by Melissa Good
"Over there." Kerry spotted Mark's truck, with the RV behind it, not far from the company courtesy bus. "That's our area." Already there were techs surrounding the spot, in jeans and company polos. They were in the back part of the lot. The front was filled with emergency vehicles and military ones, with a huge cluster of press tents behind the lot and separated by a fence.
Nan parked and they got out. Kerry stepped away from the SUV and faced the building, her eyes taking in the smoking, gaping hole in disbelief.
She could smell the smoke. Mixed with that was the tinge of fractured concrete, the smell of burning electrical and shot through, with every other breath, a darker hint of decay and ruin. She took a few more steps toward the building, and stood, arms crossed as her eyes slowly scanned the area, seeing wreckage, and people, and exhausted faces.
Anger. Grief. Sadness.
To one side, a huge American flag was draped, as though in defiance. Kerry felt tears sting her eyes as she saw it and knew a moment of solemn kinship with everyone around her.
"Sucks." Mark came to stand shoulder to shoulder with her.
"Yeah." Kerry drew in a long breath. "Fifty states, right and left, Yankee and redneck, two billion opinions and twice as many assholes but right now we're all Americans." She turned and gave him a brief hug. "Let's get to work."
Chapter Sixteen
DAR WAS SIDEWAYS in her chair again. She had both legs over one arm of her seat, and her head resting on the opposite padded rest. She had her eyes closed and her hands folded over her stomach, the drone of the engines filling her ears.
Her anxiety had faded, buoyed by the knowledge that she'd be landing hours before she'd expected to, and be in a position to immediately jump back into the problems she knew were waiting rather than facing international immigration, a second flight, a cross border drive, and a long haul up into Houston.
Across the aisle from her, Alastair was finally napping, and the lights had been lowered in the cabin along with the window shades producing a dim, peaceful atmosphere. Dar was content to sprawl where she was in a state of half waking, half sleeping.
She'd started out by trying to think ahead to what was going on down on the ground, but the long day and the stress had caught up to her and now she was merely daydreaming. Her mind running free with thoughts of where she'd wander with Kerry in Europe after world events calmed down.
Where would Kerry really like to go? She'd seemed enthusiastic about the Alps, Dar mused. Would she rather go to one of the ritzy winter resorts? Dar opened her eyes and looked around the inside of the private plane. She reluctantly admitted, privately, that she wouldn't mind spending time in someplace nice. She suspected that-though Kerry poo poo'd high society trimmings-she wouldn't argue too hard against a room with a marble Jacuzzi or chocolate dipped strawberries before bed either.
But would she rather be in some nice lodge somewhere quiet, where they could go outside and simply sit on a hill and look at the stars? Or would she rather go outside and sit in a café looking at other kinds of stars living the high life?
Maybe they could find a compromise, like their cabin. She loved the comforts of it and the contrast of the raw, weatherworn dock outside and the proximity of the wildness of the sea. She and Kerry could go out and get as sandy and seaweed ridden as they pleased, and then relax on the couch in the air conditioning with a bowl of microwave popcorn.
Were they wimps? Maybe. Did she care?
Hmm.
Dar let that thought drift for a moment, then pondered the notion that it might work out that they were on vacation during Kerry's birthday. What would she like to do for that? Dar decided her partner would probably want to do something special, maybe something exciting and new to her for her birthday.
Maybe they could go to Venice. Or Rome. Dar smiled. Or maybe the Greek Isles.
A soft sound made her open her eyes, and she turned her head to see the door opening quietly allowing the steward to enter. He paused when he saw her somewhat odd position, but then continued moving, shutting the door behind him.
"It looks like we picked up an escort," the man said, quietly, as he stopped next to Dar's seat. "I don't think it is anything to worry about. They seem to be keeping their distance."
"Fighters?" Dar asked.
"I guess," the man agreed. "Not my area of expertise. But the captain is okay with it," he continued. "They called him and just told him to keep on course, which is exactly what we want to do."
