“Ken has the bulk of the bad guys in coach,” the air marshal remarked. “Maybe you better stay with them, if Agent Reskova doesn’t mind hanging around with me.”
“Sounds good,” McDaniels agreed. “How did the passengers back here find out I had anything to do with this before I even walked up here, Dee Dee.”
Reskova shrugged with a smile on her face as she watched the Syrians. “I explained to Marshal Brennan here what happened. The others must have heard me.”
“Two of them have cashed out since you left. I’ll probably end up in stoney lonesome again.”
“You should be executed for this outrage!” The Syrian who had warned him before screamed at McDaniels.
McDaniels reached for the Syrian with his hand outstretched. Reskova moved between them as the other passengers shouted encouragement to McDaniels.
“Calm down, Cold. This guy’s restrained already. You will go to prison if you touch him.”
As McDaniels backed away, Reskova pointed a warning finger at the Syrian.
“One more word out of you and I’ll gag you for the trip back.”
“I guess I’ll see you both on the ground.”
“You better start thinking about movie lines you want to use, Cold,” Reskova needled him. “The press will be meeting us for sure.”
McDaniels came to a dead halt for a moment. Resisting the impulse to turn around, he gave Reskova a wave off over his shoulder. Both Reskova and the air marshal laughed.
All the passengers in first class insisted on shaking McDaniels’ hand, including the stewardess from first class. He accepted their thanks, apologizing again for the inconvenience. In coach, McDaniels walked over next to Folley, who had the Syrian group leader lying in the aisle, holding a towel to his face with shaking hands. The passengers in coach began applauding wildly. McDaniels, clearly stunned, smiled and gestured them to silence.
“I hope you all feel the same about me when we end up put through the meat grinder for the rest of the day.”
His remark received the laughter he had hoped for.
“Sit down, Cold,” Folley said, gesturing to the seat next to him.
McDaniels sat down in the window seat, stepping over the prone Syrian, and around Folley.
“I hate window seats,” McDaniels griped. He gestured at the Syrian. “Did soccer boy say anything?”
“Nope. He’s been too busy trying to get his face to stop bleeding. I had to leave him on the floor. We should be landing soon. I’ll put him in a seat then. I talked to Brennan up front. He says they’re all set.”
“What do you have, some kind of mini-com?” McDaniels asked, looking over Folley closely.
Folley pointed at his lapel and turned so McDaniels could see the small ear insert. “Good thing too. I wouldn’t have been able to warn my man without it. Observation is not your strong suit, I see, Cold.”
“What did you want me to observe, that prick sticking the guy and his grandson over there?”
“You really think he was going to do it?”
“He released it and the wood blade was dropping into position. He sure wasn’t going to wave it around,” McDaniels reasoned.
“I guess not. You’re going to take some heat for this, but we’ll back you up. It looks like your fan club will help too.”
McDaniels chuckled. “The public helped get me out of jail over that Hughes’ thing.”
“That was one mean piece of work there, Cold, right in line with your nickname.”
“No, really? Hughes had a little girl he was going to carve up. Don’t give me any of your touchy-feely bullshit.”
“Hey, I meant it as a compliment,” Folley said quickly. “I’m not sure how this one-man show will play out though. Now, if you were a serial killer, you’d be a cult hero, like the old uni-bomber. Killing bad guys without five years of trials and twenty years of appeals will get you locked up eventually. You probably need to take your act overseas again.”
“It’s just getting interesting. I have this neat new gig with the FBI. I want to see how it goes. If they want to use me as a lightning rod, it’s okay with me.”
McDaniels leaned in closer to his friend. “I only wish I could tell you how satisfying it was catching up with that pussbag Hughes.”
Folley nodded his understanding. “That kind of stuff can get habit forming.”
“Oh man, you don’t know the half of it.”
