Michael (32 page)

“He makes instant friends wherever he goes,” Ellie went on. “Quite useful, really. He could get a perfect stranger to write him into their will, I swear. That’s how he got us wheels to the ramp today.”

“Nice work,” said Michael.

I couldn’t help but smile. It was a perfect sunny day, the birds were singing, it was still early, and we were riding open air in the back of a farm truck to the airport, getting ready to fly to someplace totally exotic, somewhere I had never dreamt of. I was excited. It was easy to let Kim’s weirdness slide for the moment. Besides, she was sitting up front with Hex and chatting
his
ear off.

Then it occurred to me: the mood Kim was in, we were sure to get kicked out of whatever restaurant we decided to patronize for breakfast.
Not that there’s much choice here…
“Um, hey, Els? Where are we headed?”

“Brekkies,” she said.

“Yeah, not a sit-down place though?” My face communicated the worry I felt as I jerked my head toward my slightly insane BFF in the passenger seat.

Ellie only laughed and pointed in the direction Hex was driving us.

I looked and saw my old childhood buddy: the golden arches of McDonald’s.

“Thank God for Mackers,” she said. “And drive-through windows, right?” She laughed, and I couldn’t help but join her.

Maybe everything will turn out right in the end. Maybe, after all, it really will.
I suffered myself a smile as I reached across to hold Michael’s hand.

CHAPTER XI

“THIS IS A G550. Top of the line,” Hex said motioning to a big private jet as we all dismounted the faded brown loaner truck. “It’s in a class of its own, really.”

“Cool,” I said. I didn’t have a clue about aircraft. Nor did I have much desire to have a clue about aircraft. All I knew was that it looked very fast and very expensive, as if it had come from a world that existed for some people in reality, and for people like me only in storybooks. That my world was beginning to overlap that world was pure thrill for me.

I cast an excited look at Michael, who smiled at me. “Dude, this is unbelievable!” I sounded dorky, but then who cared? I watched as another guy, who was evidently a member of the crew, took our bags and loaded them. That is, except for Kim’s new kiddiebag, which she wore over both shoulders and from which she refused to be separated.

“That’s my co-pilot, Bishop. He’s a Zulu man, very good at what he does.”

“Howzit!” he greeted us from a distance over the din of the idling jet engines.

Hex stood at the base of the ladder and motioned us toward him. “All aboard,” he said. “Make yourselves at home, please. I just have a few checks to make and then we’ll be on our way.”

I looked at Ellie, who gave me her little nod and motioned me aboard. Of course I couldn’t beat Kim to the punch. She tromped up the stairs like a football player. I followed more sedately but hardly less excited. I just hoped Kim wouldn’t white trash herself too much and embarrass both of us.

Inside it was all leather and wool carpets and exotic woods and technology. Lap of luxury stuff. Amazing. I turned back to Michael with a wowed expression. He returned it with a smirk and raised eyebrows.

Kim was being annoying, touching everything and rambling on. I wasn’t really listening to her. I sat in one of the enormously comfortable chairs and looked out the window. The farmer, at least that’s who I guessed it was, had come for his truck and Hex was out there talking with him. It wasn’t much of a conversation as far as I could tell, with Hex, a towering black man, basically shouting into the ear of a wizened old salt-of-the-earth onion farmer and clapping him on the back. They laughed like old friends.
Dude. He is good.

Ellie, who had been waiting nearby for the two men to finish their conversation, approached Hex and gave him a side hug, her little blue pom-pom head vanishing briefly in the crook of his massive arm. She was too cute. I decided I liked her. Having greeted her friend, she bounded away from him, jogging toward the plane. She crested the stairs gracefully and ducked in.

“What do we think?” she asked.

“It’s sooooo rad,” Kim said in admiration.

“Glad you like it.”

“Can you, like, watch movies on that thing?” Kim asked, pointing to the massive display screen at the head of the cabin.

“Oh, sure,” Ellie said. “What do you fancy?”

“Oh, I don’t like anything fancy,” Kim said, and I smacked my palm against my forehead. She went on, “My favorite movie is
Beauty and the Beast.
I think it’s soooo romantic.”

“Since when?” I howled at her. “I thought your favorite movie was
Miss Congeniality,
Kim.”

