by Josie Brown
Where she and his dad grew up. And now it’s his home too.
Jack puts his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Then, we’d better get moving.” He nods to George. “Don’t you keep an extra uniform here, on the plane?”
“Yep, along with a tie, hat, and shirt—the whole nine yards,” George says. “It’s in the closet next to the cockpit.”
“Great. I’ll change into it, but I’m doing without the jacket and hat. I’m your new flight attendant.” Jack turns to Arnie. “How quickly can you hack the limo driver’s cell phone?”
“I’ll have it done before you put on George’s tie.” He’s got his laptop open in no time flat, and is clicking away on the keyboard. Arnie’s computer is equipped with UFED software—in other words, it also acts as a universal forensic extracting device.
Well, what do you know? Jack is just tucking his shirt into the uniform’s gabardine slacks when Arnie declares, “Done.”
Jack gives him a thumbs-up. “Great. You and Evan get back into the car, and pull it close to the terminal. After you park, call the driver as if you’re me, ask him where he is, and tell him that he’s in front of the wrong equipment.” Jack turns to me. “George will greet Xia at the bottom of the airstairs. When she comes onboard, I’ll introduce myself and show her a couple of its unique features—the sleeping cabin and deluxe bath suite. Donna, until she’s tucked in and we’re airborne, you can hide in the cockpit.”
I frown at the term “tucked in,” only because now I know Xia too well.
But I know Jack even better. He’s only got eyes for me.
Chapter 16
Deadheading
The act of pinching or cutting off spent flowers.
This is an airline term as well. When airline personnel are dead-heading, they are hitching a ride on a plane after their shifts have ended.
Usually, if available, and they are a pilot, they are given a seat in the cockpit. If they’re unlucky, it’ll be in Economy (a.k.a., the slave galley). If they’re very lucky, they’ll get one of the luxury seats in the first-class cabin.
No one is ever tied to the wing or the tail, even if the distance is short, and the altitude is low. However, if you feel it will get you the intel you need, try it with your prisoner during your next extraordinary rendition. No one will stop you.
Not to mention, waterboarding is so last year.
By the time Xia’s limo has pulled up to Acme’s plane, I’m in the cockpit with the door closed. From there, I can watch everyone else via the mini-cam feeds that cover both the interior and exterior of the plane, as seen through the cockpit’s overhead monitor.
George stands at the airstairs. He smiles and waves as the driver stops the car, and joins the man as he opens the trunk to retrieve Xia’s luggage. As George holds on to her suitcase, the driver opens the back door in order to help Xia out of the car.
Seeing this, George removes his captain’s cap, placing it under his left arm in deference to his new client. After shaking her hand, he escorts her up the steps.
Jack greets Xia at the door with a smile and once-over gaze. When he holds out his hand, she moves so close that she’s standing breast-to-chest with him. Granted, private jets are small, but this is one of the larger ones, so there’s no need for her to get so cozy, unless she’s looking for a hottie like Jack to ride her even higher than the requisite mile.
And does Jack know it. The proof is in the way in which his dimpled grin dazzles, and how he times his smoldering gaze and suggestive wink just as he murmurs the phrase, “If you get lonely, I’ll take you on a tour of the cockpit.”
Instinctively, any female within one hundred yards of a handsome man will flirt, and all that implies. Xia is within five centimeters of him. She smirks and simpers, tosses her hair, and winks. She’s on a high, and it’s not just the pheromones wafting between them.
Most exterminators look to let off steam after a hit. No doubt about it, Jack is catnip to a woman like Xia who is just off a mission and has twelve or so hours to kill as she deadheads back to her home base. I know what she’s thinking, because I’d be thinking it too: why not do so while lying in the strong, muscular arms of some ready, willing, and able boy-toy, whose one job is to make your journey as pleasurable as possible?
Finally, Jack excuses himself, but not before he personally snaps her into her seatbelt. Yes, his hand brushes her thigh as he tightens the belt around her hips. And in case she still doesn’t get the message, he leans in close when he hands her a sleep mask.
