by J. K. Kelly
A short time afterward, his phone rang again.
“Miss me already?” he answered, assuming it was Dale again.
“Oui,” a female voice with a French accent replied. It was Eve.
“Your timing is impeccable, young lady. I was just thinking about you.”
“You tell all the ladies that, don’t you,” she teased.
“No, seriously, I’m just headed for the airport. I’m going on holiday for a bit. Do you want to come?” he asked.
Matt did need to get away, wait for the smoke to clear, develop an offensive plan, and then wait for the moment to strike. Spending time with someone he clearly had chemistry with, and who intrigued him with her penchant for trouble, might be just what the doctor ordered.
Soon after, Matt parked the car in the high-rise parking garage at Philadelphia’s airport, grabbed his bags, now three, and walked into the departure terminal. He took the escalator down to arrivals and jumped into one of the waiting taxis. If anyone was trying to track his movements, any amateurs, they would have suspected he’d fly out of Baltimore, Dulles, or Reagan. Philly wouldn’t have been on their radar.
“Atlantic Aviation,” he told the driver.
“That’s right over there,” the driver protested, pointing at the hanger across the airfield.
“I know, I know,” Matt responded. “You’ve been waiting in line for an hour, and now this jackass wants you to take him on a shitty $10 ride.” Matt made eye contact with the driver. “What part of Egypt are you from?” Dialects were a specialty Matt had picked up at a much younger age. They’d always intrigued him and had become a challenge guessing them.
But this driver wasn’t interested in playing any games. Matt smiled. Okay, he thought and then handed two twenties to the driver through the slit in the clear plastic wall between them.
The cab dropped him off at the front entrance to the private jet facility. Matt could see the plane he had arranged for on the drive up from Annapolis – a beautiful white-and-gold Bombardier Global 6000, capable of taking him just about anywhere he wanted to go without stopping. His original plan was to fly straight to Munich and from there perhaps drive down through the Alps, maybe Austria this time, or maybe the lakes of northern Italy. The plane would cost a small fortune, but his perspective was different from the average person. He was already wealthy, had his health – despite the recent near-drowning – and now had inherited a $34 million estate in Wyoming. If the Good Lord was going to call him home soon, he intended to have a little fun beforehand.
The beauty of private aviation was that anyone who could afford it could charter a jet, pay for it, walk right aboard without metal detectors, answering questions, or suffering through annoying security checks. The rich did as they pleased. Matt had told the charter company the flight plan would be Philadelphia to Munich. When two attractive, uniformed flight attendants greeted him, one wearing her jet black hair pulled back tight in a high ponytail and the brunette parting hers dead center and letting the sides fly, he handed over two of his bags and kept one for himself. And he suggested a slight change in plans.
“We need to make a stop in Montreal first, skipper,” he said, addressing the pilot in the cockpit. “Any problem with that?”
“We’re all yours, Mr. Christopher,” he replied. “Just need to adjust the flight plan a smidge and inform Canada we’re dropping in.”
“Perfect,” he stated. “I’ll be in the back,” he said with a smile. With wheels up, Matt took a few minutes to stow the Glock and holster along with three other weapons he had picked up from a storage shed he rented in Maryland. While many flew across the ocean with long guns to go on safari for big game, Matt was going to focus on other, more dangerous prey. He now had everything he needed. All he had to do now was find them.
When the jet landed and taxied to the Can Charter tarmac at Dorval airport, Matt could see Eve standing outside with a backpack at her feet. She had brought a guest, though, something he hadn’t expected. As he got up to go greet her, the captain reminded him that if his feet touched the ground, he would have to meet with Canadian customs. And that could take some time to arrange.
“Thanks for reminding me, skipper. I’ll let the ground crew do their thing.” He turned to the two flight attendants. “Looks like it will be a table for three, ladies.”
Minutes later, Eve and her roommate Vicki climbed the short steps, sounding excited by their first private jet ride, a free trip to Europe, and seeing Matt, standing there with two glasses of champagne for them. Once the hugs and kisses and bag stowage were behind them, the captain finished his paperwork and announced they were ready for takeoff.
