Storm Surge

Chapter Thirteen

DAR TURNED THE collar of her leather jacket up to protect her neck against the damp, chilly wind as she waited for Alastair to finish his goodbyes. She'd made the mistake of dropping off to sleep again after talking to Kerry and now she felt as foggy as the sky appeared, waking up again only ten minutes before they were supposed to leave.

The only thing that had saved her ass was that she'd grabbed a shower and packed while waiting for Kerry to get to her hotel. So she just had to throw her clothes on, brush her teeth and hair and try to pretend her brain wasn't somewhere in the southern Caribbean where her dreams had taken her before she woke.

On the boat, in the sun, Kerry's warm body curled up next to her and the late afternoon sky getting ready to set and provide them with an evening entertainment.

Goddamn she wished it hadn't been a dream.

Her cell phone rang. She unclipped it from her belt, glancing at the caller ID and hoping it was Gerry Easton. It wasn't, but she was glad to see the name anyway. "Morning, Mark."

"Hey Boss." Mark sounded absolutely exhausted. "We just crossed into North Carolina. What a bastard of a drive."

"It is. How are things going? I didn't have time to login to the desktop this morning. We're about to leave for the airport." Dar felt a distinct sense of embarrassment.

"For us, we're cool," Mark said. "Nothing big new on the board, and all that, since it's like 2:30 a.m. But we just heard they closed down NY again and found some truck bomb trying to cross one of the bridges."

"Shit." Dar exhaled. "Kerry's in Washington."

"Yeah, I know." Mark sounded unhappy. "But hey, she's probably safe someplace, right? She's not like, at the Pentagon, is she?"

"No." Dar caught motion of the corner of her eye, and saw Sir Melthon and his staff walking toward her, the magnate still in discussion with Alastair. "She's in a hotel, but I'm about to get on an airplane and be out of touch for ten hours. I'm going to lose my mind."

"Well, Dar, we ready?" Alastair said, as they closed in on her. "Everything all right?"

"Hang on Mark." Dar put her cell phone on mute. "Just getting a status," she said. "Sir Melthon, it's been a true pleasure working with your team, despite the circumstances."

"Likewise," the magnate said. "Now, I know this is not really the time to discuss this, but I have a schedule to meet. I need to know how this event is going to impact that." He held a hand up. "McLean, this does not change anything in our pact. I'm not an idiot. I know full well this disaster requires attention."

Alastair and Dar exchanged looks. "I'll know better once we get back to Houston,." Dar said. "The resources tied up normally in that side of our organization would not be dedicated to your project, but I'm going to have to pull people in so I need to assess."

The Englishman frowned, but he also nodded at the same time. "Fair enough," he said. "My godson tenders his regrets. He had to hurry back to Hamburg last night. An aunt of his was taken sick."

"Hope she's doing better," Alastair said. "As Dar said, let us get back and sort ourselves out, and we'll be back in touch soon as we can." He held his hand out, and the magnate gripped it. "Thanks for your hospitality. Hope I can return it sometime if you're in my neck of the woods."

"Could be I'll take you up on that," Sir Melthon said. "Wouldn't mind seeing your headquarters, but not until after all the broohah passes on." He extended his hand to Dar. "Ms. Roberts, believe me when I say it has truly been an honor."

Dar took his and traded strong grips with him. "I'm glad you're a customer," she said. "You're the kind I don't mind going two hundred percent for."

Sir Melthon smiled, looking for a moment as though twenty years had been erased from his face. "Have a good flight home, you lot. Let us know if you get in safely. My man here will get you to the airport fast as London traffic allows. Which means--hold on to the armrests and close your eyes if you're smart."

Dar waited until they were in the car before she unmuted the phone. "Sorry about that Mark."

"No problem boss, I got a grilled cheese sandwich and a Bawls out of it," Mark replied, in a somewhat muffled tone. "These RV's are awesome. We should keep one around the office."

Dar sighed. "I'll put it on the budget list," she said, in a distracted tone. "Now, where were we?"

Mark rustled some paper. "We were just talking about stuff going on," he said. "You were bitching about having to be out of touch for ten hours."

"Ah." Dar glanced at Alastair. "Hang on again." She waited for her boss to turn his head. "Mark says they reported a truck bomb in Manhattan."

"Damn it," Alastair exhaled. "Damn it all to hell, this has to stop."

