I followed dizzily and not without guilt. “Even if we did search the area and found a pick-up ship, what could we do besides buzz it?”
“If we can ever get the radio working we could inform the authorities, maybe have the vessel hailed and boarded by INTERPOL or someone.”
“Which still wouldn’t guarantee Clancy’s safety.”
Mitzi nodded reluctantly. “No.”
I stood there in the middle of the empty aisle looking at the empty rows, slowly shaking my head. “Look at those seats, Mitz. Not a laptop or briefcase or single piece of carry-on. It’s like they were never here, never boarded.”
“We heard them board, Ed. And planes don’t take off by themselves, even military drones.”
I started checking the overhead bins again.
“We already did that, Eddie…”
“Well, people don’t just disappear!”
“Just stop what you’re doing and turn around. Slowly.” A human voice outside my head.
A female voice I recognized immediately.
Clancy!
I turned around but not slowly. “Clancy!”
She stood behind us about twenty feet from the pilot’s cabin. She wore a cream business suit and she’d done something nice to her white streaked hair. The big blue eyes were brighter than the outside sky. But the pert mouth wasn’t smiling. And neither was the shiny automatic in her hand, pointing at my chest.
I knew practically nothing about handguns outside a few Smith and Wesson models.
“SIG-Sauer 9mm P239,” Mitzi said in my head. “Switzerland handgun made specifically for women. Holds a 7-round box magazine.”
“Thank you, Mitzi. That’s very helpful.”
“Alicia had one.”
“How nice. I don’t suppose Clancy can hear you too?”
“Apparently not...”
I nodded, still smiling at Clancy. “Had a feeling she didn’t recognize me.”
“Hands up!” Clancy barked.
I put up my hands. Slowly, this time.
“Who are you?” she said, gun not wavering in her hand. Like she’d used it before. Lots.
“We’re old friends, actually.”
Without blinking, she pointed the gun at Mitzi’s head. “One more time--or I shoot the dog.”
I exchanged a brief glance with the poodle. “My name is Ed Magee.”
“Who do you work for?”
Had to think about that one for a second. “Well, I used to work for a little local paper in Topeka, Kansas. But I got fired. Now I’m sort of…freelance, I guess.”
“How’d you get on the aircraft?”
I held the smile, tried to look casual. “You know, we were wondering the same thing about you…”
The gun came up quick, leveled frozen at my forehead. “We?”
I nodded gently. “The dog and I.”
She didn’t take her eyes off me. I could have risked it all just to kiss her.
“Once again. How’d you get aboard?”
“Cargo compartment.”
“Why?”
“What do I say?” I asked Mitzi.
The poodle shrugged. “She isn’t going to believe you anyway.”
I looked steadily into Clancy’s blue eyes, praying for some glimmer of recognition. For the briefest moment I thought maybe I saw one. Or at least a small wedge of confusion.
“I asked you a question, Mr. Magee.”
“I, uh…always wanted to see that round bed.”
She stared at me, straight-arming the shiny pistol. “Wise-ass.”
“Wait ‘till you get to know me.”
“Not likely, considering your brief longevity.”
“You won’t shoot me, Clancy.”
Did her mouth twitch just the tiniest at the sound of her name?
“What makes you think not?” her finger tightening on the trigger.
“What makes me think not?” I asked Mitzi.
“Tell her the bullet will pass through you and the fuselage of the plane. The cabin will depressurize and the aircraft will plummet.”
“Would it?”
“I doubt it. I heard it in an old James Bond movie.”
I resisted rolling my eyes. I held Clancy’s eyes. “The bullet would pass through me and the fuselage, the cabin would depressurize and the aircraft will plummet.”
“Not this aircraft.”
“No?”
“No. It has a double hull.”
I frowned at Mitzi. She shrugged back, clueless.
Something was pecking at the back of my head, something I’d noticed before…
“The ogive,” I said at last.
“What’s an ‘ogive’?” Clancy said.