Dar smiled. "Yep," she said. "I'll be damn glad to be home, even if it's just for a little while." "I can well imagine," the steward smiled back. "I'm going to go get my passport. I'm sure they'll want to see it when we land." He moved past Dar and went into the back of the plane, leaving her to resume studying the woven cloth ceiling.
After a moment, though, she sat up and reached across to the window shade, opening it to peer outside. Off the wing, at a reasonable distance, was a Navy fighter. "Ah. Hornet." Dar put the shade back down and extended her seat out again.
She wasn't sure how she felt about the escort. On one hand, she suspected they'd rattled more than one cage and no one was taking chances. On the other hand, she knew damn well there was a good chance whoever had sent the planes up recognized her name.
That was arrogant. Dar acknowledged it with a smile. But it was also true that there were a lot of people who would remember her either for better or for worse. Some now, for a lot worse. Her smile disappeared as she remembered Chuckie and what a mess that had turned out to be.
She wished again, for the nth time, that she could go back and do that all over. She thought maybe her father did too.
Her father. Dar found her thoughts moving to a different track. What would this mean for him? Would the Navy try to get him to come back?
No way.
Would he?
Dar was troubled to realize she honestly didn't know the answer to that question. She knew her father was very much invested in how he'd spent his life for all those years, and he had friends by the hundreds and probably thousands still in service.
But then there was her mother. After what he went through, Dar had to think that at the very least he had to seriously consider the question if they asked.
And if they did ask, she knew she'd go to the wall to convince him to say no. For her mother, for herself, damned if she was going to lose her family again. She'd get Kerry to help her if she had to.
She picked up the bottle of orange soda on the table and took a swig of it, and checked her watch, wondering what Kerry was up to. She'd probably made it to the Pentagon already, and Dar was sure she'd have plenty to tell her when she called.
Once she got the squeal out of the way.
She felt a faint pressure change against her ears, and let the thoughts go as the steward came back through the cabin, giving her a smile as he passed. "Heading down?"
"We are." The steward nodded. "Boy, I'll be glad to get on the ground." He went to the front of the cabin and started preparing it for landing, bringing up the lights a little and fastening the curtains back.
Dar reached across the aisle and gave her boss's sleeve a tug. "Alastair?"
"Eh?" Alastair blinked and lifted his head. "What? More people need yelling at?"
Dar chuckled. "No. We're starting down." She moved her seat upright and reached for her briefcase, digging in it to retrieve her leather ID holder, which had her passport and her company badges in it. She also got her PDA and cellphone out, and set them on the small table next to her seat.
"Ah. We're there." Alastair stretched. "Damn, that's great. But I could definitely use a cup of coffee." He rubbed his eyes and rummaged around, getting his things together. "This is the tough end of the jet lag. We've got a whole damn day to get through now."
"True." Dar sighed. "Ah well, there's always Cuban coffee."
Alastair eyed her. "I heard about that the last time I was in the office here. What exactly is it?"
Dar settled back in her chair. "Strong espr
esso coffee, essentially, not that different from Italian but when they make it right, they take a pyrex mixing cup, put a half pound of sugar in it, and a half cup of the coffee then they whip it in to a froth, before they put the rest of the coffee in, mix it, and there you go."
Her boss's eyebrows knitted. "Are you telling me it's coffee and sugar one to one? Half and half?"
Dar nodded.
"And you actually drink that?"
Dar nodded again. "I like it," she said. "You can also mix hot milk with it, and then it's café con leche."
Alastair covered his eyes with one hand. "When was the last time you had your blood pressure checked?"
"One ten over sixty six." she replied, her eyes twinkling a little.
"Disgusting."
Dar chuckled. "Stress does more to you than coffee,"she said. "Best thing I did for my health in the last couple of years was get an assistant." She held up a hand as Alastair started to laugh. "Ah ah--not a joke. Aside from everything else."
"I told you for years to get an assistant. "Alastair shook his finger at her.
