Storm Surge

Chapter Sixteen

DAR WAS SIDEWAYS in her chair again. She had both legs over one arm of her seat, and her head resting on the opposite padded rest. She had her eyes closed and her hands folded over her stomach, the drone of the engines filling her ears.

Her anxiety had faded, buoyed by the knowledge that she'd be landing hours before she'd expected to, and be in a position to immediately jump back into the problems she knew were waiting rather than facing international immigration, a second flight, a cross border drive, and a long haul up into Houston.

Across the aisle from her, Alastair was finally napping, and the lights had been lowered in the cabin along with the window shades producing a dim, peaceful atmosphere. Dar was content to sprawl where she was in a state of half waking, half sleeping.

She'd started out by trying to think ahead to what was going on down on the ground, but the long day and the stress had caught up to her and now she was merely daydreaming. Her mind running free with thoughts of where she'd wander with Kerry in Europe after world events calmed down.

Where would Kerry really like to go? She'd seemed enthusiastic about the Alps, Dar mused. Would she rather go to one of the ritzy winter resorts? Dar opened her eyes and looked around the inside of the private plane. She reluctantly admitted, privately, that she wouldn't mind spending time in someplace nice. She suspected that-though Kerry poo poo'd high society trimmings-she wouldn't argue too hard against a room with a marble Jacuzzi or chocolate dipped strawberries before bed either.

But would she rather be in some nice lodge somewhere quiet, where they could go outside and simply sit on a hill and look at the stars? Or would she rather go outside and sit in a café looking at other kinds of stars living the high life?

Maybe they could find a compromise, like their cabin. She loved the comforts of it and the contrast of the raw, weatherworn dock outside and the proximity of the wildness of the sea. She and Kerry could go out and get as sandy and seaweed ridden as they pleased, and then relax on the couch in the air conditioning with a bowl of microwave popcorn.

Were they wimps? Maybe. Did she care?

Hmm.

Dar let that thought drift for a moment, then pondered the notion that it might work out that they were on vacation during Kerry's birthday. What would she like to do for that? Dar decided her partner would probably want to do something special, maybe something exciting and new to her for her birthday.

Maybe they could go to Venice. Or Rome. Dar smiled. Or maybe the Greek Isles.

A soft sound made her open her eyes, and she turned her head to see the door opening quietly allowing the steward to enter. He paused when he saw her somewhat odd position, but then continued moving, shutting the door behind him.

"It looks like we picked up an escort," the man said, quietly, as he stopped next to Dar's seat. "I don't think it is anything to worry about. They seem to be keeping their distance."

"Fighters?" Dar asked.

"I guess," the man agreed. "Not my area of expertise. But the captain is okay with it," he continued. "They called him and just told him to keep on course, which is exactly what we want to do."

Dar smiled. "Yep," she said. "I'll be damn glad to be home, even if it's just for a little while." "I can well imagine," the steward smiled back. "I'm going to go get my passport. I'm sure they'll want to see it when we land." He moved past Dar and went into the back of the plane, leaving her to resume studying the woven cloth ceiling.

After a moment, though, she sat up and reached across to the window shade, opening it to peer outside. Off the wing, at a reasonable distance, was a Navy fighter. "Ah. Hornet." Dar put the shade back down and extended her seat out again.

She wasn't sure how she felt about the escort. On one hand, she suspected they'd rattled more than one cage and no one was taking chances. On the other hand, she knew damn well there was a good chance whoever had sent the planes up recognized her name.

That was arrogant. Dar acknowledged it with a smile. But it was also true that there were a lot of people who would remember her either for better or for worse. Some now, for a lot worse. Her smile disappeared as she remembered Chuckie and what a mess that had turned out to be.

She wished again, for the nth time, that she could go back and do that all over. She thought maybe her father did too.

Her father. Dar found her thoughts moving to a different track. What would this mean for him? Would the Navy try to get him to come back?

No way.

Would he?

Dar was troubled to realize she honestly didn't know the answer to that question. She knew her father was very much invested in how he'd spent his life for all those years, and he had friends by the hundreds and probably thousands still in service.

But then there was her mother. After what he went through, Dar had to think that at the very least he had to seriously consider the question if they asked.

And if they did ask, she knew she'd go to the wall to convince him to say no. For her mother, for herself, damned if she was going to lose her family again. She'd get Kerry to help her if she had to.

She picked up the bottle of orange soda on the table and took a swig of it, and checked her watch, wondering what Kerry was up to. She'd probably made it to the Pentagon already, and Dar was sure she'd have plenty to tell her when she called.

Once she got the squeal out of the way.

She felt a faint pressure change against her ears, and let the thoughts go as the steward came back through the cabin, giving her a smile as he passed. "Heading down?"

"We are." The steward nodded. "Boy, I'll be glad to get on the ground." He went to the front of the cabin and started preparing it for landing, bringing up the lights a little and fastening the curtains back.

Dar reached across the aisle and gave her boss's sleeve a tug. "Alastair?"

