The four bodies lay sprawled on the wooden floor of the cabin and were almost hidden by the thick carpet of gas that had settled to the floor. After several seconds, the window through which the canisters had been thrown was pushed open wider. A short man dressed in black and wearing a gas mask slid nimbly through into the room. He glanced down at the four unconscious figures, then walked over to the boy, nudging the still figure several times with the toe of his boot. Getting no response, he turned towards the door.
"All clear," Tao shouted. Ned and Ted walked in, with Willow following a few steps behind them. They all wore gas masks and each of them was dressed in black jeans and tight-fitting jerseys of the same color.
“Where’s the boy?” Willow asked, “Make sure he’s out cold.” The last thing she needed was another episode of his unique ability to inflict pain. It was her turn for payback.
“Everyone’s out, boss,” Tao replied. He walked to the front door and opened it, fanning it back and forth to clear the noxious gas. “Just one thing. We’ve got four bodies, not three.” He walked over to Mimi lying quietly where she’d fallen. He turned her over and checked her pulse.
“This one’s older than the other three. Not bad looking, either. What you want to do with her?”
“Bring her along,” Willow answered as she walked over to where Tao crouched over Mimi’s still form, but still glancing to where Mel lay a few feet away. “I want them all hooded and bound securely, but that one...” she pointed to Mel “...tape his mouth, eyes, and ears. Let’s hope for his sake he can breathe through his nose. After that, place a hood over his head as well.”
“You aren’t taking any chances with him, are you boss?” Tao said with a chuckle.
"Hell, no," Willow replied as she walked over to the boy's body and stared down at it. "It still hurts whenever I take a deep breath, and it's been a good two weeks since my last encounter with him. Come to think of it..." She strode closer to Mel and using the pointed toe of her boot, kicked him three times in the chest. "See how he feels when he wakes up."
“Easy, boss,” Ned said as he took a step towards Willow. “Remember, we’re not supposed to damage the merchandise.”
“I know, I know, but I can’t help that he resisted our last invitation to visit Dubai.” She turned away from Mel. “How long will they be out from the gas?”
“Hard to say even under normal conditions with normal people, which clearly at least three of these aren’t,” Tao replied. “Typically, a dose like we gave them would keep an adult out for at least three or four hours, but don’t worry. I’m prepared to put any of them back down with a strong, injectable sedative. These kids have really got you spooked, haven’t they?”
Willow was about to give a sharp retort of 'that's none of your business,' then thought better of it. Instead, she replied, "Yeah, maybe, but they're not normal kids. I doubt the Sheik would be so interested in them if they were. I just want to be sure everything runs smoothly this time."
She pulled her foot back to give the kid a few more swift kicks but then thought better of it. Time to practice a little restraint; something she often found challenging. Instead, she turned to Ned.
“Tell Widget to pull the van around, and load our merchandise up. I want to sleep in my bed tonight, even though it'll be almost daylight tomorrow by the time we get back to Dubai." As she walked out the door, she rubbed her chest. Damn, it still hurt, but not as much as it had a few minutes before she'd kicked the shit out of the kid.
As she walked to the van, her cell phone vibrated. It was a text message from the Sheik that read:
When primary mission complete, proceed to Roanoke Regional Airport to pick up two passengers. More info to follow.
Willow groaned. What the hell? Two more passengers? Could there be more of these kids? Not likely if she was to pick them up from a regional airport unless they were going willingly.
"Okay, guys," Willow shouted as she approached the van. She opened the door. "Slight change of plans. We've one more stop before we head home."
“What’s that?” Widget asked from the driver’s seat.
“I’ll explain on the way to the plane,” Willow replied as she climbed into the passenger seat and turned around to the rear where her men were finishing loading the kids. “Keep a close eye on them, especially the boy. Any sign of them waking up, I want to hear about it.”
As Widget placed the van in gear, Willow's phone vibrated again as another text message came in. This one included two photos; one of an older man with long white hair, and the second of a woman wearing her hair in a tight bun. A text was below the images:
Passengers are Dr. Chickowski and Miriam Petty. Important you keep them isolated from the children.
What the hell? Willow thought as she turned and handed the phone to Tao who sat in the seat behind her. I’m tired and just want to go home. Now I’m expected to become a chauffeur for these two assholes? She took a deep breath, and slowly let it out as she turned around in her seat.
“Those are the two we’re picking up. Memorize their faces so you’ll recognize them.”
Tao stared at the images on the phone for a few seconds before nodding and handing the phone back to Willow. "Got it, boss."
“And figure out how we can keep those two from knowing anything about our other passengers. I know the Gulfstream has a lot of room, but it’s beginning to feel tight to me.”
"Not to worry, boss," Tao replied. "The guys and I will figure it out. Why don't you see if you can get a little shut-eye on the ride to the airport?"
It was the best suggestion she’d heard all day.
As Kristin sunk into unconsciousness, the last image of the cabin's room stayed frozen in her mind's eye for several seconds. It was like staring at a lit light bulb and then looking away and still seeing the impression of the bulb, except the room's details were much more vivid and in color. She saw the two canisters where they lay on the floor, the clouds of gas frozen in time.
