Wind the Clock (A Jackie Austin Mystery)

By Dawn Brotherton and Lawrence Stutzriem

Bathed in the beauty of Germany on a storybook assignment, Major Jackie Austin is revered across Spangdahlem Air Base as an officer and leader. The Air Force is looking to promote her ahead of the pack. From the outside, she’s got it all, to include a fighter pilot husband, the handsome and popular Stan “Mace” Mason. In truth, things are fraying behind the scenes, as the compromises of a two-career military marriage take their toll. All of it factors into the greatest tragedy Jackie will ever experience, yet she’ll have no time to heal. The Air Force Office of Special Investigations’ lead investigator Chris Marquette has her locked in his sights. Only Jackie Austin can save herself, even if it means walking straight into a den of terrorists.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blue Dragon Publishing, LLC
• Release date: May 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781939696083

Dawn Brotherton

Dawn Brotherton is an award-winning author and featured speaker at writing and publishing seminars. When it comes to exceptional writing, Dawn draws on her experience as a retired colonel from the US Air Force as well as a softball coach. She has also completed four books (Trish’s Team; Margie Makes a Difference; Nicole’s New Friend, and Tammy Tries Baseball) in the middle grade Lady Tigers Series about girls’ fastpitch softball, encouraging female athletes to reach for the stars in the game they love. As a mother of two female athletes, Dawn is intent on encouraging women to “play like a girl,” which means play with determination, teamwork, sportsmanship and most of all, a love of the game. Under nonfiction, the Softball Scoresheet was created to keep score during softball games with instructions written for those not as familiar with the intricacies of the game.

Book preview

Chapter 1

He started to shiver violently from the cold. He couldn’t get up. Someone would see him.

Over here! he heard someone shout.

Finally, he thought. A light flashed across his face turning the inside of his eyelids red. He kept his eyes closed, but he couldn’t control the shudders that racked his body.

Hurry. Call the ambulance. Now the voice was directed at him, Hang in there. He felt relief as something warm and heavy was draped over his chest.

He has cuts all over his body and his leg is at a funny angle. This was a new voice. He’s shaking a lot.

There was a long pause and then, Hey, Major, should he be shaking like this?

Major Jackie Austin rushed to the prone man and quickly assessed his condition.

Damn it, Bobby! Get off the ground! Major Austin grabbed him by the arm and yanked the injured man to his feet. Somebody get the ambulance here!

You idiot! She snapped at him as she picked up the jacket that had fallen to the ground and wrapped it around him.

Bobby was confused. Why was she mad at him? He played his part well.

The fake blood the exercise team applied a few hours ago covered most his face but his lips were blue, and that was real.

You’re supposed to be my medical expert. How can you evaluate the responders if you go into hypothermic shock? She rubbed his shoulders violently trying to get his blood flowing.

He heard the sirens and willed them to move faster. He had made a stupid, stupid mistake. Within the next few minutes the ambulance screeched to a stop only yards away.

We got it, Major. The medic moved her gently aside. Jackie took a last look at Bobby, turned away, and stomped off swearing at herself. She kicked a stone and it rattled off in the darkness.

Now what do you want us to do? Bobby heard someone ask Major Austin from a distance.

Bobby looked around the medics checking his vitals. They had piled heavy blankets on him and his shivering was quieting finally. He wanted to know how his mistake was going to affect the rest of the exercise.

He saw Major Austin turn back to the waiting men, taking charge. Read from the script. Give the responders the results they would have received from Staff Sergeant Ford and let them call it in. The young lieutenant rushed back to the waiting crowd and began to take control of the chaos that had quickly erupted.

Bobby watched as Major Austin dropped her head and shook it silently for a few minutes before walking to the ambulance. As they loaded him into the back, she leaned into the open doors, You okay, Bobby?

Yes, ma’am, he replied from under the mounds of blankets. I’m sorry.

No, it was my fault. I should have known better. I didn’t realize it would take them so long to find you. I should’ve planned better.

