The hits just keep on coming, Travis reflected. I’m going to help kidnap the daughter of Senator Coscarelli… Brilliant, just brilliant! How did I get myself into this mess? Better yet, how do I get myself out?
THIRTY-SEVEN
Baltimore, Maryland
07:00 HOURS
Sully Metusack had barely slept in the past seventy-two hours. With preparing for the Livermore job, dealing with the aftermath of the mission, and then immediately boarding JetBlue for the red-eye to Maryland, he was feeling drained, his energy level at low ebb. Flying coast to coast made his situation worse, the effects of jetlag further complicating his lethargy.
There were psychological effects to bear as well. The entire team was reeling from the devastating reality of losing Weaver, and although Sully wasn’t a stranger to losing close teammates in combat, it was never an easy thing to face. He actually felt fortunate to have something on which to focus his attention, keeping his mind off the loss, knowing at some point he’d have to process his anger to keep from repressing the emotional trauma of Weaver’s death.
Travis Marlon pulled to the curb at the JetBlue baggage terminal only moments after Sully arrived. He had been alerted by Tooz to stand by as soon as the flight attendant cleared the passengers for cell phone usage. Sully opened the back door, threw his duffle bag into the car, and slid into the passenger seat beside Marlon.
“Hey, Trav, how’s it hangin’?” Sully said, pulling the seatbelt across his chest. “I’m famished. You don’t mind, do you?” he asked intending to eat the cinnamon roll he’s purchased on his way through the airport.
“Not at all,” Marlon replied, looking carefully over his shoulder as he merged into the hectic traffic at the terminal.
“Thanks. I haven’t eaten in God knows.”
There was a moment of silence as Marlon concentrated on selecting the right lane for the freeway entrance toward Maryland. Satisfied he was on course, he said, “I’m not thrilled with this latest job, but we’ll get through it, I guess. How’d it go in Livermore?”
“It all went haywire. We lost Dallas last night,” he said, pausing briefly to swallow. “We got the goods, but paid a heavy price. Krilenko’s out too…for keeps.”
“Whew…” Marlon replied, whistling softly through his teeth upon hearing the news that Dallas Weaver was killed in action. “Damn, I’m sorry to hear it went so badly. I’ll bet Richard’s pissed.”
“It’s not just Boss who’s pissed…we’re all upset. Dallas was shot in the face. It could’ve been prevented,” Sully said, and for the next few minutes he recounted the grim details of the Livermore job.
“I’ll tell you another thing: Richard’s already talked to Holloway and he knows the name of the chicken-shit who set us up. I’ll lay odds he doesn’t last out the morning.”
“Wow! Now that surprises me. Is that for certain? It’s not Richard’s style to take these things personally.”
“Personally? Hell, Trav…this bastard’s incompetence got one of us killed. I’m glad he’s taking it personally. We should all take it personally. I think it sends the right message myself,” Sully replied, crossing his arms across his chest. The tone of his voice was unmistakable-the subject was closed to further discussion.
“So, what’s the deal with this Coscarelli woman…any complications?” he asked, quickly changing the subject. Even though always good-natured, he was in no mood for Marlon’s griping and didn’t want to discuss Weaver’s death any further.
“Christ…I don’t know, Sully. This ain’t my bag,” Marlon replied with a scowl. “From what I can determine, she won’t be difficult to grab. But, hey…what do I know? She works late every evening and doesn’t leave for the lab before noon. It seems to me that if you contact her at home, before she leaves for work, it can be easily done; there’ll be too many witnesses if we pick her up at school. But it’s your call.”
“Seems pretty straight forward,” Sully ventured.
“Oh yeah, I’m supposed to handle the transport-but I don’t know where we’re going or which mode of transportation to set up.” Marlon shook his head, still annoyed that he’d let Kilmer talk him into this gig.
“Not to worry, your transport’s to Hilton Head. Holloway’s estate. She’ll be stashed there and the transfer from the airport will be quick. With her high-profile father, we can’t have this woman out in public longer than necessary. I assume you brought the King Air with you,” Sully replied, rapidly losing patience with Marlon’s bellyaching about the mission.
Marlon nodded, and Sully continued. “So, here’s the plan as I see it: We’ll make the grab at the lady’s home, fly her to Hilton Head, get her secured at Holloway’s, and you’ll be on your way back to California later today. Got a problem with that?”
It wasn’t intended to be a question open to debate. Travis Marlon had never been a favorite of Sully’s precisely because he wasn’t a team player and thought himself better than some of the other guys. He was a good enough pilot, but his attitude was always a source of irritation.
“Not at all,” Marlon replied. “I’m glad we finally have a destination. I’ll file a flight plan. So, assuming we grab Coscarelli before 8:00…wheels up at 09:00?” he asked, looking at his watch.
“That’ll be the plan,” Sully replied with a sigh, closing his eyes and resting his head against the headrest, trying to decompress for the remainder of the trip into Maryland. It’s another interesting day in the employment of Alastair Holloway-no rest for the wicked, he thought.
For the job ahead Sully was dressed in a nondescript black suit, white shirt, and plain gray tie. He wore his army-issue mirrored sunglasses that partially obscured his high forehead and prominent cheekbones, but also accentuated his flattop crew-cut. The bulge from his shoulder holster was just barely detectable, but even without this telltale sign, no one would mistake him for anything but an undercover law enforcement officer.
His plan was to introduce himself as an undercover Secret Service agent, and request Dr Coscarelli accompany him for questioning about a highly sensitive matter. He determined that this ploy should throw her off long enough for him to gain entrance to her home. Once inside, he figured it would be a simple matter to subdue the woman and convince her that one way or another, she would accompany him to South Carolina.
There was considerable tension between the two men as they hastily drove the short distance to the subject’s house-the closer they got Marlon became even more edgy about his role in abducting the daughter of a United States senator; and Sully, suffering from jetlag, was also uncharacteristically dour.
When they arrived at the house, Sully promptly left the vehicle and Marlon watched as he approached the woman’s front door, realizing it was now too late to beg out of the proceedings. Buckle up, he thought, the air ahead is going to be bumpy.
Sully walked up the pathway leading to Dr. Coscarelli’s front door, noting that the verdant lawn surrounding the home was recently mowed, the rose bushes trimmed, and the sprinklers had freshly irrigated the entire yard. He stopped to pick up the newspaper that was encased in plastic, figuring it might come in handy to encourage the woman to open her door. He approached the house, stopping briefly to straighten his tie, and rang the doorbell, pausing for a response. It was only a moment before Dr. Coscarelli answered.
“May I help you?” Sela Coscarelli asked, opening the door with a pleasant look on her face. She was wearing a bathrobe and slippers but her face and hair were all made up. She didn’t appear unnerved in the least by an early morning call from a complete stranger.
Sully noticed immediately that the woman before him was very attractive, even in her bathrobe. Her dark brown hair was cut short, and her aqua-blue eyes radiated warmth and intelligence. From her manner, he could tell immediately that she was a feisty woman.