Never Go Home (5 page)

“Why are we
headed toward the city?” I asked.

She glanced
at me and gave me a look. “We’re going to the airport.”

“I know I’m
not from around these parts, but isn’t Heathrow behind us?”

“Who says
you’re leaving via Heathrow?”

I thought she
would understand by now that I hate wasting breath. “Then where are we going?”

“London City
Airport.”

“Never been
there.”

“It’s not the
type of attraction a tourist would head to.” She paused a moment, presumably to
see if I would take the bait. I didn’t. She continued. “It’s all charters.
Definitely easier for us to use in a case like this. You’ll get out unnoticed,
which is better for all of us. We don’t need anyone over there to know that
you’ve left the country.”

“Do you have
intel that says someone is watching me over here from there?”

She shook her
head. “Don’t need it. You’ll always be watched, Jack. And as long as you work
for me, it’s in my best interest to keep them off your back.”

I shrugged.
“I can handle that.”

She said
nothing. She changed lanes without signaling. A car honked at us.

I glanced out
the window. “So you’re sneaking me out of England to deposit me into the
busiest airport in the U.S.?”

“No, you
aren’t going to Hartsfield-Jackson. We’ve arranged to drop you off at Dobbins.”

Sean couldn’t
get on base. This grew more complicated by the moment. “This isn’t necessary,
Sasha. I can fly under an alias. I’ve got a clean one no one knows about.
Passport, credit cards, everything.”

She wagged
her hand at me. “Don’t tell me things like that. Besides, someone, somewhere,
knows this information, which means they might, too.”

I resigned
myself to the fact that she had an answer for everything. She always did. And I
didn’t mind. Last thing I wanted to do was worry about the details. It had been
a hell of a day. My head ached, and so did my heart.

I called Sean
as we passed through the center of London. He didn’t answer. I left him a
message telling him when I expected to land and that I’d work on getting a
flight to Florida. I hung up and leaned back, letting my head fall to the side.
My unfocused eyes watched lights pass by like laser beams.

“No luck
reaching him?” Sasha said.

“No.”

“You can call
from the plane. It’s only, what, around four there?”

“Something
like that.”

A few minutes
later Sasha pointed toward a sign I didn’t bother to read. “Almost there.”

I nodded and
emptied my head again. But a single thought brought me back.

“Dammit,” I
said under my breath.

“What is it?”
she said.

“Mia.”

“You want to
say goodbye.”

I nodded. I
hadn’t seen my daughter in ten days. I hated the thought of leaving without
letting her know.

“We can stop
by if you’d like.”

I was
surprised she offered. Didn’t sound like something she would have thought of as
a good idea. I contemplated it for a moment.

“Better not,”
I said. “It’s late. And it’ll just worry her and Erin. Besides, I’m only going
to be gone a couple days.”

“OK,” she
said. “That’s that.”

“That’s
that,” I repeated.

We drove in
silence until we reached the small airport. She pulled up to a gate manned by
an armed guard. One look at her identification was all it took to get us past.

“That’s it,
right there.” She extended her arm in front of me and aimed her finger at a
passenger jet. She stopped the car fifty feet away.

I cracked my
door. The smell of jet fuel overwhelmed me. My nostrils burned and my eyes
itched. I took a moment to adjust, then stepped onto the pavement. My back and
shoulders had stiffened during the hour-long ride over. I worked out the kinks
before heading toward Sasha.

She stood at
the back of her car. The trunk was open. She reached in and pulled out a small
bag.

“Be careful,”
she said, handing the bag to me. “It’s loaded.”

I took it
from her, unzipped it and looked inside. “M40?”

“I know it’s
not your favorite. Only untraceable one I had.”

I pulled the
sidearm out and tucked it behind me. “You can keep the bag.” I tossed it into
her trunk.

She shook her
head.

“What?” I
said. “It could be bugged.”

“Whatever,
Jack. There’s a suitcase on board containing a couple changes of clothes. Not
that you’ll take it.”

“Don’t need
it. I can borrow some of Sean’s. We’re the same size.”

