And We Are Off

72.

It is approximately the length of a football field from the security gate to the hangar. I can see the sleek Gulfstream parked with the stairs down. There is no other activity. Donaldson takes us to the jet where we are greeted by another agent and the pilot. They exchange a few words and then Donaldson returns to the Escalade opens both side doors.

“I am staying behind to mop up,” he tells me with a note of disappointment, “a pleasure working with you and seeing firsthand why you're reputation always precedes your presence, sir.”  Without thinking I snort a deprecating disclaimer about this not being my best effort but rebound and thank him for both his part in the drama and his compliment. 

“Without your decisive action this team would be down a couple of players Donaldson, those were some gutsy ‘by-the-book’ moves you pulled-off back there, thank YOU.” I say offering my hand in gratitude. 

I pull the parking receipt and keys from my jacket pocket and remind him of the C4 on the tail-pipe of the Dodge Ram Charger at the detention facility. “I will have a list of items needing attention for you in less than an hour, thanks again for the janitorial work,” I finish, moving to assist Maria up the stairs. 

She has been listening to our conversation but takes the suggestion and starts up the stairs. 

“Are you guys really FBI?” she asks entering the fuselage, “because it seems to me that there are some protocol inconsistencies that belie your operational tactics.” 

“We can talk about that later,” I say greeting the crew as I make my way to the command station. “Right now, how about we get a bite to eat and you get some rest, I have a few things to tend to before we touchdown.” 

“Where are we going?” 

“Don’t know yet, but my guess is somewhere quiet where we can hide-out while the situation on the ground looses its intensity and fades into oblivion. A nice distraction for the locals might move the incident to the back burner, especially if the media loses its voracious appetite for  ‘breaking news.’ Free stuff usually works." 

She seems satisfied as I guide her to a plush seat ahead of the command center firewall, leaving her with the standard airline procedural precautions of fastening seatbelt, stowing carry-on luggage and ensuring that seat backs are in full, upright and locked position. 

“After take-off and my brief, we’ll have,” I look at my watch, “some dinner.” 

“Aren’t you going to tell me how to use the oxygen mask?” 

“No, in the case of emergency, around here, we jump.” 

She sees that I am serious, makes a brow-raising face turns and inspects the seat-back magazine storage for title inventory. 

“Please prepare for take off” the pilot advises over the intercom. 

And we are off.