Chapter 8
Rasheed
After the Syrians both alive and dead were taken off the plane by security forces, the passengers were escorted to a VIP room to wait out the questioning in comfort. Folley and his Air Marshal contingent accompanied McDaniels and Reskova to a conference room where they were to be debriefed by FBI and Homeland Security. Customs and Immigration were on hand to go over passports, visas, and all identification taken from the Syrian group.
The law enforcement officers were interrogated separately, but with Supervisors from the Air Marshal’s division. McDaniels and Reskova went with an FBI agent who led them to a separate conference room. Assistant Director Dreyer and a top-level cabinet member with Homeland Security were waiting.
“Christ, Colonel,” Dreyer began angrily. “What part of observe didn’t you understand?”
“I’ll ignore your lack of information gathering talent, Jim. Just go ahead and skip all of our reports and blame this on me.”
Dreyer began to respond but then just shook his head as the man from Homeland Security watched the exchange with a slight smile.
“This is Director Thomas Aginson from Homeland Security,” Dreyer said, indicating the man in a dark blue, three-piece suit next to him. “Director, this is Colonel McDaniels, and Special Agent Diane Reskova, who will be heading up the task force we drafted the Colonel for.”
Reskova shook Aginson’s hand. McDaniels also took Aginson’s proffered hand, noting although the man was slight of build with almost completely gray hair, his grip was strong.
“Glad to meet you, Sir.”
“It’s my pleasure, Colonel. I’ve heard a lot about you. It seems you had a little trouble on your flight. Why don’t you and Agent Reskova tell us all about it?”
Reskova went first, detailing their meeting with Folley and the subsequent rearrangement of seating. Aginson interrupted her, requesting clarification when Reskova explained the circumstances leading up to the deadly confrontation. She went on at Aginson’s urging. McDaniels noticed Aginson glancing at him periodically during Reskova’s recital, watching him for any overt reaction.
“Marshal Brennan and I stayed with the prisoners in First Class. Marshal Brennan suggested Cold… ah…I mean Colonel McDaniels return to coach, because the majority of the Terrorists were being held there. That’s about it, except I believe Colonel McDaniels acted rightly. He also picked out the ringleader of the group before any of this started.”
“Is that true, Colonel, or should I call you Cold?” Aginson asked McDaniels. “You see, I’ve been following your exploits in the news.”
“I guess I let my mouth get me into it that time. Yes, the guy I picked out is definitely the leader.”
McDaniels explained in detail how he had identified the leader of the Syrians. He also filled in details over the next half hour about why he had thought it imperative to act, rather than simply observe. Pointing out the instant dislike the leader had taken to him, Reskova had outlined, McDaniels related how weak a position the taking of even one hostage would have put them in.
“The whole dynamic would have changed if one of the Syrians had managed to take a hostage,” McDaniels finished.
“I concur,” Aginson said after a moment. “I’m glad you’re on our side, Cold. You have to realize the low profile our agencies keep helps us in the long run. The President is monitoring this closely. If this proves to be a dry run turned hot, he plans to use it as a cover to launch new plans for profiling.”
“Oh gee, how perceptive. It’s a good thing he received this good natured wake up call
, rather than another 911.”
Aginson laughed, much to the surprise of Dreyer and Reskova. “Our policies must seem pretty stupid to a lot of people. If you think we all like this politically correct nonsense in Homeland Security, think again.
By the time Dreyer led the group out of the room, satisfied McDaniels and Reskova had told them everything, the press were waiting. Dreyer spotted multiple news agencies with full camera crews. He signaled for security to help them move through. They were greeted with a hail of questions. The lights from the camera crews blinded the group momentarily.
“Cold Mountain’s with them,” one of the news-people at the front called back.
“Are you a government assassin, Cold?”
“Cold, do you still like the rain?”
“What’s it feel like to murder people under the protection of the government?”