“You sure
about that?” She attempted a joke by patting my stomach.

“No change on
my part, Sasha. Looks the same as it did twenty years ago.”

She rolled
her eyes. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“I guess six
years ago.”

“And you
don’t think it’s possible that he’s put on a few pounds?”

“Sean?
Doubtful.”

“Take the
clothes, Jack.”

I wasn’t
going to get rid of her until I agreed, so I said, “OK.”

She walked me
to the jet. I glanced up. The lights and the clouds made it impossible to see
the sky. We stopped in front of the stairs. She wrapped her arms around my
neck. Beer and steak and perfume and her natural scent washed over me. I had
the urge to kiss her. I didn’t, though.

“Take care of
yourself, Jack. Be safe, and be careful.”

“I’m going
home, Sasha. It’s the safest place I know.”

She pulled
back far enough to look me in the eye. A small crinkle appeared in the middle
of her forehead when she furrowed her brows. “Where exactly is home?”

“Only two
people I know have that information, and I’m not about to make it three. If
that got out, it wouldn’t be the safest place anymore, would it?”

She kissed my
cheek. Her lips felt soft and wet. She slowly released her grip, then took a
couple steps back.

“You best get
going.” She looked up. “That storm is getting close.”

I followed
her gaze and glanced up again. The clouds were thick and gray. Too early for
the remnants of a hurricane, I thought. I opened my mouth to ask, but Sasha had
already closed her door. The Audi’s brake lights lit up. The emergency brake
clicked when she disengaged it. She raced toward the gate we had entered
through.

I worried
about her. She’d gotten too close. Her feelings went too far. I could tell
that.

And I knew
that left her vulnerable in too many ways.

She wasn’t
the only one though.

“We’re ready
to depart, sir.”

I looked up
at the man at the top of the stairs. He had short, dark hair and wore blue
pants and a white polo shirt. He motioned for me to board. I climbed the steps
and brushed past him. He didn’t smell as good as Sasha.

“Sit anywhere
you’d like,” he said.

A leather
couch stretched along the opposite wall. It was dark and deep and wide and
broken in.

“Can I lay
there?” I asked.

“After we
take off, you can,” he said. “Grab a seat and strap in and I’ll let you know
when you can move.”

I grabbed a
spot near the couch. It felt as soft as the couch looked. I strapped my seat
belt over my lap and settled in for takeoff. Ten minutes later we were in the
air. Twenty minutes after that I was on the phone with Sean.

“They’re
taking me to Dobbins.”

“How long
until you arrive?” Sean said.

“Four hours.
Maybe five. Not exactly sure.”

“So around
seven or eight my time?”

“I guess.
They said there will be a car waiting for me if I want to use it, but I’m leery
of that. No telling if they want to try to track where I’m going.”

“They don’t
know where you’re from?”

“I hope not.
Last thing I want to do is bring a bunch of my kind of people into town.”

Sean exhaled
into the phone. It sounded like a powerful gust of wind.

“I just
messaged Deb. She’s cool with me coming to get you. I’ll probably be there
around nine-thirty, though. Think you can find your way off base, maybe head
over to a Waffle House or something?”

“It’s
Atlanta. I shouldn’t have trouble finding a Waffle House.”

“You know
what I mean, Jack.”

“Yeah, I’ll
get somewhere and meet you there.”

“All right,
baby brother.”

“All right,
old man winter.”

“I’ll see you
in a few hours.”

I kept the
line open for a few seconds longer.

“You there?”
Sean asked.

“Yeah,” I
said.

“What’s up?”
he said.

I paused a
beat. I hadn’t had anyone to talk to for a while now, and there was a lot I
needed to work through. Sean had always been a good ear for me. He had things
to do, though. I knew that. Perhaps on the ride home.

“Forget it.
I’ll see you soon.”

I hung up, lay
down on the couch and closed my eyes. My mind drifted and settled on Sasha for
a few minutes. The woman had become a big part of my life over the past month
or so. But the tension grew between us. It seemed to culminate tonight. If
there’s one thing that life had taught me, it was that two people in my line of
business should never get involved. It always ended messy. What if one of us
was captured? Tortured? I’d heard of spies giving up every ounce of
intelligence they had to save a spouse or child. That’s why I never let
anything get far enough to be a detriment.