"Sorry." Dar went back to the phone. "Just catching Alastair up." She braced her elbow against the door and rested her head against her hand. "I talked to Kerry earlier and there were bomb threats in Washington too."

"Yeah, they were saying," Mark murmured, "some place near the Capitol, and two other ones around there." He hesitated. "Listen, boss, you want me to go find her instead of heading through? If we keep driving, we'll probably make it before you land."

Dar was silent for a moment, weighing her personal desires against her judgement.

"Hey Dar?" Alastiar touched her arm. "You all right? You look a little pale."

Dar felt a little pale. "Yeah," she said. "Just woke up with a headache." She drew in a breath. "Keep going, Mark. I'm not sure where Ker's going to be by the time you get there, and it'll be a wild goose chase."

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yeah," Dar said, briefly. "She'll be all right. They're going to need you in the city."

"Okay," Mark said. "I'll drop her a note with my cell and remind her I'll be passing through though, okay?"

Dar managed a small grin. "Sure," she said. "At worst maybe she'll need you to rescue her from her mother."

"Uh."

"Hey, you volunteered." Dar felt her neck muscles relaxing a trifle. "What else is going on? We find any more of our folks?"

"Two in Washington," Mark replied. "They weren't even at the Pentagon, like they were supposed to be. They got sent on a run to get freaking doughnuts, and got in a car wreck."

"Oh," Dar murmured. "Hope they're okay."

"Sure," Mark said. "Numbskulls didn't have a cell with them, and decided to take the rest of the day off with a freaking doctor's note and went hiking."

She could hear the frustration in Mark's voice, a mixture of relief that the two workers were all right and anger at their desertion. "Did you talk to them?"

"Yeah."

Dar watched Alastair watch her, distracted by the realization that her boss had never really seen her exercise the management part of her position. It got her mind off Kerry and her discomfort, and she felt her concentration sharpen. "How old are they?"

Mark chuckled wryly. "Twenty," he admitted. "Freaking kids."

"Do you remember what you were like when you were twenty?" Dar asked him, suppressing a smile. "Hm?"

"Sure," Mark replied. "But that's squashed by the fact I also remember what you were like when you were twenty so I don't wanna cut them that much slack."

The unexpected retort made Dar laugh, despite everything. "Ahh, yeah," she said. "I was an anal retentive workaholic control freak, wasn't I?"

"Was?" Alastair asked, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Was?" Mark asked, at the same time.

"Hey." Dar growled. "You can't have it both ways, you two," she said. "Either I've mellowed or I haven't. Pick one." She knew the answer, though. She wasn't the asshole she had been back then, because if she had been she and Kerry would never have lasted together.

That was her yardstick. She could look back now on things she'd done and things she'd said, and she knew it wasn't in her to be like that anymore. "Well?"

"Now, Dar." Alastair patted her knee. "I'm just kidding you. For heaven's sake."

"Just messing with you, boss." Mark chuckled. "You sounded down," he added. "These guys pissed me off, but they're pretty good techs."

Dar was glad of the distraction. "They weren't in the right place at the wrong time," she said. "I think they probably know that, and they'll remember it."

"Yeah."

"Besides we're going to need every hand we've got. So make them feel guilty and get them back to work," Dar concluded.

"Okay. I'm cool with that," Mark said. "I think they'll be cool with it too."

"And if that doesn't work," Dar mused. "Tell them I'll show up there and spank their asses."

"Blurp." Alastair had been drinking from a bottle of water, and nearly sprayed it over the inside of the car. "Who approved that bonus plan?"

There was a moment of silence from Mark. "You want me to give them a perk after they pulled a stunt like that?" he queried. "Jeez, boss. I'll be hiking to Paris next week. Can I get in it?"

Dar actually felt herself blush. Fortunately, the car was too dark for it to be visible. "What a bunch of kinks I work with," she rallied, watching her boss chuckle. "All right. Let me let this line loose for someone else to get bad news on," she added. "Talk to you later, Mark. Drive safely."

"Will do, boss," he answered. "Have a good flight, okay?"

Ugh. "Okay. Bye." Dar closed the phone and let it rest in her hand as she leaned back in the car seat. "Damn it." Despite the levity, she couldn't dismiss the knot of worry in her guts. "Too much going on."

Alastair watched her quietly for a moment, as she rubbed her eyes. "Sure you're okay, Dar?" he asked. "I've got some aspirin if you want it."

