“Rowan Milani is his name, and I’m pretty sure he’d be seated in first class.” The look on Mandy’s face made him pause. Something must have happened to Rowan.
Embarrassment filled her eyes. “Uh, your colleague, special agent Milani, right?” Without waiting for his reply, she continued. “He caused that flight and two others to cancel and his ticket has been revoked. I’m afraid he won’t be allowed to fly on United Airlines for a while.” She looked at him unhappily. “Sorry to break the bad news.”
Stunned to open-mouthed speechlessness, he wondered what Rowan had gotten into this time. It had to be bad, whatever it was. Rowan was too hotheaded for his own good, and he wondered if his friend had been arrested. “Mandy, do you know what happened, by chance?”
Hesitation written on her face, she frowned and glanced down at her computer, eyes moving as she read something and then looked back up at him. “All I know is that he made a threat against the aircraft, at least that’s what they’re calling it. Evidently he was asked to deplane and got into an altercation with the captain, and it says the FBI escorted him off the aircraft.”
Staring in disbelief, he almost started laughing and then thought about the seriousness of the charges his friend could be facing. He could only imagine how angry Rowan must have been if he were asked to deplane, and there was only one reason they’d make him do that. “Thanks Mandy, I appreciate your help.”
With one last smile, her good looks forgotten in his concern for his colleague, he wandered away from the counter, cell phone already at his ear. Finding Ralph was his first priority and then he’d figure out what they’d done with Rowan. Ralph’s phone went directly to voice mail and he didn’t bother leaving a message. He’d better talk to his boss personally because Ralph would blow a gasket when he heard this news.
Finding the number for the FBI’s office at Denver International Airport took a few minutes. “Yeah, Milani was asked to deplane. He couldn’t resist baiting the captain and now the flight has canceled, due to a concern about his suitcase. My boss got his ass chewed by someone from United who’s pissed off about lost revenue and the FBI’s perceived inability to properly screen its own agents for security. Now he wants to talk more to Milani, downtown at the Field Office.”
Chad slapped his forehead and rolled his eyes. This guy sounded seriously hacked off. “Special agent Banks, I’d like to speak to Rowan. Can you put him on the phone for me, please?”
Banks chuckled. “That would be a NO. He agreed to wait in our holding room while this crap gets sorted out and I’m not in proximity. Doesn’t he have a phone with him? Call him yourself, special agent Cantor.”
Folding his six foot five inch frame into a chair in the lower level waiting area, he flipped his phone shut and put his head in his hands, the man’s sarcastic words still echoing. He’s not an easy guy to talk with, you know what I mean? His attitude complicates things, makes people mad. This was unbelievable.
Flipping the phone open, he punched Rowan’s number, but the call went to voice mail. Scowling, he tried Ralph again, relief flooding his mind when his boss answered the phone tersely. “Ralph Johnston.”
“Ralph – boss – where are you?” Reaching the one person who could stop what was happening to Rowan before it went too far left him weak-kneed.
“Chad, I’m in Denver. What do you need?” When he finished his story, the phone went silent. Then he heard Ralph cursing quietly. “I’ll call you back. I’m going to fix this mess right now.” Slumping lower in the chair, he closed his eyes and snapped the phone shut. Thank God Ralph was in Denver. If they hauled Rowan downtown for interrogation, there was no telling what would happen.
* * *
Ralph couldn’t wait to get a hold of the man who’d escorted Rowan from the plane. Within minutes of his call, the special agent on duty at the airport met him on Concourse B, led him through a labyrinth of hallways and down a private service elevator into the dreary basement of the airport to the FBI’s cramped office. Leonard Banks looked like a weasel to him, the kind who’d kissed butt and slithered into advances rather than earning them. Judging by how the man acted, Rowan would surely have intimidated him by the sheer force of his personality. Not to mention of course that Rowan could be such a jerk when angered.
He glanced around the office, raised his hands and turned back to the special agent. “Where is Rowan? He is here, correct? You haven’t moved him downtown?”
