Coyote's Revenge

by Vannetta Chapman

  “I don’t know what that is,” she repeated, whispering in the hope of calming him. “I’ve never seen it before. Please let go of me.”

  “In fifteen minutes we will walk together to the back of the plane. You will not look or speak to anyone, or I will kill you immediately. You do realize I don’t need a weapon to kill you. All it would take is my hands.”

  He reached out and touched her face, turning her head, and forcing her to look in his eyes. She’d never seen such madness. Nodding dumbly, forcing the tears to stop, she reached to unbuckle her seatbelt, but her hands were shaking too badly.

  “Let me do that for you.” His voice remained calm and even, but Madison couldn’t stop the shudder as he leaned across her.

  “Now we will wait. Fifteen minutes. Then slowly and quietly, we will walk toward the back restrooms. Remember to do exactly as I say.”

  “I’VE LOST AUDIO AND visual,” Aiden said. “What’s going on back there?”

  “Nothing,” Slater said. “They’re both in their seat.”

  “You can see them?”

  “No,” Slater admitted. “There’s a beverage cart in the way, but they’re only two rows over. I would hear if there’s a problem. I can see the tops of their heads. Everything is fine.”

  “Everything’s not fine,” Aiden hissed. “I can’t see or hear a thing. He must have found the bug.”

  “I don’t think so. They’re talking, he’s helping her unbuckle I think. Hang on, I’m trying to see around this stupid cart. Yeah, that’s about it.”

  “Why would she need help unbuckling?”

  “Airsickness? I checked a minute ago, and she was sleeping. I guess she woke up sick again.”

  “Are they moving?”

  “Negative. They’re still sitting there. Probably waiting for the cart to move like everyone else.”

  Aiden quickly considered their options. Slater was seated across the aisle. He could still see and relay any information. Perhaps the bug had simply fallen off or malfunctioned.

  “I want to know if he so much as coughs,” Aiden said.

  The next fifteen minutes were among the longest in Aiden’s life. Maira was making a last walk-through of the cabin before their descent when Slater reported back.

  “They’re both moving to the back of the cabin,” Slater said. “Looks like he’s helping her to the ladies’ room. Should I follow?”

  “Do you see a weapon?”

  “Negative.”

  “How does she look?”

  “She’s pale. My guess is she’s going to hurl.”

  Aiden knew if he moved to the back of the plane, it would raise everyone’s curiosity. First-class passengers didn’t use the facilities at the back. Maira would tag him for sure. He couldn’t risk the exposure unless he knew Hart was in danger.

  “Do you still have visual contact?”

  “Negative. They’ve moved behind me.”

  “Give them exactly five minutes. If they’re not back in their seats by then, I want you to make up some excuse to go inside those bathrooms.”

  Adrenaline rushed through Aiden’s veins. Perhaps she was airsick again. Possibly the bug had fallen off. Or maybe Coyote intended to kill her. But why do that and risk being caught in mid-flight?

  It didn’t make sense. If the man had wanted to highjack the plane, he would have chosen a flight attendant, someone with instant access to the cockpit.

  The minutes crawled by as an endless array of possibilities paraded their way through Aiden’s brain, each worse than the last.

  “They’re moving back to their seats,” Slater reported. “He’s asked the flight attendant for a bottle of water. I think she was sick. She certainly looks awful.”

  Aiden leaned back and forced his heart rate down. Madison remained less than ten feet from Slater, she was safely in her seat, and they were forty minutes from touchdown.

  MADISON KNEW SHE COULDN’T think about the way he had touched her in the bathroom—his hands on her arms, her legs, even in her hair. All the time chanting words she didn’t understand. She knew, with certainty, if she ever started screaming she wouldn’t be able to stop.

  He claimed to be looking for additional listening devices. The man was delusional.

  Filthy. Her skin crawled with his filth. She needed soap and hot water. She needed a dark room, and she needed it now. How could she ever have accepted his help? This was all her fault. She should never have spoken to him. She knew better than to talk to strangers. She should have stayed at home. She shouldn’t have traveled alone.