"Nah." Dar tapped the briefcase by her right knee. "I've got some in there. I just woke up on the wrong side of the Atlantic this morning." She pressed her fingers against one throbbing temple. "You think those bomb threats are real, or just people being nervous?"

Alastair took in Dar's tense body posture. He'd seen Dar in a number of business situations now, and he knew how hard it was to rattle her. Being almost fired by the board hadn't. Standing up to new clients like Sir Melthon hadn't. Even being in a hospital collapse had produced nothing more than that cool, collected front that put forward total confidence and belief in self.

This was different, and he recognized that. This was personal. "Kerry make it to Washington?" he asked casually. "She doing okay?"

Dar went still for a minute, then she looked up, an openly vulnerable look on her face that probably surprised both of them. Then she took a breath and glanced out the window. "She's fine," she said, in an even voice. "I'm just not crazy about having her around things that might blow up."

"Well." Her boss folded his hands over his knee. "Tell her to get in a damn car, and start driving away from the place and keep going. Get the hell out of town or--hey, head back to Miami."

Dar refused to meet his eyes. "It's her job to be there."

"Oh, screw that," Alastair snorted. "Please. Give me a break, Dar. Do you really think this job or any job is worth harming a hair on her head, or yours, or mine for that matter?"

"No."

Alastair waited. "But?"

Dar took a breath. "I can't tell her not to do her job," she said. "Not if everyone else is doing theirs. She won't take that from me."

Her boss studied her in silence for a moment. "That's complicated," he said, eventually. "Dar, I don't envy your balancing act there." He reached over and clasped her shoulder. "Want me to tell her?"

She appreciated, truly, what Alastair was saying. However, she'd agreed with Kerry that she needed to go to Herndon to do what it was the company paid her for, and at this stage, it was all in motion. "No." She glanced up at him. "She's a big girl, and she can make her own choices. Sending her off to hide somewhere is only going to royally piss her off."

Alastair pondered that, then he nodded. "I can buy that," he said. "But lady, it's tough watching you sweat, know what I mean?"

Dar smiled faintly. Then she was saved by her cell phone ringing again. She opened it up and glanced at the screen, a prickle making her nape hairs stand when she saw Gerry's name. "Ah." She pressed the talk button. "Gerry??"

"Dar! Where in the hell are you?" the general asked.

"London," Dar said. "Glad to hear your voice."

"What? Oh." Gerald Easton paused. "Bastards."

"Mm," Dar agreed. "Ker said you were trying to get in touch with me. I'm on my way to the airport," she explained. "Everyone okay on your end?"

The General sighed. "The family's fine,"he said. "Listen, Dar, I need to speak with you right away." He cleared his throat. "You're in London, are you? We can fly you back here."

Dar glanced at Alastair, whose brows were twitching. "We've already got a plane chartered, Gerry. But what did you have in mind?"

"Hang on." He clicked off.

Dar exhaled. "Wants to fly me back to the states. Says he needs to talk to me," she told her boss. "Doesn't sound good."

"Mm." Alastair grunted. "Depends what he wants to talk about, I suppose."

"Hello, Dar?" Gerry came back abruptly. "We can have a transport pick you up just near dinnertime there. How's that?"

"Our flight leaves at 10:00 a.m., Gerry. I think it'll be faster, but--" Dar considered. "We're flying into Mexico and driving to Houston. I could use a lift from there."

"Houston!" General Easton spluttered. "What in the hell's the--oh, that's right. That's where your paycheck's cut, isn't it? Okay, call me when you land in Mexico. We can swing that easier than the overseas flight."

"Okay," Dar said. "Kerry's in Washington. Anything she can help with?"

"Is she?" General Easton asked. "I think I should talk to you first, Dar. It's a little sticky."

"All right," she responded. "Gerry, this doesn't have anything to do with a bunch of suits showing up at our Herndon office does it?"

Long pause. "Eh?" Gerry grunted. "Well, to be honest, it's hard to tell from here right now what has to do with anything, Dar. Do yourself a favor though, will you? Don't say no to anything right off. There's a bit of a headless viper lashing around and I don't' want you to get bit."

Uh oh. "Okay," Dar said. "I'll call you from Mexico City then. I have a commuter scheduled for the border."

"Right. Gotta go, Dar. Good to hear your voice too. Glad you were out of harm's way." The line went dead, leaving a faint echo in the car.

