Wings of Steele - Destination Unknown (Book 1) (26 page)

In
the interest of keeping busy, Kyle had decided to fix a leaky
faucet
and went to the hardware store for some parts. Lisa, Jack's younger
sister, was walking the family dog on the beach and Nina, who came
once a week to tidy up, was in the living room running the vacuum
cleaner across the area rug.

Lynnette
looked up from the vegetables she was slicing when the
doorbell
chimed. "Nina, would you get that? My hands are all wet!"

"Sure,
Mrs. Steele!" She thumbed off the switch and leaving the
machine,
headed for the door. Padding barefoot across the rug and the tiled
foyer, she opened the door to find two men in dark sunglasses and
dark suits waiting patiently. "Can I help you?" She asked.

"Mrs.
Steele, please." They knew Mr. Steele had left the house but
not
for how long. They hoped to play on Mrs. Steele's concern for her
son and get her to expose any information she might have knowledge
of, before her husband returned.

"And
who could I say is calling?"

The
taller of the two men stepped forward to look into the house,
but
Nina moved the door to block his view. He pushed on the door and
brushed by her. "FBI," was all he said, as he quickly
flashed his ID.

"Hey,"
she objected, "wait a minute..." but he was already in the
house.

The
second man followed the first. He looked the girl up and down,
"Don't
want any trouble, Missy, do we? Is your green card all up to date?"

Nina
had an even tan and dark reddish-brown hair, but her only ethnic
claim
was that she was half Seminole Indian. "I'm a born citizen, you
jerk!" she snapped, indignant.

Lynnette
Steele turned the corner from the kitchen, holding a towel,
drying
her hands. "Can I help you gentlemen?"

"FBI,
Mrs. Steele," he flashed his ID again, as fast as before. "Need
to
ask you a few questions."

She
stood unmoved. "Hope you don't mind if I get a better look at
that..."
She pointed to the breast pocket where the ID had gone. The agent
drew it out and handed it to her. Lynnette examined the identity
badge and returned it. Jack had spent several years on the police
department, Kyle had spent over twenty-five. She was not naive and
would take no bullying. "Ok," she said, handing it back.
"Now, apologize to Nina then tell me what you want and why
you've been so rude."

The
agent apologized, reluctantly. Then they began asking questions.
How
does Jack make a living? Where did he go? When did she last see him?
When did he call last?
Nina sat quietly on the arm of the couch, but Lynnette would have
none of it. "Wait a minute," she said, holding up one
hand, "this sounds more like an interrogation than a few
questions. Maybe you'd better tell me what this is all about."

"I'm
sorry," said the first agent, flatly. "That's classified."

"Well
then, I'm sorry," added Lynnette, folding her arms across her
chest,
"you don't answer mine, I don't answer yours. You know where
the door is, " she said motioning toward the door dismissively.
“Don't let it hit you in the ass on the way out.” The
need for more information about Jack was killing her, but she wasn't
about to give in.

The
commotion outside on the sundeck made everyone in the room turn
around.
A third agent escorted Jack's younger sister Lisa in through the
sliding glass doors gripped tightly by her elbow. "Caught this
one outside spying."

"I
live here you moron!" Lisa flailed but the agent gripped her
arm
like
a vice. "Ow! Let go!"

"We
don't have any record of her..." one agent said to the other.

When
Kyle Steele pulled back into the driveway, there were two new
vehicles
parked there. He didn't know many of Jack's friends, but he couldn't
picture any of them driving long dark anonymous sedans. He parked on
the grass next to the garage, out of view from the rest of the
house. Having stopped for a few groceries after the hardware store,
he hefted a large paper bag under one arm and closed the van door
quietly. It made no sound. The freshly mown grass smelled sweet and
shooshed softly as he made his way to the open garage door. Once
inside the garage, he rummaged silently through the cabinets above
Jack's workbench until he found what he was looking for. He set it
in the bag on top of the ice cream. Kyle cautiously entered the
kitchen through the garage, thankful he'd lubricated the door's
hinges earlier that week.

"I
don't care if you have a record or not," shouted Lynnette,
"she's
my
daughter!"

Kyle
had no idea who these men were. And at this point he was not
interested
in asking for identification. He ended up behind the agent and Lisa,
one arm circling the bag, his free hand resting on top. "Release
my daughter," he said calmly, "or you'll pull back a
stump." She was released immediately. As the agent turned, Kyle
let the bag slide through his grasp and drop to the floor. In his
free hand was a Sig Sauer 226, 9mm semi-automatic. When the bag hit
the floor, it became an unspoken exclamation point. He aimed over
Lisa's shoulder at the man's right eye. "I wouldn’t miss
at five times this range," Kyle added calmly. Kyle was an
expert, it would actually be closer to ten.