I glanced at the port bulkhead, then the starboard. “The plane’s been refurbished, hasn’t it? Retro-fitted for some reason!”
I thought for a moment she was going to smile at me. “Why do you ask?”
“Yeah,” from Mitzi, “why do you ask?”
“Because,” I told them both, “the center of the aircraft is fatter than Hefner’s original model. Is it the double hulls…?”
Clancy watched me silently, not without interest.
I turned again to the port bulkhead, realized for the first time now how deeply recessed all the windows were, at least two feet deeper than usual.
Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. And exactly the kind of thing a rich terrorist would conceive.
I faced Clancy, smile returning. “He’s in the walls! Isn’t he?”
She watched me without replying, but there was a definite glint in her eye now…of admiration, I hoped.
“What the hell are we talking about?” from Mitzi.
I looked back and forth at the fuselage walls again, then directly at Clancy. “Show me, Clancy.”
She steadied the gun. “Who is ‘Clancy’?
“You are, darling.”
Just a hint of blush at the lovely cheeks. “My name is Mrs. Ivan Kolcheck. And you’ve come to spy on us.”
I took a chance and lowered my arms. “No. Your name is Clancy and I’ve come to take you back home.”
She kept the gun up, but less steadily now…and her posture had shifted imperceptibly.
“You have a small beauty mark above your left breast...”
She frowned anger but her lips parted in surprise.
“…which you’re convinced are too small but which, in fact, belong in a museum.”
The gun wavered an instant. “Who are you to speak so intimately of Ivan Kolcheck’s wife?”
“I’m the guy who saw you first. And risked my life and those of a lot of others to follow you halfway around the globe and get you back. I’d have followed you to the darkest pit of hell if that’s what it took.”
“Stop it!”
“Because I love you.”
She fired the gun.
The round tore the shoulder of my jacket without grazing the skin. Or depressurizing the cabin.
“And you love me.”
“Stop it!”
The next round left a thin red line on my right cheek and spanged off the entrance to Hef’s bedroom.
“Uh, I’m not so sure I’d pursue this tact…” from Mitzi.
“He doesn’t love you,” I told her calmly, “--he’s incapable of loving you. The marriage is a farce, if there really was a marriage.”
“The next shot goes through your heart, spy!”
“You think this is some kind of honeymoon Ivan’s planned for you, Clancy? It’s not. It’s a trade agreement between nations, between vampires. The caliph Al Mansur agrees to relinquish part of his middle east control to Ivan in the bargain.”
“Really. And what does the caliph get out of it?”
“You.”
I braced myself for the next shot but it didn’t come. I felt Mitzi’s mind slump with relief inside of mine.
“Show me, Clancy,” I told her. “Show me where they are.”
She watched me for a lingering moment. Finally l
owered the gun.
“Show me, darling.”
She turned to the port wall, then back to me. “You seem to know everything already,” she said, “show yourself!”
I nodded. “All right.”
I turned to the row of seats on my right, looked across them. Bent and looked up under the overhead: light switch, fan, steward’s intercom.
I straightened and began moving slowly down the aisle toward the tail section, stooping to check under the overheads of every row. Seven rows down I was pulling away to continue my search when I glanced at the aisle seat’s silver recliner button below the armrest. There was another small red button under it. The only little red button like it in the entire passenger section.
I pushed it.
There was a soft pneumatic hiss of hidden hydraulics.
And the entire eight-foot section of walls and seats disengaged and slid smoothly aside down the port aisle toward the cockpit like a back porch slider.
Behind it, the caliph and his henchmen lay sleeping comfortably on their backs atop a series of metal risers between false wall and true bulkhead.
“Holy shit,” Mitzi whispered in my head.
I turned to smile triumphantly at Clancy.
She smiled back and shot me in the heart.
