Redstone Ever After

by Justine Davis

  And he had. For twenty years now, the safety of James Redstone’s little brother had been his most important mission. That it had expanded into something that far exceeded even his wildest dreams didn’t change that basic task.

  “If they’re losing it, we have to move,” Alvera said now, staring at the scenes steadily unrolling on the video monitor.

  “And do what?” Reeve asked.

  “No ransom demand because as far as they know, they don’t have him yet,” Sam said.

  “If it comes to that, pay it,” Mac said. “I’ll pay it myself in an instant for Josh.”

  “Except that he’d take your head off,” Noah Rider put in.

  “I’ll deal with that after he’s safe,” Mac said.

  “We’re not going there yet,” Draven said after listening to the exchanges.

  “Why doesn’t he just leave?” Beck asked. “They think he’s just a mechanic, why doesn’t he just make an excuse and get the hell out?”

  “And leave Tess there with them? Not Josh.”

  “And especially not Tess,” Sam said with an emphasis that put words to what Draven guessed they were all thinking; Tess and Josh had been a wish they had all made at one time or another.

  “When this is over, those two better get their act together,” Grace said sternly.

  At her words Beck glanced at the others, read their expressions. He looked rueful as he said, “Oh. Sorry. New-guy syndrome.”

  “Not your fault,” Reeve said with a wry twist of her mouth. “They do their damnedest to ignore what’s obvious to the rest of us.”

  “True, but not our mission now,” Draven said, drawing them back, knowing that no one could will their personal worry about Josh out of their minds, but also knowing it was essential to act with cool heads and not out of emotions.

  Reeve and St. John had reported back after their circuit of Josh’s plane and the area surrounding it, saying that there was no outward sign it had been tampered with, and more important, no sign at all that there was anyone on the ground connected to the two men aboard. They appeared to be working alone.

  In fact, they’d said, there was no one on the ground at all; the airport manager hadn’t lied when he’d said there was only him and the fueler.

  But there were now a dozen Redstone personnel here, and that was, in efficiency, training, brains and dedication, worth a force three times their size. And, Draven acknowledged wryly, if he ordered them to leave, even for their own safety, for one of the very few times in his life he wasn’t sure his orders would be followed.

  Brown Shirt towered over Tess. She feigned fear and backed up, coming up against a bench seat and sitting down as if she’d lost her balance. Josh knew she was feigning it, because Tessa Marqueza Machado feared nothing. As she’d once said, the worst had already been done to her, so what was left to fear?

  “Where the hell is your boss?” Brown Shirt demanded.

  Well now, Josh thought, isn’t he supposed to be your boss, too?

  The mild amusement faded quickly, replaced by concern that the man was creeping closer and closer to an unwanted explosion.

  “How on earth should I know?” Tess managed to put a suitably tremulous tone in her voice. “Do you really think he checks in with me?”

  “Were you just supposed to sit here and wait around all day?”

  “If necessary.”

  Brown Shirt swore then.

  “There’s too much going on around here. I thought this was supposed to be a quiet airport.”

  Sensing the man was on the edge, Josh spoke as if he observed nothing out of the ordinary.

  “But it is an airport. And a weekend. We get lots of hikers and hunters coming in.” Josh added a shrug for effect. “Maybe we should go have lunch.”

  The mundane suggestion seemed to startle both Brown Shirt and Pinky.

  “I’ll put it on Redstone’s bill,” Josh added, netting him a grin from Pinky. But not from Brown Shirt, who clearly was calling the shots.

  And Josh sincerely hoped that wasn’t a literal description. He didn’t want any of his people hurt. And he knew they were gathering; he’d seen the small jet touch down on the far runway a while ago, telling him even Mac was here.

  Any injury sustained by a member of the Redstone family hurt him in a personal way.

  And if anything happened to Tess…

  He couldn’t even complete the thought.