You can’t plan the weather, he said with a weak smile. Although early September in Germany was fairly mild, the nights could get chilly. The day had started out beautiful but with no cloud cover to trap the heat, the temperature had dropped quickly when the sun went down.

She patted his booted foot. I’ll be over to the hospital in a few minutes. Do me a favor and evaluate how they treat you, okay?

Yes, ma’am. That’ll ensure I get the royal treatment, he said between chattering teeth.

Jackie stepped back and the medic closed the doors. Immediately the ambulance pulled away with lights flashing. No sirens though. He assumed that was a good sign.

Chapter 2

Major Austin sat nervously outside her boss’s door. She had sent him the incident report on Staff Sergeant Bobby Ford via email before she had gone home for the night, but now she had to explain how someone on her team ended up in the hospital for real while playing the part of a downed pilot during a training exercise.

She hadn’t been able to sleep the night before. Her 12-hour shift had quickly turned into 16 hours and didn’t wrap up until well after midnight. Although she had gone home with the pretense of sleep, she had lain awake staring at the ceiling. What could I have done differently? she continued to quiz herself. She was thankful that Staff Sergeant Ford was fine. He’d been warmed up and released, but it could have been much worse.

Suddenly the door opened and Jackie stood. Her 5’4" frame didn’t even begin to measure up to the towering build of her boss, Colonel Mike Harris. She tugged at the shirt of her Air Battle Uniform, or ABU, self-consciously. The colonel gestured for her to come in. She followed without a word.

Jackie, relax. I’m not going to bite you, Harris tried to put her at ease as he motioned for her to take a seat.

Jackie sat in the chair opposite Harris’ desk but didn’t sit back. How could she relax?

Sergeant Ford is going to be fine, right? Harris asked as he leaned back in his chair.

Yes, sir. The hospital released him last night and he doesn’t even have to go back for a follow-up. The doc said he was lucky. Jackie was hesitant to add this last part, but she knew that she had to come clean with all the details.

Good. And what did you learn from this experience?

A thousand responses popped into her head and she sorted through them carefully to pick out what she should say out loud. I should have had another medical representative on hand to watch over my role players in this scenario. It’s too much to have the evaluator double as a role player and expect him to evaluate at the same time. She took a deep breath. I should have waited until the last minute to have Staff Sergeant Ford lay down on the ground. I didn’t even think about the cold ground zapping the heat from his body. Next time we’ll put a layer of something underneath him to prevent it.

Okay, sounds like a plan. Jackie, these things happen. We’re all learning. That’s what exercises are about. Think about what would’ve happened to the pilot if this had really been a downed aircraft. This incident highlights how important it is to get to the aircrew quickly, even in friendly territory. Harris swiveled in his chair and leaned his elbows on the desk. Once you identified the problem, you reacted quickly and took action. Stop beating yourself up.

Jackie breathed a little easier, but she wouldn’t let herself off the hook. Yes, sir, she replied.

The exercise still has a few more days to run its course. Don’t get timid on me. We only have a few more practices before the Operational Readiness Inspection in March. Now get the hell out of here, Harris said dismissively, but in a kind way. I’ll see you at the shift change briefing at 0800.

Jackie stood and replied gratefully, Yes, sir. Thanks.

As Jackie stepped out into the bright morning, she realized how tired she was. Training exercises took a lot of work to put together and execute. The long hours cut into her workout routine to the point where she felt her body rebelling.

Jackie had always used working out as a way to relax. She’d prefer to play volleyball, but the timing wasn’t as flexible. Lately she enjoyed putting in her headphones and jogging through the German countryside. Guess that would have to wait a few more days.

Spangdahlem Air Base, Germany was a beautiful location and a dream assignment. Jackie had wanted to come to Europe since she joined the Air Force. Despite having listed Germany as the top desire on her assignment Dreamsheet, the Air Force’s often mysterious assignment system seemed to purposely hand her locations as distant and different as possible. She once joked to her friends that she was going to list Madagascar as her top choice which might give her a better chance of being assigned to Germany. It took her ten years, but she had made it. Her husband, Major Stan Mason, was in heaven flying the F-16 Viper over some of the most amazing landscape, complete with medieval castles and the ruins of historic cathedrals. Jackie envied his flight time as Stan would animatedly talk about how gorgeous the countryside appeared from altitude. He loved boasting about his God’s eye view, as if fighter pilots were more worthy of it than everyone else.

