He hoped Toni was all right. Yes, she could take care of herself better than most people, but even so, she wasn’t a superwoman. Something could have gone wrong. Probably it was nothing — weather, crowded flights, her phone on the blink, that was all. But he couldn’t help worrying. He loved her. And if she was all right, he didn’t care how much she hated it, he was never going to send her into the field like this again.
35
Keller had checked the operations center and everything was fine. Well, as fine as it would get. Chance’s hurry-up was going to cause big problems. His team was good, the best, but they couldn’t walk on water. They were at eighty-five, eighty-eight percent readiness, and if Omega launch was tomorrow, they wouldn’t be able to improve on that. He had them all running full blast, and as soon as he had a chance to take a shower, get into some fresh clothes, and grab a quick bite, he would be right back there with them. He hated this. He wanted ten-for-ten for his part, but eight or nine was going to have to do it.
Maybe Santos the sociopath and his team of mouth-breathers could take up the slack. Not Keller’s fault if they couldn’t. He had been given a timeline, he had kept to it. If they wanted to hurry him along, fine, but in that case, they couldn’t bitch about his work.
The door to his cabin stuck. He had to wipe the keycard three times to get it to open. Just one more little glitch in his life he didn’t need. He flipped on the lights, went into the bedroom, and sat on the bed. Took off his shoes, his shirt, and undershirt. He was reaching for his belt buckle when a woman said, “I think that’s enough for now.”
He jerked around so hard he nearly fell down.
A short little brunette stood there in T-shirt, jeans, and running shoes.
“Who are you? What are you doing in my room?”
“Nobody you know, Mr. Keller. What happened to you? You get caught in a riot?”
She nodded at his bruises, which had developed several different shades of brown and purple.
“I’m going to call security,” he said.
She shook her head. “No, I’m afraid you can’t do that.”
He blinked at her. She was, what? Five two, maybe a hundred and twenty, twenty-five pounds? He took a step toward the cabin’s phone on the bedside table.
Somehow, she got between him and the phone and shoved him. He was off-balanced by the little push. He fell on the bed.
Screw this! He might get mauled by a man like Santos, but he was not going to be pushed around by some little woman! He jumped up, intending to slap her silly. He swung his hand at her face, hard—
She ducked the slap, and hit him with a brick in the ribs! Before he could recover, she did something to his feet, tripped him, and he fell back on the bed again.
He lost it. All the suppressed rage he’d felt at being used and abused by Chance, at being assaulted by that trained ape Santos, at being attacked by a woman in his own room, it all exploded. He screamed and leaped at her. He was going to choke the life from her—!
He came out of grayness, puzzled. He saw a woman sitting next to him, watching him. Who was this? Where was he? His thoughts were sluggish, as though wrapped in sheets of lead. He hurt, more than he had before. He needed a pain pill, that’s what he needed. Had he been in an accident?
“Sorry,” the woman said.
Part of it came back to him. He was in his cabin, on the ship. He’d come here, to… to do something, and this woman had been here. She had attacked him. Hit him with a club. Where was the club?
“Wh-who are you? What do you want?” God, he hurt.
“It’s not important who I am,” she said. “But we need to talk. I need you to tell me all about what you’ve been up to.”
A surge of depression broke over him. This sucked! He had been beaten by Santos, threatened with death. And now, he had been beaten by a woman! A tiny little woman! It was embarrassing. He was ashamed. He felt himself starting to cry. What had he done to deserve any of this? It wasn’t right!
“It’s all right,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “I won’t hurt you anymore.”
That really made things worse.
The Sikorsky’s intercom bonged: “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain. As you’ve noticed, we’re getting a little weather here, and apparently the conditions are worse at our destination. While we could probably make it just fine, I’d rather not take the risk, so I’m afraid we’re going to have to abort our flight and go back to Fort Lauderdale. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
With those words, the big helicopter started a slow turn to port.
Howard sighed. Of course. It had been too easy. He looked across the aisle at Julio and nodded.
Julio unbuckled his seat belt, stood, then stepped into the aisle and headed forward.
One of the two flight attendants moved to intercept him. “Sir, please take your seat. The captain has the seat belt sign lit.”
“I’m gonna puke,” Julio said. He moved closer toward the flight control cabin, which wasn’t far.
“I’ll get you an airsickness bag, but you need to sit down—”
Julio said, “Sergeant Reaves?”
Reaves, a brawny man with a high-and-tight buzz cut, came up and grabbed the flight attendant, one arm pinning her arms to her body, the other hand covering her mouth. The woman tried to yell, but only a little sound got past the sergeant’s powerful grip.
The second flight attendant, at the back, saw this and reached for an intercom mike, but a trooper caught her and sat her back in her seat.
Julio reached under his tails-out Hawaiian shirt and pulled his pistol, the old warhorse of a Beretta he carried, and hurried forward to have a little chat with the pilot and copilot.
A few seconds later, the helicopter turned back toward the southeast.
Howard looked at Michaels and gave the commander a little shrug. “Stuff happens,” he said. “No problem.”
Howard turned and motioned to his pilot to go forward. The man did. A minute later, Julio marched the copilot back and sat him in the vacated seat. His pistol was tucked back into its holster. He went back to his seat and buckled himself in.
“Everything okay, Lieutenant?”
“All systems green, sir. The captain has decided that cooperation is in his best interest, since our pilot is in the second chair with a gun and he’s let the captain know he knows how to fly this thing. He wasn’t ordered to turn back, it was his decision. ETA is thirty minutes. Might as well sit back and enjoy the ride.”
A downdraft dropped the copter at that moment, a free fall that made them nearly weightless for a second or so. The fall stopped, and the craft shook as if it had bumped into something in the air. Howard looked at Julio.
“Think of it as a new and exciting ride at Disney World,” Julio said. “The Upchucker.”
Santos looked at his watch and frowned. Forty-five minutes, and no sign of Mary Johnson. He had called and found that she had checked out, but the rain and wind were worse now, and they had shut down the commercial flights back to the Mainland, and according to their records, Ms. Johnson had not left yet. So she was here somewhere, and if she wasn’t in her room, or in the casinos, restaurants, or bars, where was she?