"Hm." Dar closed the phone. "Headless viper." She looked at her boss. "That doesn't sound any good."

"Sure doesn't," Alastair murmured. "Sure doesn't."

CYNTHIA STUART SAT quietly, sipping her morning tea and watching the sky outside turn from black to gray with the coming dawn. She'd woken early, as she always did, and treasured the peace of the early morning to think about the coming day and go over her busy schedule.

She opened her organizer and flipped to the last page she'd updated from the day before, going over her notes, rereading again the horrors she'd put down in brief entries.

Only by reading the words was she really able to absorb the fact that all the terrible things had, in fact, happened. Sitting here in this lovely hotel room, it cut through the surrealness. After a moment, she closed the book and got up, walking silently across the floor to the door across from the table.

She pushed it in and peered inside, her eyes adjusting to the dim light as she studied the large bed inside with its still asleep occupant.

Kerry was curled on her side, her head on one pillow and her arm wrapped around a second. Relaxed in slumber, she was far less threatening a presence, and seeing the familiar position reluctantly made her mother smile.

Her eldest. Cynthia sighed and closed the door retreating back to the table and settling down to resume her notes. She picked up a pen and found her place and scribed a careful addition as she shook her head over the subject. "Terrible."

The world was still gripped in its peculiar insanity, it seemed. She picked up her morning news brief, delivered quietly by her staff, and reread it. If she looked out the big windows at the edge of the hotel room, she knew she would see flashing lights and the oddness of military transports in the streets and, for a moment, she honestly regretted her decision to complete her husband's government term.

It would indeed have been better to be home. There was Angela and her children to get settled and many small things requiring her attention. Perhaps she could have also had another day of Kerry and Michael's presence to make it seem as though her family wasn't quite as fractured as, in truth, it was.

Hard on the furniture that it might have been. Cynthia glanced up and smiled, hearing the echoes of that laughter the day before, and Kerry's exasperated "Michael!" that had brought back so many more pleasant memories.

"Good morning."

Cynthia jumped a little, not expecting the sound. She looked up to find Kerry in the door to her bedroom, still dressed in just a T-shirt. "Good morning," she replied. "Did the room service wake you? I'm sorry if it did. He was trying to be very quiet."

"No." Kerry came over and sat down at the table. "I've been up. I didn't really sleep that well." She rested her forearms on the table and laced her fingers together. "Too many things on my mind, I think."

The older woman studied her daughter. The tanned, serious face under it's mop of shaggy blond hair was a little unfamiliar to her now. The planes of her face had gotten a little longer, the jawline a touch more rounded, and there was a definite wariness shadowing the light green eyes that hadn't been there before.

The T-shirt she wore pulled tight over her shoulders as she leaned against the table, showing the outline of muscles Cynthia didn't find appealing. She didn't really approve of women working so hard and gaining the attributes she more properly applied to men.

Though it really wasn't terribly unattractive. When her daughter was properly dressed it lent her body a pleasantly tapered shape despite her carrying more weight on her frame than ever before. It wasn't really fat, and it wasn't really the slimness she preferred. It just seemed odd to her.

Cynthia supposed it gained her nothing to mention it. Kerry was obviously content with the way she looked and perhaps her own view was a little biased as she'd heard from friends around town how everyone else seemed to think she looked quite good, really.

Ah well.

She glanced at the strong hands on the table, her eye catching a glint as the light reflected off a ring on Kerry's third finger. It was attractive and refined, and it fit her well. "That's a lovely ring," Cynthia said. "Is it new?"

Kerry glanced at her hand. "No," she said. "Dar gave it to me at our commitment ceremony," she explained. "We exchanged rings."

Cynthia pondered over that. Commitment ceremony? "Is that--" She paused, not wanting to upset her daughter with any assumptions over breakfast. "What exactly is that? What does it mean?"

Kerry tapped her thumbs together. "What does that mean?" She mused. "I'm not sure what it means to everyone else, but to Dar and I, it means we belong to each other." Her fingers flexed a little. "We're married," she clarified.

She glanced up to gauge her mother's response, seeing mostly a mildly encouraging thoughtfulness there. "As legally as we can be, of course, since our government seems to think gay marriage is as dangerous as an unstable nuclear stockpile." She added a wry smile. "Dar and I had to spend a long time with a lawyer to get the same legal protection a five minute blood test and signature get for everyone else who isn't gay."

Cynthia's face twitched.

