“Are you asking me if the Slovakian authorities will be able to tell it’s a stealth aircraft?”
“That’s correct.”
“They’ll know. If I were you, I’d gear up with a plausible story. Or, perhaps think about telling the truth. You didn’t create Aleksander Kovalenko. He’s Ukrainian, and his desire was to kill Russians. America wasn’t involved, only in that we stopped the attack and killed him.”
“He’s dead?” Kensington asked as if he needed to hear the news twice. “Where’s his body? How did he die?”
“Near the crashed Boeing 727,” Donovan said. “He was killed by gunfire, and it’s possible that he has the jump drive that Daniel Pope created.”
Kensington’s eyelids fluttered briefly, as if in shock, while he processed what he’d just heard.
“I never saw what was on it myself, but I hear it had flight plans, pictures of Kovalenko, a file on Daniel Pope, as well as the tactics that Quentin Kirkpatrick used to coerce him to go undercover.”
“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” Kensington asked. “You made sure we couldn’t cover up what took place tonight. I’m going to have you arrested for treason.”
“Let’s get a few things straight. The Boeing waiting for us is courtesy of the President, who’s going to get a full briefing of all the events, including this conversation we’re having right now.” Donovan stood, going chest to chest with Kensington, and looked down at the man who was a good four inches shorter. “If you ever mess with my family, you don’t get deniability. You’ll get a shit-storm.”
“You don’t get to talk to me like that!” Kensington snarled.
“In your upcoming debriefing at Langley, you know, the one where you’re going to try to save your job, you tell your superiors that the CIA can expect my cooperation, as long as the agency buries the file on my wife that Kirkpatrick used to blackmail her, and leave me, my wife, my family, and my friends alone—forever. Now, is there any part of that you need me to repeat?”
“You can go to hell, Mr. Nash! We’ll use whatever we deem necessary—”
Turbulence rocked the Osprey, and Donovan used the opportunity to end the conversation. He swung a forearm and hit Kensington square in the nose and felt cartilage splinter. Blood poured down Kensington’s face, covering his mouth and chin.
Kensington reacted quickly and brought his fist up to strike back when his legs were cut out from underneath him. He went down hard, slamming his head on the steel floor and lay there stunned, gasping for breath.
Mathews sprang to his feet and winked at Donovan as he grabbed Kensington by the arm and helped him sit up. “Sir, you need to strap in, the turbulence can be dangerous.”
Kensington yanked off his headset, turned, and allowed Mathews to help him to his feet and lead him away.
“Nicely done,” Montero’s voice filled Donovan’s headset.
Across the aisle, Donovan found that her eyes were open and her headset plugged in. She’d been listening the entire time. When needed, she’d taken Kensington’s legs out from under him. Donovan smiled. She’d had his back, and at that moment he knew that she always would.
“Can I interest you in a full-time job?” Donovan said and watched as the words had their desired effect. Montero, despite her fatigue, smiled.
“Maybe,” she replied. “What’s my title going to be?”
“Chief of Security for Eco-Watch.”
Montero shook her head. “I like Director of Security better, and nowhere does the name Veronica appear—anywhere.”
“Done. How much do I have to pay you?”
“I trust you to be fair,” Montero said as she shrugged. “When do I start?”
“You already have,” Donovan said. “From the moment we began this mission.”
“If I work for you, will you promise to do what I tell you to do?”
“We both know I can’t really make that promise.”
“I know, you’ll always be a pain in the ass, but we have a deal, anyway,” Montero reached across the aisle and the two of them shook hands.
Donovan nodded his approval and saw that Lauren looked to be sleeping peacefully. He leaned back and closed his eyes. He focused on the noise of the slipstream, which was the sound of going home, and within a minute, he, too, drifted off to sleep.
EPILOGUE
“YOU BOUGHT YOUR five-year-old daughter an entire equestrian center?” Lauren said, using her good hand to poke her husband in the arm.
Donovan shot William an accusatory look and then refocused on his wife. They were sitting in the vacant bleachers at the stable. As promised, they’d made it back for Abigail’s riding lesson. Abigail had been thrilled to see them both, though initially upset about Lauren’s injuries. She’d finally decided that her mother’s cast was cool, and Lauren let her draw pictures on the smooth plaster. Abigail had finished her lesson and was in the stable attending to Halley’s post-ride grooming.
