by S D Rogue
“That would definitely suck.”
“It’s mostly just loud noises now that bother me.”
“Is that why you don’t like to fire your gun?”
“I just don’t like hurting people. I mean the noise is obviously bad.” She explained. “I’m really not a gun person. The one I had in my room is the one I had in the service, and I only kept it at the recommendation of the agency—but I hadn’t fired it in years.”
“You’re still a good shot,” Bashir admired.
“Only when I have to be.”
“If your hearing’s so good, then why didn’t you hear me break in?”
“Same reason you don’t always hear someone that’s talking right in front of your face—selective hearing. I’ve learned to tune things out.” Hana paused and asked, suddenly concerned, “What happened when you broke out?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, did you hurt anyone?”
“Your friend’s fine, Hana—I swear I didn’t hurt him. Or anyone else.” He promised. “Not long after you left, I just left.”
“You just left?”
“Just left. Didn’t hurt anyone. No one even knew I was gone—at least, I didn’t think they did. It got quiet after you checked on me and I just got up, got dressed, and left.”
“Then how did they find you so quick?” Hana asked. “And how did they find us at the airplane? And then in the sky?” She paused and looked at him, concerned. “Bashir, you’re being tracked.”
“We’ve been through this, Hana—there’s someone on the inside.” He explained. “Whoever this is knew that there was a safe house—or a getaway plane. And finding a plane in the air isn’t that hard—especially when you have the kind of high tech that these guys have. I was wearing a RFID bracelet in the hospital, but that was the first thing I tore off.” He took Hana’s hand and promised, “We’re safe—for now.”
“For now,” Hana repeated.
“If it makes you feel better, I’m going to recommend that all of this counts as overtime pay.”
Hana smiled. “It does actually—I’m saving up for a new car since my old one is somewhere in the middle of nowhere next to an abandoned field. It’s probably already being taken away by whoever is behind all of this.”
“So are you confident someone is behind all of this now?”
Hana sighed. “A part of me doesn’t want to care who’s behind all of this. I just want to be back home and not have to worry who’s going to shoot me next.” She added, “But I’m in it now, and yeah—I believe you.”
“Thanks.”
“Maybe I was due for a little action. It sometimes gets a little boring working in the office all day. I just wish I could have prepared for it.”
Bashir turned slightly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so sexy torturing a guy.”
Hana laughed, “I didn’t actually hurt him.”
“He looked pretty hurt to me.”
“It was all psychological—the cuts were so thin and harmless, it’s ridiculous. A little kid’s band aid over it and he’ll be fine.” She stopped and stood back. ”How do you feel?”
Bashir thought. “Better—I think it helped.”
“I can keep massaging it.”
Bashir stood and placed his hand on Hana’s back, then motioned her towards the other bed and said, “You need to sleep—tomorrow’s a busy day.”
“What happens tomorrow?”
“Sleep, and we’ll talk about it over breakfast.” He tenderly said, then added, “I’ll keep you safe.”
Hana didn’t think she’d be able to sleep. As she laid in bed, she looked over at Bashir. He was sitting on the edge of the bed focused on the door. His shadowy figure looked like a guardian, and she felt protected. She quickly started drifting off to sleep.
Chapter Five
T
he light illuminated onto Hana as the door to the motel gently opened. Hana slowly opened her eyes and saw Bashir closing the door. She still felt exhausted and knew it could not have been that long since she fell asleep.
“What time is it?” She noticed now that he had a Target bag in one hand and four Coffee Bean coffees.
“Sorry,” Bashir said, “I was trying not to wake you—it’s almost 9.”
She noticed that he had changed. He was wearing a plain white shirt and jeans. She noted that all his shirts had barely fit over his muscular arms. Groggy eyed, she looked at the coffee. “Are we expecting company?”
Bashir shrugged. “I didn’t know what you were into, so I got you a little of everything.”
She smiled. “Is a warm vanilla latte in the bunch?”
He held the coffee up and studied each label. “Here we are,” he said, pulling it out of the carrier. “I didn’t know if you liked cow milk or nut milk, so I went with almond.”
“Good choice,” Hana said, grabbing the cup and taking a sip. She looked at the Target bag. “You were busy.”
“I’m not much of a morning person,” Bashir explained, opening the bag. “It’s nothing fancy, but I got you sweats and a baggy shirt, extra underwear, and some toiletries.”
“This would have come in handy last night—much easier to jump out of an airplane in sweats than a dress.”
“Sorry again about that.” He smirked, “So about that dress…”
She looked at him, worried.
“I also picked up some shirts, jeans, and a hat.” He said. “You look a little too good in that dress.”
Hana looked at him, flattered but confused.
“People see you in that and they notice—until we are in the clear, we need to blend in more. Plain boring clothes—nothing fancy.”
Hana sighed as she took the clothes, then asked, “So what is the plan to get us in the clear?”
