Go! - Hold On! Season 2

by Peter Darley

  “What? Don’t what?”

  “Don’t call your dad.”

  Eight

  House Call

  Tyler stepped out of the helicopter at the top of the ridge, made his way around to the other side, and opened the door for his guest.

  Dr. Brett Fleetwood cautiously followed him out into the snow, attired in thick layers of arctic clothing and headwear. With his medical bag in his grip, his eyes were bound by a large handkerchief,

  “I’ll take that off now, Doc.” Tyler briskly removed the blindfold.

  Fleetwood opened his eyes. Dawn was breaking, and the moonlight illuminated the snow beneath him. He’d been flown from Dallas to Faraday’s airfield outside Denver, then blindfolded, led into the helicopter, and brought up to the ridge. For over two hours, he’d seen only the interior of the jet, then darkness, and now snow. “Where the hell have you brought me to? The North Pole? On second thought, don’t answer that.”

  “All right, Doc, I can’t even begin to tell you how much I appreciate this. I’m gonna have to put the blindfold on you again when we get to the bottom of the ridge.”

  “I understand.” Fleetwood couldn’t help but notice the trees to his right in the distance. It was dark, and they were so heavily coated with snow he couldn’t be certain what species they were. Aspen was a calculated guess, but he decided he really didn’t want to know.

  Tyler led the harrowing trek down the ridge.

  “I still can’t get over it,” Fleetwood said. “Brandon Drake is your brother, and you helped him escape from Leavenworth? Do you have any idea how serious a mess you guys are in?”

  “Only too well.”

  “It’s been all over the news, and he has more than his fair share of fans. This thing has virtually divided the entire country.”

  “Really?”

  “Ty, you’ve got no idea. Police have been placed on alert all across the nation, and people have been having parties in the streets over this.”

  “No way.”

  “Seriously. I guess the whole thing has tapped into the innate human resentment for authority.”

  Tyler shot him a shrewd grin. “Did you party too?”

  Fleetwood smiled coyly. “Had a few drinks at home. I remembered Brandon’s trial and the scandal about Treadwell. There was something admirable and compelling about the story, and about Brandon, no matter which side of politics you’re on.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Well, the sooner we get to him, the sooner we can get him back to good health.”

  They finally arrived at the base of the ridge. Fleetwood gazed at the snow hill before him.

  “This is where I’m gonna have to blindfold you again, all right?” Tyler said.

  “The less I know, the safer I’m going to be.”

  Tyler wrapped the handkerchief around Fleetwood’s head again and gently held his shoulders from behind. “All right, I’ll guide you. I need you to put one foot in front of the other and walk up that incline you just saw. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Steadily, the two men scaled the snow hill. Tyler carefully eased Fleetwood down the other side until they were on flat, snow-covered ground.

  “Just a few more steps, Doc.” Tyler guided Fleetwood across, and up onto the cabin’s porch.

  Belinda stepped out of the kitchen as the front door opened. Her heart missed a beat. First, a blindfolded stranger entered, then Tyler followed with his hands on the man’s shoulders as he steered him. Her mouth fell open with elation and relief. Oh, my God. He actually did it.

  Tyler acknowledged her with a nod, but she held herself still to avoid alerting Fleetwood to her presence.

  Tyler opened the bedroom door, maneuvered Fleetwood inside, and closed the door behind them.

  Belinda paced the living room restlessly, her anxiety at all-time high. She’d endured almost twenty hours of relentless tension and stress. It kept playing over in her mind. She’d been spared no trauma—paranoia, a near mugging, running for her life, and coming close to being buried alive and freezing to death. Now, the love of her life was at death’s door, with no certainty he was going to be saved.

  Tyler seemed like such an extraordinary man, but in a different way from Brandon. He was clearly obscenely wealthy, but with such a strong streak of selflessness. It was abundantly clear that, despite his fortunate background, nothing meant more to him than his family.

  Fleetwood’s vision adjusted as Tyler removed the blindfold, finding himself in a bedroom with no idea where. He removed his headwear to reveal a messy covering of graying hair, which fell onto his brow.