  Instead, he made himself focus on what was likely happening outside. St. John’s presence had been surprising only at first glance; Dam had a logistical and tactical mind that any commander would be a fool to overlook, and Draven was certainly no fool. And he knew from first-hand experience that his right-hand man was, when motivated, nearly impossible to say no to.

  The problem here, Josh thought, was that he himself wasn’t used to dealing with this kind of life-or-death situation. Give him a design problem to solve, or a cloud pattern to read or a concept to imagine into reality, that he could do. He could even hunt down dinner if he had to. But animals were predictable, most of the time. Their instincts drove them consistently in one direction—survival.

  People, on the other hand, were driven by many other things, and their unpredictability made them the most dangerous creature on the planet. The most wondrous, too, of course, but the most dangerous. Capable of the extremes on both ends of the scale—good and evil.

  And despite the actions of these two, he wasn’t sure exactly where they fell on that scale. And until he was sure, until he knew their motive, he couldn’t make that assessment. But he was also aware the best weapon he and Tess had just now was their ignorance that their prey was actually in their clutches right now. He just had to figure out how to use that to get them out of this.

  He had no doubt that Draven had gotten the message they’d been sending. The problem was how to make sure they weren’t at cross purposes. The Redstone team had firepower and numbers on their side, but Draven was a firm believer that all-out warfare represented a failure of tactics. He wasn’t against doing what he had to, but the phrase “surgical strike” had been invented for men like Draven.

  “Unless you’ve got time and people to waste, don’t spend time on the coils, go straight for the head of the snake,” he’d told Josh when they’d been about to pull Mac out of the hands of a jungle warlord.

  But if you don’t know who or where the head is, Josh thought, what then? Waiting was serving for the moment, but his own patience was going to run out soon.

  “Maybe the pilot knows where he is, why he’s late,” Pinky suggested.

  Brown Shirt turned to look at his partner, as if startled by the logic of his words. Josh was reminded of the old joke about even a stopped clock being right twice a day; this was number three for Pinky.

  And it was the first real chance they’d gotten at taking a step toward ending this.

  “Call him,” Josh suggested with a shrug, not even looking at either of the men, as if he were intent on his paperwork, which now consisted mainly of a list of parts that had nothing whatsoever to do with the shredded cable. “He’s probably in what’s laughingly called the lounge inside the terminal building.”

  For an interminable moment Brown Shirt didn’t move. Josh could almost feel him turning over the idea in his mind. Brown Shirt obviously knew that the “pilot” would know he didn’t work for Redstone, and had no business being on this plane.

  What he didn’t know was that with Redstone Security tuned into their every word and move, a golden door had just been opened.

  “You,” Brown Shirt said suddenly, gesturing at Tess. “You have a way to call the pilot?”

  Josh held his breath. He didn’t have to; Tess picked up the opportunity without a second’s hesitation.

  “I have his number on my cell,” she said.

  “Get your phone.”

  Josh flicked a glance at the darkened monitor in front of where he sat. The tiny blue light still glowed among the row of yellow and green lights, telli
ng him the webcam and audio connections were still live. He went back to writing on his sham repair order, but this time in larger letters across the top.

  Tess went to the cabinet where her combination briefcase and purse had been safely out of sight, a utilitarian piece that managed to look feminine at the same time. They couldn’t have known it was there or they would have confiscated her phone. He held his breath for a moment, knowing there had to be things in there that could betray who she really was. And he wanted these two to continue thinking she was unimportant, not worth their attention.

  As the two men again watched her, Josh shifted the paper he’d been writing on to where he was fairly sure the wide angle camera lens could pick it up.

  “Look up the number,” Brown Shirt said to Tess when she had the custom-built Redstone phone in her hand. “You’ll make the call, he won’t know us.” He flicked a glance at “Michael” and added, “Since we just got here and we haven’t met yet.”

  Josh didn’t look up, but registered that they were still troubling to keep up the front of being Redstone with him. He said with a creditable laugh, “Didn’t have to suffer through that landing, huh?” and kept writing.

