by Tony Lavely
“I’d vote for that. She didn’t mention until we kept getting reports where we expected no WIFI, that she’d also set your phone up as a WIFI base, so as long as you and it were within fifteen or so feet, we got your location. Well, if the cell signal works… which it didn’t, mostly, in Peillon.”
“Yeah. Makes sense, too. Maryam… the woman, she’s had my phone ever since the Café de Paris. She’s probably got it now. By the way, she should quietly be shown the back door and put into a taxi. After she gives you my phone.” She looked around. “This has gotta be Derek’s doing; where is he? He can arrange her release.”
“You sure? She’s one of the abductors.”
“Yeah, but Bakir is the one I want to fall. In fact, if he was killed trying to escape, I’d shed no tears. I’d probably shoot him myself…”
Sam laughed before saying, “If he comes back to Syria, I’ll see what I can arrange. Now… Derek.” He swept the area with his gaze. “Stay here with Officer Roux.” He touched the gendarme’s shoulder. “Derek vouches for him. We’re pretty sure they want to talk to you before you leave, so—”
“So I should consider myself under detention?” She grinned up at the officer, now smiling back at her. “If not actual arrest, right?” Both men nodded. “I can do that. I’ll stay right here with Officer Roux.”
Sam rubbed a stray bit of dust from her cheek and slipped through the police line.
The ten minutes before Sam returned with Derek were slow, but not unwelcome. She alternated between joy that Ian was alive enough to be angry he couldn’t be there and regret that he wasn’t well enough to be there.
She was sure that Derek deserved a hug and as many thanks as she could find, but before she got well into it, he stopped her. “Never mind all that, love. We ’ave some questions to answer for Inspector Pascal, in order to repay him for saving your arse from whatever the sheikh ’ad in mind. Which was, did ’e tell you?” He handed her phone over.
“Thanks. He said nothing that means anything. He hinted that he still wanted to sell me, though I wasn’t pregnant. And he’s still mad about Solène. She is safe, right?”
Sam nodded. “Last check, about fifteen minutes before you got here, Patrice said clear skies. He hasn’t decided where to have you meet him.”
“So, I’m conflicted, Derek. You guys can give me some advice, if we can find some place to talk. We can decide what to tell them besides put Bakir in a cell until he dies, and another year after, just to make sure.”
“Feeling a little vindictive, are we?”
“Not yet. Vindictive is what I’ll be if I find that he’s the one instigated this whole thing, beginning in Durban. Let’s talk.”
Roux found them a small room in an outbuilding near the gatehouse, then returned to his own duties. Beckie gave Derek her rationale for providing some leniency for Maryam, and not as much for Achmed and the nameless man, which mostly revolved around her desire to explain to US authorities the various plots they’d come up with before spooking their gang. “And for some reason, the guy whose name I don’t know, after he sold me off, he did his best to make sure I didn’t get hurt while in France.”
“Okay,” Derek said. “Just forget that part. You can tell the gendarmes, but don’t ask for anything because of it. Think back to ’aving Ian and Kevin locked up for six months, more, and their whole plot to disrupt the United States.”
“Okay, okay. You’re right. Still, I don’t want them to scatter like roaches until someone gets a chance to think about those attacks.”
“Yeah. I’ll talk to Blaise about that, but again, it’s not really going to be in our ’ands. If they can trust us…”
“I’ll talk to my contact as soon as I’m free here. If that’s soon, I think I’ll get to someone who can act early tomorrow morning East Coast time.” She paused. “I don’t suppose they’d have any reason to have heard about the Rose Creek job?”
“Not likely,” Sam said and Derek agreed. “No more than the papers would have mentioned.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Okay. You know what I need, Derek.”
“Give me ten minutes to talk to Blaise.”
In fifteen minutes, Derek returned with Pascal close on his heels. “Bon soir, Madame. Thank you for an interesting, but still enjoyable evening.”
“Forgive me if I don’t say it was my pleasure; however, your assistance is greatly appreciated. How else may I help you?”
