“Me, too.” Will turned to shake the hand Stack held out to him.
“Cam and I will roll the ramp out of the way once you’re all aboard. God speed and safe keeping. I’ve done what I can from this end.”
“You always do and I appreciate it.” An appreciation he was always careful to voice and to show in the ‘above the invoice’ payment he sent each time he needed a secure way in and out of the States.
“No telling what awaits you at the other end. Stay alert.”
Stack headed back to the truck with the trailer that had gotten them this far. Will supposed Cam was the man waiting beside the truck Stack had driven.
With the black cat at his heels, Will walked toward the plane, his steps slowing as he neared the ramp. He reached the base and stopped. Liz and the Catria were halfway up the ramp, silhouetted against the blue background of the sky. Anya stood at the top, watching their progress. Vulnerable. All three of them. Will’s gut clenched. He didn’t see anything alarming but he felt it and then the cat hissed.
* * *
I don’t claim to have paranormal powers. I do, however, possess a keen sense of self-preservation which frequently gives warning when things are about to go awry. The hair that rises along my neck at almost the same instant Will pauses at the base of the ramp to the plane is such a warning. Will casts a careful look toward the fencing that stands closest to us, a line of demarcation between the runway and the empty slope of land beyond. His right hand eases toward his waistband.
A flash of silver beyond the fence catches my attention and I growl as a high-powered bullet gouges a line in the tarmac much too close to Will’s boots. Things are about to get lively.
* * *
Liz lost her balance as Owen surged forward, almost dragging her up the ramp before she regained her feet. Her identification of the noise that startled him was delayed. Despite having been married to a police officer once upon a time, guns were not her strong point. She gave his lead a series of gentle yet firm tugs. The panels were stout but she wasn’t sure they would hold his weight if he panicked. He might well plunge them both over the side. He slowed and she felt a glimmer of hope. They were nearly at the plane’s opening and safety.
Above her, she sensed rather than saw Anya swing a rifle to her shoulder. She prayed the woman wouldn’t decide to return fire just yet. Owen would go wild at the sound in such close proximity. She heard the softer pop of a pistol fired somewhere below her. Will. Fear streaked through her. All of them were out in the open and far too visible. “Come on, sweetheart,” she whispered. “A few more steps. Please.”
Her knees were shaky as she led the stallion onto the plane. Anya waved her toward the stalls then stepped out and onto the ramp and began firing. The sounds from outside the opening were muffled. Owen snorted and danced but allowed her to maneuver him into one of the padded stalls. It wasn’t as large as she first wished with no room to turn. She had to back him into the space. On quick reflection, she realized the compact size of the stall was probably safer for its purpose. The stallion would be able to brace himself during flight if the weather got rough.
The irony of her thoughts struck her as she fastened the stall door closed. Bullets were whizzing their way and she was worried about air turbulence.
* * *
“Go, go, go!”
Will reacted to Stack’s urgent shout and raced up the steps. Seconds ahead of him, the black cat reached the top, darting past Anya who stood at the opening, rapid-firing in the direction of the shooter as Stack and Cam sprinted toward the plane to roll the ramp away. Once Will and Trouble were inside, Anya slid the door shut and secured the lock.
“There are seats up front.” Her words were clipped but her voice was calm. “Your belongings are in the overhead compartments so you can get to them easily once the plane reaches cruising altitude. Fasten your seatbelts. You know the rest of the drill.” With that, she disappeared into the cockpit where the pilot already had the plane moving down the runway.
Ignoring safety precautions for the moment, Will moved to a window where he could see Stack and his man. The ramp had been pushed to one side of the runway and the two trucks, with Stack and Cam behind the wheels, were already rolling in the opposite direction. That answered one question and confirmed his belief. The shooters had no further interest in Stack or his team. The shots fired were either to regain control of the stallion or prevent his return to Italy—by any means. Thank God, Anya was as good with a rifle as she was with a griddle.
He took the aisle seat opposite Liz and fastened his seat belt. The plane seemed to be making an exaggeratedly slow ascent. He supposed that was in deference to the stallion.
When his phone rang, he realized he’d forgotten to put it in airplane mode. Forgivable considering gunfire and all. He answered because it was Anya and she was in the cockpit.
“Hey, I wanted to give you a heads up. The captain is looking at some squall lines over our route. We may detour at some point. If that happens, you’ll wake up in the UK.”
“You’re supposing we can sleep.” He could feel Liz’s gaze on him and switched to speaker mode so that she could hear.
“I would suggest you try later on. I’ll manage a nice dinner and perhaps a bottle of wine will help with that.”
“All the amenities of home.” Beside him Liz snorted. Ah, so she did have a sense of humor somewhere, albeit a dry one.
“Almost. Your seats fully recline and there are blankets and pillows in the overhead compartments. You may even find a movie or two you haven’t seen.”
When that conversation ended, Will called Tucker. If Anya could ignore flight protocol regarding cell phone use, he could as well. Again, he hit speaker so that Liz could hear both ends of the conversation.