  Tyler knelt down beside Brandon, who was still ghostly-pallid and damp with perspiration. However, his eyes opened and he seemed to be becoming coherent.

  “Hey, bro,” Tyler said. “I’ve got help for you. Now, just relax and everything’s gonna be fine.”

  Brandon turned his head toward Fleetwood. He attempted to extend his hand from under the sheets, but the pain in his shoulder was clearly too severe. “How’re you doing, Doc?” he said weakly.

  Fleetwood smiled. “I’m fine, thank you, Brandon. But I need to take a look at you. How are you feeling?”

  “Sore. Hung over.”

  “Did the alcohol ease the pain?”

  “Can’t remember.”

  Fleetwood placed his medical bag on the carpet and prepared an anesthetic syringe. “I don’t want to waste any more time, Brandon. You were shot almost thirty hours ago. I’m going to have to stitch you up immediately, and then give you a strong shot of antibiotics.”

  “I understand. Thank you.”

  Fleetwood released the air bubbles from the syringe. “You’ll feel two tiny scratches, and then your shoulder will be frozen. You won’t feel a thing.”

  Brandon managed a smile. “Music to my ears, Doc.”

  “Are you allergic to any antibiotics?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  Fleetwood turned to Tyler. “Come closer, Tyler. I need you to watch what I’m doing because I’m going to leave you with some tetracycline shots. I’ll teach you how to administer them, and afterwards, I’ll give you a crash course on removing the stitches.”

  Tyler nodded nervously.

  “All right. Let’s get started.”

  Two hours passed before the bedroom door opened again. The blindfolded doctor, with his medical bag in hand, stepped into the living room guided by Tyler. “I’ve got you checked into the Four Seasons Hotel for the night with Dig,” Tyler said. “He’s gonna fly you back to Dallas tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Tyler.”

  “No, Doc. Thank you. I still can’t figure out why you won’t let me pay you for all this.”

  “With the amount of money your father has put into my cancer research project, this is the least I could do.”

  Fleetwood knew that Charlton Faraday’s generosity had a personal element attached. Twenty-eight years earlier, Charlton’s wife of five years had passed away from breast cancer at the age of twenty-nine. His loss had crushed him beyond endurance, and he felt an obligation to do whatever was in his power to reduce such future suffering.

  As they reached the door, Fleetwood paused and turned slightly. “I can’t see you, but it would’ve been a pleasure to have met you, Ms. Reese. You have a rather phenomenal tale to tell.”

  Belinda looked at Tyler, astounded that Fleetwood knew she was there, but she didn’t say a word.

  And then, the two men were gone.

  ***

  Andrew Wilmot walked briskly across the Faraday-Dallas airfield toward the helicopter landing pad. It was a particularly warm day for February, and he couldn’t help noticing the difference in climate compared to Washington D.C.

  He waited while the rotor-blades of a newly-landed chopper slowed to a crawl.

  A tall, bearded man in a pristine blue suit and Stetson, stepped out of the helicopter. Had he not been so lean, Wilmot thought he would have been a dead ringer for Santa Claus. “Mr. Faraday? Charlton
Faraday?”

  “Howdy,” Faraday said in a deep, Texas accent. “What can I do for you, young fella?”

  Wilmot took out his ID badge and showed it to Faraday. “I’m Agent Wilmot with SDT. Homeland Security. I’m here on official business, sir. Your secretary told me where I could find you.”

  “Just been testing the new Air Shark,” Faraday said excitedly. “One of the best we ever made. Flies like an eagle, but it’ll bite your ass off if you get in front of it. So, what’s goin’ on? I thought you intelligence boys kept your identifications secret.”

  “SDT is a unique sub-division of Homeland Security. One of the reasons it was set up was to enable conventional investigations with civilians.”

  “I see.”

  “I need to talk to you about your son, sir.”

  “Tyler?”

  “Yes, sir. Do you have any idea where I can find him?”

  Faraday looked as though he’d just been punched in the stomach. “No, I haven’t seen him since Monday. What’s this all about?”

  “You haven’t seen the news?”

