by Dirk Patton
“I’m not going,” she said after turning the engine off. “You can take my suitcase and I’ll go in with you so they can scan the barcode on my phone. After that, we’re done.”
“What are you going to do?”
I was surprised. Of all the possibilities I’d mulled over during the drive to the airport, this wasn’t one of them.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe head for my brother’s house in Oregon.”
“Julie, I think you should come with me,” I said, turning my upper body so I could look directly at her.
“Why? So you can lie to me some more?”
“I haven’t lied to you! I haven’t told you the whole truth, but I haven’t lied.”
“A lie by omission is still a lie,” she said in a sad voice.
“And I’ve said I’ll tell you everything. Most of it you aren’t going to believe anyway. That’s why I didn’t tell you before. Well, that and it’s classified. But I’m going to tell you as soon as we’re on that plane and have time.
“I know I have no right to ask, but please trust me. I am going to stop the assassination, and then I’m going to deal with Agent Johnson. You will get reimbursed every penny you’ve put out, and your name will be cleared. I promise. All you have to do is trust me.”
I watched her closely as I spoke, hoping my words would get through.
“Why do you want me to come along so badly?” She asked suspiciously.
“Because it’s not safe for you to stay behind. They’re looking for me. And when those two agents we left tied up get free, they’re going to be looking for you, too. And it will be men working for Agent Johnson. They aren’t interested in the truth or anything other than following their orders.
“You know what orders he issued to deal with me. Do you really think he’s going to let you live? The safest place for you for the next twenty hours is right next to me. Then it will all be over and you can go back to your life.”
She turned and looked at me for a long moment. Thinking. Deciding what to believe and what to do. Faster than I expected, she removed the keys from the ignition and popped her door open.
“We’ve got a plane to catch,” she said, resignation clear in her voice.
I hopped out and dashed to the trunk. Julie already had it open and I lifted the suitcase out and placed it on the ground. She locked the car and after we made sure our pistols were well concealed, we walked across the sidewalk and into the terminal.
Imperial Charters was a large outfit with professionally dressed staff working the check-in counter. Julie and I walked up and she identified herself. Within minutes, the bar code on her phone had been scanned, the suitcase had been taken to be placed in the luggage compartment and we were escorted through a set of doors into a large hangar.
A gleaming Gulfstream, medium range jet reflected the overhead lighting. As we approached, I saw an employee load the suitcase in the plane’s belly. He closed the hatch and locked it in place.
The cabin door was open, a set of stairs integrated into the jet extending to the hangar floor. A tall, trim man wearing a pilot’s uniform stood on a narrow landing at the top of the steps, waiting for us.
“Mr. and Mrs. Broussard. Welcome!”
I was momentarily taken aback at the greeting.
“I’m your pilot, Captain Henderson. My copilot, Ms. Torrel, is in the cockpit finishing the pre-flight checklist. We’ll be ready to go in just a few minutes.”
He had descended to the floor and shook hands with each of us as he spoke.
“Thank you, Captain,” Julie said, somehow managing to give him one of her thousand watt smiles.
I followed her up and into the plane. We turned right and I couldn’t help but stop in amazement. Plush carpeting. Burled walnut trim. Gold fixtures and accents. And half a dozen, well spaced leather seats that looked big enough to hold two people each. This was nothing like I remembered air travel being.
There was a bang as the pilot retracted the stairs and secured the door, then he appeared briefly to tell us where the bathroom was. There wasn’t a flight attendant, and I suspected that was an expensive option that Julie hadn’t selected. When the pilot disappeared into the cockpit, I sank into one of the seats. It was the most comfortable chair I’d ever sat in.
Julie stepped into the small galley, returning a moment later with a bottle of Jack Daniels and two, cut crystal tumblers. She poured a healthy slug into each as there was the gentle bump of a tractor pushing the jet out of the hangar. Handing me a glass, she leaned back and fastened her seatbelt.
“Start talking,” she said, downing half the amber liquid in one swallow.
I took a sip, resisting the urge to cough when the fiery whiskey hit my throat. The engines started as we came to a stop. There were a couple of bumps as the tractor was unhooked from the front landing gear, then the pilot throttled up slightly and we began rolling.
He came on the intercom and reminded us to fasten our seatbelts and thanked us for choosing Imperial Charters. We bounced along and waited for a couple of Delta and one Alaska commercial airliners to take off. Then the engines howled and we began rushing down the runway. Much faster than I expected, we left the ground. I looked out the window at the lights of Orange County and began speaking.
41
“You are either the most accomplished liar I’ve ever met, or that’s a story that should be made into a movie,” Julie said when I finished.
She was a good listener. Attentive, even when refilling our glasses. She hadn’t interrupted, and let me talk until it was all out there. And I’d held nothing back. My brother. Bringing the drugs across and killing the two cops before they could kill me and my entire family. My trial and imprisonment. My execution, or my faked execution to be accurate. The Athena Project. My plastic surgery. The training I had gone through. All of it.
