“Damn you, Del Rio,” Brandengarter growled.
“However,” Del Rio said, ignoring the man. “I suggest you hear him out, Mr. President. You might even discover you two have a lot more common ground that either of you might expect.”
“What exactly are you suggesting here, Jack?”
“Work together. You both are right here. The continuation of the elected government is vital. But so is the need to take a long, hard look and all that is wrong with it. And after you’ve both worked out what needs to be fixed, fix it, don’t just talk about it.
“He can provide you with the money and ground support you need,” Del Rio continued, then shot a look at Brandengarter. “And the President can use that support to get done the things you feel so strongly about. Together, you two can do this. So make everything my family has sacrificed for, everything we’ve gone through, mean something. Make all the deaths mean something. You two are the only two that can do that. What do you say?”
Arthur and Brandengarter silently regarded one another and Del Rio held his tongue. He’d said all he could. Finally, Arthur broke the silence.
“I won’t be the President who watched it all come apart. All right, Jack, we’ll work together and see if we can do this.”
“Ellison?” Del Rio asked. “If you really meant what you said back in Arizona, this is the only way.”
“You’re a real son of a bitch, Del Rio, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told from time to time.”
“Okay, we’ll try it your way and may you burn in hell if you’re wrong.”
“I’m thinking that fate has already been determined and it has nothing to do with this,” Del Rio said in an odd tone of voice.
One of the agents returned from the helicopter to report the device had been loaded and tied down.
“We’ve got a clear path for you out to the Atlantic,” Admiral Finn said. “There’s an E-2 Hawkeye orbiting out there, just outside the blast area, that will guide you out to a nice big empty patch of water. Good luck, son.”
“Thank you, sir,” Del Rio answered.
“Jack,” Arthur tried once more. “Are you absolutely sure? I’m sure we could get another volunteer…”
“Thank you, but no. This is my job and I’d better get to it. Goodbye, sir,” Del Rio held out his hand, and Arthur took it in both of his hands and gave it a firm single shake.
“God go with you, Jack, and may He grant you absolution.”
Del Rio did not reply, just turned to leave and had to stop short when he came face to face with Archer.
“Damnit, Jack, I don’t know what to say.”
“I know, Dave, me neither.”
“I’ll look after Hannah for you.”
“I’d appreciate that. Take care of yourself and see if you can keep these two on track, okay? I not going to be around to clean up any more messes, you know.”
“I know it,” Archer got out around a choked-up chuckle.
“Gotta go, brother,” Del Rio said, pulling his friend into a brief hug. “Take care of yourself.”
With that he stepped around his friend and headed for the helicopter. Within a minute the white bird lifted off the grass, turned toward the east and quickly flew out of sight.
“Howard,” Arthur said to his Chief of Staff when the helicopter was gone. “I want to go on the air at 5:50. Every damned channel, network and cable. Make it happen.”
“What are you going to say?” Brandengarter asked as he was finally released from the handcuffs.
“I’m going to something radical, Ellison,” Arthur replied, staring out the window as if he could still see the helicopter. “I’m going to tell them the story of Jack Del Rio, all of it and the unvarnished truth. And when I’m done, they are going to know that an American hero died tonight, for them and for their country, and we will all do whatever it takes for us to be worthy of his sacrifice.”
“That sounds just about right,” Brandengarter said.
* * * * *
“Eagle One, this is Hawkeye Six-Four-Niner,” the controller on board the Navy AWACs plane called out the call sign they’d given Del Rio’s helicopter for the duration. “We show you feet wet. Hold your current course. There no surface activity in the area you should reach before the device goes and we’re keeping the skies clear as well.”
“Roger that,” Del Rio replied, grateful he’d paid attention enough to his brother’s Navy stories to understand that “feet wet” in an aircraft meant the pilot was now flying over water. With just over an hour to go he could reasonably expect to be over a hundred miles away from any land. The prevailing winds would carry the fallout over the ocean. Some marine life would suffer, but no humans would.
Back at the White House, a television camera was wheeled in and Arthur settled in behind his desk as he waited to address the country. When the red light on top of the camera finally flared to life, Arthur began the story.
At the same time, the Hawkeye’s pilot made a final call to Del Rio before turning away to escape any effects of the blast.
“Eagle One, Hawkeye Six-Four-Niner.”
“Go ahead Hawkeye,” Del Rio replied.
“We show you ten minutes to target and we are bingo fuel. We are RTB. Good luck, sir.”
“Roger, that,” Del Rio replied. “Can you take back a final message?”
“Roger that, sir. What is the message?”
“I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith,” Del Rio said, quoting 2 Timothy 4:7.
“Roger that, sir. Fair winds and following seas, Eagle One. Hawkeye Six-Four-Niner out,” the pilot signed off.
Del Rio saw flashes of lightning in the clouds ahead and calculated he’d reach the storm with a few minutes to spare. That suited him fine. The helicopter flew on into the angry storm.
Three minutes later the sky turned to fire, completely burning away the storm.
EPILOGUE
The Café Hofburg was considered one of the best sidewalk cafés in all of Vienna. When Karpov had determined there was nothing they could directly do to aid Del Rio, he decided to get Mary to safety.
