NorthWest (John Hazard - Book II) (13 page)

“I’ll go first!” she said, leaping out of the bed and running into the bathroom, her naked butt a flash of tan line and lightly browned skin as she slammed the door behind her. He heard her turn on the shower to let the water warm up and he figured if he waited a few minutes, maybe he could slip into the bathroom and join her. He sat up on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, and prepared to make his move until he heard the ‘click’ of the lock on the door and his hopes were dashed to hell. “Damn!”

Emily was starting to hum a tune as he got up and headed into his tiny kitchen area. He wondered where things would stand with her after two weeks together in the wilderness. After all, she didn’t have a tent or a sleeping bag, so she’d need to bunk with somebody once they got up into the woods. What better bunk mate than a strapping ex-marine, ex-military, ex-police detective who could protect her fragile self if a big ole badass bear came wandering into their camp looking for a snack in the middle of the night?

Well, out of the group that was going, the obvious answer was ‘nobody but me.’ He was sure he could convince her to share his tent, but he had to be careful how he handled this. Her obvious determination to shower alone this morning let him know that it was not a done deal. So the question at the moment was where to start? The answer was staring him in the face, start by making her breakfast.

He stood like a zombie looking into his refrigerator. Unlike most single men he knew, John actually had food. Most of his friends might have a couple of twelve packs and a bottle of ketchup, but John had an absolute feast waiting to happen: fresh eggs, bacon, bread, butter, jelly, orange juice, and to top it all off, a couple of strawberries to add color to the plate.

Getting right to work, he put the bacon on the stove, the bread in the toaster, and set two places at the table. He walked quietly over and leaned up to the bathroom door to hear whether or not Emily was finished. Sounded like he had just enough time to get everything ready for her. She would step out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her hair and one around her body, and voilà! sit down to a wonderful spread.

When the bacon was brown and crisp, he put the strips on a paper towel to drain and placed them in the oven to keep warm. He poured the grease out of the pan and cracked the eggs on the countertop and poured them in carefully. While they sizzled, he took the toast from the toaster and buttered each slice, put them together and cut them diagonally. Then he flipped the eggs, let them cook for a second and grabbed a plate from the strainer on the sink.

The apartment smelled like good country cooking as he took the bacon from the oven, arranged the toast, eggs, and bacon on the plate, added the strawberries as a colorful garnish. He poured some orange juice into a clean glass, and set Emily’s breakfast on the table.

He heard the water pipes thump as Emily turned the shower off, and he hurried to set the silverware on the table, adding a large paper napkin. He was careful to set the jelly within reach, and was just finishing up as she opened the door and came walking into the kitchen area.

Just as he had expected, her hair and body were wrapped up in towels, and she was rubbing her hair to dry it. He flashed a big grin and proudly announced, “I made you a nice, big, country breakfast.” He pulled the chair out for her to sit down.

“Really? That was sweet of you, but I usually don’t eat breakfast, John. Got any coffee?” She sat down in the chair and pushed the plate away from her.

John wilted like a cut flower lying on hot pavement in the heat of summer. “Uh, yeah, I think I have some,” came the answer from the suddenly glum host. He looked in the cabinet next to the coffee maker.

“You didn’t make some breakfast for yourself?  Why don’t you go ahead and eat mine. It looks really delicious, John. If I was going to eat something this early in the day, that breakfast would be exactly right.” She was lying through her teeth, she hated bacon, but she wanted him to know she appreciated his effort.

He was making the coffee with his back turned to her, but it was obvious that she had hurt his feelings. She felt bad about that, after all, he had saved her life yesterday. “John, I’m sorry about breakfast. Really. I want you to know that I’m really grateful that you saved my life yesterday. And what happened last night, well that was especially nice. I don’t make a habit of saying thank you all that often, just so you know.”

He smiled weakly. “Oh sure, no problem!”

He picked up the food and moved it to the other side of the table, then sat down and started to eat. “Let me know when you’re done with the bathroom, I’d like to get my shower before we leave.”

“Okay, baby,” she said and walked into the bathroom.

He stopped with a fork full of food just shy of reaching his mouth, and asked himself out loud, “Did she just call me baby?” Now he was grinning again.

Twenty-Three

Mark Woo arrived at the airport precisely at seven a.m. and checked in at the desk. He needed to prepare his flight plan and get the plane fueled and checked for the trip to Seattle. As he looked over the map, he searched for Whitmore Gap. Dr. Renner had requested that he fly them over that area. It was where they would be filming their documentary. If he wanted to receive the customary gratuity for a chartered flight, he figured he should try to make her happy.

When he completed mapping out the flight path, he entered the coordinates into the computer and waited for an acknowledgement. It was nearly instantaneous. He stepped over to the printer, which had already begun to spit out the maps and other documents he would need.

He had prepared an invoice to present to the doctor as soon as she arrived. She’d pay half up front, in cash, for the round trip flight. Then all he had to do was fly them up there. He’d party with his friends in Seattle for a couple of weeks, and then fly them back. Easy.

There was a girl up in Seattle that he particularly looked forward to seeing again. He had met her there on a weekend the previous summer, and they had kept in touch via occasional emails, text messages or, less frequently, a phone call. Only a couple of weeks earlier, he had contacted her and they planned their meeting. It was a date he intended to keep, no matter what might happen to prevent it from coming together.

For now, he had to focus on prepping the plane. He checked the tires and, as he did the walk around, it was painfully obvious to him just how badly he had been beaten the other night. Each step, each twist of his body sent sharp pains through his muscles, and his blackened eye throbbed each time he bent over to check or pick something up.

