Calista Dauplaise stood at the foot of the ramp. She wore a sable coat that fell to her ankles, and an oversized fur hat. A tsarina come to view the war. Her limousine now idled behind her, broadside to the aircraft. Cools stood behind it. The cold had worsened in only a few hours. His nose was an angry red, and the bags under his eyes had turned a sickly pork-chop gray. He rested a shotgun on the roof of the limo, pointed at no one.
Each side stared at the other for a long moment. As if they had all somehow expected to end up here, but now that the moment had arrived were uncertain what came next. Calista watched Jenn intently. Chances were she’d never had a gun pointed at her before, and you never forgot your first time. Especially when the person holding it was someone like Jenn Charles. Cools eased the stock of the shotgun to his shoulder and trained it on Jenn. Calista put out a gloved hand, fingers spread wide, and when she spoke, her voice did not carry its usual authority.
“Jennifer. I assure you that is not necessary.”
Jenn looked unmoved by her appeal and held up the green controller.
“And what would that be?” Calista asked.
Cools knew. “A claymore detonator.”
“That’s right,” Jenn said. “We each have one.”
“So you have a couple antipersonnel devices,” said Cools. “What’s that going to do?”
“They’re attached to the wing root. Aimed at the external fuel tanks on the wings,” Jenn said.
Calista glanced back at Cools, who no longer looked sure of the situation.
“Your point?” Calista asked.
“I figure there’s still enough fuel left to turn this plane to slag. That and whatever it is you want so badly.”
Calista regarded Jenn coolly. “If I am not mistaken, you are standing inside said aircraft.”
“I’m aware. Are you ready to die?”
“Not quite yet,” Calista replied.
“So let’s all keep our heads. I want Dan.”
“George,” Calista said. “A word, if I may?”
“No, you’ll talk to—” Jenn began.
George started down the ramp toward Calista, Jenn barking at him to stop. When he didn’t, she followed him halfway down the ramp and stopped, unwilling to surrender the cover of the aircraft. Gibson dropped to one knee at the top of the ramp. He scanned the nearby hangars. He didn’t see Sidhu. Or anyone else, for that matter. Not exactly the overwhelming display of force that he’d anticipated. In some ways, he would have preferred it. At least then he would have known Calista’s intentions.
George stopped outside arm’s reach. The two old friends, business partners, and enemies looked each other over.
“Hello, George,” Calista said.
“Calista,” George answered.
George’s face was serene, and from his voice, Gibson wouldn’t have known that this woman’s betrayal had resulted in two years of brutal imprisonment. Getting her first good look at George, even Calista’s practiced detachment couldn’t quite mask her shock. Despite her many atrocities, she’d rarely had to look one in the eye.
“It’s different up close, isn’t it?” George said.
“Yes. It is. I am, however, pleased to see you.”
“I’ve no doubt,” George said. “You have one of our people.”
“He is unharmed. I assure you.”
George chuckled. “I have always appreciated your sense of humor.”
“Let us not resort to unpleasantness. I am here in good faith. No one is threatening you, and your Mr. Hendricks is hale and hearty. I had an arrangement with Jennifer. I wish for it to be honored and to be permitted to board my aircraft.”
“Not until we see him,” George said.
“We do not have a lot of time for all of this. Eskridge is tracking his aircraft. Cold Harbor is already en route. It would be wise to be elsewhere when he arrives.”
“Then you had better hurry.”
With a put-upon sigh, she turned to Cools, who spoke into a microphone clipped to his sleeve. “Bring him up.”
In the hangar, the headlights of the SUV came on. It drove toward them slowly.
Cools sneezed violently.
Jenn’s weapon jerked up at him, reacting faster than her mind could interpret what it had heard. Cools swung up the shotgun in self-defense.
The SUV rolled to a stop fifty feet away.
“Mr. Cools, lower your weapon,” Calista said.
“Not until she does.”
The only sounds Gibson heard were the wind and his heart.
“Mr. Cools. Do as you are told.”
“Hell no,” Cools said. “Tell her to put it down.”
Still on one knee, Gibson tightened his grip on the Glock but didn’t draw it. For a moment, the tentative truce seemed poised to unravel over a sneeze. As good a reason as any to kill each other, Gibson reckoned. The danger of brinksmanship was that no one could afford to be the first to back down. It set a bad precedent.
Then something wholly unexpected happened.
Calista Dauplaise stepped between Cools and Jenn. She held her hands out to them, poised like a conductor before a symphony. Slowly, she brought her hands down. “Both of you. Lower your weapons.”
Stunned, Cools and Jenn both complied.
Calista produced a handkerchief and thrust it across the limousine. “Blow your nose, Mr. Cools.”
He took the handkerchief sheepishly.
“And for God’s sake, bring up the car.”
Chastened, Cools called back and then blew his nose while the SUV made a wide, lazy arc and came to a stop behind the limousine. Sidhu got out and circled around to the passenger door on its hangar side. He opened it but looked to Calista for confirmation before reaching into the limousine and pulling Hendricks out of the car. Hendricks’s arms were bound behind his back. He looked irritated, but then again, that was his natural state. In the two years since Gibson had last seen him, the white vitiligo spots had expanded across Hendricks’s face. It made him appear older than Gibson’s memory of him.
Dan looked across the two car roofs at George. “Hey, boss,” he said as though they’d seen each other only the day before.
“I’m sorry for this,” George said.
“My own fault.”
“You all right, Dan?” Jenn asked.
“I could use a cigarette.”
Sidhu put a hand on top of Hendricks’s head, forced him back into the limousine, and slammed the door.
“What happens now?” George said to Calista.
“How many ways do I have to say it?”
“Maybe just once more.”
“I have an arrangement with Jennifer. I have honored my commitments. It is time for her to honor hers. The aircraft is mine. You are all free to leave. There is your transportation as agreed upon, fueled and ready to depart,” Calista said, extending a hand toward a Gulfstream IV parked a hundred yards away. “Take it and go in good health.”
“And you think we would let you have whatever is on board?” Jenn said.
“You have won a great victory today, Jennifer. This is the price to secure it. Or you can wait for Eskridge to arrive and lose everything,” Calista said, then called out, “How far away are they?”
“Twenty-two minutes,” Cools answered.
“How do we even know that plane is safe?” Gibson asked of the Gulfstream.
Calista turned to George. “The boy has a point. We find ourselves in a predicament, you and I. I require your trust, and you would be fools to give it.”
“That is a fair assessment,” George said. “So what now?”
“You already know the answer.”