“Do you understand why I didn’t tell you before?”
“I understand, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it,” she said. “That’s if I believe you. I may not be a genius or have a college education, but it just sounds too much like science fiction.”
“It did to me, too. At first,” I acknowledged.
We both looked up when the cockpit door opened. It was the pilot coming to check on us.
“Can I get you folks anything?” He asked with a big, friendly smile.
“Do you have internet access?” Julie asked.
“Yes, ma’am. Onboard Wi-Fi. No password needed,” he beamed.
I was starting to wonder if he was a pilot or a salesman, but after making sure we had everything we needed he disappeared back into the front of the plane. Julie had taken her phone out and was busily tapping away. Draining the last of my drink, I placed the empty glass on the table between us and got up to check the galley for food.
There was a small fridge, and after a moment I figured out how to release the catch that secured the door while the aircraft was in flight. Two large platters of vacuum wrapped dinners rested on the middle shelf. Taking them out, I read the contents of the first one. Roasted chicken breast with gravy, new potatoes and baby carrots and a dinner roll. Hoping for something different, I checked the other. It was the same.
There were heating instructions printed on a label stuck to the outside and I got the first one going in the microwave. As it heated, I poked around until I found plates, forks, knives and napkins.
“Hungry?” I called to Julie after sticking my head around the bulkhead that separated the cabin from the galley.
“Yes,” she said without looking up from her phone.
As the food continued to warm, I thought about the conversation we’d just had. Well, it hadn’t been much of a conversation. It was mostly me telling the story of the past decade or so of my life.
Did she believe me? Hell, could she believe me? Was what I said really any less fantastical than if I’d told her I was from an alien civilization, here to save the world? A soft beep from the microwave interrupted my thoughts.
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I removed the first tray and put the second one in, starting it heating. Unwrapping the steaming food, I transferred it to what I was almost certain was expensive China. The flatware was solid and heavy and I was willing to bet it was sterling silver. Only the best for the charter air traveler, I guess.
Soon the second tray was done, and I quickly had the food on another plate and carried both back into the cabin. Julie was staring at her phone, occasionally swiping the screen with her fingertip as she read something. I put the plates on the table, went back to the galley and returned with two bottles of water. As much as I’d have enjoyed another drink, I needed to be clear headed when we arrived in DC.
Sitting, I began eating in silence, letting Julie do whatever it was she was doing. She knew the food was there and would eat when she was ready. I, on the other hand, was famished. Every bite vanished quickly and I sat back and drank most of one of the waters.
Julie put her phone away and stood up. Stepping around the table she leaned over me and lifted her hands, pausing with them only inches from my face.
“May I?” She asked before touching me.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to see something,” she said.
I looked at her for a moment before shrugging.
“Go ahead.”
She began examining my head and face. Gently probed with her fingers and leaned close for a better look at the skin behind my ears and under my jaw. She moved hair aside and inspected my scalp, then pressed on the bridge and tip of my nose. As she checked me over I caught a whiff of a subtle perfume and barely resisted the urge to reach up and wrap her in my arms.
“Well, at least that part of your story is true,” she said, returning to her seat and picking up her fork. “You’ve definitely had extensive plastic surgery.”
“You should see me when I don’t shave,” I grinned. “I look like Patches the Poodle.”
Despite everything, she smiled. I decided it was time for me to shut up. There wasn’t anything else I could say to prove I was telling the truth. It was up to her to think about what I’d told her and make up her own mind. I’d truthfully answer any questions she asked, but other than that there wasn’t anything else I could do.
“You were better looking before your face was changed,” she said.
“What?”
“I looked you up on the internet. Figured there would be plenty of stories about a cop killer who was executed. There were. Found your real name, too. Robert.”
I blushed, not wanting her to know how much I liked hearing my real name. Or how much I liked hearing her say it.
“But what I found was a very different version of events than what you told me.”
I started to open my mouth to protest, staying quiet when she held her hand up for me to stop.
“I believe you,” she said, looking me in the eye. “Lord help me, I don’t know why, but I believe you. As wild and crazy as your story sounds, I do. Honestly, I’m struggling with the whole time travel thing, but the rest of it rings true. Especially after some of the things I’ve seen.”
“Thank you,” I said. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“Actually, I’m not sure I blame you,” she said. “If you’d told me any of this right off the bat, I’d probably have dismissed you as a crank.”
She put the last bite of food in her mouth and chewed slowly. Wiping her lips with the linen napkin, she sat back and took a sip of water. We sat there looking at each other for a while, the silence stretching out but not growing uncomfortable. Finally, I checked my watch and cleared my throat.
“Three hours to DC. We’d better get some rest. I don’t think we’ll have time for a nap once we’re on the ground.”
Julie nodded and took our plates to the galley. Back in the cabin, she poked around and found blankets and pillows. Tossing one of each into my lap, she sat down and belted herself in. A large button on the side of her chair activated a motor that lowered the head and raised the feet until it turned into a bed. She punched the pillow before putting it under her head, then spread the blanket over her body.