There was a soft knock at the door, and Kerry got up. "Room service," she said, as she went to the door and opened it. "Hello."

"Ma'am." The room service waiter, a slim woman, entered. "Your breakfast."

"Thanks." Kerry indicated the table. She followed the server over to the table, and waited for her to set the tray down. The woman did, then she turned, with a leather billfold in her hand, which Kerry held her hand out for, then signed.

"Do you need anything else, ma'am?" the woman asked, as she handed the bill back.

"Not right now." Kerry smiled at her. "Thank you."

The woman smiled back. "My pleasure." She gave Kerry's mother a respectful nod and left, closing the door quietly behind her.

Kerry opened a packet of raw sugar and poured it into her cup, filling it with hot coffee before she added some cream and sat down to enjoy it. She sipped from the cup, aware of the faintly pained look on her mother's face. "You don't like that word, do you?"

Cynthia looked up, startled. "I beg your pardon?"

"Gay," Kerry said. "You don't like it."

Her mother frowned, stirring her tea as she added a bit more hot water to it. "It makes me uncomfortable," she admitted finally. "Yes."

Kerry uncovered one of the dishes on her tray and picked up a cheerful looking cherry and cheese Danish. "Me too."

Cynthia blinked, and her brows creased again.

"I don't think I should have to define myself by who I sleep with." Kerrry studied the Danish and selected a spot, biting into it and chewing. She swallowed, and wiped her lips with her napkin. "It's kind of stupid."

"Well." Her mother took a sip of her tea. "You know, I think I agree with you on that subject." She watched her daughter chew her breakfast. "Really, it shouldn't matter, should it?"

Kerry looked up at her, eyes glinting with wry bemusement.

Cynthia seemed to appreciate the irony. She remained silent, fiddling with the teaspoon in obvious discomfort.

"It shouldn't," her daughter finally said. "So what's going on this morning?" She shoved the conversation onto a different track. "Anything new?"

Her mother sighed. "I'm afraid they stopped a bomb, a truck bomb from crossing into New York last night."

Kerry sat up, her brows creasing. "Good lord," she said. "So they're still doing things?"

Cynthia shook her head. "Apparently so," she said. "I was waiting to hear further details. Perhaps--" She hesitated. "Perhaps your people have heard more?"

"Let me get my laptop." Kerry set her cup down and got up. "And Dar's flying. I'm going to be a nervous wreck all day." She disappeared into her room, leaving the living space in silence.

Cynthia folded her hands in her lap and bowed her head for a moment, her lips moving as she whispered a short prayer. Then she straightened back up as she heard Kerry coming back in the room, taking a deep breath as her daughter reappeared holding her computer in her hands.

It was exhausting, dealing with this child of hers. Though Kerry was certainly being civil, the hostility she felt just under the surface was obvious to Cynthia, and she wondered when, not if, that simmering anger would erupt again.

Very difficult. Hard to know where to start, really. She didn't want to be so much at odds with her eldest daughter, but everything she'd tried so far to smooth the waters between them had ended badly and she wasn't truly sure why.

She knew Kerry was angry about all that had happened before, but really now it was in the past. Couldn't be changed.

"What about what we ran into last night?" Kerry asked, as she opened the device and started it up. "Was that real? Mother, honestly, if there are bombs in the city, it's insanity to go into the center of it." She sat down and glanced across the table. "What if they already planted something at the Capitol?"

Her mother pursed her lips. "It's a concern, certainly," she agreed. "My staff was calling around to find out what the rest of my colleagues are intending on doing."

Kerry leaned on the table with both hands, waiting for her laptop to boot up. Then she straightened. "Let me go throw some clothes on," she said. "I've got a feeling it's going to be a busy morning and your staff probably won't appreciate my nerdish pajamas."

She left the laptop where it was and went back into the bedroom, rubbing the back of her neck to work the crick out of it from her night of tossing and turning. She went into the bathroom and stripped out of her shirt, turning on the shower and taking the sponge and bottle of body scrub from her kit bag.

Ignoring her reflection in the mirror, she ducked under the spray and squeezed a blob of wash onto the scrubbie and started using it. The faintly rough texture felt good against her skin, and the pounding of the water across the back of her neck was working to loosen the muscles there.

She felt a little anxious. She wasn't sure if it was the situation she was in, or some subliminal worry about Dar, or perhaps even a reflection of Dar worrying about her, but it was rubbing her nerves raw. She really wished she was alone in her palatial hotel room and didn't have to deal with her mother.

