Monster (7 page)

“What?”

Reskova looked away quickly. “Nothing, I was just wondering how anyone as big as you could blend in anywhere.”

“Where I’ve been, it wasn’t all that hard. This gig won’t have me blending in anywhere undercover anyway, will it?”

“Not likely.”

“Do we really have to fly down to LA before heading to Detroit?” McDaniels asked. “There are straight through flights from Sacramento, you know.”

“I’m in the dark on that too. Dreyer called me this morning and said they want us on a flight from LA to Detroit tonight to observe some passengers. Believe me, I’m not thrilled spending the whole day getting processed through airports either.”

“You could at least flash your badge and get us into the VIP lounge.”

“Right. That’ll happen.” Reskova looked down at her watch. “We can go get some lunch. We have over an hour before the plane leaves.”

“I’ll have some iced tea with you. I’m not much on eating and flying.”

“Oh, the poor boy gets queasy on flights?” Reskova mocked him, surprised McDaniels would admit any weakness to her. She immediately regretted it as she saw McDaniels smile and remembered the aftermath of seeing Hughes’ head. “Don’t say it. I know what you’re thinking.”

McDaniels chuckled amiably, patting her on the shoulder. “Remember, I told you to let it go until morning. It still upset you, even though you have a doctorate in pathology. Anyway, I’m just more comfortable not eating before flights. I’ll eat a little when we get in the air.”

“It was a combination of the tension and surprise,” Reskova replied defensively, standing up and smoothing her skirt. “I’m starving. Come on. I’ll buy you the iced tea. I hate airline food. No matter what I eat in-flight, I end up spending the rest of the flight in the bathroom.”

“I don’t blame you then.” McDaniels followed her into the small restaurant near the boarding gate. “I can barely get in one, let alone spend the flight there.”

The two remained quiet as Reskova ate her plate of chicken, mashed potatoes, and corn. McDaniels sipped his drink, still interested in the comings and goings of the people passing through the restaurant. Reskova tried to ascertain what drew McDaniels’ interest.

“Are you looking for something in particular?” Reskova asked him.

“Nope, just staying alert.”

“I see. You’re so used to being alone in the woods, when you’re in a place full of people, it freaks you out.”

McDaniels laughed. “Very funny. You do remember the war on terror, right? You know, the one where common and not so common citizens stay aware of their surroundings. Doesn’t the FBI stay cognizant of threats in public places anymore?”

“In fact, that’s why we’re spending the day wasting away in different airports.”

“How so?”

“Do you remember a story about fourteen Syrian band members all traveling together, doing goofy trips around their plane, and scaring the other passengers on the flight they were on?”

“Yeah, it happened not too long ago. A reporter on board took exception to being on an Al Queda terrorist dry run flight.”

“That was never proven.”

“Of course not - three different branches of security meet the plane, take the clowns into custody, and then all fail to observe thirteen of fourteen were carrying expired visas - great example of homeland security there. If not for other passengers and the air marshals on board backing up the reporter’s observation, it would have all been swept under the rug.”

“I seem to have pushed a hot button, Colonel.”

“Although I don’t pretend to know the intricacies of governmental policy, I would have locked those jerks up in Cuba for a few months - just as a warning to other morons from listed terrorist nations doing stand up comedy on our domestic flights. Ever wonder how retarded it is to keep accepting visas from over there?”

“But they were all musicians who were playing with a singer known as the Syrian Wayne Newton?” Reskova mentioned with an earnest look.

McDaniels shook his head. “Good one, Reskova. You warned me and I’m still diving into this one. It is a hot button. I’d have thrown the redoubtable Syrian Fig Newton into the brig with the rest of his entourage.”

Reskova laughed appreciatively, nodding her head in agreement. “We all felt like that, Colonel. What could they have done with that idiot Norm Minnetta in charge of the Transportation Department?”

“Right, Normy decided to make sure we were all politically correct after 911 by throwing the concept of intelligent profiling out the window. Having a mental midget like him in charge of the Transportation Department in a time of war has to rank at the top of all time bureaucratic blunders.”

“As high as turning down Osama Bin Laden on a silver platter multiple times?” Reskova mentioned nonchalantly, again making McDaniels laugh.

McDaniels ran his hands through his hair and leaned back. “Hey, and how about them borders? We wouldn’t want to…”

“Okay, okay,” Reskova cut him off with a wave of her hand in a motion at her throat. “Enough already.”

“I was just getting into the spirit of the discussion.”

“If we start going over our border policy, I’ll be ready to turn in my badge.”

“So what’s this side trip all about?”

“Dreyer said there’s a group of Middle Eastern men booked to fly from LA to Detroit. Homeland Security would like us to watch them and ascertain whether they’re on a dry run or not.”

“Why not put some Air Marshals on the flight?”

“There will be four on board the flight. Dreyer would like your observations, because you speak the language,”

“Just that?”

“That’s what he said. I don’t think he wants you to throw any of them out of the jet or anything. Maybe you can pick up something the Air Marshals would miss.”

“Why don’t they just bug the plane? With all the notoriety I’ve attracted recently, I’m not sure how smart it is putting me in the middle of this.” McDaniels laughed suddenly. “By the way, I resent the throw them out of the plane comment. You seem far too complacent about this, Reskova. Do you know something about our side trip you’re not telling me?”

“Maybe Dreyer wants to see how you react to a less black and white situation. I’m just happy we won’t be in the woods.”

“Okay, I can see that. Just so you realize the fact if you trot me out in public like a dancing bear, I may not react to the tune quite the way you expect.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Reskova asked sharply.

“Nothing disrespectful,” McDaniels assured her, standing up. “We better get going.”

“Don’t go rogue on me up there, McDaniels.” Reskova pointed a warning finger at McDaniels as she also stood up.