“M. Hamilton has been most helpful. If I may take a few more moments…”
Paying attention to his questions, rather than just rambling on, Beckie told him what she could about the evening and her history with Bakir, still the important thing on her mind. She realized after a few minutes that while Bakir would be “dealt with,” Pascal’s main concern was with the plot to damage the United States, and the people who’d abducted her. The connection to Pakistan didn’t sound any alarms; she mentioned it once, and then moved on.
“As I told Derek, I expect to be in contact with a government agent in the US tomorrow morning their time. If…” She emphasized this. “If I am able to make a phone call or two before it gets too late there.”
“I understand your message, Madame. I think we are finished… if I can depend on you to return should it be necessary. If so, I will allow the conspirators to remain at liberty, merely surveilling them, until I hear from you or your contact. However, I will need this response within three days.”
“I’ll do my best to get to to you. In any event, I will speak with you tomorrow.”
His smile lit his face. “Excellent. M. Hamilton has my information.” He paused, and Beckie watched his face fall as he looked at his phone. He raised the hand holding it and said, “Je suis désolé! Bakir has claimed diplomatic immunity. Since his offense is not murder, he cannot be held, and is already being escorted to his aircraft. I am sorry.”
She sighed as deeply as her ribs allowed. “Legalities are difficult to avoid. I should have aimed lower when I had the chance.”
Apparently Derek had acquainted Pascal with this history; he only nodded, a bit forlorn himself.
“Okay, then. If we may leave? I will speak with you tomorrow, no matter what. And thank you once again.” She turned to Sam. “Is Karen back yet?”
“Landed ten minutes ago. If she’s been assigned the same pad, she should be there. I’ll check as we walk.”
At the door, a security official blocked their way. “You may not walk on the airfield.”
“We need to get to parking stand 31A. Can you assist?”
“Oui. I will have a car brought round.”
The ten minute wait for the car dwarfed the three minute drive to the stand with the large yellow 31A marking. As the driver approached, Beckie noticed activity at the Boeing 767 a stand away from their 737-700ER. A car similar to the one she was in pulled away from the stair, leaving four men standing. They all seemed to be intent on Beckie’s car. No… It can’t be…
The driver stopped and Derek opened his door. Sam, beside her in the back seat did the same, then came around the trunk to give her a hand out. The 737 was parked nose toward the runways, and the driver had stopped just aft of the tail. Beckie said, “Thanks,” as she stood, but motion near the neighboring aircraft again caught her eye.
Two men were running toward them, carrying automatic rifles, or close enough as made no difference. AK-47’s, maybe. She grabbed Sam’s arm and tried to pull him behind the car, but the driver had no interest in staying where weapons were displayed; the car shot forward, then slewed through a 180 degree turn and roared back toward the buildings. With no cover, she dragged Sam and shouted, “Derek! Get down, now!”
She felt the bullet hit Sam; his leg flew out from under him and finally, he was on the ground. Not the way I wanted it! He was lying between her and the attackers; when she tried to raise her head to see to his wound, he knocked her back down behind him. “Don’t move!”
Only one round had hit Sam, and from the sounds, Derek
hadn’t been hit at all. He was shouting up at the plane’s open doorway, trying to attract attention.
As Beckie wondered if she and Sam could sidle to hide behind the rolling stairs that were against the plane, she heard gunshots, different from the attackers’ rifles. She peeked around Sam’s shoulder to see Ben and Gillian on the stairs, about half-way down, sighting on the attackers, one of whom was already down.
The second man tuned tail, running back to the 767. He’d reached their stairway just as a police car, light bar flashing its blue strobes, slid to a halt beside the stair. Men erupted like clowns from a circus car; Beckie almost laughed until she heard more sirens; she sat up hoping to avoid being run down by an excitable policeman unaware of her and Sam lying on the tarmac.
“This is gonna take a while to sort out, I’ll bet.”
Sam groaned. “I hope they’ll let me get patched up first.”