"Eh?" Alastair blinked and lifted his head. "What? More people need yelling at?"

Dar chuckled. "No. We're starting down." She moved her seat upright and reached for her briefcase, digging in it to retrieve her leather ID holder, which had her passport and her company badges in it. She also got her PDA and cellphone out, and set them on the small table next to her seat.

"Ah. We're there." Alastair stretched. "Damn, that's great. But I could definitely use a cup of coffee." He rubbed his eyes and rummaged around, getting his things together. "This is the tough end of the jet lag. We've got a whole damn day to get through now."

"True." Dar sighed. "Ah well, there's always Cuban coffee."

Alastair eyed her. "I heard about that the last time I was in the office here. What exactly is it?"

Dar settled back in her chair. "Strong espresso coffee, essentially, not that different from Italian but when they make it right, they take a pyrex mixing cup, put a half pound of sugar in it, and a half cup of the coffee then they whip it in to a froth, before they put the rest of the coffee in, mix it, and there you go."

Her boss's eyebrows knitted. "Are you telling me it's coffee and sugar one to one? Half and half?"

Dar nodded.

"And you actually drink that?"

Dar nodded again. "I like it," she said. "You can also mix hot milk with it, and then it's café con leche."

Alastair covered his eyes with one hand. "When was the last time you had your blood pressure checked?"

"One ten over sixty six." she replied, her eyes twinkling a little.

"Disgusting."

Dar chuckled. "Stress does more to you than coffee,"she said. "Best thing I did for my health in the last couple of years was get an assistant." She held up a hand as Alastair started to laugh. "Ah ah--not a joke. Aside from everything else."

"I told you for years to get an assistant. "Alastair shook his finger at her.

"I couldn't," Dar said, swallowing a few times as the air pressure started to increase. "Everyone I interviewed either drove me crazy, or was out to knife me in the back. Do you know how many of them were brought in by other people inside the company?"

Alastair sighed. "Yeah, I'm glad those days are behind us," he admitted. "But you're not going to BS me and tell me the only reason you hired Kerry was her business skills."

Dar was silent for a few minutes. Then she turned and regarded Alastair. "The only reason I hired her as my assistant was her business skills," she said. "I wasn't about to screw either of us over by putting her in a spot where she'd end up looking like a jackass."

"Really?"

"Really," Dar said. "Oh, I won't say I wouldn't have brought her in to some other position. I liked her. I knew we were attracted to each other. I knew there wasn't much else she could do in that pissant little company she was in."

"Uh huh."

"But she had brains, and the guts to stand up to me. I could tell by how she kept changing her game depending on what I threw at her that she'd be able to step in and handle us at an executive level in ops." Dar rested her elbows on her chair arms and laced her fingers together. "And I was right."

"You sure were," Alastair agreed cheerfully. "She does a damn fine job. If that wasn't true, your ass would still be back in London on the conference call because I wouldn't have risked having you in the air with me for this whole time."

Dar nodded. "Yep."

"And it was a good opportunity for her. I'm sure she appreciated that," he went on. "Seems like she has ambition. I'm not surprised she jumped at the offer."

All very true. Dar acknowledged. "I'm just glad she did." She rubbed the edge of her thumb against the cool band of her ring. She swallowed again, and leaned over to pull the shade up. The Hornet was no longer visible outside, but the ground was, and she smiled as she recognized the very familiar outlines of the Everglades passing under the wings. "Landing from the west."

"How can you tell?" Alastair lifted his own shade and peered out. "What in the hell is that?"

"The River of Grass," Dar said. "The Florida Everglades," she added. "In reality, one whomping big ass swamp."

"Ah."

The steward poked his head into the cabin. "We're about to land. Please stay in your seats until we do, and try to keep your seat belts fastened. It's not a lot of fun bouncing off the inside walls if we have to stop short."

Dar obediently clicked her seatbelt in place and tugged it snug. She was already looking forward to feeling the ground hit their tires. She flipped open her PDA, tapping it open to a new message and writing it as she heard the landing gear extend, and felt the distinctive motion as the plane moved from a nose down, to a nose up posture for landing.

"Ever wanted to learn to fly, Dar?" Alastair asked, suddenly. "One of these things?"

"No." Dar shook her head. "I'll stick to boats, thanks. You?"

"Have my pilot's license."

Dar stopped what she was doing and looked over at her boss, in real surprise. "You do?"

Alastair nodded. "Bunch of fellas and I went in on two of the little single engine putterbouts," he said. "It's a nice way to spend a Sunday, when you get tired of golf." He fastened his seat belt and folded his hands, letting them rest on one knee. "I buzzed the country club last time I flew and scared two ladies right into the lake. I'm living in fear they'll find out it was me."

Dar started laughing.

"All those years in the boardroom sure came in handy when the wife came telling me all about it." Her boss chuckled, glancing out the window as they approached the landing strip. "Well, here we go."