"I couldn't," Dar said, swallowing a few times as the air pressure started to increase. "Everyone I interviewed either drove me crazy, or was out to knife me in the back. Do you know how many of them were brought in by other people inside the company?"
Alastair sighed. "Yeah, I'm glad those days are behind us," he admitted. "But you're not going to BS me and tell me the only reason you hired Kerry was her business skills."
Dar was silent for a few minutes. Then she turned and regarded Alastair. "The only reason I hired her as my assistant was her business skills," she said. "I wasn't about to screw either of us over by putting her in a spot where she'd end up looking like a jackass."
"Really?"
"Really," Dar said. "Oh, I won't say I wouldn't have brought her in to some other position. I liked her. I knew we were attracted to each other. I knew there wasn't much else she could do in that pissant little company she was in."
"Uh huh."
"But she had brains, and the guts to stand up to me. I could tell by how she kept changing her game depending on what I threw at her that she'd be able to step in and handle us at an executive level in ops." Dar rested her elbows on her chair arms and laced her fingers together. "And I was right."
"You sure were," Alastair agreed cheerfully. "She does a damn fine job. If that wasn't true, your ass would still be back in London on the conference call because I wouldn't have risked having you in the air with me for this whole time."
Dar nodded. "Yep."
"And it was a good opportunity for her. I'm sure she appreciated that," he went on. "Seems like she has ambition. I'm not surprised she jumped at the offer."
All very true. Dar acknowledged. "I'm just glad she did." She rubbed the edge of her thumb against the cool band of her ring. She swallowed again, and leaned over to pull the shade up. The Hornet was no longer visible outside, but the ground was, and she smiled as she recognized the very familiar outlines of the Everglades passing under the wings. "Landing from the west."
"How can you tell?" Alastair lifted his own shade and peered out. "What in the hell is that?"
"The River of Grass," Dar said. "The Florida Everglades," she added. "In reality, one whomping big ass swamp."
"Ah."
The steward poked his head into the cabin. "We're about to land. Please stay in your seats until we do, and try to keep your seat belts fastened. It's not a lot of fun bouncing off the inside walls if we have to stop short."
Dar obediently clicked her seatbelt in place and tugged it snug. She was already looking forward to feeling the ground hit their tires. She flipped open her PDA, tapping it open to a new message and writing it as she heard the landing gear extend, and felt the distinctive motion as the plane moved from a nose down, to a nose up posture for landing.
"Ever wanted to learn to fly, Dar?" Alastair asked, suddenly. "One of these things?"
"No." Dar shook her head. "I'll stick to boats, thanks. You?"
"Have my pilot's license."
Dar stopped what she was doing and looked over at her boss, in real surprise. "You do?"
Alastair nodded. "Bunch of fellas and I went in on two of the little single engine putterbouts," he said. "It's a nice way to spend a Sunday, when you get tired of golf." He fastened his seat belt and folded his hands, letting them rest on one knee. "I buzzed the country club last time I flew and scared two ladies right into the lake. I'm living in fear they'll find out it was me."
Dar started laughing.
"All those years in the boardroom sure came in handy when the wife came telling me all about it." Her boss chuckled, glancing out the window as they approached the landing strip. "Well, here we go."
The plane slowed, its wings drifting to one side and the other as the edges slid down to cup the air. Outside the windows, clouds were replaced by buildings and trees, flashing by as they settled down through the atmosphere and lined up with the runway.
A shocking sound made both of them jump, and look, but it was only the Hornets breaking off and roaring past, their engines sounding like a brass thunder that rattled the interior of the cabin and made Dar's ears itch.
"Thanks for stopping by, fellas," Alastair remarked. "Good to see my tax dollars at work."
Dar finished her message and hit send, waiting until the wheels of the plane touched down with a thump and a bounce before she activated the PDA's comm link. Then she picked up her phone and opened it, dialing the first speed dial number on the list.
Home. She could almost feel the humidity and the smell of rain tinged hot air already.
KERRY BLINKED IN the thick dusty air, sucking in breath through a white mask that covered her mouth and nose. In front of her was a door hanging off its hinges, and half a wall. Past that was a mass of concrete and metal, fused into unrecognizable lumps with a scattering of cables drooping out of it.