“I’m still working on that—I got a guy coming down as we speak to pick us up.”
“A guy?” Hana said suspiciously. “You trust him?”
“Like a brother. He’s the guy that recruited me.”
“So he’s from the agency?”
“Was. Not anymore. He runs his own company now—they do government contracting. The agency has used him a few times. His name is Luke, but everyone calls him York.”
Hana went through the bag and tossed aside the clothes on the bed. She then looked up and studied Bashir several seconds to see if he appeared out of breath. “Did you use your speed to get to Target?”
He nodded. “On the way.”
“And?”
“Well, I didn’t use it coming back.”
She could see the disappointment on his face, and offered with encouragement, “It will come.”
“I don’t want to rush you, but you should probably change—we need to leave soon.”
Hana took the clothes into the bathroom. He had picked the right size jeans, surprisingly. She hadn’t even told him the length. As she brushed her teeth and quickly did her hair, she heard a knock at the door that was followed by chatter and then laugher.
When she exited a thin caucasian man in his forties was standing in front of the door. Bashir was across from him with a bright smile on his face. The man had straight brown hair that went to his shoulders and was parted on the side. He was wearing a navy sweater with a black polo shirt under it; he was tall and lanky—he didn’t look like the bulkier men who worked at the agency.
Hana noticed immediately that Bashir’s mannerisms were different with York; they looked like two brothers. There’s definitely a bromance here, Hana thought. York saw her exit the bathroom, and she extended her hand walking towards him. “York, I presume.”
“Bashir must have told you about me—good things I hope,” he said with a British accent and wide charming smile.
“He didn’t tell me you were British.”
“I hope that’s ok.”
“I love a man with an accent,” she playfully teased.
Bashir shifted a slightl
y, clearly a little annoyed at Hana’s playfulness; he glanced at the clock on the nightstand, then said, “We should get going.”
York led them outside to a black SUV with tinted windows. A driver got out of the car when he saw York and opened the passenger door for Hana.
“I wasn’t expecting a driver,” Hana remarked.
“You’re about to learn,” Bashir explained, “when you travel with York, you travel in style.”
York took shotgun, and Bashir and Hana sat in the back.
“How’d you get involved with the agency?” Hana asked, buckling in.
York sighed as he thought back, then turned around in his seat to face her as the car began to drive off. “I had just gotten out of the SAS and had started working at a biotech company that the agency had contracted. One thing led to another and next thing you know, I’m recruiting new Paladins for the agency.”
“The SAS?” Hana noted. “Impressive.” The SAS was England’s Special Air Service; it was an elite regiment similar in training to the Special Forces.
“And I heard you were an 18D medic—that’s pretty impressive in itself,” York retorted with a smirk.
“You did your homework, I guess?”
“Bashir told me a little about you.”
“Good things I hope.”
Bashir interrupted the banter and explained, “He doesn’t look like much, but he’s a bit of a war hero.”
York, visibly annoyed, turned back in his seat to face the front of the car.
“Go ahead, tell her!” Bashir teased as the driver took the freeway onramp.
“You’re so much better with the theatrics,” York said as they pulled out of the parking lot.
Bashir laughed, “It’s a good story! You should tell it.” He looked over at Hana. “York here was brought up in a very charismatic Christian family. He’s a preacher’s kid. In his kind of family, guns weren’t exactly the Christian way. So York being the rebel he is doesn’t just sign up for the British Army—he joins the Special Forces unit. Spends months training in the SAS and is shipped off to Afghanistan.”
“Very heroic?” Hana said, confused.
“That’s not the hero part. He steps foot on the ground and starts having a crisis of faith in the middle of a war zone. He doesn’t want to fire his gun and hurt anyone. That’s not how he was raised. So there he is in the middle of a firefight that’s, as it happens, taking place in front of a school. But the thing is, letting a bunch of kids get hurt isn’t part of the Christian way either. So one by one, and without firing a single bullet, he gets every single kid out of this classroom taking fire. Saves—what was it, York?”
“Twenty three kids,” York said humbly.
“Twenty three kids! You believe that?”
“That’s pretty noble,” Hana said.
“But I didn’t tell you the best part,” Bashir said excitedly.
“What’d I say about this guy’s theatrics,” York said, unamused.
“Stop being bashful—you really should brag about this kind of stuff,” Bashir pointed out. “So he’s on rescuing his third kid, and he gets hit in the leg. But he keeps going! He was shot, I kid you not, seven times, during the entire operation. And he didn’t stop until every single kid was rescued from the building.”
The story surprised Hana; York didn’t strike her as the type of guy who would be in the service—let alone rescuing kids. Everything about his demeanor screamed upper class businessman not exactly in touch with the rest of the world.
“Not all of them were direct shots,” York insisted, “some just scratched me.”
“You believe this guy?” Bashir laughed.
“So you left after that?” Hana asked.
“They gave him a medical discharge and a bunch of medals,” Bashir explained.