“I assumed you’d already mentioned it to your wife,” William said with a subtle smile on his face.
“It was going to be a surprise,” Donovan said, but the second the words were out of his mouth he heard how hopeless his defense sounded. With everything that had happened, he’d forgotten to mention the eight million dollars William had spent acquiring not only Abigail’s horse, but the land, and finally the center itself.
“It’s partially my fault,” William said with a shrug. “Donovan asked me to look into acquiring the property the center leased. You know, since he’d already bought the horse to keep Abigail happy.”
“This was after I found out they were selling Halley, because developers were in the process of buying the land, and the center was going to shut down, permanently,” Donovan added. “With everything going on, I forgot I’d asked William to look into the situation.”
“When I studied the deal, it made sense to buy everything,” William said. “Don’t worry, Abigail never has to know.”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “If she does, you two get to explain it to her.”
“It’ll be fine,” Donovan said. “If she grows out of her horse phase, we’ll sell the place and put the money toward her next passion.”
“How much money are we talking about?” Lauren asked.
“Eight million and change,” Donovan admitted. “We’ll use the profit from the equestrian center to start her a savings account, so that when she’s old enough to learn to fly, we can buy her a plane.”
“God save us all,” Lauren mumbled. “Anything else I should know?”
“The insurance check for the helicopter came through,” Donovan said. “Though I split it up and used part of the money as a show of appreciation for Trevor, as well as an anonymous cash gift to Daniel’s daughter. Oh, and I also gave Montero a signing bonus so she could move out of the country house into her own place. I also bought her a car.”
“You’ve been a busy man. There’s our little girl now.” Lauren stood to hug her daughter.
Donovan helped as she used her single crutch to keep pace with the other three as they headed toward the parking lot.
“See everyone later. I need to run,” William said as he headed toward his Jaguar. “Abigail, I’m so proud of your riding. I’ll see you next week.”
Abigail gave him a hug and then waved goodbye.
“You know, it’s a beautiful day, I love being with my family, and I thought we might go out to the farm,” Lauren suggested.
Donovan smiled. Though it hadn’t been a farm for decades, for generations it was his mother’s family’s home, the only place from his days of being Robert Huntington that Donovan had retained.
Abigail squealed with unbridled joy. The farm was one of her favorite places. “Is Aunt Veronica going to be there?”
“I believe so,” Lauren said. “I told her we might drop by for lunch.”
Donovan lifted his daughter up into her seat and fastened her belt. Then he took Lauren’s crutch and helped her into the passenger’s seat. He slid behi
nd the wheel and moments later, they were cruising west on Route 50.
“Daddy, can I get a pony?” Abigail said as she looked up from her tablet. “We could keep it at the farm, and I could move out there so it wouldn’t get lonely.”
“You’d stay at the farm all by yourself?” Lauren asked.
“No, you’d want to move with me,” Abigail explained as if it were obvious.
“I don’t know,” Donovan said. “Maybe someday we can talk about a pony.”
“I’m getting a pony!” Abigail yelled, nearly overcome with joy.
“Donovan!” Lauren said shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re spoiling her. What are you going to do when she’s a teenager?”
“Visit her regularly at the convent,” Donovan said, as he made the turn on Oatlands Road and sped toward the farm before he said anything else he’d regret.
He wheeled into the driveway and stopped at the control panel to the gate, slid his keycard and punched in the code. The security at the property was complex and effective. He pulled through and continued up the driveway, swung around to the rear of the massive stone house, and parked outside the garage next to a brand-new black BMW 5 Series. Across the grounds he could see Montero jump up from a chair on the patio and come toward them.
“You bought Montero a new BMW?” Lauren asked as she smiled and shook her head in mock disbelief.
“Good afternoon,” Donovan called out as he helped his daughter out of the car. The second Abigail’s feet touched the ground she bolted for Montero. The two were close.
Donovan then helped Lauren to the ground, making sure her crutch was in place. When he turned, he was shocked to discover they had company.
Kristof stood, his cane in his right hand, Marta supporting his left side. Donovan felt tears push to the surface as he quickly covered the distance to where they waited. He hugged Marta, and then turned toward Kristof, and found the face of his youth, the smile that had launched a thousand adventures, and they hugged.
“Come,” Lauren said. “Let’s move to the shade of the patio.”