The plane slowed, its wings drifting to one side and the other as the edges slid down to cup the air. Outside the windows, clouds were replaced by buildings and trees, flashing by as they settled down through the atmosphere and lined up with the runway.

A shocking sound made both of them jump, and look, but it was only the Hornets breaking off and roaring past, their engines sounding like a brass thunder that rattled the interior of the cabin and made Dar's ears itch.

"Thanks for stopping by, fellas," Alastair remarked. "Good to see my tax dollars at work."

Dar finished her message and hit send, waiting until the wheels of the plane touched down with a thump and a bounce before she activated the PDA's comm link. Then she picked up her phone and opened it, dialing the first speed dial number on the list.

Home. She could almost feel the humidity and the smell of rain tinged hot air already.

KERRY BLINKED IN the thick dusty air, sucking in breath through a white mask that covered her mouth and nose. In front of her was a door hanging off its hinges, and half a wall. Past that was a mass of concrete and metal, fused into unrecognizable lumps with a scattering of cables drooping out of it.

"Shit," Mark exhaled, directing the beam of his flashlight into the wreckage.

"Well, that's a total loss," Kerry concluded. She folded her arms over her chest. "Someone just needs to confirm the inventory list for that room so I can have legal claim it against our insurance."

"I don't have nearly enough crap to replace this," Mark said. "There were at least ten racks of gear in there."

"It was just a fluke," another masked man said on her left side. "You see this corridor is pretty okay."

Kerry looked around. "I see." The hallway was broad and mostly silent, only a few ceiling panels and bits of concrete knocked out near where they were, and then nothing but long expanses of carpet and concrete walls further off. "So we were duplicating this on the other side, Danny, with a link between them?" She glanced at the man on her left.

"Yes, ma'am," Danny nodded. His arm was in a sling, but it was encased in a thick compression bandage rather than a cast. He was a fairly short man, with a gymnast's build and thick curly brown hair. "But there's nothing in it yet. Not even racks.

"Do we have runs in there from the distribution closets?" Mark asked. "They were really doing duplex? Not just runs from half to this room and half to that one with a crossover?"

Danny shook his head solemnly. "Runs from each distribution to each core room," he said "Ms. Roberts told them to, and you know whatever Ms. Roberts says--"

"Yes we know," Kerry and Mark said at the same time. "God bless Dar's forethought again." Kerry went on, with a sigh. "All right. Let's go over to the new room and get a list started." She turned and waited for Mark to precede her with his flashlight. "I'm not going to be able to count the favors I'm going to have to call in on this one, and we're nowhere near Manhattan yet."

"No shit." Mark shook his head. "I can start having everyone get their spare stuff ready to ship, but I heard from the office today they won't even let FedEx or UPS pick up."

Kerry thought about that. "Well, how do you make sure all those brown packages aren't bombs?"

"They want to blow up FedEx trucks?" Mark's brows knitted.

"Maybe they want to blow up FedEx trucks delivering last minute bouquets to Pro Player Stadium."

"Oh," Mark said. "Yeah."

Yeah. Kerry tried not to think about Dar, flying over the Atlantic in a potentially enticing to terrorist plane since it was coming so close to the U.S. She was sure the company had chartered the plane from someplace reputable, but after yesterday, anything could happen.

She didn't want anything to happen. "Just get down, and have a margarita," she muttered under her breath.

"Ma'am?" Danny leaned toward her. "Did you say something?"

"No, just clearing my throat." There was no power, and the smell of crushed concrete and burning debris brought back surprisingly strong memories of the hospital collapse. "How's the roll call doing, Danny?" Kerry asked to get her mind off that.

"We're still down three, ma'am," Danny said. "Ken Burrows, our lead punch down guy, his assistant Charlie, and Lee Chan, our WAN specialist." He wiped the dust out of his eyes with his free hand. "They were all in the section that took the hit, we think."

Kerry involuntarily glanced behind her, at the crushed room. Then she turned her head and looked resolutely ahead, picking her way carefully through the fallen ceiling debris. "And you said five people are in the hospital?"

"Yes, ma'am," Danny said. "We logged them in yellow, though. The other four we were missing turned up last night. Said they were helping people get out all day and didn't get a chance to get online," he explained. "It was really crazy here yesterday."

They moved through inner hallways, mostly empty, the air still and almost stale. Kerry felt sweat gathering under her shirt and she fought the urge to pull the mask off her face as she followed the group along one wall.

Everyone was pretty quiet. The masks muffled speech and the lack of power and air conditioning let them hear creaks and pops in the walls around them. Kerry felt anxious, and she walked a little faster even though they'd been told several times the building was safe.

Inside, it was hard to picture the destruction she'd faced on the outside of the building. The walls of the structure looked very much like some huge giant had taken a hatchet and whacked the top side of one of the five sections, cutting right through the concrete and exposing inner offices as it collapsed inward.

Chillingly bizarre. At the edge, you could see file cabinets. Chairs. The beige inevitability of computer monitors.