Damn, if I’d only seen them soon enough, I might have been able to flip them back out the window with my mind. Too late for such regrets now.
She felt herself lying on the hard floor, one knee sore where it had slammed into the hardwood. Her last conscious action had been to twist to the side to protect her baby. Her baby! What would the gas do to her baby? If anything happened to her soon-to-be-born child, there’d be hell to pay.
Even as she had the thought, she felt herself being lifted by a pair of strong hands as someone threw her over their shoulder like a rag doll. So strange, to feel herself and her body without being able to do anything. She tried to move her arms. Nothing. Next, she tried kicking the body beneath her. Again, nothing. So, she tried to scream with all her might. She felt like she was screaming, could feel the tightening of her throat and neck muscles, but no sound; not even a squeak. Frustrated, she tried once again, and a moment later a third time.
That’s when she felt something shift, like a presence suddenly coming to her awareness.
Mel? Is that you? Tabitha? You there?
No response. Evidently they were out cold. But still, she felt something or someone, so she tried again.
Hello, is someone there? Answer me. I need help. My sister, brother and I are being kidnapped!
Still nothing. It must have been her imagination or the effects of the gas.
Hello...who's this? I hear you. Can you hear me? Came a voice she didn't recognize. It felt like a masculine voice but not Mel's. It was softer, gentler, more mature; more like her father's, but not his either.
Yes, I can hear you. This is Kristin. Who’s this?
For the moment let's just say that I'm someone who means you no harm. I just heard your screaming.
Oh, you heard that Kristin replied, momentarily embarrassed. Hardly a good first impression. Sorry.
Not to worry. I’ve been hearing voices for weeks but hadn’t known what they were or how to respond. The desperation I heard in your screams forced me to try to communicate
with you with more effort.
You’ve got to help us, Kristin begged. Some very mean people have kidnapped five of my sisters. My brother, one of my other sisters and I just narrowly escaped; but now they’ve tracked us down here in West Virginia and drugged us. I’m afraid what they might do to us.
Okay, calm down. Did you say, five sisters?
Yes, I’m part of a large family. So?
Oh, nothing. I just found it interesting. Listen, I'll do whatever I can to help. Just know that you're not alone. Now that we've connected, we should be able to reconnect. I've got to go now. I'm meeting a man about an important job, but I'll be back in touch as soon as I can. One last thing. Are you pregnant?
Yes. How did you know?
I felt her.
Her? Is my baby a girl? Why hadn’t she been able to detect her, Kristin wondered?
Sorry. Gotta run. I’ll be in touch.
No, don’t go! Kristin shouted, but it was too late. The strange presence was gone.
Inflight
CHICKOWSKI LOOKED UP from the in-flight magazine he was pretending to read to wipe the sweat from his brow. Despite the chilly temperatures of the Roanoke-Blacksburg Regional Airport terminal, the thick beard he'd put on that morning was not only hot as hell but also itchy. Maybe it would have been better to try some less irritating disguise, he thought, like blackening his white hair or shaving it completely off. That last idea sounded especially appealing at the moment. It would at least cool him off a bit, even though he usually was quite proud of his full head of hair at his age. He noticed Miriam returning from the restroom and lowered his hand and returned his gaze to the magazine.
"Don't think I didn't see you were wiping the sweat off your face," Miriam said as she lowered herself into the seat beside him. "Told you the beard was a dumb idea."
“And getting caught by some two-bit cop in a podunk town like this when we’re so close to the biggest deal of either of our lives...that would be smart?”
“Okay, okay, let’s not argue,” Miriam replied smiling. “Still seems strange to me that we had to drive almost three hours to get here when we were less than thirty minutes from the Raleigh-Durham airport?”
"I told you, Mr. Brown was particular about where we were to meet our contact. The Raleigh airport is too large. We need to keep as low a profile as possible. Besides, there's nothing wrong with this airport. It's clean, relatively new..."
“...And the seats are just as uncomfortable as the ones in the Raleigh terminals,” Miriam finished for him. “How much longer do we have wait?”
“I don’t know,” Chickowski replied. “He just said to get here by 2 pm and wait.”
“But how is our contact going to know who we are, especially with you wearing that stupid beard.”
That was a good point, Chickowski thought. Maybe he should go to the bathroom and take it off, but before he could do so, a young man of Asian descent dressed in black slacks and a matching shirt strolled over to them and sat down next to Petty. Was this their contact or just another traveler?
“I understand Paris is a particularly pleasant travel destination this time of year,” the man said. He looked first to Miriam and then to Chickowski. “Would you agree?”
Miriam opened her mouth to reply but, before she could say anything, Chickowski cut her off. “Not really. I’d recommend the French Riviera.”
Miriam turned to him. “What would you know about the....” She stopped as she realized the phrase was part of the signal back to their contact.
“Will the two of you please accompany me this way?” the man replied.
AS THE MEETING OF THE rescue team broke up, the phone rang. Lionel walked over to pick it up.
