No Good Options

by Alex Ander

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  Chapter 31

  You’re Nuts

  Either Randall had misjudged the height of the harness, or the Yamaha had been more powerful than he had thought. The padded loop smacked him in the chest, forcing him to grab the steel cable.

  His legs whipping outward, his gloved hands slid down the wire until they hit the start of the harness. With bullets flying upward at him and pinging off the helicopter’s underbelly, he shoved his left arm into the circle and hugged the harness.

  The aircraft rose higher.

  *******

  On her back, her boots pushed up against the side of the Bell, her fingers curled inside her sister’s belt, Faith held on tight.

  Her upper body hanging off the deck, her boots spread wide for stability, Devlin sent a steady stream of automatic fire down on her teammate’s would-be killers.

  Standing astride his snowmobile, the nearest man juked in place, his clothing splitting open.

  His accomplice sought cover behind his machine.

  Devlin adjusted her aim and sighted in the second man who was getting smaller and smaller while the helicopter went upward. She emptied her MP5, but the vessel banked before she was able to see if her shots hit her target. “Pull me in. Pull me in.”

  Faith did a horizontal squat thrust and dragged her sister aboard.

  Randall’s NVGs appeared a couple seconds later.

  The women hauled the goggles’ owner in through the open door.

  The hoist operator followed and shut the door. “We’re clear. Get us out of here.”

  The 412EP made a wide turn, straightened out, and picked up speed.

  Randall climbed up into a seat.

  Faith claimed the one on his right.

  Across from Randall, an unconscious Crane on her nine o’clock, Devlin put on her safety belt.

  The hoist operator sat on Crane’s left and buckled himself in.

  Devlin and Randall regarded each other.

  She shook her head at him. “You’re nuts,” she shouted above the rotor noise, “pulling a stunt like that.”

  He grinned.

  She saw herself doing something similar not long ago, jumping from one building to another...

  Her heels touched down two inches from the edge of the building. Throwing out her hands, Devlin scraped her right knee and both palms, and fell onto her right hip before rolling through the landing. She stuck a boot spike into the rubber-coated, flattop roof to slow her momentum. Her knee boot skidded a short way, and she came to a halt, down on one knee, one hand on the roof. Getting to her feet, while rubbing the smarting knee, she glanced over her shoulder.

  One hand on his hip, the other holding his Glock loosely at his side, his lips mashed together, her partner Blake Hawkins slowly shook his head at her.

  Devlin bobbed her eyebrows once. Then again, who am I to judge? She poked her chin at Randall. “What if I hadn’t figured out your crazy ‘A’ double ‘S’ plan, and the chopper hadn’t been there for you?”

  He shrugged and bumped up the volume of his voice. “We would’ve found another way. We always will, Jessica.” He leaned forward and stuck out a hand.

  She listed toward him and clamped fingers around the offering.

  “We make a great team, Marshal Devlin...especially now that we can apparently read each other’s minds.”

  She laughed and sat back.

  He turned toward the other woman. “And thank you...for your part in my rescue. Consider your debt to me paid in full.”

  Faith gave him a sultry half smile. “What if,” she spoke so only he could hear her, “I don’t want my debt paid in full? What if I want to find some,” she paused, “other ways to show my gratitude?”

  Randall smiled back at her. “What did you have in mind?”

  “For starters, I’d like that drink you promised me.”

  He nodded. “I’d like that too.”

  “From there,” she peeked at his lips before taking in his eyes again, “we’ll just have to see where things take us.” A beat. “Maybe I could assist you with another...magazine change.”

  His mind took him back to the time they had spent in the cramped cabinet in Seattle, and his smile grew wider.

  Unable to hear what her sister and Randall had been saying to each other, but seeing them exchanging googly eyes and furtive smiles, Devlin frowned. In the next instant, three separate scenes from the last couple of days flashed before her eyes...

  In Devlin’s office:

  “You know yourself, Jess.” Turning away from Devlin, Faith eyed Randall. “I get what I want.”

