I walked off Whisper’s plane with a heavy heart and waited at a safe distance. My attention was all on that plane taxiing down the cleared runway.
The weather conditions were excellent. A little luck was on our side. I reminded myself while standing there that Hazard and Ghost would keep her safe—Tucker, better!
When the plane was just a dot the size of an ant in the sky I made my way towards Boxer who was coming out of the hangar and waving Agent Jerry off in the truck.
Jerry's now got Adam's head, a thought that seems surreal. I know what I saw, but my mind is having trouble connecting the dots. They'll do tests on it to see if they can find any DNA leading to the motherfucker who did this to Adam, and then I'll be coming for the motherfucker.
A fully enclosed security golf cart is now driving up to Boxer. He parks and the driver gets out, approaching Boxer.
I quicken my steps, the moon boot thumping along the treated gravel under my feet. When I get closer, I know something isn't right. Boxer's rubbing his hand across his head and he only does that when he's got a problem on his plate.
He's talking to an older guy in his late fifties. He's wearing a Carter Private Airstrip winter coat, the logo taking up ample space on the back of it. I don’t hesitate to walk up to them and jerk my head at Boxer who looks like he doesn’t need to be hearing what this guy is selling.
"What's up?" I ask them both. I'm not in the mood for any shit. The love of my life just flew away, and I'm not feeling very generous with the happy-smiley faces at the moment.
“Edge, this is Stan Davis, the manager of the airstrip.” We shake hands, but I want to know what the fuck has got Boxer rubbing his head, and why the hell he’s not on the plane waiting for me to get my ass on the plane so that we can all shove off.
Before Stan can enunciate his dilemma, because I know he’s got one from the frown lines carved into his forehead, Boxer is filling me in. “Stan’s just trying to locate his two security men so they can secure the hangar when Stan leaves. He needs to get going. He came out today to personally make sure the planes were ready because Hudson Raine, the owner of these two beauties is a friend.” He puts his hands on his hips and inhales deeply, before exhaling. He’s impatient to get off the ground too.
He continues, "Stan was checking in on his two security men, to wish them a Merry Christmas. He's just spent the past fifteen minutes trying to get a hold of them. This place isn't big enough to lose two men, and they aren't answering their walkie-talkies or cell phones." I can see why Boxer was rubbing his head. No coinkidink that they are missing and we are here.
Fuck’s sake!
I address Stan-the-man. “Sure they didn’t skip their shift to enjoy Christmas Day at home?” I’m hoping it could be that simple.
It rarely is.
Stan nods in the affirmative. “Wives said they both headed out to their shifts as usual. This was a few hours back and none of them are answering my calls. I found their security golf cart parked inside the shed that houses the pushback tugs. Didn’t think anything of it, because this place is small enough to walk if they wanted some exercise, just easier in the buggy because it’s so damn cold and we never got any trouble in all the years this airstrip’s been open. Today the sun's shining, and it's stopped snowing. Figured they were on foot. This place always runs like clockwork, and nothing bad ever happens to talk about," Stan says with pride.
Boxer’s already moved away and is on his cell. I start scanning the area. This place has a perfect record for no-bad-shit-ever-happening. Seems like it’s about to get ruined.
“Are these men always reliable?” I gotta ask.
"Not out here checking on ‘em, but I would say so. They got a job to do, as I have, and never known them not to do it." Stan is a trusting kinda guy. Now I can see by the way his brow screwed right up he's questioning whether he should have been so trusting.
“Everything locked up when you arrived?” I figure we need to start eliminating some areas of doubt that something has happened to the security men.
"I'm just starting to check now," Stan says. "Just thought I would let your man here know I needed to be getting home, looks like that won't be happening for a while," he says sounding deflated, and a little putout, but tries to cover it up. "I'm of course always happy to be here for Hudson Raine's friends."
“Wouldn’t know, never met the guy,” I reply just as Boxer turns around, his cell phone going back into his pocket and Mathias and Joel are jogging towards us.
“Jerry’s coming back now in case we need him.” Boxer sounds like we are gonna need him.
Fuck-shit!
“You did great, Stan, now let’s go check it out and see if we can’t find your men.” They best be just snoozing on the job, because the last hangar I was in had three dead bodies in it before I added another one, and I want to get up in the sky, not be fucking about looking for security men.
“Hold on, Boxer,” Joel murmurs under his breath, just loud enough for all of us to make out what he’s saying. “Doc Evelyn caught movement in the window of the shed about thirty yards to your right. She was watching through the binoculars, apparently amusing herself until the flight takes off.”
I resist the urge to look in the direction of the shed.
I take three steps closer to Stan-the-man until I can whisper sweet nothings in his ear. “Stan, I want you to take that buggy back to the office and lock yourself in and wait for one of us to come get you.”
“Why do—”
“Don’t fuck about, Staann, do as you’re told,” I tell him in a tone that sends a clear message I don’t want any back-talk.
“Go!” Boxer hisses, “and just be casual.”
"Joel… I want you to go left on my signal," Boxer whispers. Mathias, you cover me, I'm going to the door and Edge… go right." He makes the signal, and we all move into action, weapons in hand.
Could just be the two security men caught slacking on the jo—
I don’t get to finish that thought because the window slides open on the front of the shed and a hand hurls something out at us.
It all happens so quickly.
“Flash Gren—!” Joel hollers from the left side of the shed before he disappears and Boxer is leaping forward trying the door handle on the shed and throwing it open.
The grenade lands a few feet from me, and then I'm being yanked sideways by Mathias, hitting the ground, eyes shut tight, ears plugged.
Fuck I hate flash grenades!