“Wow, I don’t think the phone has rung so much since I moved in here,” he said as he picked up the receiver and listened to the person on the other end. After a nod, he said, “Yes, he’s here. Hold on a minute. I’ll get him.”
He held the phone out to Flip. “I may have to apply to become your personal secretary. It’s another call for you.”
Flip smiled. “Sorry, your legs are much too hairy to qualify for my personal anything...other than my personal best bro-friend. Who is it?”
“Your other bro-friend; Chunk Robinson.”
“Really?” Flip asked. If he made a list of friends, he knew Chunk’s name wouldn’t be on it. After all, Chunk had been a pain in the ass ever since he’d headed up the case for the FDA. He’d done everything in his power, which was substantial to make Flip’s and his children’s lives difficult. He’d heard from Alp that, after she’d saved his younger daughter’s life, Chunk had started to come around; but it was hard to believe this particular leopard had changed its spots.
“Hello, Flip MacDougal here. Pulled the wings off of any flies lately, Chunk?”
“Good day to you too,” the gruff FDA agent replied. “I know we haven’t always seen eye-to-eye on things...”
"Yeah, like life in general," Flip added, then realizing he was being unnecessarily harsh, especially to a man who was facing his challenges with his family, he added, "But today is a new day, so what can I do for you?"
“Yes, it is a new day,” Chunk agreed, “and it’s not what you can do for me, but what I might be able to do for you.”
“And what would that be?”
“Well, Alp told me a little about how you and she have been able to communicate; how you visited her while she was on that island and all.”
“Yes?” Flip replied, a note of suspicion creeping in. He’d just as soon Alp hadn’t shared that information, especially not with the man who had almost cost her and her sisters their lives.
“I have someone I think you should meet. His name is Alfred Besser; an old friend of mine.”
“Really, you have a friend?” The words popped out before Flip could stop them.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, Alfred and I go back several decades. I first met him while he was involved with the Stargate Project. Are you familiar with it?”
“No, can’t say that rings a bell.”
“Well, it’s defunct now, or at least that’s what the CIA wants the world to believe. It was an Army unit started back in the late seventies. Alfred was one of its founding members. Its purpose was to investigate the potential for psychic phenomena in military and domestic applications. This primarily involved remote viewing, the purported ability to psychically ‘see’ events, sites, or information from a great distance.”
“And so this Besser guy is with the CIA?” Flip asked.
“No, he retired several years ago when Stargate was supposedly dismantled.”
“Supposedly?”
“Yeah, this is just between you and me. You tell anyone else about it, and I’ll deny ever having this conversation. But according to Alfred, they didn’t close out Stargate. That’s just what they told the public. The Project went underground so our country’s enemies wouldn’t be aware of what the Project was learning. Alfred didn’t agree with the move, so he was invited to retire."
“Okay, that’s all interesting and good,” Flip replied, “but I don’t see what any of it has to do with me.”
“I think what you did with Alp is closely akin to remote viewing, and my friend is one of the leading experts on such phenomenon. He may be able to give you some tips on how to strengthen your abilities.”
Flip found himself growing interested despite his and Chunk’s history. “So, what’s in it for you?”
"Absolutely nothing," came the reply from the other end of the phone. "Well, that's not accurate. If Alfred can help with what you and Alp are engaged in at present, this will be a small repayment of an enormous debt I owe to your daughter. That's all."
Flip had to admit being able to more easily connect psychically with his other children as well as Alp could be a big plus with helping to rescue them.
“I’m getting ready to go on a business trip in a few days. I’m not sure I’ll have time to meet with your friend.”
“I und
erstand,” Chunk said. “Why not give him a call for starters? I mentioned you to him...without giving any specifics, of course. He’s willing to talk to you, and that’s no small matter.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, let’s just say that Alfred is set in his ways. He’s an old man. I’m guessing he’s probably in his nineties by now. Not everyone finds him all that easy to get along with, but he really knows his subject. I think it’s worth at least a phone call. Of course, that’s up to you.”
“Okay,” Flip replied. “That’s fair enough. Give me his number and I’ll either call him or I won’t.”
Chunk read out the number to him, adding at the end. “You and I have had our differences. I want you to know it was never personal. I was just doing my job.”
“Sure, I understand,” Flip replied with a more caustic tone than he’d intended.
“But I want you to know I do hope everything works out for you and your family,” Chunk added. “And I’ll do whatever I can at my end to smooth the way for your business trip.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” And this time Flip meant what he said.
Gulfstream
WILLOW WATCHED THROUGH the front window of the Gulfstream G650 aircraft where it idled on the private tarmac as Tao escorted their two new passengers towards the plane. She glanced at the images on her phone and back to the couple. It was clear they had the right woman, but what about the man? He wore a floppy hat that covered his hair and a beard that prevented her from getting a good look at his face. As they neared the plane, the man reached up to scratch at his beard. Unusual, Willow thought. The men she had known with beards (and she'd known her fair share through the years), rarely paid any attention to them. They were merely a part of their anatomy, but this guy seemed to be overly occupied by his. Strange.
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