  And thinking. Brown Shirt had no idea of that phone’s capabilities, or he never would have let her near it, Josh thought. She appeared to be fumbling with it, but Josh knew better. His Tess was quick and smart, and he was willing to bet that within seconds she had activated the two-way talk function which would give anyone else with the same phone—which was the entire Redstone Security team—mobile ability to monitor anything said in the same room with the phone, giving them full audio coverage beyond that of the video being streamed from the stationary mics and webcams.

  Bless you both, Ian and Ryan, Josh thought; the partnering of Ian Gamble’s inventive imagination and Ryan Barton’s technical expertise was a match made in progress heaven. He could just picture what was happening outside, hands grabbing for their own phones to mute the receivers on their end; the last thing they needed was for an inadvertent sound or voice to give them away.

  Tess held the phone awkwardly for a moment, as if she was having trouble remembering how to call up the number on the complex device. Josh realized what she had done in the moment when she returned the phone to a normal position; she had, brazenly, taken a picture of Brown Shirt as he stood barely eighteen inches away from her. Thanks to Ryan’s design, with the camera mounted on the leading edge of the phone instead of on the front or back as almost all others were, Josh doubted the men had any clue what she’d just done.

  He had to smother a grin at her nerve; she’d have a portrait-quality shot of Pinky before she was done, too. And she’d have them off to Draven without these two realizing a thing.

  “There it is,” she said, a bit loudly. To Brown Shirt, Josh guessed she merely sounded nervous. But he knew she simply wanted to be sure her words were clear on the other end. “Right there, under D.”

  That simply—in a way that Brown Shirt could never guess—she had warned them whose phone was about to ring.

  And suddenly Josh was filled with an odd sort of exhilaration. He’d been chained to a desk and paperwork for so long, his only challenges fending off predators in both private and government garb, spending too much precious time in just keeping Redstone free of the pernicious, creeping cancer that was strangling too many others, friends and competitors alike.

  He hadn’t been in a good, clean fight in a long time.

  Too long.

  And now that he was, there wasn’t anyone he would rather have at his side than the indomitable, courageous, and utterly cool-under-fire Tess Machado.

  And there wasn’t anyone he would give up more to keep safe.

  Chapter 12

  When his phone rang, Draven was ready. He answered simply “Hello,” instead of his usual, clipped “Draven,” not knowing how Tess might have him in her phone.

  “John? This is Tess, aboard the Hawk V.”

  Her voice was amazingly cool, calm and casual. You would never guess there was an armed man leaning over her, close enough to hear the conversation, ordering her to say exactly what he told her to say, as they’d seen on the webcam seconds ago. It was silent now; the moment his phone rang Ryan had put headphones on, muting the sound from the live feed so it didn’t come across on the phone connection. At the same time Draven had put the call on speaker, to save time explaining.

  He’d only had a minute or two to decide how to play it, and in the end simply went with his gut. “Yeah?” he said, injecting as much impatient annoyance into his voice as he could. Every eye of the team was fastened on him.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” Tess said deferentially, “but do you have any idea when Mr. Redstone will be arriving?”

  “What’s it to you? He’s the boss, he can get here whenever he wants.”

  He intentionally mirrored the tone of the man beside her, peremptory, dictatorial. Ironic, he thought, how so many who decried their supposedly tyrannical bosses turned into exactly what they said they despised when given a little power of their own.

  “I just…I mean….” Tess stammered in a way that was totally unlike her, and Draven marveled at the completeness of the picture of helplessness she was projecting to their captors. Wait, Draven thought, until you find out that she’s, in fact, the toughest woman you’ve ever come across.

  “Besides, isn’t Mike there to fix something?”

  “I… Yes.”

  “He takes his own sweet time, anyway. Right to the edge of your patience,” he added, knowing Tess would get the message that that was exactly what they were going to do, push these guys to the edge. It would be a fine line to push them to, not over and into doing something stupid. “So what are you worried about?” he asked.