  As he had frisked Madison a sob had escaped from her lips, and his hand clamped down again on her arm.

  “Say nothing, make no sounds, and I will not hurt you.”

  “You’re lying,” she whispered.

  “Your typical American bravado will not serve you well tonight, Ms. Hart. Close your mouth and perhaps you will live to see Montana.”

  Madison didn’t believe him, but she clung to the hope as if it were a life raft in the midst of a vast and deserted sea. She didn’t want to die here. She didn’t want to die never having met her father, and she realized in that moment she did want to find him.

  In the meantime, Sergio or Mr. Mancini, or whomever he was had calmed down somewhat. His face again looked relaxed and gentlemanly. Only his eyes betrayed the depth of his insanity.

  “It appears you told the truth. I am sorry, but I had to be sure.”

  The flight attendant stopped at their row as Sergio motioned toward her.

  “Ms. Hart would also like a bottle of water. She’s not feeling well.”

  “Certainly.”

  The idiotic woman actually smiled at them both, retrieved a bottle of water from the galley and patted Madison on the arm. “We’ll be landing soon. You’ll both want to buckle up.”

  As the flight attendant walked away, Sergio reached across Madison to fasten and tighten the seatbelt, pulling it snugly across her lap. When he brushed against her she began to shake uncontrollably. He simply took the blanket she had been using earlier and placed it across her lap.

  Then he continued in the same matter-of-fact tone he had used earlier. “You will take this pill. I apologize, for it will give you something of a headache.”

  Madison put her hand to her mouth and stared at him in horror. Now she would scream. She would unbuckle and run. But even as the thought formed, he put his right hand on the back of her neck, squeezed tightly as if to remind her of his strength.

  She picked up the pill from his left hand, put it in her mouth, tried to hold it under her tongue.

  Sergio put the bottle to her lips though, insisting she take a long drink.

  The plane tilted as it began its descent. She glanced at Sergio who seemed bored and was looking out the window. She tried to ask him why, but then couldn’t remember what she wanted to ask. She looked past him, out the window and into the total darkness of the night.

  She had been afraid to look out that window. But there was something else she should be afraid of. What was it? Why did she suddenly feel so tired? Why was this man holding her hand?

  The last thought Madison had was that she should ask for help.

  Then everything went black.

  “THIS IS LEWIS. WE HAVE a hostile exiting the plane now. Five foot eleven. Female. Black hair. Flight attendant. Nametag says Maira. She’s pushing a woman in a wheelchair.”

  “Mike Truss here, Aiden. We see her now.”

  “I want her photographed and followed,” Aiden said. “I’m waiting for Coyote and Hart to exit. Be sure you have at least two men on whoever walks through the gate first.”

  “We have direct orders. No one is to follow Coyote,” Truss said.

  “I understand we aren’t going to apprehend him, and I—” Aiden lowered his voice as the other first-class passengers began exiting the cabin, “I even understand why, but you cannot tell me we aren’t even going to put a tag on him.”

  “My orders came from the top. Coyote walks,�
�� Truss said.

  “Mike, you were with me in Hamburg. You know what this man is capable of, and you know we cannot trust him to honor any deals he’s made.”

  “Not our call, Aiden. Our orders come from the President this time. We have a visual on your hostile now. I have two men on her. We’ve checked the terminal for explosives, and it’s clear. Whatever Coyote is up to, it isn’t an attack here. We’ll be scanning all exits to confirm he leaves. Beyond that the situation is out of our control. Do you need help with Hart?”

  “No, I don’t need help with Hart,” Aiden said. “I think I can handle a hundred-and-twenty-pound innocent on my own.”

  “Coyote has exited his aisle,” Slater reported. “He’s coming toward you now.”

  “What about Hart?”

  “Negative. Ms. Hart is still in her seat.”

  “Slater, I want you to keep Coyote in sight, but don’t move in too close. Make sure he walks into and out of this terminal gate. Apparently our job ends there.”

  “Copy that.”