McDaniels, who up until that question, simply moved slowly forward, scanning the crowd of news people. When he heard the question, his body tensed and he was instantly on the move. Reskova put a restraining hand on his shoulder. People leaped out of McDaniels’ way. Reskova hung on gamely as she was pulled along. McDaniels grabbed the newsman’s suit front who had shouted out the question and was trying to burrow back into the crowd behind him. A second later McDaniels lifted the man until his one hundred seventy pounds hung suspended in the air. McDaniels held him at eye level. With Reskova pulling on his shoulders and three security guards trying to pry his hands away, McDaniels leaned close to the terrified man. The newsman’s clothing began to tear audibly.
“What did you say to me?” McDaniels asked, his face a mask of deadly intent.
“Noth…nothing,” The newsman croaked, his clothing slowly tightening around his throat. “Please… I’m… just doing my job.”
* * *
The cameras were rolling. People around McDaniels and the newsman observed the scene like motorists seeing a car wreck on the roadside. McDaniels’ rage quieted them as nothing else could have. Reskova gave up yanking on McDaniels’ shoulders, which felt like she had hold of a granite ridge. She moved around him, getting the security guards to release their grip.
“C’mon, Cold,” Reskova said, when she was in front of him, “Let the man go. He’s just another news pinhead trying to get a rise out of you.”
McDaniels looked at her, the fury etched in his features starting to recede. “He succeeded.”
“Let him go,” Reskova repeated calmly.
McDaniels lowered the man to his feet but kept his grip on the man’s clothing. “Don’t ever come within my sight again.”
“Are…are you threatening me?” the newsman gulped, surprised anyone would touch the sacred press. He repeated his mantra. “It’s…it’s my job.”
“Remember what I said,” McDaniels growled. “I won’t ever warn you again. Get out of my face.”
McDaniels literally tossed the newsman back into the crowd. No one spoke as the newsman sprung to his feet and backed out of the group. The cameraman with him picked up the newsman’s portable microphone from the floor and with a grin back at McDaniels he continued filming.
“I am not a government assassin. No one has authorized my actions,” McDaniels announced loudly. “There were other brave passengers on board the plane, including a very heroic stewardess and two guys who backed her play along with the other stewardess in coach. They faced down the Terrorists first. You should talk to them.”
“So you believe they were Terrorists?” A blond haired woman near the front shouted out. “You did kill two men.”
Dreyer forced his way to McDaniels side, speaking before McDaniels could answer. “I am FBI Assistant Director Dreyer. We will let you all know the details of this incident the moment our investigation is complete. Now, please excuse us. We have a lot of work to do yet.”
As Dreyer led the group of agents away with the security force pushing back the news-people they continued to call out to McDaniels.
“Hey, Cold Mountain!” A gray-haired, rumpled looking man, with a press badge called out. “What do you think about the two men who died at your hand on the plane?”
Before Reskova could stop him, McDaniels spun around. “A good start!”
McDaniels shrugged off Reskova and followed Dreyer, who had listened to the answer with trepidation, knowing it would be put in a loop on every broadcast news program in the country. Reskova saw Dreyer take a deep breath and walk on behind their security guard interference.
“I guess I won’t be able to use you for PR work with the task force, Cold,” Reskova joked with McDaniels, seeing his face was set in a picture of tense anger.
“I’ll be glad to talk to the press, Dee-Dee.”
“I told you…” Reskova hesitated, remembering the number of times she had already taken delight in using the new nickname for McDaniels the press had come up with. “I don’t like that name, Cold.”
“But you seem to like my new nickname so much, I just figured you’d love me giving you one.” McDaniels moved without pause, ignoring other questions being fired at him as they walked along within the security cordon.
“I don’t, so knock it off. That’s an order.”
McDaniels laughed in appreciation.
“Face it, Colonel, you are Cold Mountain.”
“But you’re not Dee-Dee?”
“Never have been… never will be. Where do you think this latest fiasco will take us?”
“Anywhere we don’t have to maintain secret identities,” McDaniels gestured at the flowing line of press they were walking next to. “Do you, Tom, and Jen get sent all over the country often?”