"Now," she muttered to herself over the water, "I'm guessing she probably feels the same way." She glanced at the reflection of her eyes in the small, surprisingly unsteamy mirror fixed to the wall. "Cause I know I'm not being little miss sunshine."

She got a handful of shampoo and soaped her hair, scrubbing above her ears and standing under the water to rinse the suds out. Then she let her arms drop and simply stood, appreciating the powerful pulse of the water against her body.

A bad dream had woken her this last time. She couldn't even remember now what the dream was, except that she could recall feeling sad, and scared and alone in some strange otherworld of her sleeping imagination.

Now she felt tired, irritated, and anxious with a day of conflict and confrontation with the government ahead of her. "Rats." Kerry folded her arms across her wet body. Then she exhaled and reluctantly left the warmth, shutting off the water and grabbing a towel hanging on a rod nearby.

She dried herself off, her ears picking up low voices in the room next door that made her glad she'd decided to get changed when she did. Unlike Dar, who pretty much completely lacked body consciousness, she really had no comfort level in facing fully dressed people in her sleepware.

Crazy really, since she walked around in less at home all the time. On the island, either a pair of shorts and a tank, or shorts and a bathing suit, or just her bathing suit which was absolutely more revealing than a damn T-shirt.

Just a weird crick in her brain. Kerry studied her choice of clothing, then pulled on a pair of jeans buttoning them before she added a bright red polo with their company logo on it. She ran a brush through her damp hair and studied the results.

Hm. She set the brush down and tucked in the polo, reaching into her bag and adding a braided leather belt and buckling it around her waist. With a satisfied grunt, she clipped her phone to the belt and slid her PDA in her pocket, and headed back out to face the world.

DAR WOKE TO the smell of sizzling steak nearby. The dichotomy of the view around her, the drone of the engines, and the scent made her look around in utter bewilderment before she remembered where she was.

"Feeling better?"

Dar glanced to her right across the wide aisle where Alastair was ensconced in a leather lounger much like hers, a reading light glowing dimly on the sheaf of papers he was reviewing. "I was until someone started roasting a steer somewhere," she said. "Where the hell did the barbeque come from?"

He removed his reading glasses and peered back at her, a bemused expression on his face. "You know, I've been on private jets before, but I bet you haven't."

"No," she readily admitted.

"They asked Bea how to cater the plane when she reserved it." Alastair put his glasses back on and went back to his papers. "I took the liberty of ordering for you. I've been traveling with you long enough that I figured I could guess right on what you eat."

Dar glanced at her watch, surprised to see they'd been flying for four hours and she'd slept for three of them. "Ah, okay," she said. "Yeah, the nap helped." She eased a little more upright, running her fingers through her hair. "What's so interesting?"

Alastair picked up a glass with ice and liquid in it and took a sip. "Our SEC pre-filing report for quarter three," he said. "Want to read it?"

Dar eyed him. "I just woke up," she said. "You want me to go back to sleep? You'll have a lot of dinner to eat by yourself."

Alastair chuckled. "I was trying to put myself to sleep, to be honest." He set the report to one side, and tossed his glasses on top of it. "Sometimes I look forward to retiring, when the most urgent thing I have to look at is an LL Bean catalog," he admitted. "You get tired of all the fine print, y'know?" He put his hands behind his head and stretched out.

"Do you?" Dar half turned onto her side, drawing one knee up as she faced her boss. "What would you do if you retired?"

Alastair tilted his head back and regarded the ceiling of the private jet, pondering the question.

Dar took a moment while he was thinking to look around the jet she hadn't paid much attention to when they'd boarded. It was reasonably large inside, but had two single lines of fully reclining leather couches on either side of a wide aisle instead of the usual rows of upright chairs.

It was quiet, the drone of the engines muted, and it felt expensive. Dar realized this was what it was like for the truly elite when they traveled.

She liked it. It meshed well with her view of appropriate personal space and comfort, and the leather loungers were just big enough that she and Kerry could possibly squish together on one.

That thought made her wish Kerry was on the plane with her and she frowned, turning back to Alastair as he cleared his throat and started to answer.

"Well you know I have the ranch," Alastair said. "I'd love to spend more time with the horses. I've got a granddaughter who's learning to ride the circuit and it would be great to watch her out there instead of sit on my ass in my office in Houston."