“Will! I hadn’t expected to hear from you until you were close to departure. Is everything alright?”
“More or less. We’re actually already airborne.”
“Fast.”
“Rushed,” Will corrected. “We were spotted on the interstate and followed to the airport. We shook them momentarily but they regrouped enough to fire a few rounds as we were loading the stallion.”
“He’s not hurt, is he?”
Will smiled. Ever the vet. Horse first, people next. “He’s fine and so are we.”
“Jana will be relieved. He’s become something of a favorite with her even though he never warmed up to any of us.”
“Ah, yes, and that reminds me. Tell Jana she did a good job with the interview.”
“I’ll tell her.” Tucker chuckled. “She might even be somewhat disappointed at having her acting career cut short. After talking with Avery again, we’d decided to start small on the reward and then double it with another newscast. Build the drama, so to speak.”
And that explained that, Will thought.
“Apparently, there’s no longer a need,” Tucker added.
Will almost agreed with Tucker. He doubted shots would’ve been fired if their attackers had had any doubt about the stallion’s identity. Still. “Why don’t you go ahead with that plan. I don’t think they’ll come back your way now that they know the stallion’s gone but I’d rather they be convinced you don’t know where he is or who has him. A second broadcast would help with that.”
He assured Tucker again that the Catria was unharmed and would be aground within the next 12 hours but didn’t bother with the details. There was little point in explaining why they were going to Switzerland first if they ended up in the UK for a different reason. Suffice it to say, the stallion was headed back where he belonged.
* * *
As I look about the plane, I gather there is an entire segment of the airline industry devoted to the transportation of equines. I’m miffed that there aren’t similar accommodations for felines, given that we are the distinctly superior species.
Even so, I’m satisfied with my surroundings for the moment. I’ve my choice of window or aisle seat and Anya has promised me a nice repast. She even
thanked me for my appreciation of the meal she prepared while we awaited departure. I’m not, however, satisfied that the bad guys, whoever they may be, were able to track us so successfully. Not satisfied, at all.
We could as easily have been on interstates headed north to international airports in Tennessee or south to Florida with its equal number of international exits, yet they accurately intercepted us heading east to Georgia. Did they, as Will suspects, have other teams watching the other routes? Were they simply lucky? Or is there a reason for their success that eludes me, a clue we must uncover to remain safe going forward?
* * *
Anya served, then joined them, in a restaurant quality meal, catering more to the cat than her human charges. All things considered, Will was inclined to do a bit of catering himself. He’d been on the fence as to whether Trouble had intentionally drawn their attention to the television they’d been ignoring and the news broadcast with Jana offering a reward for the return the stallion. The low yowl, in that moment, had seemed purposeful as the cat was typically very quiet. But his hiss before the first shot was fired on the runway could not be discounted. Trouble had felt or seen a threat and given notice. The fact that Will had already sensed danger didn’t negate Trouble’s warning.
“That was some excitement before take-off, wasn’t it!” Anya’s tone was more cheerful than concerned.
“Does that happen often?” Liz asked. “You all seemed fairly quick with returning fire.”
Anya’s expression sobered instantly. “Not often but one time too many. Stack started out transporting equines for Olympic athletes and their grooms. His reputation caught the attention of some big names in horse racing. Our third flight with a Derby hopeful turned ugly when one of the trainer’s competition attempted a skyjacking. We lost a crew member. After that Stack made every single one of us learn to shoot and requires us to carry while transporting.”
“Which requirement came in handy today,” Will murmured.
He felt more than saw the sharpness of the look Liz gave him and suspected she had unvoiced issues with guns. He didn’t flaunt his pistol but he’d had reason to be grateful for it more than once. As long as bad guys carried, good guys would need to do the same or good would cease to exist.
When Anya returned to the cockpit, Liz leaned her seat back as Will opened his laptop. He checked his email first and gave a hum of satisfaction.
“The DNA results were conclusive. We have the Catria.”
“You never doubted it, did you?”
“No,” Will admitted. His intuition rarely failed him.
Liz smiled. “So…what’s his name?”
Will chuckled, silently acknowledging he could now recognize this as a typical Liz response. The mechanics of what they were doing and why took second place. Her rapport with the horse would always take top billing.
“Milo Armino,” he read aloud.
“I’m not sure Milo has a particular meaning but Armino is an Old German word for warrior,” she said in response. She looked thoughtful. “I looked up the name Owen. It means young warrior in Welsh. Nadine cared about that, about his name.” She repeated “Milo” softly as if testing the name before she leaned her head back once more.
The bit of sky Will could see through the window darkened rather abruptly as the jet took them into the night. He settled into his research.
After a while, Liz dozed fitfully, murmuring now and again as faint frowns chased across her face. Will tried to focus on the notes he’d made prior to finding the Catria and on capturing the events since then, but found himself watching her as often as not.
A soft whoosh signaled the arrival of an email and a quick glance at the subject line had Will frowning. Stallion Five. Minimizing the document with his notes, he opened the message from the Italian statesman who’d hired him and began reading. The comments were terse and he could almost feel the frustration behind the words.