She simply stuck her tongue out at me and sat down in a huff.

“No matter. We’ve got both of those and more,” Ellie said. “We’re connected via satellite all across the globe in this—”

“Beauty and the Beast! Beauty and the Beast! Beauty and the Beast! Beauty and the Beast!” Kim was hopping up and down in her seat, clapping her hands together like a spoiled rotten brat.

I pressed my hands to my temples and leaned forward. “Wow,” I said, feeling desperate.

“Okay, Kim, settle down,” Ellie said. “I’ll put it on for you.” She was talking to her like she might have talked to a small child. She grabbed a tablet sized control pad and deftly manipulated some settings. “There. It’ll start streaming as soon as the decryption is finished.” She turned back to Kim. “In the meantime, love, can I get you something to drink?”

“OhmyGawdyes,” Kim replied. “I want soda pop! Soda pop! Soda pop! Soda pop!” She sat still, beaming at Ellie with crazy eyes and clapping her hands in rhythm to her chant.

The movie started up, telling the story of the ugly witch and the selfish prince. The music swelled in surround sound, filling the space of the jet with my preschool memories. What was up with Kim?
When did she become five again?

Ellie approached me. “Hey, girlie. Can I get you a drink?”

“Yeah,” I shot back, “What’s the legal drinking age in international airspace?”

She chuckled and bent low to my ear, trying to talk over the preschooler noises.

Kim was now singing along with the symphonic score with a loud “Dum-da dum doo dah DUMMMMM-pum pum pum…”

Ellie said, “Don’t worry, girlie. I’m going to slip a sedative in hers so you won’t need one.” She stood erect. “Unless of course you
want
to be sedated…to each their own.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “Anyway, how quick does it work?”

“She’ll be out like a light before we reach the end of the runway.”

“In that case, I’ll have a water.”

Ellie, who had been holding her hands up as if she were writing my order on an imaginary notepad, dropped them to her sides, slumped her shoulders, and gave me a sharply sarcastic look. “Oh, that’s imaginative.” She stalked off. “Fine. Have it your way. We’ve got all kinds of expensive beverages on here, but never mind.”

“Hey,” I growled at her, “What about my boyfriend here?”

She didn’t stop. Her voice came shouting at both of us from the back of the airplane, “He doesn’t get anything!”

I looked at Michael and we both laughed. He pointed his index finger at his head and moved it in a circle, indicating that we had fallen in with the psych ward somehow.

“No doubt,” I said back, laughing. It
was
insane. But I figured we all needed to let off a little steam. I grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it. He smiled and his blue eyes sparkled. I was so happy just looking into his eyes. I wanted to drown in them.

Ellie came back with a silver tray bedecked—yeah, bedecked in this case—with two ornate crystal glasses of crisp cold pure water, and set it down on the solid burled wood table between Michael and me. “
Madame et Monsieur,
your two hydrogens and one oxygen. Each.” She turned toward Kim with a can of soda and fairly slammed it down on her table, making little drops of it blast out the opening.

“Ooooo, thanks! Soda pop soda pop soda pop soda pop soda pop,” she sang along with the cartoon, forcing her words into the mouth of the bookish on-screen heroine.

Sedative, do your worst. I can’t take much more of this.

The co-pilot, Bishop, bounded up the stairs. He was short and wiry and full of energy. As black as coal and beautifully pure African, he moved very quickly, darting all over the cabin and pumping our hands while smiling enthusiastically at us. He spoke in a very thick accent; it was difficult to understand what he was saying. I smiled at him and guessed he was glad we had come.

When Hex came aboard, Bishop shut the door for him. Then Ellie made the official introductions.

“This is Kim, Airel, and Michael Alexander.” Michael’s last name produced a subtle reaction in Hex. His eyebrows arched ever so slightly.

“Very well. It is my pleasure to meet you all. I welcome you aboard Miss Ellie’s personal aircraft.”

Whoa. This is hers?

My name is Hector LeFievre. You can call me Hex. Please relax, enjoy, and leave the flying to us.” He gestured to Bishop, who smiled at us. “If you have need of anything, please just call the cockpit and we will do our utmost to serve you.”