  “Not since yesterday afternoon. I’ve been kinda busy.”

  “Brandon Drake, your son’s natural brother, escaped from Fort Leavenworth in the early hours of yesterday morning. We need to talk to Tyler so that we can eliminate him from our inquiries.”

  Faraday’s face turned almost as white as his beard. Seeing his distress, Wilmot made the decision to disclose a hint of the real reason SDT wanted Brandon in an attempt to assuage the man’s fears. “We’re not interested in your son, sir, and we’re not interested in arresting Brandon Drake. SDT isn’t a law enforcement agency. We need Brandon’s help on a matter of national security, and we were hoping your son might be able to help us find him.”

  “I have no idea where he is, Agent . . . ?”

  “Wilmot.”

  “Of course. I apologize. Tyler’s his own man, but I don’t know anything about this.”

  Wilmot casually studied the look in the older man’s eyes. After a few moments, he was confident he was telling the truth, he took out his card and handed it to Faraday. “If you hear anything at all from Tyler, sir, I’d really appreciate it if you’d have him call me.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Thank you for your time. You have a nice day now, sir.” Wilmot turned and made his way back across the airfield.

  As he approached his cab, he pondered the suspicious look he’d seen in Faraday’s eyes: the look that told him Faraday wouldn’t be willing to disclose his son’s whereabouts, even if he knew.

  He took out his cell phone and waited for two rings. A familiar female voice answered. “Heidi, this is Agent Wilmot at Director Wolfe’s office. I’m going to email you an authorization for an NSA satellite trace on all cell phones registered to one Charlton Faraday, and his son, Tyler. I want conversation details and pinpoint locations on every one of them.”

  Nine

  The Agenda

  Brandon had been slipping in and out of consciousness all day and hadn’t been coherent or conversational. Belinda still hadn’t spoken to him. Anxiously, she made her way to the bedroom.

  As she opened the door, his head turned to her.

  “Hi. You’re awake.” she said with a beaming smile.

  “Barely. My shoulder’s still numb, so I’m not complaining. You look so beautiful.”

  Her hand came across her mouth as she suppressed her tears.

  “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he said.

  “I have missed you so much, for so long.” She sobbed as the sum total of two years’ hoping was finally released.

  Weakly, he said, “Oh, baby. Come over here.”

  She wanted to hold him so badly while he was conscious of her. Wary of aggravating his wounds, she approached him with caution. She considered how cruel it all was. All she had wanted was to hold him. Now they were reunited, even that was denied them.

  Brandon could only embrace her with one arm, but she knelt down beside him and rested her head on his chest. “I love you so much,” she said.

  “I never stopped loving you, all the time I was away,” he said, his voice hoarse with a hint of gravel. Nevertheless, his emotion was unmistakable. “There wasn’t a day I didn’t long for you.”

  “Me too.”

  “They loved your cooking, though.”

  “My cooking?”

  “Yeah, you remember. You taught me how to do it right.”

  She chuckled as she recalled their mishaps in the kitchen during the early days.

  “Are you gonna be OK living here with me for awhile?” he said coyly.

  “Are you kidding? It’d take an army to drag me out of here.”

  He managed a smile.

  “I slept with you last night. Did you know that?” she said.

  “You did? How could I have not known?”

  “You were out of it big time.”

  “Yeah, well, must’ve been the sedative. It’s not over yet. It’s gonna be weeks before I’m fit enough to do what we’ve got to do. But recovery’s gonna be the fun part.” He shot her a devilish grin.

  She looked up from his chest, confused. “What do you mean? ‘What we’ve got to do’?”

  He exhaled and his eyes became weary again. “Tyler found me. I couldn’t believe it. Thought I was seein’ things. All I ever wanted was my family, babe. Then I found out I never had one. My mom, my dad, my grandfather. . . None of them were ever real people. They were just delusions.”

  “I know, sweetheart. I remember how painful it was for you.”

  “I couldn’t get over it. Just couldn’t process it. It tortured me day and night. But Tyler changed everything. He spent so long searching for us. Now, he has a lead.”