Banks looked at him uneasily. “No sir, we haven’t moved him anywhere. We’ve been talking and he’s waiting for me in one of our holding rooms. You can take a look right here, we’ve got video surveillance.” Shrugging, giving him an exaggerated smile, the man pointed to a row of monitors.
Sliding around the desk, he squinted at the monitor Banks thumped with an index finger. Was that Rowan? What the hell was he doing? He turned and glared. “Leonard, how long has my subordinate been sitting on a bench in that room?”
Banks stared at him and swallowed. “Well, he and I talked, and then I needed to call my boss and take care of a few other things that happened because of his smart mouth. It’s only been a couple hours. He told me he didn’t mind waiting.”
Concern building over the direction he thought the morass was heading, Ralph frowned. “Do you have written verification of specific charges against special agent Milani? Do you have a warrant for his arrest?”
Banks blinked and took a step back. “No, of course we don’t have a warrant for his arrest. Like I said, all we’ve done is chat. And like I said, he agreed to wait. We’re not actually holding him. But I don’t mind telling you, he’s confrontational, difficult to reason with and borderline belligerent.”
He couldn’t help a chuckle. “I’m well aware of my subordinate’s personality quirks. However, my main concern is that you’ve kept a colleague in an uncomfortable situation for going on three hours. You know what – let’s go. I’ve seen enough.”
* * *
Rowan kept thinking he needed to move, but he was too tired. Thought he heard Ralph’s voice and knew he must be dreaming. His arms and back ached, his neck was stiff and pins and needles jabbed his legs. Opening his left eye, he winced at the scratchy dryness. Opening the other eye wasn’t possible because his face was plastered flat against something hard, and slimy wetness clung to his chin. As the fog cleared, the ugly events of the past few hours pushed their way back to the forefront of his mind.
While his muscles protested, he struggled to push himself upright. Unable to remember when he’d ever felt worse without the helpful assistance of Jack Daniel’s whiskey, he tipped his head back and saw Ralph. He painstakingly twisted first his neck and then his back. It felt good to wipe the spit off his chin, and he needed to find a bathroom – soon. Moving his legs to bring feeling back, he focused on Ralph. “What the hell are you doing in Denver, boss?”
Ralph glowered at him. “It’s nice to see you too, and you’re welcome. Why I’m here is a long, jacked up tale for another day. Why you’re here is my immediate concern. Look Rowan, it’s getting to where I can’t let you out in public anymore. You want to explain this shit to me?”
Massaging the back of his neck, he glanced at Banks, who was leaning against the door. Rage overflowing at the endless delays and the game playing he’d been forced to endure, he looked at Ralph and angled his head toward Banks. “Ask him.” That would be the extent of his input, he wouldn’t say more. Even with Ralph’s reassuring presence, he wasn’t sure that an overarching authority couldn’t haul him downtown for further conversation anyway. Clenching his jaws, he sat silently and waited for Ralph to speak.
Looking at Rowan’s face, Ralph saw the telltale rage and was surprised his subordinate had the smarts to shut up for once. Rowan must be gravely concerned, or he’d have let the lanky man leaning against the door have it with both barrels. Smiling placidly at Banks, he decided it was time for baldy to pay the piper. He’d enjoy making him squirm. “Leonard, this is your opport
unity to tell me, or rather us,” he gestured at Rowan, “What is going on here? I am most interested to hear your explanation. Enlighten us, please.” He crossed his arms and stared.
Banks ran a hand over his head, eyes darting from him to Rowan. “You gentlemen need to understand something. I’m acting on orders from my boss. As I told Rowan, he is concerned about special agent Milani’s possible connection to something that happened in Mexico last night.”
Ralph shot a quick glance at Rowan, whose face looked purposely blank. When he’d seen the breaking news in O’Hare, it crossed his mind that his subordinate might be involved. But he’d forgotten about it in his never-ending saga of flight across the midsection of the country. “Leonard, refresh my memory. Who is your boss in Denver?”
The man smoothed his wrinkled suit and smiled. “Fred Ralston is my immediate superior and the Special Agent in Charge. As I said, he’s got a lead on suspected American covert involvement in this deal that went down in Mexico. We needed Rowan’s input to clear things up. I spoke to Fred just before you arrived, and he would still like to chat personally with special agent Milani, to clarify where he’s been.”