“Once we’re airborne, I’ll be able to take care of any and all your needs,” he promises her. “So, don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to relax.”
Ha! He certainly knows his way around a double-entendre.
“I plan on doing a lot more than sleeping.” Her tone is naughty. She nods toward the back of the plane, where the bath suite is located. “After takeoff, I’m taking a nice, warm shower. It’ll be nice to have someone to scrub my back.”
Hmmm, not a bad idea. And I know just what I can use to do it.
Jack joins us in the cockpit. As I get up from the co-pilot position in order to move into the jump seat behind it, I make sure to rub against him. “Tight squeeze, wouldn’t you say?” I ask him in a breathy little-girl whisper.
His response is a hard, long kiss. When we come up for air, he murmurs, “That’s yet another reason to make an honest man of me. I’ll have to quit flirting with honeypots.”
I sigh. “That has got to be the least romantic proposal yet. And you keep wondering why I turn you down.”
“You’re tempting fate,” he warns me. “I may not be around forever.”
“I’ll take my chances. We’re doing this right, or not at all.”
“Folks, we’ve been cleared for takeoff,” George reminds us. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Wheels-up is bumpy. Apparently, a big storm is blowing in from the west. But as soon as we break through the cloud cover and into stark blue stratosphere, George levels off at the maximum cruising altitude: fifty-one thousand feet.
Xia unbuckles and heads for the sleeping cabin. She’s in there just long enough to open her suitcase and pull out a white silk robe and a toiletries case, which she takes with her into the plane’s luxury spa bathroom.
How convenient, Xia has left the bathroom door open. There is no doubt in her mind that Jack will take her up on her offer.
“I hope she doesn’t mind a party crasher,” I mutter.
He shrugs. “I presumed you’d want to do the honors. But remember, Donna”—he taps the monitor—“I’m watching, so play nice.”
I frown. “Are you kidding? After what she did to Catherine—to Evan?”
“You really don’t want to kill her. Otherwise, we’ll never have the verification we need that China was behind the killer seeds, let alone Catherine’s death.”
He’s got a point. But after I drag her into Acme’s Club Dread and she squeals her guts out, all bets are off.
I wait until I hear the water running and the sound of the shower door closing, then I walk soundlessly toward the bedroom.
Quickly, I rummage through her suitcase. Jesus, she’s got enough sex toys in a zip pouch to open her own boutique—mostly dildos, but also a few nipple clamps, a ball gag, an interesting cock ring that looks like an adjustable lasso, and another that looks like a hard plastic gear. I pocket the lasso and gear ring, along with some pink fuzzy cuffs, nipple clamps, and the ball gag. I won’t be using them in the traditional way, but when you travel without a gun, you have to be creative.
Some of the items still have their price tags, so I guess she hasn’t been too lucky on this mission. Or maybe I’ve kept her too busy. No wonder she’s salivating after Jack.
She must have ditched the guard’s uniform, but she kept the one thing I suspect she used to kill Catherine: a bottle of liquid Digitalis. Next to it are a couple of syringes.
After filling one of them and capping the needle, I head toward the
bathroom.
The large high-power rain showerhead is causing such a deluge that Xia’s slim body is a mere shadow, engulfed in its hot mist.
Shampooing her hair, she has her back to me. As she works her fingers through the suds and wet tendrils, I think of Catherine. I may not have liked my former friend, but I owe her this much.
Let me just say that Xia’s off-key attempt at Taylor Swift’s Shake it Off would earn her a gong in a WeHo karaoke bar. My own way of shutting her up is to slip the lasso around her neck and jerk it tightly, so that it’s now a noose.
She chokes through the realization that she’s not alone. Instinctively, she reaches up with her hands to loosen my grip, but she’s too late. By then, I’ve slammed her head against one side of the marble shower stall, then the other.