“Goodnight, Robert,” she said, eyes already closed.
I sat there watching her for several minutes. Wanted to go lean over and gently kiss her. Thank her for being the only person in the world I could count on. Gently brush the hair off her face and tell her just how special she was.
I settled for pushing the button on my chair and rolling over to get some rest.
42
My eyes flew open when someone shook my shoulder. Turning my head, I saw Julie leaning over me, a worried expression on her face.
“Something’s wrong,” she said.
Those two words dumped about a gallon of adrenaline into my system. Throwing the blanket off, I sat up without bothering to use the button to return the bed into a chair configuration.
“What?” I whispered.
“I don’t know,” she mumbled, still leaning close to me. “I woke up when the pilot opened the cockpit door. He was checking on us. Saw me open my eyes and immediately slammed the door and locked it.”
“That could be nothing,” I said, hoping she was just jumpy.
“You didn’t see his face when he saw I was awake,” she said. “He was worried. Not frightened, but he wasn’t the same smiling guy he’s been.”
“What could be wrong?” I asked, a bad feeling descending over me as an idea popped into my head. “You still have internet access?”
Julie grabbed her purse and got her phone. She tapped a couple of times and squinted at the small screen.
“Yes,” she said a moment later.
“Check your bank account.”
“Why?” She asked.
“Just do it,” I said. “See if everything looks normal.”
It didn’t take long for her to look up with fear in her eyes.
“It’s locked,” she said. “I can’t get in. That’s never happened before.”
“FBI,” I said. “They either found those two agents, or they got free. They checked your bank records and found the transaction for the flight. Froze your account and called the charter company. The pilot probably just got a call, checking on his safety and letting him know he had two fugitives on board.”
“What do we do?” She asked.
I checked my watch. Forty minutes to DC. If that’s where we were still going. For all I knew, the FBI had told him to divert to a different location. Either way, there were going to be men with guns waiting for us when we landed. The only question was whether they’d be there to arrest us, or kill us.
I didn’t voice these thoughts to Julie. We needed to get control of the pilot. There was really no other option. Had to find out where we were going.
“We have to take control,” I said.
“Can you fly? I can’t,” she said, looking at me like I was crazy.
“I mean we have to get control of the pilot.”
“How? The cockpit door is locked and I don’t think we can break through.”
I looked around the cabin, an idea taking shape when I spotted an intercom for communicating with the flight deck.
“Call the cockpit on that,” I nodded at the small panel. “Tell them I’m sick. No, not sick. Having a heart attack. Really sell it.”
“Will that work?”
“Got a better idea?” I asked.
After a moment she shook her head and stood up. I reached behind me and drew the pistol, hiding it beneath the blanket as I stretched out on the bed facing the cockpit. Grabbing a bottle of water off the table, I used it to dampen my face and hair as if I were sweating heavily. Meeting Julie’s eyes, I nodded.
She did a masterful job of acting. With terror and panic in her voice, she pleaded with the pilot for help. He didn’t want to leave the cockpit, and this confirmed for me that our suspicions were correct. Normally he’d break his neck to get to the side of an ill passenger as quickly as possible.
After almost two m
inutes of frantic pleading by Julie, the cockpit door cracked open. I moaned loudly, peering through squinted eyes. The pilot was still on the flight deck, the door only a foot open as he looked into the cabin. I groaned, pulling my knees up and acting as if I was writhing in pain.
“Please, help him!”
Julie had heard the door open and now she stood behind me and yelled at the pilot. She kept it up, sinking to her knees and rubbing her hands across my face and chest like a distraught wife. Finally, the pilot started to move. Slowly, the door swung the rest of the way open and he stepped through.
He approached cautiously, and I was glad to see the cockpit door remained open. Beyond him, the co-pilot leaned to the side with her head turned, watching. I’d have to be very careful that she didn’t have an opportunity to jump up and close the door.
Finally, he reached the edge of the bed and knelt down. Julie had maintained her role, begging for help and pleading with me to be OK. When the pilot began to reach out to touch me, she grabbed his wrists and held them tightly.
His body blocking the co-pilot’s view, I brought the gun out and pressed the muzzle against his chest. His eyes opened wide and his mouth fell open in surprise.
“Make a sound and you’re dead,” I whispered, waiting to make sure he was going to comply. “Where did they tell you to go?”
“Who? What are you talking about?” He asked in a shaking voice.
“The FBI. Last time I’m going to ask nicely. What did they tell you to do?”
He swallowed a couple of times, sweat popping out on his face.
“Andrews Air Force Base,” he stammered.
Shit! If we landed on an Air Force Base, Julie and I would never be seen again.
“How far are we?” I asked.
“Maybe half an hour.”
“OK, listen very closely,” I said. “I don’t want to hurt you or your co-pilot. But I will, if you don’t do exactly as I say. Do you understand?”