Giving Rowan another surreptitious glance, he noticed his friend had gone still. Banks had definitely struck a nerve. Well, by God, no one was going to question his special agent about complicity in something that had happened in Mexico. But how had Fred Ralston put Rowan together with that operation? He looked at Banks. “What kind of lead are you talking about?”
Banks shrugged. “Fred got an anonymous phone call naming Rowan as the American operative who murdered two people along the border between Mexico and the United States. The caller mentioned a possible terror incident.”
Ralph knew it was time to get his friend out of harm’s way before someone higher up decided to investigate the merits of that phone call. If they took Rowan downtown, all hell would break loose, in more ways than one. “Leonard, your boss needs to quit smoking peyote.” Watching as Banks’ entire head turned crimson, he hid a smile behind his fist and cleared his throat.
Enjoying the man’s discomfort, he continued. “And you can quote me on that. For crying out loud, he got an anonymous phone call? Give me a break. He’s got no proof, no reason to question special agent Milani regarding some bullshit that happened in Mexico. I’m putting an end to this right now.”
Bank’s mouth opened and closed and his eyes got round. “Before you, I mean, before Rowan can leave, I need to clear it with my boss.”
Ralph stepped in front of Banks and tugged gently on the angular man’s tie. “Listen closely. Rowan Milani is my subordinate and my responsibility. As you stated, you’re not holding him. He agreed to wait while you sorted things out. And now, he is leaving with me and there is not diddly squat either you or your boss can do about it. You may inform Special Agent in Charge Ralston that he may forward whatever hard evidence he has, to me. Move away from the door, Leonard – right now.”
* * *
Ralph looked at Rowan as they belted themselves into deep, comfortable seats on the Learjet his friend had chartered without batting an eye. Rowan’s panache always amazed him. His special agent had plunked down a platinum American Express card and signed the forms with a flourish, as though chartering a private jet was an everyday occurrence. Then Rowan pulled a couple hundred-dollar bills from his wallet that was thick with the green stuff and pushed them over the counter with a rakish wink at the customer service agent. Some things never changed. No matter how much he lectured about discretion, Rowan did whatever the hell he pleased, tossing money to the locals no matter where they were on assignment. He would probably give the pilots even more.
Rowan gave him a fatigued smile and stuffed his cell phone in his jacket pocket. “Chad’s picking us up at the airport.” Stifling a yawn, his special agent waved vaguely toward the flight deck where the captain and first officer conferred quietly. “We should be getting underway shortly. And I think we arrive around ten o’clock tonight, with the time change. Hell, its fifteen degrees with light snow in Sioux Falls.”
He gave Rowan a grim smile. “Don’t worry, you’ll survive. Hey, I talked to that pinhead Fred Ralston. He isn’t planning on pursuing an investigation of you, based on an anonymous call.” Kneading the back of his neck, he looked at his friend. “Man, it hacked me off when Banks said you couldn’t leave without Ralston’s approval. And he gets off with a reprimand for leaving you in that dump for three hours. What a pathetic schmuck.”
The cabin lights dimmed, and Ralph craned his neck to look out the window. The engines started their wind-up as they taxied through the darkness past glittering blue and white runway lights. Reclining his seat, he glanced at Rowan, sitting with his hands in his lap, eyes closing as his head dipped. Now probably wasn’t the time, but the question had been burning in his mind since that afternoon. “Say, I’m wondering about something.”
His special agent opened bloodshot eyes. “What’s on your mind, Ralph? Thinking about Mexico?”
How had Rowan read his thoughts? “You might say that. I noticed when Banks started talking about it you got kind of quiet.”
The roar of the engines made conversation difficult, and he could see that Rowan was waiting until they were airborne to reply. Watching the younger man as they ascended smoothly and banked toward the east, he decided it wasn’t any of his business. As the engine noise leveled off, he spoke. “I’m sorry, I should know better than to ask stupid questions about things that don’t concern me. Forget I said anything.”
