Wings of Steele 3: Revenge and Retribution

by Jeffrey Burger

  “What are you looking at?”

  “I was just thinking about the trees...” he pointed. “When I was seven, Tommy Brooker and I planted them as saplings. That was a couple of years before his mom was committed...”

  Opening a small panel on the side of the Reaper, Lisa closed the canopy and retracted the ladder, leaving the ARC system active. “I think you mentioned that once, she went crazy or something?”

  “Yeah,” he replied, heading across the street. “The rest of his family moved away after that, I never saw him again.”

  “They left her behind?”

  He shrugged, “As far as I know...” Climbing the front stairs he glanced over at his sister, “Ready?”

  ■ ■ ■

  Commander Derrik Brighton peered out of the shuttle's cockpit windshield from between the air crew's seats, watching London pass beneath them. Off the stubby right wing flew Commander Dar Sloan's Cyclone, rolling brown-outs following below the two craft like the wake of a ship in the water.

  “C'mon c'mon, I feel like a sitting duck up here, Brighton... everybody in the city knows we're here,” came Sloan's voice over the comm. “Find a damn spot...”

  “Just ahead,” pointed Derrik to the pilot of the shuttle.

  “The oval thing?”

  “No, that's the stadium. Just past that... the open square surrounded by trees. See it?” he pointed again.

  “Yep got it... What is it?”

  “Vauxhall Park. Should be fairly quiet this time of night. Enough trees to hide us...”

  The pilot surveyed the lights of the skyline and moving vehicles on the streets, “Commander, I don't know what time it is here, but there isn't anything down there that even resembles quiet.”

  Derrik gave the pilot a look of derision, “Just land the damn ship...”

  Easing down below the treetops into the park's grass clearing, the shuttle and Cyclone crabbed sideways on anti-gravity towards opposite sides of the field, concealing themselves under the overhanging limbs of the trees.

  The side door of the shuttle popped open, a couple inches from the hull before articulating a zero-clearance swing up and over the top of the hull. The landing gear squatted to allow its occupants to step out with little more than a short jump. Marine Warrant Officer Dale Alaroot and Corporal Dunnom were the first to exit, another Marine staying inside with the aircrew.

  “Clear,” commented Alaroot as he scanned the clearing. He adjusted the sling of his Pulsar carbine, a light non-lethal defensive weapon. Without a moon and no lights in the park, Dale could barely see the Cyclone sitting under the trees across the park, its canopy standing open. Headlights of cars passing the park on Lambeth Road flickered through the trees and bushes. “OK, Commander Brighton, stay on comms, let us know if you need us...”

  Derrik Brighton, unarmed and dressed in clothing resembling something civilian, hopped to the ground, “See you gents in a bit. Stay out of trouble, eh?” He nodded curtly, trotting leisurely off towards Lambeth Road.

  As the Commander's form headed for the busy road, dissolving in the dark, It suddenly occurred to Dar Sloane, the neighborhood was behind where they sat. “TESS, connect me with Dale Alaroot...”

  On the other side of the small park, a holo-screen popped up above Dale's TESS. “Is your comm not working Commander?”

  “It's working fine, Mr. Alaroot. This is for your ears only...”

  Dale stepped away from the shuttle, “Go ahead Commander.”

  “The neighborhood is behind us...”

  “Yes...”

  “Commander Brighton just went in the opposite direction toward the River. I don't remember seeing anything in that direction that looked like residences...”

  Without the same view of their approach from the back of the shuttle as the pilots, Dale had to trust Dar Sloan's judgment. “Yeah that does sound rather off...”

  “Can you catch up to him? Keep an eye on him? But don't let him see you...”

  “Aye, sir.” Dale Alaroot unshouldered his carbine, handing it to Corporal Dunnom and began stripping off his gear and light armor, tossing it through the door of the shuttle. “Dunnom, you guys stay with the bird,” he ordered, tucking a Pulsar pistol into his waistband, covering it with his tunic. “Stay off the comm unless it's an emergency...” he added, sprinting off in the same direction as Brighton had disappeared moments earlier.