They had been hiding in plain sight in Austria as Karpov doubted anyone would be looking for them here. They could only look on like the rest of the world as it all came to a dramatic end.
“I underestimated her rage,” Mary said of Soors. “The depth of hatred she had for my parents and all of the Del Rios. So many wasted lives.”
“It was tragic indeed,” Karpov said. “How they twisted my father’s original dream. I have spent many long hours wondering what might have been done differently to prevent all of this. I confess I can think of nothing.”
“I wish I could have spoken to Jack one last time,” Mary said as she watched a few tourists walk by on the street. “That he had to die alone like that breaks my heart.”
“He died a hero’s death,” Karpov replied. “Take comfort in that. The words Arthur spoke that night and in the days since have made clear that he will be remembered and with great reverence. A man cannot ask for more than that.”
They sipped their coffee in silence for a few minutes before Karpov spoke again.
“Leave it to him to leave behind one last mystery though,” Karpov said with a chuckle.
“The girl, Hannah Sanders?”
“Yes,” Karpov said. “Mysteriously transferred from the hospital in Flagstaff, allegedly to a hospital in Denver yet she never arrives there. No order was ever actually filled out by any doctor and no one has seen or heard from the Air Ambulance crew that picked her up since they left the airport in Arizona.”
“You think he arranged to have her moved before he took off on that final flight?”
“Undoubtedly. You read the same story of what they found when they entered his ‘Fortress’ that I read. The horses gone without a trace, the house and garage collapsed from within and no way to get inside. All of his assets liquidated and no trace of any of the money found.
/> “He, how does the American saying go?’ Karpov continued. “Wiped the slate clean, I believe.”
“Yes, I believe he did at that,” Mary agreed, catching sight of the café’s television. The story of the day was still the aftermath of the averted nuclear attack on the American capital city. Accolades were still pouring in from every corner of the world for the fallen Jack Del Rio.
A waiter approached the table and placed a clear glass of water, the long stem of a pink carnation sat in the water, the flower leaning over one edge of the glass. Mary looked at the glass as if she had seen a ghost.
“What is this?” Karpov demanded of the waiter, concerned that this might be an attempt on Mary.
“Ice water with a teaspoon of lemon juice and a clipped pink carnation,” the waiter replied. “Exactly as ordered.”
“And who ordered this?”
“I don’t know, sir. The order was in our computer system for this table,” the man explained. “Did you not order this?”
“Yes, actually we did, thank you,” Mary said suddenly. The waiter shrugged his shoulders and departed.
“Mary, neither you or I ordered this.”
“I know, Vlade,” she said with an odd smile. “This was the ‘special water’ – ice water with lemon juice and a carnation – that I only drank whenever Jack brought it to me as a child. It was our own secret. No one else knew of this.”
“You’re not saying…”
“I don’t know,” Mary replied. “He was tricky with computers and could have set something. Though how he would know how to place us anywhere at any time escapes me. Surely he would have to do this in real time, wouldn’t he?”
“But this is impossible,” Karpov protested. “They tracked him flying that helicopter into the storm and then it exploded a couple of minutes later. He could not have survived the blast and he did not have time to somehow get out of the helicopter and get far enough away. There is no possible way he is alive. Jack Del Rio is dead.”
“Is he?” Mary said, taking a sip of water from the glass with an enigmatic smile.
THE END…
…?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A native of Turlock, California, Richard Paolinelli began his writing career as a freelance writer in 1984 and gained his first fiction credit serving as the lead writer for the first two issues of the Elite Comics sci-fi/fantasy series, Seadragon. His sports writing career spans stops at the Gallup Independent, Modesto Bee, Turlock Journal, Merced Sun-Star, Tracy Press, San Mateo County Times and the San Francisco Examiner. He won the 2001 California Newspaper Publishers Association award for Best Sports Story while at the Turlock Journal.
In 2013, Richard retired as a sportswriter and decided to return to his fiction writing roots. He released two short stories - The Invited and Legacy of Death - as well as a full-length sci-fi novel, Maelstrom. In 2015, Richard completed nearly two years of research and interviews and published, From The Fields: A History of Prep Football in Turlock, California. One month later, the first book of the Jack Del Rio series, Reservations, was published by Oak Tree Press. In 2016, Richard was one of a dozen authors selected to participate in, Beyond Watson, an anthology of original Sherlock Holmes stories and was one of 20 writers involved in a second Holmes Anthology, Holmes Away From Home, released in December. Perfection's Arbiter, a biography of National League Umpire, Babe Pinelli, was released on October 8th. W & B Books acquired the Jack Del Rio series and released the second book, Betrayals, in November. In January of 2017, Richard returned to his science fiction roots with the release of the award-winning novel, Escaping Infinity, for which he has been named as a finalist for Best Sci-Fi Novel for the 2017 Dragon Awards.
His short story, The Misplaced Mystery Writer, will appear in the upcoming Sherlock Holmes in the Realm of H.G. Wells anthology by Belanger Books and his short story, Spinster’s Manor, will appear in the My Peculiar Family 2 anthology in late 2017.
Find out more about the latest news, read his blog and his upcoming releases at:
www.scifiscribe.com
Jack Del Rio: Complete Trilogy: Reservations, Betrayals, Endgames Page 57