And that’s why
Mia threw such a wrench into my life. I was still trying to come to grips that
I had a daughter. Only a few people knew. One of those people was Sasha, and
that posed a problem.

This all
factored into my decision to decline the offer from Marcia Stanton. The money she
dangled in front of me almost got me to accept. Perhaps Jessie was still trying
to save me, even from the grave.

With the vision
of Mia in my mind’s eye, I dozed off. The nap extended into a deep sleep. I
never saw the Atlantic Ocean even though we flew into the sunset.

I felt a hand
on my shoulder and opened my eyes. It wasn’t the man who welcomed me on board.
My right arm reached across my body and grabbed a hold of their wrist. The
woman gasped. She dropped the water bottle she’d held in her other hand.

A second later
I realized where I was and let go of her arm. She moved to the other side of
the plane. She was out of breath and shaking.

“Sorry,” I
said. “You startled me.”

She gave me a
tepid smile. The water bottle rolled around on the floor. She chased it down.

“Are we close?”
I said.

“Fifteen
minutes,” she said.

“That water for
me?”

She nodded,
held the bottle out.

I stood up and
took it from her. After taking a sip, I said, “You familiar with Atlanta?”

She shook her
head. “I could look some information up on my phone for you.”

“That’s OK.” I
returned to my original seat and buckled in.

The woman
walked toward the front of the plane. She glanced back once, still scared. I
didn’t see her again.

The sun was
still out. The horizon was orange and red and pink. The city looked like a
painting of Tuscany. We passed downtown in a matter of seconds.

Our landing was
smooth. The jet came to a halt in front of a large green hangar probably made
from galvanized steel and large enough to fit a couple football fields inside.

The pilot
stepped out from the cockpit. He tossed a look in my direction. The stairs
banged against the side of the plane. The pilot opened the door and gestured
for me to get up.

“You ready?” he
said.

I nodded.

“There’s a
black automobile over there. I believe that is for you. See the man standing
next to it for the keys.”

“How do you
know it’s that one?”

“Because there
aren’t any others out there.”

“Fair enough.”
I stepped past the man.

My footsteps
echoed as I jogged down the steps. Heat rose off the blacktop. Less than ten
feet from the jet, the Georgia humidity swallowed me whole. My forehead grew
damp. The thick air disagreed with my sinuses and lungs.

“You forgot
your luggage,” the pilot called out.

“You keep it,”
I said. “I don’t need it.”

He gave me a
funny look, but didn’t protest. They were used to eccentric people, I figured.
The charter jet business had to be an interesting one.

I continued
toward the Lincoln. A black man in a black suit stood next to it. However hot
and muggy I felt, he had to feel ten times worse. The guy waved at me. I waved
back. He dangled a set of keys and gave me a thumbs up and a big smile.

Nice fella, I
thought.

He popped the
trunk and opened the driver’s door. The engine roared. The belts whined. I
barely noticed the puff of exhaust from the tail pipe. He walked toward me,
smiling.

“Luggage?” he
said.

“Nah,” I said.

“None?”

“Not a single
bag.”

His eyebrows
lowered and his lips and nose rose up. He angled his head to the side and
looked past me, toward the plane. The thought of no luggage must’ve perplexed
him more than the pilot.

“It’ a quick
trip,” I said. “I’m traveling light. They’ll have what I need when I get where
I’m going.”

“Hey, if it
works for you,” he said.

“It does.”

He turned and
took a few steps toward the front of the car. I closed the trunk. By the time
the lid latched, the man had opened the rear door.

“What’s this?”
I said.

“I suppose you
can sit up front next to me if you’d like,” he said. “Most folks don’t,” he
added.

“I’d like to
sit up front in the driver’s seat. Car’s for me, right?”

“Yes, sir. And
I’m your driver.”

“Driver?”

He rolled his
eyes. “You ain’t gonna call me your chauffeur, now, are you?”