“Oh, fuck!” She hopped up and waved up at Ben. “Millie, please!” Behind her, a gendarme screamed something, in French of course, so she raised her hands slowly, and turned around. “We are unarmed. He is injured. I’ve asked for our doctor to look after him.”
“Someone fired from this plane.”
“Self-defense. Is Inspector Pascal still here?” She looked around at the cars that had swarmed the two planes. One had parked blocking the nose wheel of the 767; Beckie now heard the airplane’s engines running. The door had been closed; two officers were pounding on it.
Another vehicle blocked their 737, but Karen had shut the engines down, so that was a formality.
By the time her survey had been completed, Millie had run from the stairs to Sam’s side. The policeman stood close until she’d opened her bag and he’d seen no weapons. Then, he stepped back a couple of feet, still monitoring Beckie.
Where’d Derek go? And what’s happening on the plane?
Suddenly several bursts of gunfire broke the uneasy quiet. Both seemed to originate from the 767. When Beckie looked, the hatch was now open and the police were storming through it. One more burst and the scene fell still again, except for an ambulance approaching from near the guardhouse.
“There,” Millie said. “That will do until I can get you inside.” She grabbed Beckie’s arm and pulled her over. “You? Are you okay?”
“I have a couple more bruises than when we last met, but nothing else. Thanks.” She stood and approached the gendarme assigned to them. “Do you speak English?”
He waggled his hand in the familiar maybe yes, maybe no gesture, then said, “Un peu. A little. I have called for Inspector Pascal. He should arrive momentarily.” After a moment, he continued, “Please be still.”
Other gendarmes were leading people from the 767. Guess that’s what happens when you don’t invite them in. Here, they were stationed at the doorway and near the other hatches, but while weapons were in evidence, they were not drawn or being waved menacingly.
Her phone rang with Amy’s ring tone. “You guys okay?”
“Yeah,” Beckie said. “Millie’s got a bandaid on Sam’s leg, and we’re just waiting.”
“Same here, except we’re watching you through the window. Wave at the fourth window; you’ll make Ian laugh.”
Ian! Her heart jumped. So near and yet… She stood, carefully so as not to worry the guard, and waved with both hands, counting four windows from the door, and then four from the wing, and then just waving everywhere.
“Okay, okay!” Amy’s voice was ragged from her laughter. “He’s laughing and waving back, but I’m sure you can’t see. Anyway, Derek says you should make your phone call.”
“Oh. Yeah, right. Did my little message make sense to you?”
“What… Oh, the Raptor Five thing. Not to me, but it sure did to Lisa. She was on the phone as soon as I asked her, talking to Eric. Of course, no one knew why we should be talking to him…”
“Ask her to text me a number where I can get him. Explanations will follow.”
“No matter what he says,” Millie said, “Ian needs time before going back to work.”
Beckie spun to stare at the doctor. “I guess that’s not a surprise. Being killed two, maybe three times, and shot and all, that’d even keep Sam down for a day or two, right, Sam?” She dropped to sit next to them, then patted his arm.
“It would, Mrs. Jamse, no doubt.”
“So, okay, Millie. How about I tell you when I plan to ask for his help, and you can approve?”
“Or you can disregard my advice—”
“Not without good reason.”
Her phone lit up with Lisa’s text. She touched the number, then waited.
“Hello, Eric? Beckie Jamse. No time, so listen. I need to talk to Chelsie or someone in a similar position, tomorrow morning.”
“On the phone?”
“At first, but I think we’ll need to meet in person to do any good.”
“Is this a good number?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“Five minutes.”
In four minutes, her phone began the unknown caller ringtone; Beckie looked at the New York number and worried for a moment before touching the accept icon.
“Mrs. Jamse?”
“Chelsie? Thanks for calling me so quickly.”
“You have excellent references who speak quite highly of you. And there is our mutual history, of course. How can I help you?”
“It’s more I’d like to help you, but it’s not something for the phone, I’m afraid. Can we meet, tomorrow, perhaps?”
“It’s Sunday… Yes, I can rearrange things. When is good?”