  Later, after the meeting with Thorn, in Devlin’s office:

  Faith lingered.

  Randall regarded her.

  Her eyes went south before meeting his. “If you’d like,” her voice was low, “I could hang back and help you with your pants.”

  The right side of his mouth ticked higher. “Thank you, but I’ve been unbuttoning and unzipping my pants for a while now. I’ve become very adept at it.”

  “You never know.” She pivoted away while keeping her eyes trained on him. “I might do a better job.”

  Picking up bits and pieces of the hushed conversation behind her, Devlin cranked her head around in time to see the tail end of a visual exchange between Randall and Faith. Stopping, frowning, biting her lower lip, Devlin shot back-and-forth glances at the two while her sibling strolled toward her.

  On the gondola in Lillehammer, Norway:

  “And,” Faith grinned at the boasting male, “without any visible evidence, we ladies rarely put much stock in a man’s wild claims.”

  Chase beamed back at her for several seconds before bursting into laughter while facing the man across from him. “You never told me your companions were going to be such fun. I like them,” he came back to the woman on his left, “a lot.”

  His expression doing an about-face, Randall clenched his teeth.

  Devlin observed her partner’s jaw muscles bulging while his eyes flitted from Faith to Chase to Faith again. What’s eating him?

  Seeing those scenes through the lens of what she was now witnessing, Devlin glared at the side of her sister’s face. Oh, HELL no. You are NOT doing this to me again.

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  Chapter 32

  Antie Fay

  13 MAY—6:25 P.M.

  ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA

  “Antie Fay! Antie Fay!” Six-year-old Cassandra Devlin ran around a couch and raced toward the front door. Closing to within three feet of her Aunt Faith, a wide smile on her face, the little girl stretched out her arms.

  Twenty-two hours ago, back in Norway, the Bell 412EP had landed in a secluded field where Chase had a car waiting to shuttle Devlin, Randall, and Faith, and their prisoner, to the airport in Oslo.

  Once aboard a jet, flown by a former CIA operative now doing secret private contractor work, everyone had claimed seats and relaxed.

  On her second pass down the aisle, a flight attendant had handed Randall an envelope addressed to him; inside, a note from Chase telling Randall how good it had been to once more work with him. At the end of the letter was a request to pass along the CIA man’s phone number to Faith.

  “I love you like a brother, Chase,” Randall had mumbled to himself. In the next breath, he crinkled the note while regarding Faith. “But there’s no way I’d let you anywhere near a woman I cared about.”

  After the threesome’s jet had landed at Ronald Reagan Airport, they then relinquished custody of Michael Crane to a team of agents from three different agencies—the Marshals Service, the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and Homeland Security.

  Not knowing how deep loyalties for the former deputy director were within the Marshals Service, and not wanting to risk another escape attempt, Deputy Director Thorn had set up the joint detention detail.

  For the returning trio, the remainder of the morning had consisted of debr
iefings and periods of waiting at district headquarters while Thorn had worked with officials higher up the command chain to keep relations with Norway running smoothly.

  At noon, after having accepted a dinner invitation from Devlin, Randall and Faith had left the government building to find hotel rooms and get some sleep while Devlin had gone home to her family.

  Her stocking feet transitioning from carpeting to hardwood flooring, Cassandra never slowed.

  “Who the heck,” wearing her brown hiking boots with blue jeans, a baggy, dark-colored t-shirt draped over the Colt 1911 on her hip, Faith scooped up her niece, “are you?”

  Cassandra beamed. “I’m Cassie.”

  Faith shook her head. “I don’t think so. The Cassie I know isn’t as big as you. You must be what...ten years old?”

  The youngster whipped her head back and forth several times.

  “Nine?”

  Another shake of the head.

  “Eight?”

  “I’m,” five tiny fingers on one hand and an index finger from the other shot into the space between the two females, “six.”

  “Six, huh? Well, you’re a very mature girl for only being six.”

  Pouting, “I missed you, Antie Fay,” Cassandra laid her head on Faith’s shoulder.