When I pull her out of the tub, she’s spewing water. Finally, she lets loose with a litany of curses in Mandarin. I recognize qù sǐ (go to hell) and byao zhi yang duh (son of a bitch) before she moves on to a few choice gender-specific insults. I take it personally when she calls me a cho san ba (bitch).
Words should never hurt me. That being said, sticks, stones, and a well-positioned punch will break her bones, which is why I stick my index and middle fingers through the gear-spoke cock ring before making a fist and slamming it into her face.
It stuns her enough that when she comes to, I’ve got her on her knees, in front of the toilet.
She shivers, but knows better than to talk smack this time.
“That’s better,” I tell her. “Time for a little heart-to-heart, Xia.”
She opts for the silent treatment—that is, until I plunge her face into the toilet.
When I lift her head, she snorts like a porpoise.
I brush off the few wayward droplets from my blouse. “Let’s try this again. When you were in San Francisco, you handed your colleague, the MSS operative Yang Cheng, four postcards validating that the killer seeds were in the process of being distributed to farms throughout the United States.”
Xia’s eyes narrow in anger. “You intercepted Cheng and decoded the cards?”
I nod.
“You idiot! But I presume the seeds have already been distributed!”
“Thankfully, no. We were able to track them down—or the products made from them—before they reached the public.”
“Thank goodness.” She truly seems relieved.
“Wait…you mean, you didn’t want the seeds to get out there? But we thought it was an act of bioterrorism by your government!”
“You must have played hooky during Geography class, sha bi,” she mutters.
Translation: stupid cunt.
I sigh. “Your taunt rolls off me, like water off a duck’s back. Speaking of water—”
Once again, I plunge her face into the toilet. Here’s hoping this baptism loosens her tongue.
When I pull her up, she’s gagging.
“Do you want to try again to explain why I should believe your claim that the Chinese aren’t involved?” I ask.
“Because, my dear Mrs. Stone, it doesn’t make sense! Considering that your country is practically China’s supermarket, why the hell would we do such a thing? My country imports close to a million and a half metric tons of corn from the United States, not to mention tons of specialty items and novelty foods containing corn”—Xia glances down at my backside—“which is why we’re getting as fat as you Americans. And besides, my family—my parents, my children—live in China! The last thing I’d want is for them to die.”
“If this act of bioterrorism wasn’t initiated by the Chinese, who created and distributed the killer seeds?”
“You are such a fool.” She taunts by clicking her tongue at me. “It was the Quorum.”
“How do you know this?”
“I guess you never got the memo. I’ve been freelance for at least two years now. The Quorum is my biggest client. Your dearly departed ex, Carl, certainly knew how to make it worth my while.” She smiles knowingly. “Fringe benefits. Got to love them.”
Interesting. Still, if she knew Carl like I knew Carl…Oh…Oh…Oh, what a jerk. “And you tried to double-cross the Quorum by leaking their plan to the Chinese?”
“I had nowhere else to go! Maybe Putin, eh? You and I both know that Russia would have loved watching its two largest enemies face off over some misinformation. Little does it know that the Quorum is also working on a fatal microbe that thrives in caviar—but I digress.” She rolls her eyes.
To get her on track, I ask, “Why did you kill Dr. Wellborne’s file clerk, Jilly McIntosh?”
“I didn’t, you idiot! He did. Jilly confronted that odious man. She told him she was turning him into Homeland Security, for treason. He killed her in the file room.” Xia smiles. “Little did he know she’d planted a webcam on a shelf. It caught him in the act, then he buried her body who knows where.”
Sadly, I know.
“He didn’t know if he covered his tracks well enough, and was panicking. The Quorum sent me into SeedPlenish undercover, to find out why Wellborne was late with the second shipment of Exodus seeds. When I found out exactly what the seeds were meant to do, I had to stop it.”
“To tell you the truth, Xia, it’s still a toss-up as to whether I believe you. Where is the proof—the webcam video?”