  While the park itself remained quiet it was difficult to feel properly concealed with vehicle and foot traffic passing just outside the park's ivy-covered wrought iron fence. Not having experienced planetary atmosphere in almost two years, Commander Sloan drew it into his lungs, trying to identify the range of scents. Flowers, trees, nothing beats the fresh air produced by trees... Perfume of two women walking past, food cooking somewhere... It was funny how much you missed the small things in space. Able to see over the barrier from his vantage point, he watched a vehicle work its way into a parking spot on the street. The ping as the holo-screen of his TESS popped into view sounded loud in his helmet, and his reflex to cover the hologram hovering above his wrist with his free hand was unaffected by his attempt. He grabbed the frame and placed it below the console so the glow couldn't be seen outside the cockpit. “Dale?” he whispered.

  “Yeah,” came a whisper. “There's a large multi-residential building just outside the park, but he passed it and headed for the river. Everything over here looks like businesses, maybe offices. He just went into a large glass and concrete building that backs up against the water... looks like some kind of complex. It's got walls and steel gates all around it. It does not look to be open to just anyone, but he was able to gain entry...”

  “Is there any indication of what kind of business it is?”

  “No sir... I don't get the sense that this a business... there are several communication towers on the roof. I tried asking someone who passed by but they looked at me like I was speaking Aleurian.”

  Dar Sloane closed his eyes, dammit. “As far as they're concerned, Dale, you might as well be. They don't off-world here; they don't have translator technology...” Dar could hear the Marine groan in exasperation... “It's alright Dale, just...”

  The sudden ear piercing squeal in Dar's earpiece had him clawing at his helmet to get it off, the sound dying to a whimper before it trailed off completely. He reached into his helmet to pull on his ear and relieve the tension in his jaw, gingerly running his finger around the piece to see if there was any blood, his ear ringing.

  “What in the Lord's name was that..?” gasped Dale.

  Sloane looked down at the holo-screen, “You heard that too?”

  “Fuck, I almost passed out. Nearly tore my ear off trying to get this damn thing out of my ear.”

  Commander Sloane keyed the mic on his comm, “All units, check in...” Each man checked in. Except Commander Brighton. Sloane turned back to his TESS, “I don't know Mr. Alaroot, I don't like it. Do me a favor, have your TESS record the building, we'll see if we can identify it later.”

  “Aye sir.”

  ■ ■ ■

  Jack Steele reached for the bell a second time, the movement of the doorknob interrupting his action. An unfamiliar man with thinning hair in his mid forties opened the door, “Hello... may I help you?”

  Jack and Lisa exchanged glances. “Who are you?” blurted Lisa unceremoniously.

  The man's eyes shifted from Lisa to Jack then back again, “Who are you?” he countered.

  “Who is it George?” A woman about the same age appeared at his side, peering past his shoulder.

  “I don't know yet...”

  Jack tried to look past the people in the doorway to see the interior of the house, “My name is Jack Steele, this is my sister, Lisa. We're looking for our parents...” The man shifted his body to block Jack's view. “My parents are Kyle and Lynette Steele...”

  “Nobody here by that name,” replied the man, swinging the door, blocked by the toe of Jack's boot in the door frame. “Move your foot,” said
the man pushing on the door.

  “Mister I grew up in this house, my parents bought it shortly after I was born...”

  The man continued to push on the door to no effect, “This is our house, we bought it a

  year ago, now move your foot...”

  “Where did our parents go?!” shouted Lisa.

  “I don't know, we never met them. The house was empty when we bought it...”

  The wife was kicking at Jack's foot but it wasn't budging. “Let me come in, I just need to take a quick look around...”

  “I'm calling the police!” shrilled the woman.

  Jack pursed his lips, having had enough, shouldered explosively into the door, flinging the owner against the back wall of the foyer. The wife froze mid stride, divided between heading for the phone and helping her husband. Jack glanced at the man before walking past, Lisa right behind her brother, giving the man an evil glare. Steele paused, picking up a cordless phone off the arm of a couch, handing it to the woman with a wicked smirk, “Go ahead, call. They'll get here in ten minutes... Five minutes after you're both dead and I'm gone.” She stared at him wide-eyed. He didn't really mean it but he hoped they believed it. “Or you can just sit and relax while I just check something. And then we'll be gone and you can go back to your life.” He got a deer in the headlights look from both of them.