  Aiden forced himself to smile at the remaining flight attendant as the coach passengers began to exit the plane.

  “I need to take care of a few emails. If I could exit last, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Lewis.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No problem.” The flight attendant patted his shoulder, then continued straightening rows for the next flight.

  Aiden pretended to work on his computer. Since he’d lost audio and visual there was absolutely nothing he could do but wait.

  He should have been relieved when Coyote finally passed without even a glance his way, but like everything else about this night it felt wrong. Slater passed two passengers behind Coyote.

  “Mike, he’s exiting the plane now.”

  “Three of our agents followed the woman. We have all monitors up and running. We’ll confirm Coyote exits the airport as promised.”

  Aiden powered the laptop off, closed the case and slid it into his father’s leather satchel. It was one of a few items he kept close to remind him why he had chosen this life. When the burdens weighed too heavy, and occasionally—like tonight—they did, he would grasp the handle of the satchel, and think of his father’s hands. Doing so always reminded Aiden of how he was responsible for stealing that presence from his family.

  Technically it had been an accident, but he was mature enough to carry the weight of the responsibility for what he had and hadn’t done. His father’s death was his fault. He would be a man and accept the blame. Carrying the satchel reminded him he chose to be an agent in order to repay the debt he owed.

  As he closed the latch on the satchel, Mike Truss reported back in.

  “Transfer confirmed.”

  Aiden tapped his headset to acknowledge Maira and Coyote were now under Mike’s supervision, then he retrieved the rest of his items from the overhead bin. He placed the Stetson hat on his head. He would follow Ms. Hart off the plane, see her safely to her connecting flight, then use the first-class lounge to file his report. Unfortunately that meant he wouldn’t make a connecting flight until tomorrow. Lovely. Another night spent in an airport.

  Despite the fatigue washing over him, he allowed himself a moment of hope. Maybe Claudia was safe. Coyote hadn’t harmed anyone on the plane. Mike would confirm he had left the airport. They would catch him—eventually. Some days that was as close to a successful mission as you got.

  The thought had barely crossed his mind when he heard the cry for help from the back of the plane.

  AIDEN PASSED A MALE flight attendant and elderly woman on his way to Hart’s seat. He wanted to push them out of the way. Instead he waited for them to move haltingly down the aisle.

  “I thought she was sleeping.” An older woman shuffled down the aisle, hands trembling even though she clasped them together. “When I tried to nudge her, she wouldn’t wake up. Isn’t that strange? She didn’t stir at all.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The flight attendant glanced at Aiden, then back at the old woman who was apparently in his charge. “It is odd, but you did the right thing not to attempt to move her. Could I help you to the lounge and order you some tea?”

  “Should I leave though? She might need my help.”

  “We’re calling paramedics now. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  “Well, all right then. I suppose tea would be nice.”

  They finally managed to creep by Aiden. He covered the rest of the plane in a single bound and reached Hart’s side at the exact moment the lead flight attendant spoke into her emergency transmitter.

  “Captain, we have a situation back here. What are the medics ETA?”

  “They’re entering the jetway now.”

  “I have an emergency medical certification. Is there anything I can do?” Aiden tried to sound casually helpful, even as his own pulse skyrocketed.

  The truth was that the sight of Ms. Hart unconscious in her seat nearly undid him. It wasn’t like he was attracted to her in any way, but it was his job to see her safely off the plane and now Coyote had managed to mess this up too.

  Another flight attendant knelt before Ms. Hart, holding her wrist as she gazed at her watch. “I have a pulse. It’s slow but steady. I’m not sure why she won’t wake up.”

  Aiden didn’t doubt for a minute why she wouldn’t wake up. Coyote had drugged her, but with what? And why?

  Then he noticed the transmitter he had placed on her sweatshirt was gone. Aiden knelt in front of her and reached for her other wrist. As he monitored her pulse, he also noticed a fresh bruising on her wrist.

  He’d kill Coyote himself.

  He should have done it three hours ago, and he would do it now.