“Weather for the crossing looks perfect,” he said. “We can hop a ride on the jet stream and should have you in Munich at eight in the morning local time.”
Matt, Eve, Vicki, and the two attendants buckled up and, once the jet passed the 10,000-foot mark, the pilot announced they were now free to move about the plane. As always, he still suggested they wear their seat belts when they were seated.
“Yada, yada,” Vicki laughed, “at least he didn’t tell us about the oxygen masks.” A minute later, the pilot commenced with the rest of his safety announcements.
“Hey, I’ve got a story about those damn things that will make your hair curl,” he told his guests. “But we’ve got quite a dinner planned for you, so let’s sit down and have a drink. I’ll get back to what happened the last time I flew over the Atlantic.”
Endless champagne, beer, wine, shrimp cocktails, filet mignon with béarnaise, baked potato, grilled asparagus, and creamy New York-style cheesecake with fresh berries to top off the meal left them almost in a caloric haze. The tale Matt had told during dinner, of the chemical spill on the Swiss flight, left the girls stunned. Even the two flight attendants, with their charter’s permission, had remained close to the table to listen in.
With everyone content for now, Matt got up and moved to one of the many plush beige leather captain’s chairs throughout the cabin. While Vicki used the toilet and the attendants cleaned up and served dinner to the cockpit crew, Eve sat down next to Matt.
“I hope you aren’t mad that I brought Vicki along.”
Matt laughed. This trip was to get his mind off almost being killed and knowing he would soon have to go after those who had tried. He had partied with the two women in Montreal during the F1 weekend and enjoyed both, in every way.
“I’m happy, the more, the merrier,” he answered, but the look on Eve’s face meant there was something coming.
“You know, I hardly know you,” she began.
“We’ve swapped DNA, so–”
“Yes, but here you are whisking me away to who knows where. It’s been clear to me for some time that you are more than a travel writer, much more,” she said. “Normally, riding in a private jet is totally against everything I believe in. I told you before that I’m an environmentalist, and it really irks me when I think of how often these jets are used and how uncaring the people who use them are about our world.”
“But you came aboard,” he stated.
“You were going to burn this fuel and cause this exhaust long before I called you. Having me along doesn’t impact the environment any more negatively other than what we leave in the loo. I guess I can make peace with that.”
“I’m glad. Because the last environmentalist I had on board, we threw out somewhere over Utah.” He laughed at her shocked expression but continued in a more serious tone. “Yes, I am much more than a writer. What I do I don’t normally discuss with other people. But I can tell you, if it makes you feel any better, that I am somewhat philanthropic back in the States. I contribute not just to environmental concerns like the Sierra Club but also domestic shelters that protect and help women who have to run from abuse with nothing but their lives, Make a Wish and other char–”
He broke off when a look of panic came across Eve’s face. Matt spun in his chair to see Vicki, holding a black compact machine gun.
Matt froze. He stared at Vicki’s fingers. They weren’t near the trigger. He looked for the clip; there wasn’t one attached. He took a deep breath and slowly stood up, reaching for the gun.
“What the hell is this?” she demanded, opting to lay it down on the beige leather sofa behind her rather than hand what looked like an assault weapon to a man she barely knew.
“It’s okay,” he said with a smile, turning to Eve to reassure her. “Alright, you got me. I’m FBI. We’re headed to Germany to help bust an international drug cartel. I figured since Uncle Sam was picking up the tab, there wasn’t any harm in asking you two to come along for the ride.” One of the flight attendants had returned from the cockpit and walked past Eve and Matt but then noticed the gun on the sofa and acted as if this sort of thing happened all the time.
“Is that the new Sig 6.8?” she asked Vicki, the person closest to it, but Matt answered for her.
“Yes, just got it,” Matt offered. The attendant stepped past Vicki and continued to the back of the plane. Matt smiled as he saw the stun gun she’d been holding behind her back as she passed them both.