“Oh, Hex, just fly the thing. I’ll take care of my guests,” Ellie said.

Kim made childish noises in the background as she sipped at her soda pop soda pop soda pop and tapped her fingers on her little tray table.

“All right. Here we go,” Hex said, and turned to the cockpit. Both he and Bishop entered through the flight deck door and took their seats. Bishop then reached back and closed it. Hex’s voice came over the intercom: “Ladies, and our lone gentleman, please buckle your seat belts. This is the captain speaking.”

Ellie sat casually in a seat facing us and kicked her shoes off, tucking her legs up under her. “Should I do the stewardess thing now?”

Michael laughed, “No, that’s fine.”

“All right then.” Without looking, she reached back and snatched the can of soda from Kim, who at that instant was passing out and crashing. Ellie brought the can around smoothly as Kim plopped back and sideways over her own armrest, her mouth wide open. “See what I mean? Quick.” She smiled and stood, walking to the back with the can of soda pop soda pop soda pop.

When she came back, the can was gone, and she carried a blanket and a pillow.

“What did you give her?” I asked, semi-concerned for my friend now.

“You don’t want to know,” was the reply. “But she’s fine.” She flipped a lever on Kim’s chair and it lay down flat. She pulled her up by the armpits and righted her in the chair, propped her head up with the pillow, buckled her seat belt, and covered her with the blanket.

“Now that’s hospitality,” she said, admiring her work.

The plane began to roll, taxiing for takeoff.

Ellie picked up the tablet and gestured to the movie screen. “Anyone else watching this?”

“No!” Michael and I said in unison.

“’Kay, then,” she said, touching the tablet’s screen. The movie turned off. “Ah,” she said, sitting in her seat again, “much better.” She twisted to check on Kim.

Turning back toward us, she buckled her own seat belt. We followed suit.

Hex’s voice came over the intercom again. “Prepare for takeoff.”

“This is my favorite part,” Ellie said.

The jet engines roared and we blasted down the runway. As we became airborne it hit me: this was the first time in a long time I felt truly safe.

CHAPTER XII

Boise, Idaho, present day

HARRY, AFTER WAITING DAYS for the confluence of various circumstances after the demise of one Gretchen Reid, sat on a plane at the Boise airport, waiting for departure. The man next to him was having a conversation on his cell phone. It sickened him that people felt the need to parade all that weakness, all that idiotic vanity, in public. Sure, the conversations were one-sided, but they were also usually louder than ambient noise, and disturbing for their disjointedness. Harry ground his teeth as the man prattled on.

“Yes, dear.” A pause. “Honey, you’re okay. Honest injun. Are you enjoying your time with your sister?” Another pause.

Harry wanted to vomit. Either that or rip the man’s phone away from his hand and beat him senseless with it. Mercilessly, the conversation continued.

“Of course. And how about you?” A pause again. “Oh, I’m just waiting for the pushback so we can get underway here.”

Pushback,
Harry thought.
I’ll give you pushback.

“And I’ll miss
you
. Well, it’s only the civilized parts of Africa…. Yeah! Of course…. Always.”

Why must I endure all this nonsense?
Harry thought.
Why couldn’t I just kill the man in his own house?
He reflected on that. It would have been…less convenient. Orders were orders anyway. He understood rationally that it would be better to wait until Cape Town. It would look better. But emotionally he wasn’t sure how much more he would be able to stand.

“I love you.” The man in the seat next to Harry ended the call.

Thank you,
Harry thought.
Perhaps now my day will improve.
But the man turned to face him directly, as if he had been reading all the hostility Harry had been broadcasting. Harry twisted in his seat, shrinking back from the man as he squared his shoulders and looked at his face.

“Let’s not pretend we don’t know each other, Harry.”

This is not good.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” was all he could say in response.
Deflect this…

The man lowered his voice and leaned in. “Oh, come on, Harry, let’s not pretend anymore. I know all about it.”

Harry chortled. “About what?” His body language communicated his distaste and contempt for the very idea.

The man lowered his voice still more. “About agent Gretchen Reid. And how you killed her.”

Harry arched his eyebrows. “Oh, really? And here I thought you were going to be another boring dull stupid lazy mark.”