"Sounds nice," Dar said. "I like horses. I saw the pictures in your office. Those are beautiful animals."

"Good blood." He turned his head a little. "What about you? What would you do if you retired, Dar? I know it sounds crazy for you given how old you are, but you've got fifteen plus years in. Ever think about it?"

"Sure," Dar responded, with a smile. "I'd move down to the Keys and spend my days diving and bumming around on the beach, with an occasional consulting stint to pay the bills."

Alastair smiled. "Ah, the child of the sea. How could I forget."

"Which is exactly what I'd do if you decide to retire. By the way," Dar continued, her smile widening as she caught the look of honest surprise on her boss's face, "I have no intention of doing this for anyone else."

Alastair looked at her in silence for a long moment. "Are you serious?"

Dar nodded. "As a heart attack."

Her boss's eyes twinkled. "That might be the nicest thing you ever said to me," he said. "Thank you, Paladar." He paused. "Now let me tell you something. You remember when you sent me that resignation letter?"

Dar nodded.

"Had mine written out too, stapled to it," Alastair said. "So it's probably a pretty good thing for the company you decided to stay." He considered. "Though, gotta admit there have been times lately I almost wish you hadn't."

"Yeah," Dar said. "I know what you mean." She hoisted herself out of her chair and stood, stretching her body out before she crossed the aisle and knelt next to where her boss was sprawled. "Thanks, Alastair. I know I've been a pain in the ass over the years." She held her hand out, and as he reached over, she clasped his in a powerful grip. "Hope it was worth it."

He chuckled again. "Bet your ass it was." He released her hand. "You know, the one bright spot of that whole mess with Steven and you was getting to meet Kerry for the first time."

Predictably, that made Dar grin. She got up and strolled down the aisle, exploring their little world. "She was so pissed at me for quitting."

"She's a firecracker," Alastair said. "You know she called me up and told me I had to get my ass on an airplane and get over there because everyone in that office was an idiot who didn't have a clue."

Dar turned and looked at him, both eyebrows lifted up to her hairline.

"Not in so many words," her boss admitted. "But that was the gist couched in soft, gentile Midwestern politeness, and it was at that point I realized you were gone hook line and sinker for very good reason." He smiled at Dar's sheepish expression. "She was your match."

Dar leaned back against the wall of the cabin. "She is," she said quietly. "She changed my life."

"She up for being a beach bum too?" Alastair asked. "I thought she likes the craziness."

"After this last cluster, she's open to it," Dar responded. "She does like the job. She likes the energy of it."

"But?"

Dar looked mildly embarrassed. "She'll go wherever I go."

"Loyal kinda gal." Alastair commented, with a smile. "But then, you're two of a kind in that regard so I'm guessing the company's in for a world of hurt some day."

"Mmph."

The door to the front of the plane opened, and a tall, lanky, young man entered. He was dressed in a pair of pressed black slacks and a ribbed black pullover, with striped epaulets on his shoulders. "Ma'am, sir," the man said. "We've run into a weather issue and wanted to advise you on it. A tropical depression has formed in the Gulf, and the outflow is going to extrude into our course and make it a very rough ride."

"Can we go around it?" Alastair asked. "My kidneys are not in the mood to be rattled tonight."

"I can certainly ask, sir," the man replied. "It might make us need to change our flight plan though," he said. "We're taking a very long route over the Southern Caribbean to avoid US airspace and this would mean a shift nearer to the coast of South America."

Dar and Alastair exchanged looks. "Depression look like it's going get worse?" Dar asked. "Strengthen?"

The man nodded. "They expect it to become Tropical storm Gabrielle tomorrow."

"Let's avoid it if we can," Dar said. "Nothing against your pilot's skills but I'm not in the mood for a swim off Tortola today."

"I'm not up for a swim off Tortola any day," Alastair chimed in. "Even though I do float like a cork."

The man nodded, and disappeared again.

Alastair grunted. "Figures."

Dar leaned back against the wall again. "That time of year," she said. "Wish I'd taken Gerry up on his offer now," she admitted. "He sounded like he had a thousand irons in the fire though."

Alastair regarded her. "Lady, if you think these old bones wanted to spend eight hours crossing the pond in an Airborne jumpseat you're nutty as a fruitcake without any rum in it."