The bruises on his body could be hidden beneath jeans and a long sleeved shirt, and he had tried to cover some of the bruises on his face with cheap makeup he kept around for just such situations, but there was not much he could do about the eye. Since his passengers were mostly college students, he figured they might be bold enough to ask questions about it. Fucking punks!

Even two days later, it seemed like there was scarcely a place on his body where the girl had not hit him or kicked him. It was possible that he had a cracked rib or two since he was experiencing sharp pains whenever he took a deep breath.

Everything would be cool in a couple of days, most of the bruises would fade, and he could get on with being the scoundrel that ‘would make his daddy proud.’ For now though, he was starting to sweat and, when he wiped his face, quite a lot of his makeup wiped off on his shirtsleeve. He wanted to touch it up, but he needed to get the checklist completed. Besides, the swelling could not be hidden with make up. He’d just have to live with it.

When he finished his flight prep and returned to the hangar to wait for his clients to arrive. He looked in a small mirror hanging there to see what his face needed. “Oh shit,” he said out loud as he realized it needed a lot of work.

Twenty-Four

Macy pulled into the parking lot and heard the gravel crunch under her tires as she found a space. She shut off the engine and sat for a few minutes staring out the window. This was her last chance for reflection. She could call everything off right here, right now. She could prevent any possible risk to her class if she just said the word.

“Fuck that!” She said out loud, striking the steering wheel with the palm of her hand. For her, there was no turning back. This trip was going to happen and she was going to confront her past head on, no matter what.

This was a small local airport. It was the one she preferred, since it would have been difficult for her students to board a commercial flight with anything that remotely resembled a weapon. Because of all of the restrictions, a hatchet would be a violation even if packed in a suitcase.

More important to her was the .38 she had hidden in her handbag. Without that little bit of security, she was not sure she could go through with the trip. She was almost certain that there would be no problems for her here, no screening or scanning to go through.

She felt confident as she went through the main gate and into the small terminal. She was carrying her large backpack, her handbag and another large canvas tote bag. She was not used to the weight of carrying all of these at once and struggled a bit under the load. The girl at the desk greeted her cheerily, “Welcome to Golden Community Flight Center, how may I help you this morning?”

Macy hated perky. “I’m Dr. Macy Renner, and I have a reservation for a chartered flight this morning with…”

“Pilot Mark Woo? He said there would be several people in the party. Will they be arriving soon?” Her smile widened.

“There will be eight to be precise. I’m sure they will be here soon. Do I have to wait for them to get here before I go to the hangar?” Was that really a piece of spinach in that girl’s teeth at this hour of the morning?

“Oh no, you can go on ahead to Hangar 18 where the plane is being readied. I just need to see your ID and have you sign in before you go. Oh, and will you be leaving the country? If you are, I need to look at your passport.”

Another spinach smile, was that from her breakfast? Macy sighed and dropped her cargo to the floor. She fished her wallet from her handbag and handed it to the clerk. As she set it on the counter, it rolled to one side and the barrel of her gun popped out of the top. The girl seemed oblivious as Macy pushed it back inside and removed the bag from the counter. Her heart was pounding in her throat as she waited for her ID to be returned.

“Thank you, Dr. Renner. Please sign here.”

Macy pulled the pen from the holder and quickly scratched her name on the designated line.  “And here…” the girl pointed at the paper. Again Macy signed. The clerk turned the page and was about to ask her to sign again when Macy interrupted. “Excuse me, but this looks like a contract. I wasn’t told anything about signing any contracts.” Her tone was becoming terse.

“Oh no, Dr. Renner. It’s not a contract. It’s a release form. Ever since 9/11 we have our clients sign this form. It simply releases us from all obligation in the event of a…” The smile disappeared and the spinach was hidden from view. 

“Crash!?” Macy interrupted.

“Well, I’m not sure about that. I mean, it releases us from any liability in the event that you might have other plans… you know, other than traveling. It is just a formality, I’m sure.” With that, the piece of spinach dislodged itself and flew in Macy’s direction.

Dodging the green projectile, Macy began to rant. “That’s pretty stupid when you consider that if I were a terrorist, and I was planning to use a plane as a missile, I wouldn’t discuss it with you in advance and a ‘release’ form sure would not stop me from doing so.”

“I am sorry, Doctor. I’m just doing as instructed. I don’t get to make the rules. Please?” Macy shook her head and signed the last line of the document.

“Do I get a copy of that?” Macy was starting to pick up her gear.

“Uh, no one has ever asked for one before. I guess so. I mean it’s really more for our use in case of any trouble.” The girl’s frustration was beginning to show and the perky attitude had left the building.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Macy said, preparing to lift the weight of the backpack. “I’ll wait.”

The girl took the paper and went into a back room. The copier was very noisy, but accomplished the deed. A minute later, Macy was holding her copy of the document. “Thank you. Now, which way did you say to the hangar?”

The girl didn’t speak, she just pointed at the door leading to the hangars, and then returned to her work. Macy lifted, then shifted the weight of the backpack and headed out the door. There was a concrete walkway that led down the front of the hangars and she looked into each one as she passed. Finally, she came to the hangar where Mark was sitting at a desk playing a video game on his computer. A large number 18 was painted above the open roll-up door.

“Mark Woo?” She called through the door. He put down the game controller and turned to look at her. “I believe we have a reservation, Mr. Woo, for a flight to Seattle?”

Mark stood and walked over to her, his hand extended to shake hers, and she obliged.

“Dr. Renner, I presume?”

Macy nodded.

“Mark Woo,” he continued. “Very nice to meet you. Bring your gear right over here, and we’ll stow it with the others when everyone arrives.”

Without a word, Macy carried her bags to the place he had indicated.