It felt so unreal. Just as it had when she'd been in the hospital collapse, the familiar turned strange and frightening, making her want to get past it, get out, and feel cool, fresh air again. She heard voices ahead, and she looked up and past Mark's shoulders to see a cluster of men in work clothes ahead at the junction of two hallways.

"Uh oh," Danny said. "Those are the electrical guys."

Kerry patted him on his uninjured shoulder and eased past, coming up even with Mark as they approached the crowd. There were men in fatigues mixed in with the workers, she now realized, and several others were in more formal military uniforms. "Damn."

"What?" Mark whispered. "What's wrong?"

"Wish Dar was here."

Mark eyed her wryly. "44 75 68, boss."

Kerry's brows knit, as she allowed herself to be briefly distracted. "Hex?" she finally hazarded a guess. "No, not for the reason you're thinking. She's just a lot better at relating to the guys in uniforms than I am."

"Uh huh." Mark slowed and came to a halt since the crowd was blocking the hallway. "Let's see what's up with this now." He removed his mask. "Driving me nuts."

Kerry had about enough herself. She eased the mask off and sniffed the air, relieved to smell nothing more ominous than a little dust, this far from the destruction. The rest of the crew did the same, clustering warily behind Kerry and Mark as they eased closer to listen.

"Okay, here's the plan. Everyone has their clipboard?" one of the men in uniform was saying. "You have your sectors. I need to know the power, status, ability to work in, and damage in every square inch of the four sections not involved in the crash."

He glanced up as he sensed motion and spotted Kerry and her group standing there. "Excuse me," he said, in a stern tone. "Who are you people, and what are you doing in here?"

Kerry nudged her way to the front and met his eyes. "We're from ILS."

The man looked blank.

"Those are the IT people, chief," one of the men in fatigues supplied. "The computer guys."

"Oh." The officer nodded at them. "Well, none of the computers are working."

"We know," Kerry agreed. "That's what we're here for. To get them working again." She stuck her hands in her pockets.

The officer looked at her with interest. "Okay, hang on a second." He turned to the group. "Move out, gentlemen. I expect you to report back here in four hours."

The men dispersed, easing around Kerry and her crew and moving down the hallways in groups of three or four. They led the way with flashlights, the beams flickering around the half darkened walls in an odd and disjointed rhythm.

"Now." The officer faced Kerry. "Sorry, let's start this again. I'm Billy Chaseten." He held a hand out, which Kerry gripped firmly. "You said you were from what company now?"

"ILS," Kerry said. "My name is Kerry Stuart. My team and I are here to start the process of restoring communications to the facility." She glanced at his name plate. "For starters, do you know when they're going to turn the power back on, Captain?"

"Still got people cutting the live lines into the bad section," the captain said. "They can't turn the juice on until that's secure," he added. "You all the ones who handle the internet, and the phones and all that too?"

"That's right," Kerry said. "Our main core space was destroyed. We need to get rolling on replacing it." She smiled at the captain. He was tall, and had a handsome face under a brown buzz cut. "I know everyone's scrambling."

"That we are, and I don't want to get in your way, ma'am." The officer smiled back at her. "Anything I can do to help you?"

"Well," Kerry cleared her throat gently, "actually you can get out of our way. You're standing in front of the door to our backup core center."

The man blinked, then he turned, shining his flashlight on the big metal door he'd been leaning against. "Well, shoot. I am." He moved aside. "Sorry about that."

"I've got the keys." Danny moved forward, going to the door and fishing a set of thick silver keys from his pocket. "They hadn't even put the scan locks in yet."

The soldier sidled over closer to Kerry as Danny sorted amongst the keys. "You folks lose a lot of stuff? I was talking to the security system people and they said they had a ton of rewiring to do."

"Got it." Danny unlocked the door and opened the room, pulling the metal portal toward him and back against the wall.

The inside of the room was dimly lit with emergency lighting, and they all shuffled inside, Mark and one of the other local techs shining their flashlights around to illuminate the space.

"Well," Kerry sighed, "We lost enough equipment to fill this room." She glanced at the captain, who was still at her side. "Unfortunately."

"Ouch." The captain shook his head. "I heard my CO going on or really, going off about nothing working in the rest of the building. He know you all are here?"

"Probably not," Kerry admitted. "We--well, my team came up from Miami with our equipment truck and I--just got here from Michigan. We didn't talk to anyone first."

The captain looked at her strangely.

"We know what to do." Kerry smiled briefly. "It's not like someone had to call us to tell us there was a problem."

"Hey boss?" Mark called over. "This room wasn't near ready for occupancy. They haven't run the power, or the environ."

"Ah." Kerry removed her hands from her pockets. "Excuse me." She eased between two of the local techs and went to Mark's side. His flashlight was shining on a very un-terminated power distribution box and a set of wires hanging from the ceiling. "Oh, boy. Nothing easy here."

"They were supposed to put that stuff in next week," Danny agreed glumly. "We didn't even have storage yet, that's why we told them to hold delivery of the gear."

