, you know that with your skills and savvy, you're about as close to irreplaceable as anyone can get."

"No man is irreplaceable, General," Hunter said quickly. "Someone will just have to step in and take over my duties."

"Because?"

"Because I've decided it's time for me to retire," Hunter just about blurted out. This wasn't going as smoothly as he would have liked. Still, he pressed on. "And this time I mean it. I have to keep my promise to Dominique and to myself. I'm just not going to risk losing her again."

Jones had seen it coming. Over the years, he had often listened to Hunter talk about that day in the future when America would be free again, when he would be able to leave the battles and the bloodshed behind and begin a more peaceful life with Dominique.

Now that time had come.

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Hunter ordered another pitcher of cheap beer and the two men continued to drink quietly for another few minutes. Then Jones finally broke the silence.

"What the hell," the officer muttered in resignation. "I could try and talk you out of this, Hawk, but I know it would be useless. And the truth is, I can't really say that my heart would be in it."

Hunter managed a brief smile, though not without some difficulty.

"Thanks for understanding, General," he said.

They made a spontaneous toast, a quick meeting of their beer glasses as if to seal the end of an era.

"Where will you be going?" Jones asked him after draining his glass.

"Back to Cape Cod," Hunter said, fully smiling for the first time. "Got a place all picked out. It will be perfect for us."

Jones reached across the table and grasped his friend's hand. "There are a lot of things I could say right now," the senior officer told him. "But I'm not going to embarrass both of us. Just promise me one thing."

"Name it, General. . ."

"Wherever you go, stay in touch," Jones said. "For a couple of reasons. First, because myself and a lot of other guys don't want to lose track of you."

"And the second reason?"