the door also. She launched a kick at my leg, and I used that opportunity to grab her ankle and extract her boot knife from a sheath on her leg.
The crew chief ignored the whole thing, pretending he didn’t notice two strapped in passengers struggling with each other. It was only when the boot knife came skittering across the floor to him that he stood up and separated us. Brit sat back with her arms folded and a pissed off look on her face.
“Brit, come on. Even if his bodyguards didn’t shoot you down, they would HANG you.”
“Fuck you, Nick. I promised.”
I sighed in exasperation. “Why would you do that to our kids?”
“I don’t fucking know, Captain America, why the fuck do you drop everything when your country calls and leave me and your kids alone because someone waves that stupid flag in your face?”
“Because, I have to. You don’t understand. I swore an oath.” The old argument again.
“Yeah, well, I made a promise to kill him if he fucked with us again. Therefore, it’s what I’m going to do. Now, don’t talk to me. I hate you right now.”
My repeated entreaties were answered by her taking the headset off, unstrapping herself, and sitting down again on the other side of the cabin. Oh boy, I was shit deep in trouble.
We landed at Joint Forces HQ, which was based in the Corning Tower, and walked into the lobby, accompanied by Cpt. Rheam. He had been forward of us, in the gunners seat, so he had missed our ‘conversation’. For my part, I was running through the list of other weapons that I knew Brit carried on her. I needn’t have worried. In front of us stood a metal detector and two heavily armed guards, who motioned to the security station.
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to surrender all weapons here,” said the smaller of the two. “You’ll get them back when you exit the building. We’re at Force Protection Delta.”
Brit smiled sweetly, and the guard smiled back. I handed them my M-4 and my own .22 pistol, along with my K-Bar fighting knife, then stepped through the metal detector. It went off with a BLEEP and I rolled up my pants leg to show the guard.
“Is this one of those trick legs with a shotgun in the bottom?” the man asked, no fool.
“Well, I could beat you to death with it, if you want. It’s titanium. Of course, you could probably out run the one legged man.” He laughed and motioned me through. Then it was Brit’s turn.
.25 caliber automatic in her bra. Two hand grenades in her cargo pocket. Steel hair pin, which she removed, to let her long red hair down. Punch knife at the small of her back. Another small .22 revolver strapped to her leg, which I hadn’t known about. .45 derringer on her other leg, which I had forgotten about. She looked like Mad Max entering Bartertown as the weapons clanked into a basket. With the same grin on her face, she stepped through the metal detector, without a beep.
The guards pointed us to the elevator, but I stopped Brit. “Give them up!” I said. Her grin disappeared and she looked pissed again, but I stood in front of her, impatiently. The impasse lasted for a good ten seconds, until two ceramic knives appeared as if by magic and were deposited on the basket.
“Such an asshole,” she whispered, and we got on the elevator, followed by an impressed Lt. Rheam.
“Just trying to save your life, honey.”
“Stop being Scarletti’s dog, and think of your FAMILY, and we’ll be fine.”
I had no answer to that. The rest of the ride up was made in silence.
Chapter 238
The top floor of the Corning Tower had been turned into an Operations Center, with video screens and computer workstations being manned by military personnel from what was left of all five services. I recognized a few faces, but had no time for small talk. Rheam led us into Scarletti’s office, then shut the door behind him as he left.
Tacked to the wall was a paper map of downtown Washington DC, and sitting in front of it was General Scarletti. I
The crew chief ignored the whole thing, pretending he didn’t notice two strapped in passengers struggling with each other. It was only when the boot knife came skittering across the floor to him that he stood up and separated us. Brit sat back with her arms folded and a pissed off look on her face.
“Brit, come on. Even if his bodyguards didn’t shoot you down, they would HANG you.”
“Fuck you, Nick. I promised.”
I sighed in exasperation. “Why would you do that to our kids?”
“I don’t fucking know, Captain America, why the fuck do you drop everything when your country calls and leave me and your kids alone because someone waves that stupid flag in your face?”
“Because, I have to. You don’t understand. I swore an oath.” The old argument again.
“Yeah, well, I made a promise to kill him if he fucked with us again. Therefore, it’s what I’m going to do. Now, don’t talk to me. I hate you right now.”
My repeated entreaties were answered by her taking the headset off, unstrapping herself, and sitting down again on the other side of the cabin. Oh boy, I was shit deep in trouble.
We landed at Joint Forces HQ, which was based in the Corning Tower, and walked into the lobby, accompanied by Cpt. Rheam. He had been forward of us, in the gunners seat, so he had missed our ‘conversation’. For my part, I was running through the list of other weapons that I knew Brit carried on her. I needn’t have worried. In front of us stood a metal detector and two heavily armed guards, who motioned to the security station.
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to surrender all weapons here,” said the smaller of the two. “You’ll get them back when you exit the building. We’re at Force Protection Delta.”
Brit smiled sweetly, and the guard smiled back. I handed them my M-4 and my own .22 pistol, along with my K-Bar fighting knife, then stepped through the metal detector. It went off with a BLEEP and I rolled up my pants leg to show the guard.
“Is this one of those trick legs with a shotgun in the bottom?” the man asked, no fool.
“Well, I could beat you to death with it, if you want. It’s titanium. Of course, you could probably out run the one legged man.” He laughed and motioned me through. Then it was Brit’s turn.
.25 caliber automatic in her bra. Two hand grenades in her cargo pocket. Steel hair pin, which she removed, to let her long red hair down. Punch knife at the small of her back. Another small .22 revolver strapped to her leg, which I hadn’t known about. .45 derringer on her other leg, which I had forgotten about. She looked like Mad Max entering Bartertown as the weapons clanked into a basket. With the same grin on her face, she stepped through the metal detector, without a beep.
The guards pointed us to the elevator, but I stopped Brit. “Give them up!” I said. Her grin disappeared and she looked pissed again, but I stood in front of her, impatiently. The impasse lasted for a good ten seconds, until two ceramic knives appeared as if by magic and were deposited on the basket.
“Such an asshole,” she whispered, and we got on the elevator, followed by an impressed Lt. Rheam.
“Just trying to save your life, honey.”
“Stop being Scarletti’s dog, and think of your FAMILY, and we’ll be fine.”
I had no answer to that. The rest of the ride up was made in silence.
Chapter 238
The top floor of the Corning Tower had been turned into an Operations Center, with video screens and computer workstations being manned by military personnel from what was left of all five services. I recognized a few faces, but had no time for small talk. Rheam led us into Scarletti’s office, then shut the door behind him as he left.
Tacked to the wall was a paper map of downtown Washington DC, and sitting in front of it was General Scarletti. I
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