TWENTY-FIVE
When I came to we were in one of those wonderful antique English sports cars with the top down—you know, the kind The Avengers were always driving on TV—Clancy behind the wheel, smiling her beautiful smile, wind whipping her blonde locks, me beside basking in her glowing profile, more in love with her than ever, Mitzi in the back seat, paws up on the leather panel, tongue lolling long and pink out the side, the most beautiful British countryside surrounding us I’d ever seen. Which maybe wasn’t saying that much as I’d never been in Great Britain before, but it all looked as wonderful as I felt, except for a mild ache in the back of my head. The sky was blue and cloudless, the birds were singing and if London looked anything like the countryside I was going to like it a lot.
“So refresh me here,” I said to my partners in crime, “how did we land the plane again?”
“Do we have to talk about that now?” from a wind-blown Mitzi behind us, “Can’t we just enjoy this dreamy countryside for a moment?”
I shrugged amiably, reached over and squeezed Clancy’s ivory shoulder; she wore halter and shorts and the coffee and cream tan of a goddess. “I love you,” I told her.
She offered that perfect smile. “And I you.”
“And I can’t begin to tell you how happy I am you got your memory back.”
She grinned wider, took my hand in hers and kissed the knuckles. “You and me both, sweetie!”
I ran my fingers along her nape and looked ahead at the glorious scenery again. But in a moment my small frown was spoiling the festive atmosphere.
I turned again to Clancy. “Sorry. Tell me one more time, what happened after you shot me?”
Now Clancy was frowning, giving me a pleading glance. “Oh, darling, I can’t believe I ever—you have to understand, that wasn’t me!”
“I know, but there seem to be some holes in my own memory about—“
“You’re just not going to enjoy the moment, are you, Sport? Going to torture the poor girl until she tells the whole horrid thing over again. Isn’t it enough that Clancy’s back—that you’re back—that you still love each other?”
Clancy reached over and patted my leg. “It’s okay. He’s been through a lot.”
“We all have!” from the back seat.
“What happened was—“ Clancy began.
“What happened was,” the dog interrupted, “when she shot you in the chest the force of the round sent you flying backward into the bulkhead, practically into the caliph’s lap. Fortunately you made a lovely rebound and bounced back into Clancy’s lovely arms. Then, quickly losing consciousness, you did something really…amazing.”
“What?”
“You kissed her.”
I looked at Clancy.
“Don’t tell me you don’t remember,” she smiled, “you’ll break my heart!”
I had to think about it. “I…sort of remember. What happened then?”
“Snow White,” Mitzi called in the rushing breeze.
I turned in the seat to her. “What?”
“Prince Charming! You old dog!”
I turned back to Clancy. “What’s she talking about?”
Clancy winked at me. “You woke me up!”
“I did?”
“All my memories came rushing back.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that.”
I sat there a moment in the passenger seat. “Wow. Didn’t know I had it in me. That must have been some kiss.”
Clancy laughed, then made a delicious sound in the throat and squeezed my leg higher. “Sweetie, it was the kiss to end all kisses! Straight from the heart!”
“And you came out of Ivan’s…what, trance?”
My beautiful Clancy went a little green. “More than a mere trance, I’d say. His ‘power’ might be a better word.”
I looked back at the road a moment, a kiting jay arrowed above us. “Much as I’d like to take full credit and believe in the power of everlasting love, I’m afraid The Count may have been at least partially responsible for my newfound…energies.”
Mitzi made a scoffing sound in my head. “Don’t short-change yourself, Sport. Cary Grant couldn’t have done better! Of course, seeing the bullet hole over your heart may have helped induced Clancy’s shock a tad.”
I looked down at my shirt. Pulled open the front. “Uh…don’t look now, but I think—“
“The bullets still in there,” Mitzi said, “we know. Missed the ole heart though.”
I shook my head. “Should have passed right through me. Also, it doesn’t even hurt. Why—“
When I looked up they were both smiling at me. “The Count, right?”
They nodded in tandem.
I went back to admiring the lovely scenery. “And after I was shot—after the kiss--?”