She wasn’t complaining about her assignment though. As the Chief of Wing Inspections, she had the latitude to delve into the various missions of the 52d Fighter Wing—she was never bored. She took her job very seriously because doing her job well meant that everyone else was given the opportunity to see themselves and improve. She wrote scenarios that could be adjusted in any number of ways on the fly to allow units to train in areas they don’t practice day-to-day. Her idea for the downed aircraft on take-off from home station scenario was one she hoped never turned to reality. But if it did, at least now the base would have a procedure in place to help react to it—preferably before the pilot gave in to hypothermia.

She walked from Harris’s office and silently shook her head in disbelief that something like hypothermia had crept up on Bobby. She wasn’t about to stop analyzing her misjudgment as Colonel Harris had suggested to her. That wasn’t her mettle. When it came to her own duty performance, she held herself to higher standards than anyone else. For that reason, she would squeeze as much value out of a mistake as possible and never repeat the error or any related form of it.

If it can go wrong, it will, she thought to herself, acknowledging that old saying and its wisdom…or maybe it wasn’t wisdom. No doubt whoever came up with that saying had had his own Bobby-experience.

Jackie walked toward the two-story, brick building that housed the 52d Operations Group, where the group commander would be holding his internal hotwash on the events of the previous night. The hotwash was when everything was laid on the table—the good, the bad, and the hideously ugly. It was also where the lessons learned were collected to make things better for next time. Because she was in the field with the downed pilot, she didn’t hear how the coordination played out between the operations crew and the first responders. She was interested to see how the commander thought his squadrons reacted.

Spangdahlem Air Base was home to the 606th Air Control Squadron, A-10 Warthogs, the F-16 Vipers, and all the support that goes along with getting and keeping the birds in the air.

There was quite a rivalry between the Warthog pilots and the Viper pilots. Although they wore the same flight suits, except for one distinct shoulder patch, it was obvious they came from different gene pools. The A-10 drivers were generally unmistakable fireplugs reminiscent of retired Ukrainian power lifters. In contrast, the Viper tribe was populated with slim golfer types with more shallow personalities reminiscent of leading men in Hallmark Channel Christmas movies. Where their DNA overlapped, it involved consuming great quantities of alcohol, exaggerating the most mundane war stories, and matching each other insult for insult at the bar. The rivalry played out in a small number of contested facts that would remain stalemated for eternity. It was about which aircraft and mission was most important, which mission required greater skills, which tribe had bigger balls. All the lather aside, they also shared mutual respect, although undetectable by most onlookers. Almost all of them had been deployed and shot at, and that made them all airman brothers.

Jackie’s husband Major Stan Mason was one of the Viper tribe brothers now, although he had flown the A-10 in earlier assignments. He had mastered the art of tangling it up with the A-10 drivers at the Club, but more importantly he was a master of the gorgeous F-16 and also the mission of his squadron, the 480th Fighter Squadron. The 480th was home to the only United States Air Force F-16CM Block 50 Fighting Falcon aircraft in Europe.

Jackie was proud to be part of this wing and its rich and distinguished history. She loved spending time in the maintenance bays talking to crew chiefs and in the finance office chatting with the young airmen there. No matter what the career field, people seemed genuinely proud of their contribution to the big Air Force. Although operations typically got the glory, the people behind the scenes knew that it wouldn’t come together without them. Any pilots worth their salt knew to appreciate the team concept.

Jackie thought about how many times they had exercised responding to mishaps compared to the number that had actually taken place at Spangdahlem. Thankfully there weren’t many, although almost everything negative dealing with aircraft or the expensive equipment was labeled a mishap. A mishap could be anything from dinging a wingtip while pulling a jet from a hangar, to a crash with loss of life. She supposed it was public affairs propaganda to make things sound very generic until the real damage could be calculated. No sense scaring the public.