“Okay, I’m starting to freak out,” Vicki said. “You know I hate guns.” She glared at Eve.
“Calm down,” Eve assured her. “We know this guy. He’s clearly up to something else, but I’ve not sensed an ounce of threat from him since the first day I laid eyes on him. “
Matt had a decision to make and decided on the spot to tie in one of his tales, in the hope that it would all make sense to his guests. He went on to tell them that he was to meet up with a team that was supposed to fly on a double-decker A380 from Singapore to Munich in a few days. That gave him, gave them, some time to play.
“That bag of tricks you stuck your nose into is the type of gear we carry on assignments like this. If we’re working a job on a plane, we load them with rubber bullets, so they don’t pierce the plane’s skin if they need to be fired.”
Vicki looked to Eve again and then back at Matt. After a few more minutes of talking Vicki down off her self-imposed ledge, Matt decided to show them both one of his many government IDs. It was his FBI ID, and that seemed to convince them.
“Now, here’s the deal. Everything you’ve seen and heard on this flight is confidential ladies, got me?” he said. You screwed up, dummy. That can never happen again. Next time, put the guns in locked storage, he told himself. This could have ended badly.
Crisis averted and with both of his guests having given way to alcohol and fallen asleep in their reclining captain’s chairs, the plane landed in Munich and taxied to the private jet arrival area to await customs clearance.
The girls woke up, took turns using the bathroom, and freshened up for a new day. Matt disembarked with his three bags in hand and entered the customs area ahead of his guests. He’d use his diplomatic passport to gain entry and protect his luggage from being screened. Then he came back on board and handed each of the attendants an envelope, their tip for their service and discretion.
“Thank you both very much,” he said as he shook hands and then waved for his guests to follow him off the plane. “Thanks, skipper,” he called into the cockpit.
Minutes later, after passing quickly through customs, the three were in a black Mercedes luxury mini-van headed for downtown Munich. Once they checked into a suite he had reserved at the Hotel Vier Jahreszeiten Kempinski, a five-star Four Seasons property, Eve quickly jumped into the shower. Vicki and Matt sat quietly drinking coffee and juice in the suite’s elegant living room, but then, without a word, Vicki got up and sat down beside Matt on the plush green sofa.
“I have to thank you for the ride over, Matt,” she began, “but I have to be a poor sport and leave you here.”
He looked at her with surprise but he wasn’t disappointed. He liked them both, they each had their own looks and intricacies that intrigued and entertained him. But Eve was much more to his liking, and he had been looking forward to their time alone together here, to see if he could peel back the onion a bit more to find out more of what was inside.
“I don’t want to be a third wheel, as you say.” Her French accent made anything she said sound sexy. “Besides, guns make me nervous. And, as I told you on the plane, looking back at the way you handled yourself in that club in Montreal, there is much more to you than shows on the surface. I’m not sure I want to find out what that is.”
Matt smiled and then leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek.
“I am not a threat, Vicki. Not to you or Eve. And I’m not doing anything that is against the law,” he assured her. Then he thought back to that night in Montreal.
“I never asked, did you girls go back to the club that night?”
“Bien sûr,” she said in a French whisper. “Of course. We lured that prick into the ladies’ room, then we kicked the crap out of him. No man talks to Eve, or me, that way.”
“And you got out of there, no problem?”
“Yes, you aren’t the only one with special talents,” she said, smiling. She leaned closer to Matt. He expected she was going to kiss his cheek, but instead, she whispered in his ear. “There is much more to Eve than meets the surface,” she teased. But, as she sat back to look into his eyes, she added, “Never cross her, my friend. Eve, she has a, what do you say in your line of work, a hair-trigger temper. You don’t mess with her.” Then she leaned in and gave Matt the kiss he had been expecting. And more. Her kiss was long and on his mouth.
“Be careful, my dear,” she said as she stroked his cheek and then left the room to join Eve in the shower.