Donovan pulled away and found that Kristof’s eyes were as damp as his own, but they were clear and vibrant. He wanted to speak but couldn’t find his voice and he turned toward Lauren to see his wife hugging Marta.
“The little girl with Montero is our daughter, Abigail,” Lauren said as she moved from Marta to Kristof. “I’m so glad all of this worked out.”
“Lauren. Thank you for everything. I’m so happy to be here,” Kristof said and then opened his arms and got a hug and a kiss. He then turned to Donovan. “Bobbie, this place is magnificent; exactly the same as I remembered. It’s like going back in time.”
“That’s the whole point,” Donovan managed to say. “Exactly how is it that you’re here?”
“Lauren may have mentioned that your chartered Gulfstream was still in Budapest,” Marta said. “The doctors cleared him for the trip, and here we are. We just arrived a few hours ago. Montero picked us up and brought us here.”
“Please, let’s go sit. You must be tired from your trip,” Donovan said as he put his arm around his wife. Marta helped her father, and slowly, they made their way to the patio. As they settled around the table, Montero joined them, while at the same time keeping an eye on Abigail, who’d headed for the tire swing.
“I’ll bring out some sandwiches in a minute,” Montero said, then looked at Donovan and winked. “So, Abigail tells me you’re buying her a pony?”
“I guess I am,” Donovan held his hands up in surrender.
“Though, technically, you already have,” Lauren replied and began telling the story.
Donovan put his hand on Kristof’s shoulder. “Thank you for everything you and Marta did for us in Europe. I owe you so much, and now this. Somehow, you being here feels like old times, like we’ve never been apart.”
“Maybe we haven’t,” Kristof said.
“I agree.” Donovan smiled. “Remember in England, the day we decided we’d race?”
Kristof’s eyes grew wide as if surprised by the memory. “There’s no way that Mustang you flew was faster than my Lamborghini.”
“I think we proved that I was faster from zero to one hundred and fifty,” Donovan replied and smiled at the thought of them both out on that long ago runway.
“I had you from zero to one hundred,” Kristof said, laughing. “The bet was best two out of three.”
“The local constabulary put an end to our nonsense,” Donovan said, transported back in time with Kristof, to a story told many times. “He told you your car couldn’t be out there, even though it was an old RAF base turned private airfield.”
“Then you buzzed him,” Kristof was nearly in tears and he wiped at his eyes. “He heard you coming, but couldn’t figure out where you were. You flew over so low he practically soiled his uniform. We both nearly went to jail. That chap almost burst a blood vessel trying to find any laws we’d broken.”
“Do you remember the time we were in Monaco, and we were invited to that party aboard some prince’s yacht?”
“Oh, dear God, he hated me for ending up with some Italian model he’d just met.” Kristof immediately began laughing.
“We woke up with a massive hangover, out to sea, headed to Barcelona.” Donovan said as he reached under the table and squeezed Lauren’s hand to say thanks. Until this moment, he had no one to share his youth with who had actually been there. She squeezed in return, and her eyes told him she was happy.
“Well, what did the two of you do then?” Marta asked.
“Yes, I’d like to hear this story as well,” Lauren added. “But first, I think this occasion deserves a celebratory drink. I say we should open some champagne.”
“Perfect. But before we start drinking,” Kristof said as he turned to Donovan. “Bobbie, what’s in the garage?”
A smile came over Donovan’s face. “There are a few cars in there, but one in particular might interest you. It’s a Ferrari, one that you don’t see every day.”
“Ferraris are everywhere, except . . .” Kristof’s eyes grew wide at the sudden possibility. “No.”
Donovan nodded. “A 1963 250 GTO.”
“Dear God! How long were you going to wait to tell me about this?” Kristof planted his cane in an effort to rise. “Excuse me, ladies, but drinks are going to have to wait a little longer.”
Donovan helped Kristof to his feet, and it felt as if the years of animosity were shedding by the decade. He and Kristof, their mutual love of automobiles rekindled after all these years. At least for the time being, he could forget that his friend was sick. All that mattered was this moment, and he affectionately put his arm around Kristof’s shoulder. When he glanced back at Marta and Lauren, he saw they were smiling and talking. Lauren waved as he and Kristof, at the moment more like overjoyed boys than men, headed for the garage.
Pegasus Down: A Donovan Nash Thriller (Donovan Nash Thrillers) Page 27