Damn. Kerry exhaled and took a step back, somewhat at a loss. What was that Dar was always telling her? Think out of the box?

Think out of the box. "I think this box just got slammed over our heads," she muttered. "Danny, can you take me to whoever's in charge of the building electrical?"

"Uh. Sure." Danny nodded.

"Mark, start calling in a list of PDU's and racks to APC," Kerry said. "Bring what you can in here. Let's just do what we can to start."

"Got it, boss," Mark said. "Okay guys, go get the lanterns, and get the trolleys out and unfolded. Let's get moving."

The techs trooped out. Kerry and Danny were the last ones out, and he turned to close the door and lock it behind him. The captain was still standing there, leaning against the wall.

"Ah, hey. Ms. Stuart?" The captain pushed off as she cleared the door. "Heard you say you needed to talk to the building people. Maybe I can help with that? My CO's got some push."

Kerry patted his arm. "I'll take any help I can get. C'mon with us." She motioned Danny ahead of her and they trooped off down the hallway. "Thanks for the offer, Captain."

"Call me Billy," the officer said. "All my friends do."

"Ma'am?" Danny cleared his throat. "Maybe we could invite the facilities chief to the bus for lunch?" he suggested. "He's been here all night." He peeked over at the captain. "Maybe we could all go?"

Kerry chuckled wryly. "Hungry?" she asked. "Sure. I think that's a great idea. We can meet in the bus if the chief is up for it. You're invited too, Billy."

"Sounds good to me." Billy was more than willing to go along. "Let's take a shortcut through here." He indicated a guarded hallway. "I'll stop and give my CO a heads up. I know for sure he's very interested in this whole computer thing."

"Lead on." Kerry checked her watch. "Jesus--half past one already?"

"Day's flying," Billy said. "Not like yesterday," he added. "Every minute yesterday lasted an hour."

They all sobered, as the guards opened the doors on their approach and they entered a cooler, grayer hallway, with metal doors on either side of it. Billy headed for one, his hand on the knob as Kerry's cell phone rang.

"Hang on." Kerry unclipped the phone and glanced at the caller ID, stopping and staring at it for a long moment before she hastily opened it. "Dar?"

"Hey, love of my life."

Kerry felt like she had electrical prickles heating her skin. "You guys go on. I need to take this," she told Billy and Danny. "I'll catch up with you."

"Yes ma'am." Danny went over to where the captain had paused. "That's our big boss," he explained, as they entered the office and closed the door behind them.

Kerry leaned against the wall. "Where are you?" She was glad the hall was empty. "Are you in the air?"

"Nope," Dar said. "Just landed in Miami."

Another surge of prickling across her skin. "Miami?" Kerry squealed. "Are you kidding me? You're really home? What happened to Mexico? They let you land? Did you call Gerry?"

"Long story," Dar said. "Bottom line is, we just landed at Opa Locka. I figure we've got some explaining to do to the local officials then they should let us out of here."

"Explaining?"

"Like I said, long story," Dar replied, in a wry tone. "I'm just glad to be on the ground."

Kerry felt unexpected tears stinging her eyes. "I'm glad too," she said, lowering her voice. "I feel like fifty pounds just came off my shoulders. I was worried about you."

"Back at you," her partner said. "Where are you?"

"Pentagon." Kerry sniffled and wiped her eyes.

"Bad?"

"Yeah."

"What do you need me to do?"

Kerry sighed. "Where do I start?" She tried to put her thoughts in order, squirming through the emotion with some difficulty. "Can you lean on Justin and get us gear?" she asked. "I'm trying to deal with facilities here."

"You got it," Dar said. "I know what was in that room. I'll get it out there."

"The black box thing--that was just a foul up. They were looking for something we didn't have," Kerry said. "I sent them to the Tier one's."

"Good girl."

"I want to squeeze you so hard your eyeballs pop out."

Dar started chuckling.

"I'm not kidding."

"I know. I wish I could have wangled them into letting us land in Dulles. Hang in there, hon," Dar said. "We're getting surrounded by tin soldiers. I have to go be me. I'll call you back once I'm getting a café con leche with Alastair, and we figure out the next twenty minutes of the plan."

"Okay." Kerry relaxed against the wall, smiling whole heartedly. "Love you."

"Love you too."

Kerry closed the phone, letting out a long, heartfelt sigh. Then she clipped the phone to her belt, squared her shoulders, and headed for the CO's office. "Let's hope my lucky streak keeps hauling its ass right on down the road." She pushed the door open. "But it's going to be hard as hell to beat that."

DAR GOT UP and clipped her phone onto her front pocket, stripping off the pullover she'd worn and leaving herself in just a T-shirt. She folded the pullover and tucked it into her briefcase, as Alastair closed his own phone and sighed. "Bea pissed?"

"Relieved, actually." Alastair pulled his own briefcase over and started to gather his things. "She said at least she knows my landing here means I probably won't be dancing on some table with a bottle of tequila."