Rowan stared at him. Marveling at the unrepentant face, he searched for a smidgeon of warmth in the dark eyes. What a difference the years had made, he thought sadly. He and Rowan had been friends for a long time, and every once in a while he still missed the man he’d known before September 11, 2001. That singular event had created the rocky, usually smoldering exterior special agent Milani presented to the rest of the world. It was too bad, but that’s the way it was. He turned away, slid down in his seat and closed his eyes, feeling the engine vibration throughout his body, lulling him to sleep.
Rowan tapped his forearm. “Hey, Ralph.”
Turning his head, he opened his eyes and gazed sleepily at his friend. “What?”
Rowan gave him an indifferent shrug. “I was asked to eliminate a threat and send a strong message. So that’s what I did.”
* * *
Watching from the warmth of the customer lounge provided by the Fixed Base Operator on the private side of the airport, Chad muttered to himself as the Learjet taxied in, guided to a stop by a parka clad agent with glowing orange wands. It was about time. Turning up the collar of his overcoat and pulling on fur lined leather gloves, he stepped into the frigid air to meet his boss and colleague.
He’d done everything he could think of to make sure Rowan would be comfortable once he arrived in Sioux Falls. A Men’s Wearhouse bag in the trunk of the car contained assorted pairs of socks and boxers. Rowan could easily talk someone at the hotel into getting his clothes washed, but this way he’d be spared the humiliation of handing over his underwear. A bottle of ninety-four proof, single barrel Jack Daniel’s whiskey nestled in a paper sack next to the socks and boxers. Smiling to himself he thought about how much Rowan would enjoy that. It was fun to surprise his surly friend once in a while, let him know he cared.
Thanks to Mandy, his new confidant at United Airlines, Rowan’s suitcase would arrive by FedEx in the morning. The captain of the flight Rowan had been yanked from made a ramp agent search through ninety-seven bags in the cargo pit twice before a call to US Air confirmed that the suitcase had never made the transfer to United in Denver. Mandy made a few calls and arranged the FedEx transport at the risk of being ostracized by her co-workers and the station manager.
Every airline employee and manager in Sioux Falls wanted Rowan’s rear end because of United’s three canceled flights. In a small airport, that many cancelations affected all the airlines. United needed seats for
almost two hundred people, stretching the goodwill and capacity of both Delta and Legacy.
Mandy had spilled the juicy insider information after a few drinks and some extra attention, first at a bar and then in his bedroom. Humming the old Barry Manilow song that popped unbidden into his mind, Well you came and you gave without takin’, but I sent you away, Oh Mandy... he snickered. He’d taken one for the team, and Mandy was none the wiser. Oh well. She was cute and kindhearted, but not all that smart. Besides, he’d enjoy telling Rowan how much he’d sacrificed on his behalf.
Teeth chattering, eyes watering from the cold, he waited at the bottom of the aircraft stairs in swirling snow. Breathing in acrid fumes from the jet exhaust as the engines wound down, he squinted up at Ralph, silhouetted by the arc lights overhead as he stepped carefully down the stairs. With a grunt his boss tilted his head back and smiled, breath billowing in a frosty cloud. “Your colleague will be right along. He’s enriching the lives of the captain and first officer as we speak.”
Chad laughed and wiped his eyes. Looking up, he saw Rowan standing sleepily in the doorway of the jet, scowling and blinking at the snow, then lingering as he zipped up his black leather jacket. He had to chuckle when Ralph cast an irritated glance upward and bellowed. “Rowan, for crying out loud, let’s go. We don’t have all night. It’s plenty cold, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Grabbing Ralph by the arm, Chad leaned close. “Boss, I need to talk to you privately tonight, just for a minute.” Ralph nodded and didn’t say anything as Rowan stepped onto the tarmac, shoulders hunched into his jacket, hands jammed in the pockets. Judging from the look on his friend’s face, his first impression of South Dakota wasn’t favorable.
With a bad-tempered glare at both him and Ralph, Rowan jerked his head in annoyance. “Well, come on. Let’s go before we all freeze to death standing here. Where’s the damned Lincoln? You’re still driving that piece of junk, right?”
Consummate Betrayal Page 4