“Unfortunately, I’m in France right now, and I’m unsure when I’ll be able to depart—”
Sam’s hand waving under her nose interrupted her. He pointed to Pascal, standing next to the guard. “You should be able to leave very soon; under the agreement we reached earlier. On a different note, you will not have to return in the matter of Bakir; he intercepted a bullet to death. We are uncertain if it was one of his bodyguards or one of the police, but that will not be a concern for you.”
“Thank you for that!” She spoke to the phone. “We’ll be leaving as soon as we can get the wheels up. I’ll call you back with an arrival time. I believe Fort Lauderdale, if that’s convenient for you?”
“I’ll have someone meet you when you give me the arrival time. See you tomorrow.”
Beckie dropped her phone into her pocket. “Are we clear, then, Inspector?”
“We are, again. Go to your friends.”
She and Millie, along with the guard and Pascal, assisted Sam in getting vertical, and then up the steps to the plane. Beckie noticed that Millie was ahead of her, but why wasn’t clear until she got through the door. The palletized seats were blocked by the team, waiting to congratulate her and commiserate with Sam. Ian and Kevin were aft of the seats, on beds like the one Ian had come back from Egypt in. Kevin was grinning like a mad-man; Ian was more subdued, but to Beckie, he glowed as if he’d just won the lottery, or been given the keys to the kingdom. And, she thought, maybe he has.
When she tried to worm her way around Millie, the doctor took her arm and slowly walked her back to the hospital area.
“Restrictions,” Millie said. “No squeezing; Beckie’s ribs are broken again. No keeping each other awake, both of you need rest. No sex. Cuddle and sleep. Busy day tomorrow,”
“Finally I can hold you! I missed you so much, especially when you were dead. I love you!” She glanced at Kevin. “You, too, Kev, but different, you know?” She ignored any response he might have made in favor of kissing Ian. However, she quickly broke that off to address Kevin again. “Sorry! I hope someone’s thought to warn Shalin that you’re on the way back.”
Willie’s deep voice said, “I spoke with her just after they revived. She’s headed back to the Nest.”
“You let Shen know, too? I think an Extreme Risk level would be reasonable.”
Willie chuckled as he glanced at Ian. “What have you created? Shen agrees. He
has already begun a review of every visitor over the past three months.” He chortled again. “Doctor Claire was miffed until we explained why she was being investigated.”
“Wait! You vetted Moriko again? She’s—”
“She’s fine and once Shen and Millie talked to her, she said she’d have raised ‘bloody blue blazes’ if we hadn’t. Do everyone, she said, then you only have to worry about the ones you missed, not the ones you misjudged. Shen took her advice to heart.”
Now Millie’s voice drifted in, only a little querulous. “That’s enough for now. Do you need a pain pill? Or sleep aid?”
“I got Ian.” She wiggled against him. “He’s all I need.”
He smiled and lifted her head for a soft kiss. “Tomorrow, you can tell me all that has happened. For now, just hold me.”
“I think that’s my line,” she said with a smile as she snuggled against his chest.
Chapter IX: South Florida
THE SUN WOKE BECKIE as the plane made a turn. Ian was holding her, a smile on his face. That smile’s not huge, but his never are. His eyes, though, they’re smiling, too.
“Good morning, love.”
“Good morning back at you.” She stretched but immediately stopped. “Ow! Too many bruises for that.”
“Yes. I noticed your torso is once more heavily taped.”
That was sort of a question, wasn’t it? “Well, this time it was all me. I misjudged where he would fall once I dislocated his knee. His hip landed…” She pressed gently at the spot just below her breast. “I heard it crack… Not a nice sound; I’d be happy if I never heard it again.” She twisted just enough to gaze into his face, then smiled. “Now, has anyone told you about your son?”
Oh, God, the happiness!
“Indeed. Several of the team felt it their duty to attempt to take my mind away from your escapades—”
“Escapades!” She began to laugh, then tried to double up and ended gasping as he gave her a forlorn look. “No, I’m fine… Really I am. But… escapades? What’s that mean?”