Dar paused, and glanced over her shoulder. "We could arrange for that if you really wanted to."

"Ha hah," he said. "Bea seems to think you'd be a good influence. I don't think we have any pictures in the archives of you with a flowerpot on your head."

"I'm sure you don't."

Alastair chuckled. "How's Kerry?" He watched Dar's face crease into a brief grin. "She doing all right?"

"Yeah," Dar said. "She's at the Pentagon. She needs me to take care of some things but we'd better wait to get off this tub."

"Waiting till then to call the wife, myself," her boss said. "I can hang up on Bea and not get in too much trouble."

Dar chuckled.

The steward came in and went over to the door to the cabin. "Folks, please take your seats until we get the plane fully secured here. They're going to come inside."

Dar dropped into her chair, setting her briefcase down by her feet as she tucked her passport and identification into one hand. She looked out the window, not surprised to see several military transports pulling up. "Ah. C'mon."

"What?" Alastair looked up from rooting out his passport.

"I have too much to do with too few energized brain cells to deal with pissed off officials," Dar sighed, bracing her foot up against the small desk as the steward opened the door and carefully lowered it with its attached stairs. "Alastair, just cut them a check."

Her boss chuckled and shook his head, then straightened as three men in uniform came into the plane, with machine guns pointed right at them. "Ah."

"Everyone stay where you are and don't move," the first man said, in a firm voice.

Dar took in the tense posture, and the flicking eyes, and had the sense to stay still, just watching as two of the men came down the aisle and the third slammed the steward against the wall. "Don't move, Alastair," she said. "That's loaded and he's jacked enough to pull the trigger."

The lead soldier swung his muzzle around and pointed it at her, his face obscured behind a gas mask.

Dar met his gaze evenly. "My father taught me not to point at something unless I'm going to shoot it," she remarked. "Especially civs."

He stared at her briefly, moving the muzzle of his gun away from her, then just continued on down the aisle, moving to the back of the plane and kicking open the bathroom door.

The second man, after sweeping the area around them turned and headed for the cockpit. "Get him secured, and come with me," he instructed the third man. "They said these people are all right."

The third man hustled the steward out to hands they could see reaching in the door, then whirled and ducked through the door and headed up to the front of the plane.

"Well." Alastair folded his hands on his lap. "Ain't this nice."

"At least we're all right." Dar got out her PDA and started typing on it. "I was definitely not in the mood to be body slammed."

"You were pretty cool in front of a gun," he commented. "Not that you're not pretty cool in most situations."

"I was hoping I was talking to a pro," Dar admitted. "They really do know how to do this. Military training is not the oxymoron most people think it is."

"Ah."

The third man came back down the aisle and passed them without comment. He went to the door and motioned to someone, then he too, headed for the cockpit.

Heavy steps sounded on the stairs and two men entered, dressed in dark uniforms complete with gun belt and mace cans. They approached Alastair and Dar with very no nonsense expressions.

"Hi," Alastair greeted them. "How're you doing, fellas?" He held up his passport. "Want to start with this?"

The man in the lead did take the passport, opening it to study the contents while his companion held out his hand to Dar for hers. "Ma'am?"

Dar obliged. She watched him flip through the pages. She noticed behind him that two more soldiers had come in and were standing in the aisle, blocking her view of the front of the plane. They weren't facing toward her though. They were facing away.

Hm.

"You folks say you boarded in England?" the first man asked Alastair.

"That we did," Alastair agreed. "Little airfield in London. Nice place. Nice folks."

"Where did you expect to land?" the man asked.

"Mexico City," Dar answered.

The customs officer turned. "I didn't ask you."

Dar merely looked at him, one eyebrow lifting.

"Mexico City," Alastair spoke up, in a dry tone.

The customs officer turned back to him. "Did you know your pilot asked for a course change?"

"Sure. I told him to." Alastair leaned on his chair arm. "I didn't feel like flying into a storm and spending a couple hours losing my lunch," he added. "So yes, I knew. I asked him to fly south, and go around the storm. For some reason, that wasn't appreciated."

"No, it wasn't," the man said. "What was your business in Mexico?"

"It's the closest place I could land to Houston," Alastair said. "That's where we actually were going."

"Houston? You live there?"

"I live there," Alastair confirmed. "Our corporate offices are there."

There was a hustle of motion near the front, and Dar got a glimpse of the crew being crowded out the door, surrounded by the soldiers. She got a look at the pilot's face, and saw utter fear there. "What's going on there?" she asked, pointing at the door.

"That's not your concern ma'am." The other customs officer studied the rest of her ID. "I see you have a Florida driver's license in here." He glanced up at her. "Can I ask what that's for?"

"Driving," Dar answered. "You need one. It's the law."

The officer looked hard at her. "You need a Florida license in Texas? That's news to me. What about you, Roger?"

"News to me too," the other officer said. "Can you explain why you have a Florida license if you live in Texas?"