  The man leaned over and spoke to her. Draven caught a clearer look at the man’s weapon and grimly added the presence of the boxy, lethal Mac 10 into the mix. As the man straightened up, Draven looked at Ryan, who made quick notes and held up his pad for him to see.

  “I just wondered when I should start fixing food for you,” she said, matching Ryan’s notes of what the man had told her to say in a voice so meek it almost made Draven smile.

  As if her tone and subservient question had mollified him, he said grudgingly, “It’ll be a while yet. He’s waiting for a friend. Be sure and have that lobster stuff he likes ready.”

  “Shit, he’s bringing someone with him?” Pinky said from across the room, loudly enough that Draven didn’t need the transcription from Ryan, and confirming his assessment that the smaller man was none too bright.

  “It will be ready,” Tess said. “We have three of the four ingredients, and I think that will be enough if I can’t find the last one.”

  Draven, his eyes fastened on the video feed, saw the tall man say something to her in the same moment he heard a suppressed muttering over the phone.

  “I have to go,” Tess said.

  “Calm down. I told you it’d be a while.”

  “My calm is wearing thin,” Tess said.

  The call went dead abruptly as the tall man grabbed the phone from her. At Draven’s nod Ryan unplugged the headphones and removed them.

  “—of a bitch!”

  The tall man, Draven observed dispassionately, was not happy.

  “Mr. Draven?”

  Ryan’s voice was tentative, although he seemed a bit more at ease since the arrival of the other people not on the security team.

  “What is it, Barton?”

  “There’s something else. Look.”

  Draven crossed the cabin of the Hawk III and leaned over to look at the monitor. He saw the page where Josh had been writing a list of part numbers and descriptions, some of which had even made them all chuckle; he’d truly like to know what a disgronificator was. But now he saw there was something else in larger, bolder letters, written across the top of the page that had been left just inside the camera’s wide-angle view. But with the feeds from all the webcams going, i
t was still too small to read.

  “Can you magnify it?”

  “Already did,” Ryan said, and held up his own notepad.

  The ignorance of one is opportunity for the other.

  Slowly, Draven’s mouth curved into a smile he was barely aware of. And only belatedly did he realize he was nodding.

  “What is it?” Reeve asked.

  “Something Josh’s brother used to say when going up against an enemy who didn’t do his homework,” Draven said softly. Then, straightening, he looked at the others. “They’re armed now. They know we’re here. They’ll be ready whenever we are.”

  “What did Tess tell you?” Grace asked, obviously aware more had been relayed in that phone call than she realized, some additional meaning in the seemingly innocent words.

  “They have three of the weapons,” Alvera said.

  “And we’re right, they’re losing their cool,” Reeve put in. “That bit about calm wearing thin.”

  Sam said nothing, merely went about checking her gear; Draven knew she hadn’t missed the food reference.

  “And the lobster,” Ian explained quietly, “means one of the people coming for them will be Samantha. She loves the stuff, and Josh knows it.”

  Draven had expected him to get it; not much got past Ian, despite his sometimes distracted air. Some men might be uncomfortable about it, but he knew the unlikely couple had long ago reached an accord on their vastly divergent careers. Ian had complete and utter faith in his wife’s skills, and merely nodded when Draven glanced his way.

  Besides, this was Josh, and Draven knew there wasn’t a soul at Redstone who wouldn’t give anything to get him back safe and sound.

  “All right, people,” he said, turning the aerial photograph Barton had pulled and routed to the wide-screen television in the main cabin of the Hawk III. He gestured to his wife, the airport builder, to join them, wanting her input. “Let’s lay it out. I want any and all ideas.”

  “What the hell is this supposed to mean?”

  Josh saw Brown Shirt holding his list of parts, but knew he was staring at the words written across the top. The man was no longer trying to conceal his foul mood. Or, Josh noted with more concern, the pistol that was now in his hand most of the time.