Dar chuckled, and started to roam again, walking to the front of the cabin past the service bulkhead she'd been leaning against, then turning and moving along the rows of chairs to the back where a small suite of bathrooms were tucked. "I'm pretty sure he meant a civilian transport, Alastair. I'm sure they had other people that needed a ride home, diplomats and whatever."

"Let them ride in a steel bucket seat," Alastair said. "Damn politicians spend most of their time busting my chops anyway."

Dar went over to where their carry on baggage was stowed and dug in hers, removing her bathroom kit and retreating with it into the typically small airplane facility.

For shorter people, it was bearable. For Dar, the experience usually left her with a crick in her neck and so she brushed her teeth and splashed some water on her face as quickly as she could. The nap had definitely cleared her head, but now that she was awake, the uncertainty of what was going on below was starting to gnaw at her again.

She checked her watch. Kerry was up and working by now, she was sure. It was maddening to know her partner was in the middle of who knows what and not be able to help. Not that she thought Kerry needed her in order to do her job--her performance the day before amply demonstrated that--but they were in uncharted territory right now and she had the greater experience.

Dar gazed at her reflection in the mirror, seeing the somber furrow in her brow. "She's going to be fine," she told herself. "She's just going to Herndon, and she knows how to deflect someone if she has to."

Kerry did. She could politely, charmingly, and warmly tell the most demanding, insistent customer they weren't going to get what they wanted and leave them unable to voice a complaint about it. Dar had seen her do it on more than one occasion, and she had no doubt she could handle whatever request awaited her there.

She studied the blue eyes reflected in the glass surface. "So why are you chewing nails?"

Was she afraid Kerry would do so well, she'd show how much she didn't need the support? Dar's nose wrinkled. "Yeesh I hope not." She really didn't think so, though. It was actually a pleasure to be able to count on someone and not have to worry about babysitting them at work.

Was she worried her prolonged contact with her family would change the way she felt about anything? About anyone? Dar watched her own eyebrow lift, and her lips curve into a smile. No. She was not worried about that.

She was, she reasoned, worried about the person she loved most in the world simply because that's what people in love did. They worried.

She packed up her kit and bumped the door open, emerging into the main cabin of the plane and restoring her sundries to her bag. Alastair had turned his reading light off, and was standing near the front of the plane, peering out the window in the boarding door. "See any good birds?"

"I see a lot of ocean," Alastair responded. "Imagine what it was like for the first fellas who crossed that thing in a boat. That took a lot of guts."

"It's a big ocean," Dar agreed, coming over to stand by him. "I've only sailed part of it, and those long stretches of only water really hit you sometimes," she said. "And I've been caught in storms that made me wonder how sun and star navigators ever made it across."

"Ah yes. Captain Roberts, isn't it?" Alastair glanced at her, with a grin.

She smiled back. "Yes, it is"

The door behind them opened and the steward came back in. "Oh." He turned, evidently surprised not to see them sitting in their seats. "The captain says he's filing an amendment to our flight plan, that'll bring us just north of the Grenadines, and along the south coast of Cuba and then across to Mexico. It means adding an hour to the flight, but it will end up being a lot smoother. We were intending on slipping between Cuba and Florida before.

An hour. Dar sighed inwardly. "Damn I wish we could just land in Miami."

The steward looked sympathetic. "Us too," he agreed. "We'll try to make it as comfortable as possible." He gave them a brief smile. "We're about ready to serve, if you want to freshen up." He slipped out again, closing the door behind him.

"Well," Alastair said. "That's a damn shame." He eased past Dar and went back to his seat. "But I think it's better than flying through a storm."

Dar gazed out the small window, feeling more than a little trapped. She hoped things were going well for Kerry, and that the company plan was proceeding.

She hoped there were no more attacks.

"Dar?"

"Hm?" Dar turned and pushed off from the window, walking back down the aisle and stopping by her seat. She sat down on the arm of it, and rested her elbows on her knees. "Guess all we can do is put up with it."

"It'll be fine," he reassured her. "We've got good people running the show, don't we?"

Dar nodded.

"Want a drink?"

Dar slid backwards into her chair, leaving one leg slung over the arm of it. "Not yet."

"How about a tranquilizer? Got a bottle of em."

Dar turned her head and looked at him, her eyebrows lifting.

"If you don't take one, I'm gonna have to," Alastair informed her. "If you're going to pace like a cat for the rest of the flight."

Dar chuckled wryly. "Let me see if they have chocolate milk first." She sighed. "That'll probably be less destructive for both of us."