  “Sound fair?” They nodded in unison. “Good.” He turned to Lisa, “Keep an eye on them, I'll be right back.”

  Lisa stood with her hands on her hips, her jacket swept behind her hands, revealing her flight suit and the hybrid 1911 hanging in its shoulder holster, as she watched them intensely.

  Like all smart homeowners, Kyle Steele had created several special places in the house to hide things and Jack needed just a few minutes to check them for any indication of what might have happened. If something was left behind it might mean they had to leave in a hurry, or that someone that was doing much what he was doing today, had missed something. Or maybe his parents had thought to leave a clue...

  Dammit. Nothing. He strolled back to his sister in the living room, “No joy.”

  “How did you buy this house?” asked Lisa.

  “From a realtor... Like we said, the house was empty when we looked at it,” replied the man, sticking to the established story. “We never met anyone but the realtor.”

  “The realtor never mentioned why the house was empty?”

  “No... Not really...”

  “Not really?” Steele stepped forward with a piercing glare, the man's expression changing to something approaching terror. “Exactly what does not really mean? That's a yes or no question...”

  “He, he, he, might have mentioned they needed to move... or something,” stammered the man.

  “Or something.” Steele's eyes narrowed, “You... are a very bad liar.”

  “I swear, that's all we know...”

  “Sure,” nodded Jack, a wicked smirk returning, “all liars say that...” He looked at the wife, “Give me the name and phone number of the realtor...” She stared at him cow-eyed. “Now!” he shouted, making her jump into action. In a few mere seconds she returned with two business cards, handing them to him with a shaking hand. “Had that handy, didja?” he sneered, taking the phone she was still clutching in her hand.

  “That card,” she pointed, “was our realtor. The other card was for the realtor representing the house.”

  Steele dialed the house realtor first. “I'm sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service. Nothing more is known...” He hung up and dialed the number on the other realtor's card. It answered with an open line, an occasional click and a beep. He hung it up and tossed the phone on the couch, eying the homeowners, tucking the cards away into a pocket of his flight jacket.

  “Interesting...” he pinched his bottom lip. “One doesn't exist and the other goes nowhere. Or maybe somewhere it shouldn't. In either case, your line seems to be bugged. Or maybe you already know that.” His eyes scanned the corners of the room, air vents, lamps, furniture. “You can let them know Admiral Jack Steele is back, and he's not fucking happy!” he shouted, heading for the door. Lisa passed him, heading down the stairs and he turned back, looking over his shoulder, “If you really don't know what's going on here, I would suggest getting out of the house before they get here. And don't come back. Ever.”

  “I have to ask,” pointed the man, eying the gold wings on the leather jacket and the gold pips on its collar. “Are you a pilot or something?”

  It was Steele's first real smile, “Or something.” He turned and ran down the front steps, “Lisa check the next door neighbors, I'll check the one's behind, see if they know anything.”

  ■ ■ ■

  Talking to the neighbor directly behind his parent's house who had been on vacation when the Steele's mysteriously disappeared, he found it odd that Kyle or Lynette had not contacted him and his wife either before or after their move. Jack assured him that while he couldn't explain it, it was probably best that way. They invited him in but the blue flashing lights flying down the street told Jack it was time to say goodbye. Jack cleared the porch railing, jumping to the grass with the neighbor standing in the doorway looking dumbfounded.

  “Take care!” he yelled, sprinting off. “TESS, get me Lisa!”

  “Jack?”

  “Lisa, we have Chicago PD coming! Get to the Reaper!”

  “I'm here. Climbing the ladder now. I don't hear anything...”

  “Bastards went Code 3 silent...”