"I don't live in Texas." Dar was starting to find the conversation irritating. "I live in Florida, at the address on the license." She pointed at the passport. "That's why the passport was issued in Miami, too. Flying to Texas to get one would have been pointless."

"But you were going to Texas?" The man ignored her sarcasm.

"We were going to Texas because it has a country on its border we could fly into." Dar explained. "And we were trying to get home. But trust me, I would be a lot happier to be in Miami." She paused. "Where I live. At the address on the license."

"I'm not, given this conversation," Alastair said. "I'd rather have played poker with the agents in Laredo."

The first officer swung around to him. "You may think this is funny, but I can assure you it's not."

"I don't find it funny at all," Alastair shot back. "Considering you've had our names for four hours and a five second visit to Google would have identified us and the company we work for, and since we've got to now go bust our asses fixing things for the government I'd just appreciate it if you agree we are who the passports say we are and let us get on with it."

"Alastair, you're getting grumpy in your old age," Dar remarked. "C'mon, the only pressing thing we have to deal with is getting the government payroll out and bringing the systems back up for the Pentagon. I'm sure they'll understand we had to spend time with customs."

Alastair sighed again. "Bring back the fellas with the guns."

The customs officer studied Alastair's passport. "Do you have anything to declare?" he asked. "I assume they didn't get you entry cards."

"Nope, and nope," Alastair said. "Didn't even stop for a bottle of Scotch."

The second man handed her back her identification. "Ma'am, anything to declare?"

Dar took her passport and tucked it into her briefcase. "No--wait, yes," she said. "About four hundred bucks worth of stuff I got for friends before the planet crashed in on us."

The customs agent nodded somberly. "Souvenirs?" He watched Dar nod in response. "Did you bring in any tobacco, alcohol, or prohibited products?"

"No."

"Roger?" Another man stuck his head in the door.

"We need you guys over here. We may have something with these pilots."

Roger handed Alastair back his passport. "Welcome home," he said, briefly. "No one wants to give you a hard time, Mr. McLean. We just have a job to do."

"I appreciate that," Alastair said, sincerely. "It's just been a very long day, and it's only half over. I'm sure yours is too," he added. "And I realize it's not our affair, but is there a problem with the fellas who flew us here?"

Roger hesitated, then shook his head. "I can't discuss that," he answered. "They're being investigated. They may be allowed to go on their way. They may not." He motioned his companion to move toward the door. "Have a good day, folks. Watch your step on the way down."

They rattled down the steps and there was a sound of engines revving outside, then silence.

Alastair looked at Dar, as a gust of hot air blew in the door. "So that's it?"

Dar got up and went to the door, peering out. The tarmac was now empty, the cars disappearing into the distance where a big hangar was abuzz with military activity. There were no other planes anywhere near them, and they were alone. "Guess so."

"Lord." Alastair sighed. He got up out of his seat and came over to where she was standing, poking his head out to look around. "Y'know Dar? I'm not getting much out of today."

"C'mon." Dar went to the back of the plane and unlatched their luggage. "Glad they didn't put this underneath. I've lost my chops for breaking into aircraft."

Her boss came over to claim his rolling bag. "Did you used to do that?" he asked curiously. "I didn't think you had a larcenous youth, Dar."

"I didn't." Dar followed him down the aisle, pulling her own bag behind her. "Just a wild one. We used to run all over the base getting into things. Personnel carriers. Old airplanes."

"Ah."

"Tanks."

They climbed down out of the airplane, awkwardly dragging the luggage behind them. Outside it was a very typical muggy Miami afternoon, and after about ten seconds Dar was direly grateful she'd stripped down to her T.

She paused, something odd niggling at her senses. The airfield was dead quiet, and there was a warm breeze that moved the muggy air and the thick foliage of the trees at the perimeter of the field. It was partly cloudy, and everything seemed normal.

"Dar?"

"Hang on." Dar turned all the way around, then slowly tipped her head back and scanned the sky. It wasn't something odd, she realized, it was something missing. "It's so quiet."

Alastair looked at the sky, then at her. "No planes?"

"No planes," she answered. "The only time before this I remember there were no planes is when Andrew hit. And it sure as hell wasn't quiet."

"Huh." Alastair shaded his eyes. "Well--"

"Yeah." Dar turned and started walking. "Where were we?"

"Tanks?" Alastair asked, as they trudged across the steamy tarmac toward the terminal.

"Tanks," she confirmed. "Ask my father. He loves to tell people how I took out the dining hall with one."

"Did you?"

"Not on purpose," Dar admitted. "I ordered a car for us."

"Are those two statements related?" Alastair asked. "We could take a cab, y'know."

"Only if you'd be amused at me knocking the driver out and taking control of the air conditioning and the radio. I lost my love for sweat and someone else's taste in music years ago."

"Well, all righty then."

"Besides, with our cab drivers the car's cheaper." Dar opened the door, standing back to let Alastair enter. The inside of the terminal was cool and empty, only a single security guard slouched in a bored posture at the entrance desk. He looked up and studied them, then went back to reading his magazine.

