One Rough Man - Brad Taylor [174]
“What? You’re leaving? What about the guys at the market?”
“We can’t do anything about that. Our higher knows the situation. It’s in their hands now. Our orders are to get the hell out of here.”
“Are you serious? What about Pike and Knuckles? You can’t just leave.”
The pilot stopped what he was doing and fixed her with an icy stare.
“Ma’am, Knuckles was a teammate. More than that, he was my friend. I understand the situation. There’s nothing I can do about it. If anyone on the team is alive, they know what they need to do. We have a procedure for this type of contingency. My mission is to protect what I can at this point. I’m sorry, but that’s it.”
He turned back to his preflight. Jennifer stood in shock, unsure of what to do. She remembered the man in her trunk.
“Wait. I have the guy I was supposed to get. What about him?”
The pilot stopped. He turned to his partner and said something. Both exited the helicopter. One took the keys from Jennifer, the other drew a pistol and aimed it at the trunk. Swinging it open, they found it empty. The pilot gave the keys back to Jennifer without saying a word. He had finished preflight and was preparing to crank up the rotors for good, when he exited one more time.
“Look, I’m not sure what your whole story is or who you belong to, but let me give you some advice: I’d get on the first plane out of here. I’m sorry we can’t take you. I would if I could.”
Still trying to process what was occurring, Jennifer simply nodded her head. She stood still until she was driven back by the rotor wash of the helicopter. She saw it take off, and continued to watch it until it was a speck in the sky. She walked in a circle, unsure of what to do next. On the far side of the airport, she could see a beehive of activity around the dignitaries’ planes.
She went into the terminal and bought a ticket on a Bosnian airline headed to Frankfurt, Germany. It was due to leave in four hours. She went back to the rental car and tried to drive back into the city. She saw the lights flashing a mile out. She got within a half of a mile of the downtown before being stopped at a police checkpoint. The man spoke little English. All he could say was, “Go, Go. Poison.” She turned around and headed back the way she had come.
She located the only hospital in the city and went to it. The place was a madhouse, with people in white running back and forth, and the wounded being brought in. She found someone who spoke English and asked about Americans. He told her he had not seen any Americans at all.
She drove back to the airport. She didn’t feel grief. She didn’t feel anything except exhaustion, both physically and emotionally. The flight to Frankfurt was a blur. While she waited for her connecting flight, the event began to sink in. How had everything gone so bad so quickly? She had cautioned Pike on the danger, but in her heart she had really thought he was invincible. He’d survived time and time again, pulling out miracles as ordinary events. If anyone was going to die, it should have been her. How is this supposed to be justice? Where’s the destiny now? She put her head in her hands, trying to stop her thoughts. She heard someone talking to her and glanced up, seeing a Lufthansa Airlines ticket agent.
“Ma’am, are you all right? Can I help you?”
Because Pike had drilled it into her over the last four days, her first thought was she was making a scene. Act like the other passengers. You’re going to get burned. She was then hammered with the futility of the thought. What a joke. None of that helped in the end.
“Yeah,” she said, “I’m fine.”
The agent looked as if he wasn’t convinced but left her alone.
Thirty minutes later, he came back.
“Ma’am, are you on this flight?”
For the first time it registered that everyone had left the gateway.
“Yes. Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“No problem, but we’re about to close the door. Are you sure