So what are parents supposed to do when they plan for one thing, and then a natural talent pops up and their plans go askew? It probably happened to other kids who weren’t poor little rich kids. Boys who could throw a football or shoot a basketball into a hoop were redirected into such ball throwing and basketball shooting occupations.
Her parents would have liked her to do something other than learn languages, but a skill is a skill and her particular skill did have value associated with it. Not the kind of value that could make millions of dollars, but then she didn’t really need to have a profession that made a lot of money. After all, she would inherit all her parents’ money if they were to ever die. But long before that, she would marry Richie Rich and go on to live her fairytale life.
Now the poor little rich girl was all by her lonesome in the big world. No one to clean up her messes. No one to mow the lawns. No one to advise her on what to do or how to do it. The only thing she had to go on was instinct, and her instinct told her to avenge her mother’s and her father’s death. Her instinct was not to save lives, in contrast to what her father had spent his career doing. Her instinct, her overwhelming desire, was to take the lives of those responsible for screwing up her life so badly. The only thing she had truly taken responsibility for in her entire life, was leaving college and joining the CIA, hoping her looks and language skills could get her close to those she longed to kill.
Someday it would happen. No long from now, she would find those responsible for her parent’s death, and then she would not be the poor little rich girl any longer.
She would be the happy assassin and she would make sure that there was no one left alive to clean up that mess.
Maryland ― Andrews Naval Air Facility
The Hail Gulfstream was not shot down prior to touching down on the tarmac of Andrews 11,300-foot western runway. Hail was happy about that. He was also happy that the local time in Washington was 10:30AM. With a little luck and a big helicopter, Hail would be on time for his lunch with the President.
Hail had slept wonderfully on the flight across two oceans. After the first hour of trying to sleep in the chair, he had woken, drank some orange juice and crashed on the comfy bed in back. He never even stirred when they had landed and took on fuel in Dakhla. By the time they had arrived in Washington, Hail had cleaned up and put on a black suit that had been hanging in the plane’s closet.
Hail didn’t like wearing suits. Never had. But hell, he was going to lunch with the President of the United States and anything less than a suit would have been disrespectful.
The Gulfstream taxied up to the area where the President’s Sikorsky UH-60 Black Hawk was located. Of course both Marine One and Marine Two had been modified for comfort rather than military use. Hail deployed the Gulfstream’s stairs and grabbing the handrail, he eased himself out into the dry cool air, careful not to hit his head on the doorway.
In the background, he heard Marine Two start its engines and was pleased that his taxi was waiting. He just hoped that the pilots wouldn’t be too pissed off when he changed the destination while they were already in the air.
Hail made his way over to the big red, white and blue chopper. By habit, Hail saluted the military lieutenant who was dressed in BDUs and waiting at the open door of the helicopter. The soldier looked at Hail funny and then awkwardly returned the salute.
Hail immediately felt foolish. He knew why he had saluted the man. It wasn’t because Hail was in the military or had ever been in the military. It wasn’t because he was intimidated. It wasn’t from an outburst of patriotism. Hail had saluted the man because his father had always made him salute officers since he was a little boy. Instead of a hug, he was instructed to salute his own father every time he came home from the work. Just about any uniform with important insignia got Hail’s hand moving up to his forehead. Old habits were hard to break.
“Step in please, Sir, and sit down and buckle up,” the lieutenant said.
Hail did as the young officer instructed. The chairs were not nearly as comfortable as they were on his plane, but it would be a short flight and he thought he could endure it. The lieutenant followed Hail on to the helicopter and sat in the seat to Hail’s left.
Two pilots could be seen via a video camera and monitor. The lieutenant made a twirly signal with his finger and the rotors increased speed and the door was drawn shut. The Black Hawk rose straight up from the ground, made a hundred and eighty-degree twist and then leaned forward and began to gain speed.
Hail had flown the same model of helicopter in the simulator on the Nucleus and actually had more flight time on the Black Hawk than he had on the AgustaWestland. He considered asking the lieutenant if he could fly it, but then thought he might think Hail was crazy and throw him out the side door. Hail didn’t like the idea of being thrown out, so he kept his mouth shut. It was only a short fifteen miles from Andrews to the Whitehouse, but it was a nice ride. Hail looked down at the old and proud city below and felt absolutely nothing. It didn’t inspire him in the least and that worried him. Hail actually felt sick about visiting the Nation’s capital, but he knew why and he would confront those issues in about five minutes.
Hail leaned over to the lieutenant and yelled, “Put me down there.” Hail pointed at a spot on the ground below that was rapidly approaching.
The soldier looked at him, then looked at where he was pointing and then asked, “What are you talking about? My orders are to take you to the Whitehouse.”
Hail shook his head no.
“I’m going to walk to the Whitehouse. I want you to drop me off there, in that clearing between the Vietnam Memorial and Constitution Gardens.”
The lieutenant shook his head adamantly, no. “No way, my orders were to…”
“I don’t care about your orders,” Hail growled at him. “Either you drop me off right there or turn this tub around and take me back to my plane. I’ll let you explain to the President why I didn’t make my lunch date with her.”
The lieutenant looked confused and worried.
The lieutenant said, “Even if I wanted to, look, there are people down there.”
“They’ll move,” Hail argued. “I mean if you saw a massive helicopter coming down on your head, wouldn’t you move?”
The lieutenant hoed and hummed and Hail could tell that the soldier wanted to tell the pushy man to go screw himself, but the thought of being responsible for canceling a lunch with the President had the lieutenant conflicted.
In the end, the lieutenant put on a headset and talked into a microphone to the pilots up front. Via his headset, the lieutenant instructed the main pilot to set them down in the grassy area in front of the memorial.
At first, the main pilot looked confused and Hail thought he was going to have to argue with him as well. But after a moment or two, the pilot simply rotated the craft into a position directly above the grassy area, and began to very slowly lower the machine down to earth. The few people that were lunching or sleeping or drinking below, scattered as the wind turned into a breeze that turned in a squall, which turned into a tornado. By the time the Sikorsky’s skids sunk into the Washington soil, Hail couldn’t see a single person anywhere in sight.
The lieutenant still looked pissed as he yanked open the door.
“Don’t wait for me, I’ll walk,” Hail told the soldier.
Hail jumped out of the chopper and before he could even clear the blade-wash, the rotors began to spin up. It’s just natural that almost everyone ducks in the proximity of a helicopter taking off, which was silly. The machine’s giant blades are well above head-level and when they began to take on lift, they actually bend up toward the sky, moving even further away from head-level. Even so, Hail ducked his head as he walked out from under the big helicopter blades. Paper, sticks, leaves, trash; anything that was not growing into the earth or was too heavy to go airborne, went flying. Hail shielded his face as dirt and dust tried to sneak into the tiny slits that had become his eyes.