"Ah," Alastair mumbled. "High security."

"Guess he figures if the goon squad let us loose we're safe." Dar gave the man a brief nod. They passed the desk and exited the front of the small terminal and back out into the muggy sunshine. The drive in front was full of empty cars. Military vehicles were lined up against the curb and some pulled up randomly. "Must be using the Coast Guard base here."

"Sure." Alastair took advantage of a small bench and sat down on it, glancing at his watch. "Hope that car's fast," he said. "Or he'll end up pouring me into the back seat." He rested his elbows on his knees. "I'm too old for all this crap."

Dar took a seat on the concrete, leaning against one of the support posts that held up the seventies era concrete overhang that would, in a rainstorm, almost completely fail in protecting anyone from getting wet. She could smell newly cut grass, and the dusty pavement, and drawing a breath of warm damp air, admitted privately to herself that no matter how uncomfortable it was, it was home.

She'd been in prettier places, with better weather, and nicer scenery but there was something in her that only relaxed, only felt 'right' when she was in this air, with these colors and the distinctive tropical sunlight around her.

She wondered if Alastair felt like that too. "Were you born in Houston, Alastair?"

"About an hour north of there," Alastair replied. "Little place called Coldspring, near Lake Livingston." He glanced at her. "Why?"

"Just curious," Dar said. "You ever want to live anywhere else?"

Alastair leaned back and let his arms rest on the bench, extending his legs and crossing them at the ankles. "Y'know, I never did," he admitted. "When I was younger, I traveled a lot and saw a lot of places. I thought about moving, maybe to Colorado. It's pretty there."

"Mm."

"But I'd come back, and look around, and say, well, why move?" he continued. "Every place has its peculiar problems. Nothing is a paradise. I like Texas. I like the people, I like the attitude. It fits me."

"That's how I feel about here." Dar watched a lizard scamper down the pylon she was leaning against and regard her suspiciously. "I bitch about the traffic and the politics but it's home." She glanced at her watch, then turned and looked at the long, tree lined approach to the terminal. "Here we go."

Alastair leaned forward and spotted the car approaching. "Well that wasn't too bad, now was it?"

"No." Dar got up off the ground. "I wanted to wait until we were rolling before I started yelling at people on the phone." She studied the big Lincoln Town Car that was rapidly approaching them. "Hope they remembered the YooHoo."

"Eh?"

The driver stopped the car and got out, coming around the front of the car rapidly. "Afternoon, folks," he said. "I had a little trouble getting past the police barricade, and I don't think they want me in here so we should make a little haste." He reached for their bags, popping the trunk with his remote in his other hand.

"Police?" Alastair frowned, handing his bag over. "Place is closed--why do they need police?"

The driver threw his bag in the trunk and grabbed Dar's. "I guess you haven't heard what's been going on here, huh? I was real surprised to get a note to pick up here, tell you that."

"No, we haven't." Dar headed for the now open back door. "We've been in the air for nine hours."

Alastair was getting in the other side as the driver slammed the trunk and trotted for the front seat. "Something going on here in Florida? More terrorist activity?" He got in and joined Dar, as the driver slid behind the wheel and threw the car into gear. "There's not a problem here, is there?"

"Problem?" The driver turned the car in a tight U, heading back down the approach as six police cars came rolling down the opposite lane. "Lady, they're arresting people and kicking down doors right and left around town." He watched intently in the rear view mirror as he drove, turning it so he could see the police cars. "My brother works for Dade County and he just told me the guys who took over those planes lived down here."

"Here?" Alastair asked. "What the hell?" He looked at Dar. "They lived here? I thought they were saying on the news before we left this was from some group outside?"

"Who knows at this point," the driver said. "Hey, I'm Dave, by the way," he added. "You gave me an address off Brickell, right?" He looked quickly behind him. "Guess those guys forgot about me."

"Right," Dar murmured. "This all doesn't make sense."

"Nothing's made sense since yesterday morning," Dave said. "That cooler in the back has got the drinks you asked for. They aren't very cold yet, I had to stop by Publix to get them." He glanced at them in the rearview. "How'd you folks end up landing here anyway? We heard there were no planes allowed to land. It's been real dry for us. I sure was glad to get the call. You need to go anyplace else? Want to stop and pick up some java?"

Dar met his eyes in the mirror. "Do we look like we need it?" she asked, wryly.

"Anyone flying for nine hours needs it." He neatly sidestepped the question. "You a Starbucks or Versailles kinda lady?"

"Versailles, please," Dar had to smile. "I promised my boss here a café cubano."

"You got it," the driver said. "Sit back and relax, and I'll get you right there. I figured you were local."

"Thanks." Dar did, in fact, sit back in her seat. She opened her PDA and looked up a number. "Might as well get this started." She was about to dial, when the phone rang. "Dar Roberts," she answered it, only to have it beep for a second incoming call.

Alastair was already on the phone, waiting for it to be answered. "Does that java come in buckets?" he asked. "I think we're going to need it."