There are a lot of actions that take place when an aircraft goes down. In this exercise scenario, the pilot reported trouble directly after take-off, so the people in the tower were watching the prescribed flight path. The folks working the squadron operations desk monitored the radio chatter between the plane and the tower. In the Radar Approach Control Facility, also known as RAPCON, air traffic controllers use a battery of radar scopes to track the departing aircraft and provide instructions to smoothly integrate each flight into the air traffic area high above the lush German countryside.

To simulate the aircraft crash, it had to be expertly orchestrated to make the crash coherent and realistic. Jackie had an exercise evaluation team, or EET, member in the tower standing by to give injects to the Supervisor of Flying. The SOF is a pilot in the tower that is available real-time to deal with the management of the overall flying operation and to be available in instances where a highly-seasoned-pilot’s expertise is required without delay.

The injects were used to create an understanding in real time of where reality was transitioning to the pretend scenario. The visual cues that would occur with a real-world situation, such as smoke, fire, and enemy planes in the sky, weren’t going to be seen in a simulation, so they had to be briefed instead.

For this scenario, after a real plane lifted off with a pilot on board who was drafted into role-playing a part in the exercise, the pilot made a staged call over the radio, Exercise, exercise, exercise, this is Dawgy One Four. I'm two miles north of the airfield with a CONFIRMED engine fire. Exercise, exercise, exercise.

At the same time, the EET member in the tower presented the SOF with an index card with a clearly typed inject:

Another EET member was in place in the dimly lit RAPCON to hand an inject card to the sergeant working Departure Control monitoring the aircraft’s flight path after takeoff.

The challenge was getting everyone to understand that, although the indications were showing a crash off base, for the purposes of the exercise, the Fire Department and rescue teams would respond to the simulated location on base where the emergency locator beacon was going off. Jackie had another EET member in place at the fire department to provide them with the proper response location once they received the call about the downed jet.

Jackie worried over the potential for confusion, but she wasn’t able to think of a better way to simulate the scenario. Besides, everyone was so used to exercise-isms that the players didn’t blink at the inconsistency. They would all respond to the simulated crash site and act as if they were carefully approaching a smoking hole in some German’s cow pasture.

Of course, they didn’t respond as quickly as she would have liked, hence Staff Sergeant Ford’s close encounter with hypothermia.

The 52d Operations Group commander nodded at Jackie as she slipped in the back, but didn’t stop talking to his executive officer.

Lee, get copies of the last ORI’s write-ups for the squadron commanders. Apparently, they didn’t read them closely enough since we’re seeing the same mistakes again. To the group he said, Interesting that the engine caught on fire so soon after take-off yesterday, he flashed a look at Jackie, but let’s not fight the scenario. The point was that we had a downed pilot. What took us so long to reach him?

The ORI, or operational readiness inspection, was the wing’s report card from higher headquarters on their ability to do their mission. Everyone had a vested interest in making the most of the learning experiences Jackie brought to bear.

The conversation went on with a lot of discussion. There were some good points made and the squadron commanders brought up things she hadn’t considered. Jackie took notes on what processes they wanted to implement that she should test next time. The commander was right to tell his folks not to fight the exercise. The point of any good scenario was to create situations that weren’t common place, forcing the participants to work through them using all their faculties and training. The twists that Jackie and her team added to the action pushed them off balance, requiring them to exercise their brain in other ways to solve the problem and move ahead.

In some cases, responses to the scenario required mere compliance with a list of actions that are rarely, if ever, done in real life. Because of the exercise environment, anything could be brought to the surface. In other cases, the exercise script reflected the unpredictability of real life, requiring the players to think outside the box. In both cases, the benefit was in having a low-risk rehearsal before encountering the paralyzing shock of the genuine thing. When the unexpected happened for real, the players would have a starting point.