  From her vantage point atop the Reaper, she watched him sprinting toward her, a blue and white police cruiser, lights flashing, sliding around the corner behind him, tires squealing. Another unit was flying up the intersecting street to her left. “I'm getting in the front seat...”

  “I'll make it,” he panted, pounding down the sidewalk.

  “No you won't, they're going to cut you off!”

  In a full stretch run past his parent's house, a blue and white police cruiser, lights flashing, screamed to a stop as he reached the curb, blocking his path to the Reaper across the street, the other car behind him skidding to a stop. Out of the corner of his eye he could see several more, stacked up, racing up the street to assist, a parade of flashing blue lights. He leapt, feet first, sliding across the hood of the Crown Vic blocking his path like he was stealing home plate, landing on his feet, still in a run.

  “Freeze! Freeze!” chorused the voices behind him.

  Steele tromped to a stop an arm's reach from the outline of the invisible ladder, the Reaper's ARC system still operating. As he turned around slowly, hands up casually at shoulder height, the smell of hot engines and burnt rubber passed his face in a warm wash of familiar odors. Across the street the couple occupying his parents house stood shoulder-to-shoulder on the front porch looking smug. He surveyed the faces of the officers, guns drawn, the other cars pulling up, yet more officers piling out. “Don't you move mister, you stay right there...”

  Steele remained stone calm despite his hard run, fighting to control his breathing. “Take it easy guys... just a big misunderstanding...”

  An officer from one car and a sergeant from another cleared the front of their vehicles, their guns trained on him. “Turn around, slowly. Face away from me,” commanded the officer. “On your knees... keep your hands above your head.”

  Jack was wary of his jacket exposing his shoulder holster if he reached too high. “Can't we talk about this?” he stalled, standing firm.

  “Mister I'm going to taze you if you don't...”

  “Jack?!” queried the sergeant, his eyes narrowing, looking over the sights of his firearm. “Jack Steele? Is that you?”

  Steele's gaze shifted to the sergeant, his artificial eye studying the familiar but aged face, recognition suddenly coalescing in his brain, a smile breaking across his face, “Bobby?” The sergeant smiled, his firearm dropping in unison with Steele's hands. “Bobby Fortuno... holy shit! What's it been, about ten years?”

 
“At least that...”

  “How's Sonja?”

  Bobby Fortuno holstered his weapon, “Divorced...”

  “Hey Sarge..?”

  Bobby Fortuno waved off the inquiry.

  Jack Grimaced, “Ahh geez, Bobby, I'm sorry to hear that...” He nodded, “Me too. How are the girls?”

  “In college, doing well,” shrugged the sergeant, walking up casually. “Put em away boys...” he called over his shoulder. “What's going on here Jack? What happened?”

  I've been... away. “

  “Away?” asked Bobby suspiciously.

  “Traveling,” he clarified. “So I haven't seen my parents for about a year. I showed up to see them and they're gone... moved away.”

  “Man, that's rough. I thought I recognized the house. Were you on the outs with them or anything?”

  Jack shook his head, “No, I moved to Florida and I just travel a lot...”

  Bobby had been studying Steele closely and something seemed out of place but he was trying to decide how to broach the subject. Running out of options he decided blunt was easiest. “Jack, no offense or anything, but it's eighty-five degrees and you're wearing a leather flight jacket and some kind of, I don't know... what the hell are you wearing?”

  “It's a flight suit Bobby, I'm a pilot...”

  “Yeah, I remember when you started flying... But I've never seen a civilian pilot wearing something like that...” he indicated the flight suit. He reached up and touched the pips on the collar of the jacket suspiciously. “Looks like a lot of brass...”

  “I'm a military pilot...”

  Bobby looked at him curiously, not sure what to think, too many things not coming together in his head. He wanted to believe Steele...

  Jack could see and feel the uncertainty. “Bobby, we've known each other for nearly twenty years. We went on double dates, we went through the academy together, we rode a squad car together...”

  Steele's earpiece chirped, “Jack,” came Lisa's voice in a whisper. Looking up he could see the two SUVs coming towards them up the street. “Six occupants each, heavy equipment, armored vehicles...” she whispered in his ear.