"FBI,"
said the man slowly.

"That's
nice..." retorted Kyle. He wasn't sure whether to believe
them
or not yet. "Suppose you back up." Lisa ducked under his
line of fire and ran out the sliding glass door to the sundeck.

"We'd
really feel more comfortable if you put that away," said the
first
agent.

"Feel?
You're gonna feel a nine-mil in your forehead if you don't do what I
tell you to
do."
They made no attempt to resist and retreated towards the front door
as he advanced.

"You
don't really think you'd get us all if we decided to draw on
you.
Do you?" The first agent looked blankly at his partner, he
couldn’t believe he'd said something so stupid.

"Well,"
said Kyle, sarcastically, "I need what, say two apiece?
That's
six. If things get a little messy and I have to hurry and need three
each, that's nine I've got sixteen. Since you're the asshole with
the biggest mouth, I'll make sure you're first..."

"I
apologize for my partner's foolish remarks," began the first
agent,
glaring at the second. "But we are here about your son."
He gingerly pulled his ID from his suit pocket, closely watched by
the angry father. "It's a matter of extreme importance."

Kyle
examined the badge and identification card, "So tell me about
my son." He
handed
it back and dropped his gun hand, tucking the 9mm into his waistband
in the small of his back.

"We
were hoping you could tell us," said the agent who had grabbed
Lisa.

The
doorbell chimed and Kyle pointed to the closest agent, "Answer
that."
The agent opened the door and disappeared like he'd been sucked out.
When the second turned to investigate the door swung wide and he was
dragged out by his tie. Along with the first, he was escorted down
the driveway by well armed Marines in camouflage fatigues.

A
well muscled man stepped forward, grabbing the final FBI man by
his
sleeve, "
You
,
out!" He told him, tossing him towards the door. He handed Kyle
his ID and tipped his cap to Lynnette and Nina who stood by, their
mouths agape. "Special Agent Doug Wilson, Mr. Steele. Central
Intelligence Agency. Sorry these clowns had to bother you. It won't
happen again." Lisa was escorted up the drive from the street
by another agent in fatigues, she entered the house and smiled
politely, if not a bit stunned.

"What
the hell is going on here?!" Demanded Kyle.

"Maybe
we'd better all sit down sir." They gathered in the living
room
and made themselves comfortable. "First, what I am about to
tell you is a matter of national security. I am limited in the
details I am allowed to tell you and must ask that what I do divulge
does not leave this room." They all agreed.

"Is
he working for you?" asked Lisa, rather bluntly.

"In
a manner of speaking," began Wilson. "He was delivering a
plane
for
us..."

"Did
he know who he was working for?" inquired Kyle.

"That,
I don't know," answered the agent.

Lynnette
didn't like where this was going, it sounded too past
tense.
"So where is he now? Why was the FBI here looking for him?"

Agent
Wilson decided to answer the question he knew the answer to
first.
"Well, during the delivery, a situation arose where someone
attempted to take the plane away from him by force..."

"Was
he hurt?" Interrupted Lisa.

"Not
to our knowledge ma’am, there was no indication of that.
Anyway, he was forced to defend himself and
the
plane..."

"And
he killed someone in the process..." added Kyle.

Wilson
nodded. "Several men."

"That's
why the FBI was here!" Lynnette shouted.

"Right."
Wilson wanted to tell it and get it over with. "Anyway, he
and
the plane disappeared somewhere near the northeastern coast of South
America in a weather front off the edge of the Bermuda Triangle."
He left out many of the sensitive details, especially the missing
F18s, the guns, the dead police, the drugs and the Russians. "The
search lasted for almost two weeks, but nothing has been found. Our
best information says he had plenty of fuel and likely made
landfall." He went on to explain that he had told them all he
could and would appreciate their help if Jack should happen to
contact them. He assured them, the CIA was only interested in Jack's
best interests and could clear up any problems to get him home
safely.

"Bullshit,"
said Kyle, once Wilson had left. "They don't want him
back
to protect him. They want him back to tie up a loose end." He
may not have known all the details, but he knew they wouldn't bother
telling the whole truth either. He knew how they operated,
anything
in the name of national security, whatever it takes, whoever it
hurts.

"I
hope he's Ok," mumbled Lisa, tears welling up in her eyes.

"He's
fine," stated Lynnette with confidence. "You'll see."
She
prayed
she was right.

PRINCESS
HEDONIST: DEPARTING, LAN SYSTEM

Carefully
smoothing his tunic, Jack stepped out into the corridor
with
Maria on his arm and was greeted by the rest of the pilots. The
group had a big evening planned, dining at the Captain's table in
the famous Nova Restaurant then a show and dancing at the Starlight
Show Lounge.