After the hotwash broke up, Jackie slipped out the back door before anyone could corner her with questions. She had a lot of notes to type up and a few more stops to make before the end of the day. Plus she needed to meet with her team and get their thoughts. She made a mental note to call Staff Sergeant Ford to see how he was feeling.

When she walked into the headquarters building, she was lost in thought. Jackie, she heard a deep voice call to her.

She turned at the sound of her name, Yes, sir?

I wanted to let you know that was a hell of a scenario, Colonel Tim Polles said. The wing commander extended his hand to shake Jackie’s.

She returned his firm grip and blushed slightly. Thank you, sir.

I know it isn’t easy taking gruff from all the unit commanders on this base, but remember, I’m the only one who matters. He smiled easily.

Jackie knew he was a hard but fair boss and she liked working for him. He was a colonel and destined to be a general officer someday.

I know you can be awfully hard on yourself sometimes too, he went on. It’s okay to push yourself—but not over the edge. Do you hear what I’m saying?

Jackie nodded. She wondered if he really saw that in her or if her boss had talked to him. I’ll work on that, sir.

He shook his head and laughed, Go home and get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.

As Jackie headed home that night she was tired, but felt a sense of satisfaction. The wing commander was right. It had been a good scenario, and one that had never been tested before. Jackie prided herself on originality and she did push herself in everything she did. She even understood when he said she shouldn’t push herself over the edge. She tended to be a perfectionist when it came to work, and she was very hard on herself when she didn’t meet her self-set high standards. She had been like that her whole life, and wasn’t sure how to curb that drive—or if she wanted to.

Now Jackie tried to relax and leave her worries of the mission behind. She loved the drive through the rolling countryside. It was lush and green, even with the cold weather. As she topped the rise in Schwarzenborn, she could see the small town of Grosslittgen in the distance. She and Stan had lucked out when they came across the single-family dwelling nestled in the village. At first the thought of living next to a graveyard seemed a little creepy, but in Germany, even the cemeteries were beautiful examples of exquisite German grooming and precision.

There weren’t any other Americans in Grosslittgen, but there was a German frau that had befriended Jackie and Stan. Margaret was wonderful and helped them interpret their German bills and talk with their landlord, whose English was sketchy. The other Germans in the town accepted Stan and Jackie and invited them to neighborhood outings. It was fun to try to converse in the limited German they knew. As long as the sentences were short and spoken slowly in the present tense, Jackie was usually able to follow along.

When Jackie pulled into the garage, she noticed Stan was already home. She was starving so she hoped he’d started dinner. She opened the door and was greeted with the alluring smell of Italian spices. Stan, I love you! she yelled into the house as she dropped her coat and purse on the stairs. She walked into the kitchen and put her arms around the man stirring homemade spaghetti sauce on the stove. She loved how her arms fit so perfectly around his trim but muscular waistline. With him standing at almost six feet, her head rested comfortably on his chest. His dark hair was military short and slightly unkempt after a day of wearing a flying helmet.

You’d love any man that would feed you, Stan quipped, raising his eyebrows at her playfully as he continued his dinner preparations.

Probably, but you feed me in my own house so that makes you extra special. She gave him one last squeeze and let him go. I’m going to slip into something more comfortable, she said over her shoulder as she left the kitchen.

Stan smiled after her. He knew what that meant.

A few minutes later, Jackie returned in her old gray sweats, and her Go Navy sweatshirt. She was wearing the pink fluffy slippers he had given her last Christmas. It could be 80 degrees outside and Jackie’s feet would still be cold.

Comfy? he asked with a smile. She liked wearing her Navy sweatshirt to taunt him that the Navy had courted her before he did. She was very glad she has chosen the Air Force instead.

Very. Thank you. What do you need me to do?

Get the plates and then grate the fresh Parmesan that’s in the fridge.

Jackie opened the cupboard to retrieve the plates. So, what’s the word on the streets about the exercise? How did the squadrons do?