Matt smiled at the thought and then reached for the remote, hoping to find CNN or the BBC for the latest news. He picked up his new iPhone and didn’t see any messages. Then he turned on one of the burners and entered Dale’s cell number. CUM he typed in. She would know where he was. Reversing the letters spelled MUC, the three-digit aviation abbreviation for Munich. Soon it would be time for his shower, fresh clothes, and a walking tour of one of his favorite cities in Europe. Eve had said she had never been there before, so this would be fun for both of them.
Once Vicki was packed and in a taxi, headed home or wherever she might wind up, they were off.
Matt took Eve through the Marienplatz, the city’s central square that was the home of the Neues Rathaus, the new city hall. She gazed up at the massive Glockenspiel and watched at the top of the hour as the life-size characters paraded around the face of the enormous cuckoo clock. In studying the building’s history, Matt had seen a photo of the same tower, taken during World War II, with a red, black, and white German flag bearing the infamous swastika hanging down the front of the spire. Matt told her what he could of the history back then, but she wanted more.
They found a walking tour, the “Hitler Tour,” the guide called it, retracing Hitler’s footsteps throughout the city. They went to the original Hofbrauhaus where Hitler, much like the Roman emperors, had given free food and drink to the masses in exchange for their listening to his speeches and propaganda. The slaughter that often came in the Emperors’ Coliseum wasn’t realized at the beerhouse. Hitler waited until he got the votes and gained control to go on his rampage. Eve continued to want to know more. One guide suggested that to gain the full effect of what had happened back then, Matt should take her to Dachau, and when she learned what that was, she had to go.
That night, after touring what remained of one of Hitler’s infamous concentration camps, he tried his best to cheer her up, but she was outraged and then depressed by what she had learned. Between the jet lag and the long day, they headed back to the hotel for a long night’s rest. She had mentioned she loved the mountains, so over dinner, he came up with an idea that worked for them both.
In the morning after a room service breakfast of coffee, Nutella croissants, fresh fruit, and a variety of juices, they checked out of the hotel and boarded a train for the short ride to Salzburg, Austria. There, in familiar territory for him, they’d take i
n the sights of a city that were free of Hitler’s shadow. For him, there were miles of high-effort hiking amidst the beautiful Austrian Alps. He knew, too, that the sun does rise again, no matter what, and he thought taking her to someplace with a grand view of the mountains would make for a spectacular day. He’d visited the place once before, and it was time to go back to the Eagles Nest.
The train trip was quick and easy. A first-class fare afforded them a private room with seating for four. They dumped their bags at a hotel just off the train station near the central square and then took time to plot out the rest of their day. A much-needed lunch washed down by two large beers helped shake yesterday’s depression from her. Without proper hiking gear, though, she’d not have a good time in the hills, so they sought out a proper shop. While Matt selected the few items that he thought they might need, Eve studied the mountain supply store and picked up something familiar to her. As Matt turned to see where she was, he saw her twirling a red ice ax rather proficiently in her hand.
“You won’t be needing one of those,” he called over to her. “We’re not going that far up.” As a clerk approached Eve to offer his assistance, Matt met them there to show her what he had acquired.
“I love your accent, madam,” the clerk said. “What part of France are you from?” She laughed. “I’m not French, I’m Canadian. I’m from Montreal.”
Matt’s head spun, at least on the inside, when he heard her response.
Familiar with an ice ax, blonde, French accent, he thought. What an uncanny coincidence.
He watched as Eve put the ax back into its hanger, and she turned to check out his goods. With boots and socks, canteens and energy bars, trekking poles and rain ponchos for both, they headed back to the hotel to drop off their new gear and then take a self-guided tour of old Salzburg. While grabbing a latte at the hotel bar before venturing back out, Matt’s phone vibrated. It was a text from CD.
SAMPLE OK. TARGETS IN UK. NEED A FEW DAYS
Eve joined him after a change for dinner. She watched as he put his phone away and laughed. “How many of those damn things do you have? Is that the third phone I’ve seen you with?”