“Rogue?” McDaniels repeated questioningly as he followed Reskova out of the restaurant.

“You know what I mean. Just observe and listen for information we can use.”

“Okay,” McDaniels acquiesced, sitting down next to her at their boarding gate. “Does your little task force get sent on assignments like this gig with the Syrians very often?”

Reskova looked at McDaniels pointedly for a moment, trying to determine if he was taking a cheap shot at her. When he continued to wait for her to answer without cracking a smile, she shrugged and leaned back in her seat.

“No. Tom, Jen, and I have been chasing Hughes for two years, from one end of the country to the other. Tom thinks this kidnapping was an act of frustration on Hughes’ part. Tom believed Hughes thought we were so stupid he’d have to slap us in the face just so he could have a challenge.”

When McDaniels kept quiet, Reskova looked over at him, leaning forward again. “I guess you think if we’d have had you, Hughes would have been dead inside of a week.”

McDaniels shook his head negatively, crossing his arms over his massive chest. “I was thinking I robbed you guys of closure when I took him down after the three of you dedicated two years of your lives to get him. There just wasn’t a choice - not with the little one’s neck on the line.”

“I’m sorry I acted the way I did in the woods,” Reskova replied quietly. “Alicia told Tom and Jen, Hughes would have carved her up to make her scream all night until he got us. You’re right. When Hughes was suddenly dead, it seemed too unreal to believe.”

“Did he ever go into the woods before?” McDaniels asked.

“We found sign he had but we could never catch him. When we thought we had him cornered in a certain area, we’d call in the helicopters, dogs, guides, and special details from the ATF. He eluded us every time. Hughes lost us in cities almost as easily as he did in the woods. We expected a pattern. He gave us chaos. We were taken off his case twice. Both times, Hughes killed indiscriminately until we were put back on his case.”

“Did he have any family?”

“Two brothers. They were under observation for the entire two years we were on the case. They always expressed disgust at what their brother did and vowed to turn him in if he ever contacted them. The two of them live on a rundown ranch near San Antonio. If they’d have sneezed, we’d have heard it. I’m glad it’s over.”

“How many law officers did Hughes kill during the time you were chasing him?”

“Four. Three, when they stopped him at a road block. One was a S.W.A.T. guy, who tried to go in after him when Hughes went into the Rockies for a time. Hughes butchered him. We didn’t find his body for two days. I…”

“No wonder Tom and Jen were so freaked about going in there after him,” McDaniels remarked.

“Why do you think they bothered to send us with you? Why not just send you on a search and destroy mission alone?”

“I think they were afraid I would disregard the little one’s safety,” McDaniels admitted.

“Maybe,” Reskova replied. “You can’t be the only guy they could have sent with us though, so I guess they were auditioning you for a slot on our team.”

“I hope you’re right. It probably doesn’t give you much confidence in how your superiors felt about you three.”

“Noticed that, did ya’ Colonel?”

* * *

With two hours to wait for the next leg on the trip, Reskova and McDaniels sat together in John Wayne International Airport at the gate they were due to leave for Detroit from. McDaniels dozed fitfully while Reskova read a novel and watched the few people who were there early for the same flight. No Middle Eastern group had arrived. A tall, slender black man walking by stiffly with the help of a cane did a double take at the dozing McDaniels. Dressed in a three-piece dark gray suit, the man looked like the CEO of a major firm. He set his brief case down. Reskova sat up straight, wondering what the man’s interest was in McDaniels. He smiled at Reskova before calling out quietly.

“Colonel McDaniels?”

McDaniels popped up in his seat, instantly alert. When he saw the man standing in front of them, McDaniels seemed stunned. Standing up quickly, McDaniels grasped the man’s proffered hand with both of his. The two men held their posture for more than a few moments before McDaniels spoke.

“Jesus, Ken, it’s good to see you.”

“Hell,” the man named Ken exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief. “I thought you died in Naseria. Then I saw the news about the Hughes’ killing and I laughed my ass off. What in God’s name got into you, boy, and what the hell are you doing out of a jail cell?”

Reskova had stood up next to McDaniels. She watched the man McDaniels called Ken run both of his hands over his close cropped graying hair. He almost seemed to be trying to dispel the illusion he thought McDaniels represented. Finally, when McDaniels gestured at Reskova, Ken turned his attention to her.

“I saw you in the news report too,” Ken said to her. “FBI, right?”

“I’m Special Agent Diane Reskova, Sir. I take it you know the Colonel here.”

“This is Ken Folley, one of the best AC-130 gunship drivers of all time. How’s the leg?”

“Coming back slowly, Colonel. I won’t be flying anytime in the future,” Ken replied, shaking hands with Reskova. “At least I didn’t lose it.”

“You going to Detroit on this flight?” McDaniels asked, gesturing for Folley to sit down with them.

“Yeah, I have a new gig going,” Folley answered. “Want to go have a coffee with me? We can get a booth.”

“Sounds good,” McDaniels agreed, while Folley picked up his briefcase. “That okay with you, Diane?”

“Sure, I’ll have something with you two.”

When they were seated at a booth in the restaurant near the gate, Folley kept glancing at McDaniels and chuckling as the waitress took their order.

McDaniels grinned. “Okay, Ken, what the heck’s so funny?”

“You first, Cold Mountain,” Folley countered. “How the hell did you beat the rap?”

“It was public outcry, Mr. Folley,” Reskova answered for McDaniels.

“I caught a break because of Senator Hokanson,” McDaniels added.

“Call me Ken, Diane. I’m a little surprised to see you two together. I read the transcript of your call down from the mountain. You weren’t too happy with Cold here.”

“We… ah…” Reskova stammered out, not knowing how to proceed. She was not to advertise the fact McDaniels would be working with her task force.