  Her heart melting at how her name had been pronounced, a holdover from when her niece had started speaking, a holdover that had since taken root, “Aw,” Faith patted Cassandra on the back, “I missed you, too, Squirt.”

  Standing just inside the doorway, on Faith’s nine o’clock, Randall smiled at the heartwarming display. Good with children, too.

  “There’s my baby girl.”

  At the sound of a familiar voice, Faith pivoted away from Randall.

  Still wearing his work attire, black pants, black shirt, and black shoes, the sixty-one-year-old Martin Mahoney kissed his daughter on the cheek before hugging her and his granddaughter at the same time. “I’m so glad to see you, sweetheart.” He pulled away to regard Faith. “When are you moving back to Alexandria?”

  Her shoulders slouching, she lifted a corner of her mouth. “Come on, Dad. I just...”

  Closing the door, Randall frowned at the older man’s Roman collar and white clerical tab. Dad?

  “...walked through the door. You have all night to lay that guilt trip on me.”

  The Catholic priest grinned. “I like getting early starts.”

  She nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  Beaming, Ashford emerged from the kitchen while stripping off a red-checkered apron to reveal a white dress shirt and black tactical pants. “Hey Faith.”

  She faced him. “Hey Curt.”

  Sporting a matching apron over a black, knee-length dress, Devlin followed her husband into the living room, stopping when she noticed Randall. Her focus went from him to her sister. How nice? She came WITH him.

  Ashford curled his left arm around Faith’s shoulders and gave her a half hug while planting a kiss on her cheek. “You can’t simply drop by for a visit, can you? You have to get kidna—” he eyed his stepdaughter who knew nothing about her aunt’s ordeal, “you have to get involved in some drama, don’t you?”

  Faith nudged him with her shoulder. “I like to make an entrance.”

  “That you do.” Ashford pecked the side of her head and rubbed a hand up and down her back. “It’s good to see you’re all right, Faith.”

  “Thanks Curt.”

  Mahoney and Ashford turned toward the third man.

  Devlin and Faith followed suit a moment later.

  Randall’s gaze went from Devlin to Faith to Devlin again before he stepped forward. “Well,” he glanced at the women, “since neither of you are going to introduce me,” he stuck out a hand toward the eldest man, “I’m Noa—”

  “I’m so sorry. What am I thinking?” Devlin ducked out of the apron and tossed it over a chair before skirting around Ashford and taking him by the elbow. “Dad, Curt,” she motioned, “this is Noah Randall. Noah,” she faced Mahoney, “this is my father, Martin. And this,” she laid a hand on her mate’s left pectoral muscle, “is my husband, Curt.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, son.” Mahoney clasped the newcomer’s hand.

  “Likewise,” Randall hesitated while spying the man’s Roman collar, Father? Martin? Mr. Mahoney? “sir.”

  “Martin...please.”

  “Thank you.” Randall pivoted his hand toward the other male.

  Ashford seized the man’s proffering. “You can call me Mister Ashford.”

  Randall’s eyebrows ticked higher.

  Devlin playfully smacked her husband on the arm. “Oh, stop it.” She faced her work partner. “He’s kidding. Call him Curt.”

  Unconvinced, Randall withdrew his hand from Ashford’s. In the next instant, Randall glanced down and gestured toward his clothing. “Thanks for picking these up for me. I appreciate it.”

  Ashford shrugged a shoulder before tipping his head toward his wife. “What she wants...she gets.”

  Devlin turned her back on Randall to have a two-second nonverbal conversation with her man.

  Ashford’s features softened, and he tossed a truncated nod in Randall’s direction. “You’re welcome.”

  After an awkward moment, Randall aimed two index fingers at the girl in Faith’s arms. “And this must be the lovely Cassandra that I’ve heard so many wonderful things about.” He held out a hand. “I’m Noah.”

  The young one brought her arms in close and nuzzled deeper into her aunt’s body.

  Devlin’s voice went lower. “Cassie.”