The most recent target was seven years old, older than any of the others but still considered young, Will supposed. A Ventasso, a breed named after a mountain in the Italian province of Reggio Emilia, the horse had been standing at stud for a little over three years. Typing quickly, Will pulled up an online description of the breed with the history and typical characteristics and placed it side by side with the information on the stolen horse.
In the midst of reading, Will felt a stare. Not Liz. She’d finally relaxed into a more restful sleep. The cat, however, had deftly made his way to the seat next to Will and sat watching him. Once he had Will’s attention, he turned his gaze to the screen. Feeling more than a little ridiculous, Will turned the laptop so that the screen faced the cat as much as it did him. Giving a mental shrug, he continued reading.
The Ventasso was a rare breed which had long been prized by the military for its sturdy build and stout heart. Several of this stallion’s offspring had already found their way into the Italian army as pasture mates until of an age to be ridden. Will forced himself not to skim through the rather wordy history of the breed. Somewhere a clue existed that would help him solve this case. To date, none of the missing horses were, or ever had been, renowned athletes nor were any of their offspring. They were, for the most part, sturdy breeds of work horses, the theft of which made no sense. The fact that their respective breeds were dwindling in number made them valuable to the Italian government—but to who else? Early on, Will had focused most of his attention in Europe. Finding the Catria in America was a game changer.
* * *
Hmm who is this Duke Ferdinand of Bourbon and when did he live? Not that history is pertinent to the matter at hand but it is sometimes fascinating and this duke seems tied to the earliest documentation of the Ventasso line. I believe I must do some research in my leisure, if I’m to have any leisure on this case. I’m dubious on that score. Honestly! A rather messy murder putting us on the lam, dodging helicopters and then bullets is not how I prefer to conduct my investigations.
Of more current interest than the old duke, however, is the fact that Will chose to share his information with me. A step forward and one I appreciate.
My next step will be to discover what links these horses—five of them now—together. All are stallions so that will factor in somehow. But the Catria and the Ventasso came from different establishments, different geographical regions even. I don’t have sufficient information on the other equines that have vanished. There will be ties—not apparent as yet—but they exist. And I shall discover them.
Motive must also be discerned. It would seem no ransom has been asked so not the accumulation of wealth. Revenge? Envy? Both have played heavily in recent of my cases.
As I ponder my need for further information and how to obtain it, Will gratifies me yet again, closing out the email and the tedious online research which I’ve sufficiently scanned and opening up his notes and a trove of information regarding our current case. We study the screen together but I can see immediately that there are significant gaps in the information he has been able to gather. Gaps we must close.
* * *
Will finally closed his laptop and his eyes. He had no idea what lay ahead but suspected they all needed what rest they could get. The cat seemed to agree as he made himself comfortable on the seat beside Will.
Chapter Six
Liz’s first glimpse of Switzerland was a disappointment. They’d departed blue skies and crisp fall weather and arrived to a grey downpouring of rain. Milo liked the change even less than Liz, showing his displeasure with snorts and head tossing. Despite his performance, not once did the stallion jerk on the lead she held as she walked beside him, murmuring reassurances. The cat stalked ahead of them as if leading the way, which she would have found odd if she didn’t already suspect he was not your average cat.
Beside her, Will carried their bags toward the long hangar where they were to part ways with Stack’s crew.
Liz stepped through the wide opening and found herself abruptly halted as Will took a protective step in front
of her. The cat hissed displeasure. Faces grim, Anya and the pilot moved up quickly, one on either side of Will, swinging rifles from their shoulders in simultaneous, defensive moves which stunned and startled Liz. The training Anya had mentioned had been far more than simple marksmanship. Will had some seriously formidable associates.
The promised truck and trailer were in the hangar—along with several armed men. Although not in uniform, they all wore pale gray shirts imprinted with a black logo and what appeared to be a company name. A slender woman in crisp slacks and a blazer stepped forward, empty hands lifted in a placating gesture.
“Mr. Chandler, I’m Paula Massine.” She looked from Will to Liz and gave a polite nod acknowledging her presence.
Liz judged her to be somewhere between fifty and sixty. She wore her dark hair, interspersed with silver strands, pulled up in a chignon. Her face was youthful without any hint of surgical intervention. Liz recognized the countenance of serene and healthy living.
The woman’s gaze shifted to the stallion and her expression changed. Liz watched it soften from polite professionalism to relief and affection.
“Ms. Massine,” Will said. “I recall seeing your name in the information given to me. You’re the farm manager.”
The woman refocused her attention on Will. “I am, yes, and we’ll take Milo home from here. These men belong to the farm and are no threat to you, but you’ll want to speak with your contact in Rome for confirmation. He’s waiting for your call.”
Her English was excellent but a soft accent was still very noticeable.
Will gave Liz a questioning look. When she nodded, he stepped aside, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. His action, whether it was to ensure she felt safe or in deference to her judgement of any change in situation regarding the horse, caught her off guard.
A Whisper of Trouble Page 6