“We did with the Hughes’ case but I had hoped we’d be around our base area more. The three of us have apartments there, Believe me, we never remember to bring everything we need.”
“I guess that illustrates why the three of you are unmarried.”
“How do you know… oh, yeah, you would have read my file. Anyway, you’re right. Our lifestyle doesn’t lend itself to relationships. How about you?”
“It’s tough on a wife in the military, especially with the unit I’m in.”
“Were in,” Reskova corrected.
“I’m unofficially retired,” McDaniels continued.
“Meaning you could be sent overseas at anytime they felt like it?”
“Or if they needed a special advisor. How old are you, Dee… I mean Diane?”
“Thirty-three,” Reskova answered after a moment.
“Isn’t your biological clock ticking in your ear yet?”
“No, not that it’s any of your business, Cold. Why, you want to father my child?”
McDaniels did a double take, looking at Reskova with real surprise on his face. “Was that a joke, Diane? Did you just make a funny?”
“I’m funny,” Reskova said defensively. “I take my job seriously but I…”
“Hey,” McDaniels interrupted. “I thought we were getting right on another flight for Detroit.”
Aginson dropped back with the pair from where he had been walking next to Dreyer. “I know I told you we were going to ship you on to Detroit but we could use another interpreter if you don’t mind, Colonel.”
“I don’t mind. Do we at least get to stay at a motel or somewhere with a shower?”
“Of course. I’m sorry for this sudden shift. One of my men who was to help with the interrogation ended up stuck at the trial he’s been involved with. He just called me.”
“I would have thought you’d have all the interpreters you need by now,” Reskova commented.
“Yeah, you’d think. It helps having someone like Cold here who we know is reliable. I admit we have interpreters now I’m not positive are giving us accurate data.”
“The Syrians ain’t exactly going to start singing like birds when they see me.”
“Let’s explore that a little more,” Aginson replied. “Do you two have any idea how to work a fruitful interrogation which will not get Homeland Security into an Abu Grah
ib controversy?”
McDaniels stayed silent as they walked out through the Airport exit with their growing entourage, giving Reskova an uneasy sinking feeling. Aginson gestured toward a black Lincoln Town Car at the curb. He handed McDaniels a business card with his cell-phone number on it.
“Think it over and get back to me. My private number is on the card. If you two come up with some ideas, I would like to get started on them first thing in the morning. Until then, I will have those bastards put in isolation.”
* * *
While Reskova slid into the back seat of the Town Car, McDaniels held back with Aginson for a moment.
“Let me get a few parameters straight first, so I can give this idea of yours proper respect. No one sits in on these interrogations and I will have control over recording the sessions. No bugging the rooms, no hidden observations - otherwise, you get someone else.”
“Agreed,” Aginson replied, looking over at Dreyer, who had been huddled with the two men at the car door while his security force handled the increasingly frustrated press people. “One parameter Colonel - no sudden death syndrome, okay?”
“Agreed.”
Aginson stopped him from sliding into the car after Reskova. “You’ll like the guy I did bring with me. He’s driving the car. He’ll be with you and Reskova’s team from now on. He answers to you alone.”
McDaniels glanced at the car in confusion.
“Okay, I guess that will be clear in a minute. I’ll call you as soon as I evaluate your surprise and talk this over with Reskova.”
“Talk to you then.” Aginson smiled, and stepped away from McDaniels with Dreyer.
“Stay out of trouble, Cold,” Dreyer added.
* * *
Reskova waited as McDaniels entered the spacious car and shut the door. She noticed he immediately put a hand on the shoulder of their driver who turned towards the back with a big smile on his face. Reskova could tell he was Middle Eastern and guessed his age to be in his mid thirties. The driver was clean-shaven and nut brown in color. His eyes were almost black. The driver’s longish black hair spread over the collar of his gray suit.
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