Well, as soon as I gave the call that I had a fire, I stopped talking to them and listened in. The guys were directed to another frequency to continue working through the response. Stan had been the pilot Jackie drafted into helping. Having an in to the fighter community made Jackie’s job easier. We used the exercise frequency and everyone did well throwing in ‘exercise, exercise, exercise’ once in a while, just in case.

Jackie smiled. That was one serious concern about this scenario—that someone would overhear the radio chatter and take it as real.

How’s Sergeant Ford? Stan asked.

He’s fine. He was in place early this morning. I think he feels worse about the incident than I do.

Jackie took care to grate the cheese without slicing her fingers. She was glad Stan was in a good mood tonight. She went on, All the scenarios went by the book today. It was great that more of the younger folks gave the deployment briefings rather than the people that usually do it. They did a good job.

Stan dished out the spaghetti and put the plates on the table. Jackie got down wine glasses and uncorked a bottle of Chianti. She poured and offered a glass to Stan. He sipped the red, Ah, 2002. A great year for red stuff.

Jackie smiled and took her seat at the table. She and Stan were by no means wine-snobs. They enjoyed the wine probes along the Mosel River and bought whatever wine caught their fancy, regardless if it had won awards or not. Mostly they had whites, but an occasional red would find its way to their wine cellar. Even though the dollar wasn’t doing that well against the Euro, wine was still inexpensive in this area.

So now that the exercise is almost over, I told the Burketts we would meet them for dinner Friday night, Stan said.

Jackie looked shamefaced. Not Friday. We still have reports to write and need to prepare for the debrief with the wing commander on Saturday.

He put his glass down hard and a red stain formed around the base on the white tablecloth. He picked up his fork and pushed food around on his plate.

Come on, Stan. You knew this was going to be a crazy few weeks.

Jackie, this has been going on more than a few weeks. You’re hardly ever here when I get home, and when was the last time we went to bed at the same time? I’m out by the time you wander in or get done typing on the couch!

Jackie immediately tried to think of the last time they shut out the bedroom lights together, and she couldn’t help but extend that mental search to the last time they made love. Frustrated at not being able to get an answer in her mind, she lashed out at Stan, Well, it isn’t like you keep a steady schedule either. I never know what your flight schedule is and when you might be home. Jackie was disappointed that their peaceful evening had turned into another argument. And then you take off TDY for weeks at a time without so much as calling home. Jackie really didn’t mind Stan’s temporary duty assignments. They gave her time to work as late as she wanted, eat what and when she wanted, and sleep in on the weekends. But that was beside the point.

Stan pushed back from the table and stormed off up the stairs.

Jackie picked up her glass and slumped back in her chair. Here’s to us, she said sarcastically. Well, one thing was for sure, Stan was going to bed without her tonight.

Chapter 3

When the alarm clock went off at 0430 the next morning, Jackie hit it quickly to avoid waking Stan. She hurried through the cold house to the bathroom. While she waited for the water in the shower to warm up, she ran through everything she needed to accomplish that day. She would meet with her team at 0630 and the first event for the day would take place at 0745. She wanted to be in place at the mobile kitchen early to see how the set up for the deployable mess was going. Then they would throw in some exercise casualties to see how flexible the airmen were at responding outside their normal duties.

When the water was as warm as it was going to get, she pulled off her pajamas and climbed in the shower, allowing the hot water to take the chill off. The house was always cold in the morning. It wasn’t well insulated and the room radiators could only do so much to keep the main living areas bearable.

She stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a thick white robe. She dried her feet quickly before putting her pink slippers back on. Then she stepped to the steamed mirror and wiped it with her sleeve, just enough to see her reflection. As she ran the brush through her shoulder-length, reddish brown hair, she continued her internal checklist. By the time she completed French braiding her hair and tucking it up, she had begun writing scenarios in her head for the next exercise.

Her team meeting at 0630 went smoothly. Everyone was ready and knew their assignments for the day. She answered a few last-minute questions and then sent them on their way to give them plenty of time to get in place.

Jackie stopped by her office to pick up some