  She frowned, puzzled. “Us? A lead on what?”

  “Not on what. On whom.” He looked her in the eye with a glow of hope in his own; a radiance that seemed to strengthen him against his debilitation. “We have a family. There is another Drake.”

  “Another Drake?”

  “Tyler and I have a little sister. He found some information about her from the Hall of Records. Her name is Emily, and she’s in Nevada. Can you believe that?”

  “You have a sister?”

  “Yeah. That’s what this is all about. Tyler helped me to get out of Leavenworth. Together, we’re gonna find Emily. We’re gonna put our family back together. Then he’s gonna help us to get out of America and disappear forever somewhere, where we can just live our lives in peace.”

  Belinda shook her head frantically. “No, Brandon. It’s too dangerous. If Tyler can get us out, let’s just go.”

  “Not without seeing Emily. I need to find her, baby. She’s my sister. I need this. I need a true identity. Without it, what is freedom worth?”

  Her face flushed with desperate anger. “The police, the FBI, and the army are out to get you. You’re all over the news. Practically everyone in the country knows what you look like. You can’t do this!”

  “It’s worth the risk to me. It’s worth everything . . .” His eyes rolled, and his head sank into the pillow as he lost consciousness again.

  Exasperated, Belinda let go of his hand and stood. The walls of the bedroom seemed to close in on her. She’d been through it all before, and didn’t believe she could face such an ordeal again—the fear, the stress, the panic, and the relentless danger.

  But Brandon was her life, her heart, and her soul. He was determined to find Emily, and she knew what he was capable of when he had his heart set on something. Trying to talk him out of it would be like trying to stop a runaway train. There was no room for compromise. It was a no-win situation, and the pangs of resentment began to build within her.

  “Damn it, Brandon!”

  ***

  “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

  Tyler was taken aback by the first experience in his life of his father’s rage. Charlton Faraday was one of America’s pioneers, and an essentially astute, hardened busi
ness tycoon. But Tyler had always been the apple of his eye, the one who was spared the wrath.

  The office, positioned on the thirtieth floor of a gleaming high-rise in downtown Dallas, was a testament to Faraday’s wealth. From the plush cream carpet, to the brown leather recliner chairs, to the top-of-the-line personal computer on Charlton’s oak desk, everything was spotless. The windows spread across the length of the room providing a birds-eye view of the sprawling metropolis.

  “Dad, I-I—”

  “I told you at Fort Bragg, two years ago, to let this go. Brandon is trouble. I knew it then. I know it now.”

  “He’s my brother,” Tyler said with an assertion he’d never had to summon before.

  Charlton stepped from around his desk and came toward him. “A government agent came to the airfield yesterday looking for you.” He reached into the lapel pocket of his suit jacket, took out the card, and gave it to Tyler. “Agent Wilmot from some special Homeland Security division. He said they needed Brandon to help them with an investigation, but I didn’t buy a word of it. You’re in deep, Son, and I’m worried sick about you.”

  Tyler swallowed hard. “That’s why I didn’t call you. Brandon told me all phones registered to us would be under NSA surveillance.”

  “Oh, that’s just great. They’re gonna know all my business, all my dealings, and my private conversations.”

  “I-I’m sorry, Dad. I really am, but I had no choice.”

  “Did Alex help you?”

  Tyler stared at the floor, deeply reluctant to sell out his best friend. “Of course not. Why would you say that?”

  “Because I know the kind of crazy shit you two get up to, that’s why.”

  “Yeah, well—”

  “Why, Tyler? Why?”

  Tyler stepped closer to his father with conviction in his eyes. “I am a blessed man, Dad. All thanks to you. You put the silver spoon in my mouth that I was born without.”

  “So why risk what you have? This is what I just don’t understand.”

  “I was born in hell. I know that now. The more I researched my history and where I came from, the more I knew I had to find the others.” He lowered his head in recollection. “I . . . I remember him, Dad. I remember Brandon. I couldn’t have been even two years old. But I remember the bigger boy. Bannon, I remember calling him. I had to find him again. Please try to understand.”