"Shit," Mark exhaled, directing the beam of his flashlight into the wreckage.
"Well, that's a total loss," Kerry concluded. She folded her arms over her chest. "Someone just needs to confirm the inventory list for that room so I can have legal claim it against our insurance."
"I don't have nearly enough crap to replace this," Mark said. "There were at least ten racks of gear in there."
"It was just a fluke," another masked man said on her left side. "You see this corridor is pretty okay."
Kerry looked around. "I see." The hallway was broad and mostly silent, only a few ceiling panels and bits of concrete knocked out near where they were, and then nothing but long expanses of carpet and concrete walls further off. "So we were duplicating this on the other side, Danny, with a link between them?" She glanced at the man on her left.
"Yes, ma'am," Danny nodded. His arm was in a sling, but it was encased in a thick compression bandage rather than a cast. He was a fairly short man, with a gymnast's build and thick curly brown hair. "But there's nothing in it yet. Not even racks.
"Do we have runs in there from the distribution closets?" Mark asked. "They were really doing duplex? Not just runs from half to this room and half to that one with a crossover?"
Danny shook his head solemnly. "Runs from each distribution to each core room," he said "Ms. Roberts told them to, and you know whatever Ms. Roberts says--"
"Yes we know," Kerry and Mark said at the same time. "God bless Dar's forethought again." Kerry went on, with a sigh. "All right. Let's go over to the new room and get a list started." She turned and waited for Mark to precede her with his flashlight. "I'm not going to be able to count the favors I'm going to have to call in on this one, and we're nowhere near Manhattan yet."
"No shit." Mark shook his head. "I can start having everyone get their spare stuff ready to ship, but I heard from the office today they won't even let FedEx or UPS pick up."
Kerry thought about that. "Well, how do you make sure all those brown packages aren't bombs?"
"They want to blow up FedEx trucks?" Mark's b
rows knitted.
"Maybe they want to blow up FedEx trucks delivering last minute bouquets to Pro Player Stadium."
"Oh," Mark said. "Yeah."
Yeah. Kerry tried not to think about Dar, flying over the Atlantic in a potentially enticing to terrorist plane since it was coming so close to the U.S. She was sure the company had chartered the plane from someplace reputable, but after yesterday, anything could happen.
She didn't want anything to happen. "Just get down, and have a margarita," she muttered under her breath.
"Ma'am?" Danny leaned toward her. "Did you say something?"
"No, just clearing my throat." There was no power, and the smell of crushed concrete and burning debris brought back surprisingly strong memories of the hospital collapse. "How's the roll call doing, Danny?" Kerry asked to get her mind off that.
"We're still down three, ma'am," Danny said. "Ken Burrows, our lead punch down guy, his assistant Charlie, and Lee Chan, our WAN specialist." He wiped the dust out of his eyes with his free hand. "They were all in the section that took the hit, we think."
Kerry involuntarily glanced behind her, at the crushed room. Then she turned her head and looked resolutely ahead, picking her way carefully through the fallen ceiling debris. "And you said five people are in the hospital?"
"Yes, ma'am," Danny said. "We logged them in yellow, though. The other four we were missing turned up last night. Said they were helping people get out all day and didn't get a chance to get online," he explained. "It was really crazy here yesterday."
They moved through inner hallways, mostly empty, the air still and almost stale. Kerry felt sweat gathering under her shirt and she fought the urge to pull the mask off her face as she followed the group along one wall.
Everyone was pretty quiet. The masks muffled speech and the lack of power and air conditioning let them hear creaks and pops in the walls around them. Kerry felt anxious, and she walked a little faster even though they'd been told several times the building was safe.
Inside, it was hard to picture the destruction she'd faced on the outside of the building. The walls of the structure looked very much like some huge giant had taken a hatchet and whacked the top side of one of the five sections, cutting right through the concrete and exposing inner offices as it collapsed inward.