“You passed out cold,” from Mitzi.
Clancy leaned toward in me in the rushing wind. “When I kiss ‘em, they stay kissed!”
I smiled, had to resist kissing her again right there behind the wheel—hard and long on the lips.
“So when did I wake up?”
The car went strangely silent.
“Guys?” I craned around to the poodle. “When did I wake up?”
I slid against the passenger door as Clancy swung the car onto a side road, oceans of wheat or barley on either side. We were moving rapidly toward the crest of a hill. I suddenly had a bad feeling in my stomach.
Clancy parked the car at the top of the hill.
The Big Bunny was parked in the little valley below us, surrounded by yellow waves.
I fell back against the headrest. “We’re still on the plane, aren’t we?”
Clancy reached for my hand. “I’m sorry, sweetie…”
“Don’t worry about it, Champ,” from the back seat, “I think you’re finally coming around…”
* * *
I opened my eyes, blinked to focus, and looked up at my friends.
“Where am I?”
“The plane, I’m afraid,” Clancy said.
“But where on the plane?”
“Hef’s circular bed,” Mitzi chimed in, “I knew you’d appreciate it.”
I tried to push up but the pain in my chest and the back of my head were very real now.
“Easy,” Mitzi murmured. She looked worried.
Come to think of it, Clancy looked worried. Very.
I tried on a smile. “Don’t worry! I’m okay! I’m not going to die. Really!”
“Not from the bullet wound, anyway,” Mitzi muttered.
I frowned at Clancy.
“You’ve been out for hours, sweetheart! We thought you never wake up!”
A thrill of fear welled under the bullet hole. I craned to the bedroom window. The blu
e sky had gone pink, fading quickly to a deep orange. The vampires! Mansur and his henchmen!
I shove up on my hands, ignoring the pain. “Are they still aslee—“
Movement behind Clancy’s shoulder.
Then the Caliph was smiling brutally at me from the doorway.
“The resourceful Mr. Magee, I think! Hardly recognizable minus the dress and wig!”
Mitzi growled low.
I sat up straight, forcing back the wince, and put a reflexive, guarding arm about Clancy.
“How did you guess?” I addressed Mansur, mind racing for a plan.
“I never guess, Mr. Magee. Like our friend Ivan Kolcheck, I saw right through your humorous little dress-up charade. But please don’t take offense, I’m sure you managed to deceive the majority of guests at the gallery soirée.” He turned to appraise Clancy. “Whatever magic have you managed over our lovely prize, though?”
“It’s called respect!” Clancy spat. “Recognition! Love!” She looked him up and down with disgust. “Though I’m sure the concept is as foreign to an Iraqi vampire!” She turned to me earnestly. “He didn’t touch me, darling! I swear it!”
The caliph looked offended. “Allah forbid! A privilege that belongs to our wedding night!”
“A privilege you’ll never enjoy,” I assured, rising from the bed.
When I reached full height, something bounced at my feet on the rich carpet. The bullet.
I reached up absently, touched my chest; the pain had vanished, along with most of the bullet hole.
I could swear the caliph had lifted his fat chin a hair, both nostrils flaring as if sniffing the air. “My dear Mr. Magee, have you joined our little cause?”
A river of strength seemed to flood me.
“Let’s just say I’m not the push-over human I appear to be.”
The caliph smiled, fangs showing now. “Indeed? Well, we shall see.”
I started toward him.
He pulled the handgun from his blouse and leveled it at the now-mended hole in my chest. It looked like an antique; I’d never seen a pistol like it.
Mansur caught my eye. “A Roth-Steyr Model 1907, Mr. Magee. From Austria-Hungry…the old country! The gun uses only eight millimeter rounds. However, it will fire wooden bullets!”
And then, as if in afterthought, he turned to the doorway behind him and called sharply.
“Parvis! Belum!”
And the caliph’s two biggest vampire guards shouldered their way through the door. Grinning.
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