  Hearing her mother’s tone, Cassandra stiffened.

  “Is that how we greet people?”

  The girl’s eyes zipped back and forth from her mother to the stranger a few times before settling on her parent.

  Devlin’s lips curled up slightly. “It’s okay. He’s a friend.”

  It took Cassandra at least five seconds to lay her five fingers on his palm.

  Randall gently kissed the back of her hand before taking a step back, “My lady,” sweeping his left arm out to the side, and bowing, “it is truly an honor to make the acquaintance of such royalty.”

  Cassandra’s mood lightened at Randall’s grand gesture and quirky, accented words.

  He moved closer, put his left hand near her right ear, made a swift crossing motion with both hands, and produced a mini red rose out of thin air.

  Cassandra’s eyes bulged.

  Inwardly amused, Faith regarded the ‘magician.’ So that’s why we had to stop at the flower shop on the way here.

  Randall presented the rose to the little girl. “A beautiful flower for a beautiful young maiden.”

  Cassandra took the gift and touched it to her nose. “Mommy,” she faced her mother, “it’s real. It’s a real flower.”

  Devlin smiled. “Is that so?” She eyed the gift-giver. “I didn’t know Mr. Randall had such mystical powers.”

  Cassandra sniffed the rose again before smiling at him. “Thank you, Mr. Randall.”

  He dipped his head. “You are most welcome, Miss Cassandra. Enjoy.”

  A timer buzzed.

  Ashford whirled. “That...would be dinner.”

  Faith set Cassandra’s feet on the floor, and the little girl ran into the kitchen, her aunt and grandfather on her heels.

  Meandering away from the front door, Randall pulled up alongside Devlin, and the two made their way to the dinner table.

  She grinned at him. “Neat trick with the flower.”

  “That’s the only one I know.” He faced her, a twinkle in his eye. “Always a great ice breaker with the ladies.”

  Devlin snickered.

  From the kitchen: “Mommy, can Mr. Randall sit next to me?”

  “And it would seem,” she poked her chin toward the out-of-sight voice, “you haven’t lost your touch.”

  He laughed before leaning closer to Devlin a moment later. “I have to know. What’s the deal with your father and the,” Randall tapped hi
s throat? “Is he a,” his words hung in the air?

  She turned toward him, her lips hiking higher.

  Randall frowned. “For real?”

  She nodded.

  His eyebrows still slanted inward, he stared at the holy man. “How the hell—heck...how the heck is that possible?”

  She chuckled. “I’ll fill you in after dinner.”

  When everyone was seated at the table, Devlin took her husband and her daughter’s hand and looked at her father. “Dad.”

  Bowing his head, Mahoney claimed Faith’s hand and extended an upturned palm toward Randall. “Heavenly Father...”

  Randall’s gaze went around the table, and he saw lowered heads and a circle of joined hands, broken only by him.

  “...we thank You...”

  Feeling tiny fingers tugging on his left sleeve, he smiled at a smiling Cassandra, grasped her hand, and her grandfather’s, and bowed his head.

  “...for this food and for the hands that prepared it. May it nourish our bodies as Your Word nourishes our souls.” A tick. “And we thank You for bringing our,” he squeezed his daughter’s hand, “Faith back to us.”

  Her heart rising closer to her throat, Faith swallowed and shut her eyes a little tighter, hoping to tamp down her emotion.

  “We also thank You,” the priest lifted Randall’s hand a tad higher, “for the young man who played a big role in Your rescue plan.”

  Randall’s lips crept higher.

  “You are good, Father, and we ask for Your continued blessings. Keep us in Your...”

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  Chapter 33

  DEFCON 5

  7:24 P.M.

  “Jess, Curt,” sitting at the end of the table, Cassandra at the opposite end, her dad on her left, Ashford on her right, Faith laid her napkin on the table, “that was delicious. I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal. Thank you.”

  On her husband’s three o’clock, Randall across from her, Devlin stood, picked up her plate, as well as her man’s plate, and took the dishes to the sink.