She smirks. “A link to it is on one of the cards I handed off to Yang Cheng. Ha! I guess your ComInt people are too stupid to break the cipher.” She shrugs.
It must be contained in the last postcard still to be decoded. Well, breaking three out of four ciphers in less than seventy-two hours wasn’t too bad.
“It’s also uploaded in a secure cloud,” Xia adds. “When you work for the Quorum, it’s always nice to have these little insurance policies.”
I wonder how many juicy little tidbits Carl had on his Quorum associates. I guess now we’ll never find out.
“I presume the Quorum has no idea that you leaked their plan,” I say.
Xia’s eyes narrow in anger. “It doesn’t. And it won’t, if I can help it.” She attempts a smirk. “By the way, Mrs. Stone, you have no reason to be so smug about your own country’s reaction to this scheme. As it turns out, the Quorum approached the United States’ Secretary of Agriculture. Even after witnessing a demonstration, Howard Harkness practically laughed in the Quorum envoys’ faces. He claimed that the Quorum’s threats were hollow.”
“And I presume the Quorum felt that a pandemic would convince him otherwise, which is why the seeds were released in the first place,” I reason.
“Correct. And in anticipation of the panic that would ensue, the Quorum has been buying up the corn commodities market in other countries, through Chinese brokers. That way, the Chinese take the fall for an act of terrorism on U.S. soil, giving your politicians the perfect opportunity to ramp up the arms race.” She shrugs. “It would have been a big fat payday for everyone: your political hacks and their cozy bedfellows, and of course, the defense contractors. As for the Quorum, it would have made two killings: in international corn futures, and in munitions sales. To cover his ass, Secretary Harkness’ plan was to disavow any previous knowledge of the plan. As for your president, had you not stopped the distribution of the Exodus strain, he would lie to the public, expressing full confidence in the ability to recall the Exodus seeds and food. And if the Administration failed to do so, it would downplay the extent of any subsequent pandemic.”
I’d be willing to bet that Secretary Harkness never told Lee about his meeting with the Quorum. “If President Chiffray had known—”
A smirk curls on Xia’s lips. “What makes you think he didn’t?”
“I don’t believe you!”
She laughs. “I couldn’t care less.”
I’d love to wipe that smile off her face, and the toilet bowl is certainly hard enough to break her teeth. But if she can’t talk, she can’t give us the answers we need.
Like the one foremost on my mind: “Xia, why did you kill Catherine?”
“You’re not going to like what I have to say,” she warns me.
“I’m disgusted by everything you’ve told me. At this point, you have nothing to lose.”
“I was sent by Lee Chiffray, okay?” Noting the disappointed look on my face, she shrugs. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but in all honesty, you shouldn’t be crushing on such a powerful man, darling. He’s got too many others to choose from.” She winks knowingly.
“For your information, Xia, I’m a one-man woman. And, let’s be honest. If you were actually getting a little POTUS action—or any action at all—there wouldn’t be so many price tags on your play toys.” I hold up the gear-shaped cock ring as proof. “By the way, you do know you can buy all this stuff cheaper in China, right?” I clench my fist just enough for her to feel the lasso tighten again. “If what you say is true, why would Lee sic you on Catherine?”
“Are you jealous that he didn’t send you instead?” She smiles. “How could he? I mean, despite being his loyal little lap dog, you have a propensity toward nobility. No matter how much you hated Catherine personally, he couldn’t very well ask you to murder Evan’s mother. Still, your visit gave me the perfect opportunity, so thanks for obliging.” She winks at me. “Admit it—you’re glad she’s gone.”
Catherine ruined my reputation in high school by starting a rumor that I’d lost my virginity with her boyfriend: Robert. She stole precious moments I could have had with my dying mother. Hell, she even stole my mother’s apple pie recipe.
What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger—and allows us to take vengeance on behalf of the innocent.
Would I have killed Catherine, even if the extermination had been government-sanctioned?