York reached for the radio as the SUV made its way off the freeway; he turned it on loud enough to make it clear he was done talking about his time in the service. “How about some music?” Before anyone could answer, classic rock was playing over the speakers.
“You ever want to shut this guy up,” Bashir explained, “just start saying he’s a hero—he can’t stand it!”
“We can’t all be Paladins,” York shot back. “Some of us prefer to at least try and be humble.”
“Where are we going anyway?” Hana asked as the driver turned into a parking lot for the Fresno Chandler Executive Airport.
“York likes to travel in style,” Bashir explained.
“We aren’t going to have to jump again are we?” Hana asked as they pulled in.
“Jump?” York said turning and looking at Bashir. “What have you put this girl through?”
“We ran into trouble.”
“Trouble follows this guy,” York said, now turned toward Hana.
“I’m getting that idea.”
They pulled in next to a hangar and walked to a waiting Cessna CitationJet—a small business airplane that was slightly larger than the plane they had used the previous night—and one with an actual engine and not a propeller.
“It doesn’t look like much,” York said exiting the car, “but it will get us to where we need to go.”
“And where is that?” Hana asked.
“Just outside of Sacramento. Beale Air Force Base,” he replied, then quickly jogged onto the runway and chatted casually with a woman that was waiting for them at the staircase.
There were six seats inside the plain—two in the front and four for passengers. They were all leather and felt more commercial than what she had flown the night before. There was a pilot already waiting in the front. York entered the aircraft last.
“I feel like I’m pulling nails trying to get an answer from you guys, but what is at Beale Air Force Base?” Hana said as she sat down and buckled in.
“A bigger plane.” York smiled, taking the seat across from her.
“Relax Hana,” Bashir said, “we don’t have a game plan yet, but we’re working on one. There’s a private jet waiting for us there and it’s going to take me to Tokyo.”
“Tokyo!” Hana blurted. “Now we’re leaving the country?!”
“Me, Hana,” Bashir calmly explained, “just me. I’ve asked too much from you and you’ve done everything to help me. York is going to have one of his guys get you somewhere safe until things blow over—he has a full medical staff, so they can look me over and try and make sense of what’s going on with me.”
“I think I’ve proven I can handle myself,” Hana said curtly. “I’m not worried about leaving the country—I’m just surprised and not exactly prepared. I don’t even have my passport.”
“Well if you want to go,” York said cheerfully, “we can get a passport made up on the plane. But you won’t need one where we’re going.” He explained. “We do a lot of contract work in Japan. We’ll be landing on an Air Force base. We have the connections to get people to look the other way—do it all the time when we need to sneak people in.”
“Well, okay then,” Hana said. “Let’s go to Tokyo.”
“Hana, I really think you should stay,” Bashir said.
“You’re not healed yet,” Hana pointed out. “You said you thought I helped last night—I want to keep helping.”
“York has an excellent team.”
“I don’t think I’ll be safe until you figure all this out so if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to come.”
Bashir looked at her, unconvinced.
“Last night you said you’d keep me safe—shipping me off with some of York’s guys doesn’t feel very safe.”
“My guys are the best,” York said, “but maybe she’s right? Whatever this is seems to be a domestic problem—none of the assets from overseas bases have had any trouble at all.”
“It’s your choice,” Bashir said.
“Arigato.” Hana smiled. “Tokyo it is.”
Chapter Six
T
hey were in the air about
an hour when the plane began its descent and finally landed at Beale Air Force Base just outside of Yuba City. The base was home to several reconnaissance aircraft like the Dragon Lady. The base was just waking up, and no one seemed to notice or care that a civilian airplane was taxiing onto the runway.
Their private jet slowly moved across the runway past several military planes and parked not far from an all-white 747 with no markings.
“Chariot awaits.” York smiled, looking out the window at the jumbo-sized aircraft.
“That’s what we’re flying on?” Hana said, shocked at the size.
“If you were hoping for bigger, I’m afraid that’s as big as they come,” York explained, unbuckling his seatbelt. “It’s like a flying lab. Wait until you see the inside.”
York hurried off the plane and was greeted by a woman with an iPad at the bottom who quickly began reading off some kind of itinerary.
“So he like, owns that?” Hana said in disbelief to Bashir as they walked across the runway to the staircase that would lead them onto the plane.
“His company,” Bashir clarified. “Government contracting is an excellent business to be in right now.”
“Apparently.”
Hana had been on a 747 before, and as Hana went up the staircase and entered the airplane, she expected to see seats. Her eyes widened as she entered the inside and saw a plane like no other she had ever set foot in.
At the entrance was a giant living room. There were two leather sofas, several recliners, coffee tables that were attached to the floor, and custom cabinets throughout. At the front of this area was a large TV mounted on the wall. It was playing a movie that had not yet been released yet.
“Does the government use this plane?” Hana asked, confused and in disbelief.
“They wish,” Bashir laughed.