  The steady beat of her heart calmed him only a little. It took every ounce of training he possessed not to scoop up the lovely Ms. Hart and carry her off the plane. One thing was certain, he wasn’t leaving her side until he figured out what had happened.

  How had Slater missed this?

  The captain’s voice came back over the flight attendant’s transmitter. “Medical help has boarded the plane. Do you need me to come back there?”

  As he spoke, Ms. Hart began to stir. The look of total disorientation confirmed to Aiden that Coyote had used either Mexican Valium or Liquid Ecstasy—date rape drugs. Both operated within twenty minutes, with effects lasting up to twenty-four hours depending on the dosage. He’d know soon. Liquid Ecstasy caused nausea—Ms. Hart would be vomiting within a minute of waking up. If he’d used Mexican Valium, she’d have decreased blood pressure and a blinding headache.

  MADISON TRIED TO OPEN her eyes, but the pounding in her head was so intense, she couldn’t. Someone was holding her arm, and for the life of her she could not remember where she was. Her head was going to explode. She tried to curl onto her side, shield her eyes from the light, but a gentle hand wouldn’t let her.

  “Miss. Can you open your eyes?” The male voice was soft and low, nearly a caress. The hand on her arm applied a gentle pressure.

  With a heavy sigh, then a shaky breath, Madison gathered all her strength. She opened her eyes slowly.

  How could light cause so much pain? And who was the cowboy looking at her with such concern?

  The pain was too much. She snapped her eyes closed and tried to pull her hand away. She needed to block out the light. A conversation continued around her, but it made no more sense than the man holding her hand.

  “Medics are here.”

  “We’ve contacted the local hospital. The ambulance’s ETA is ten minutes.”

  The word ambulance caused Madison to force her eyes back open. She’d been in too many ambulances in the last three months with her mother. She had vowed to never ride in another one. “I don’t need a hospital.”

  She struggled to stand up, but again the intensity of the light stopped her and she collapsed back into her seat. Strangely, the cowboy placed his hat onto her head.

  “Here. This might help.”

&n
bsp; The Stetson at least blocked the glare of the overhead lights, bringing a small measure of relief.

  Madison sat up straighter, pulled her hand away from his grasp, and rubbed her face. Looking around, she suddenly realized she was on a plane and terror again filled her soul.

  “Did we crash?”

  The cowboy moved aside as a medic replaced him, slipping a blood pressure cuff over her arm before she even realized what he was doing.

  “No, miss. You’re safe and sound on the ground in Salt Lake City. Try to relax while we take care of you.”

  “I think I’m all right. I have a headache.”

  “That’s what we’re here to confirm.” The medic set to work, putting a stethoscope to her chest, calling out vitals to his partner who keyed them in to a laptop. “Blood pressure is 85 over 50. Pulse 55. All low—”

  “My blood pressure is always low.” Madison pulled the blood pressure cuff off and tried again to stand, but her legs buckled. She had to be somewhere, but she couldn’t remember where.

  “Miss, you should probably remain in your seat for a few minutes. We can reschedule your connecting flight.” The medic was an older man with salt and pepper hair. “The last thing you want to do is board another plane feeling this way.”

  The second medic kept tapping information into his laptop. “Could we have your social security number?”

  “I’m not giving you my social security number.” Madison looked around as the evening came crashing back with startling clarity.

  She was moving to Montana.

  She’d boarded her flight.

  It was raining.

  Just as it had been in Peru. She glanced around again, expecting to see the bodies, the children, the carnage of the dreams that never stopped.

  A shiver passed down her spine, but she had no idea why. Something had frightened her. Something worse than Peru?

  “I’m fine, really. I’m connecting to Kalispell. If you could point me toward my flight.”

  The cowboy she’d seen when she first opened her eyes popped back into view. Madison suddenly remembered she was wearing his hat and wondered how ridiculous she looked. She’d have to give it back, but she needed to find her sunglasses first. Why were the lights so bright? And why was a million pounds of pressure crushing her head? She’d had migraines before, but never anything like this.