“Have you been in to see him?” Jim asked his friend.
Brock sighed. “Yes, I have. And I’ve never seen such a change in so short a time. He seemed almost like his old self before leaving DC. Nearly jubilant.”
Jim knew what was going on. “He was going home, Brock. Putting up a good front so we’d let him get back to Texas. Buck Halsey always said he wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere but his beloved home state. Literally.” Something else was bothering his old friend and confidant. “What’s up?”
Shaking his head, Brock said, “Your father is dying.”
“I know that much. Quit being our lawyer for a minute and tell me what’s really bothering you.”
Reluctantly, Brock said, “He had me change his will before we left DC.”
Jim had a feeling that was happening. And it didn’t matter one way or another to him. “How does that bother you?”
The lawyer shifted in his chair.
“Come on, Brock. Unless my father completely cut me out, how does this matter?”
“Well, it’s not that bad. But he did split the assets fifty/fifty between you and your sister.”
“Good. It’s not like college professors make that much money. I’m sure she could use it.” Whether she could or not, his sister Sara had never been concerned with money. Her only interests were in history and mathematics. That hadn’t changed since their youth.
Nearly simultaneously both of their phones went off, indicating incoming text messages. Jim looked at Brock and shrugged. Then he checked his phone. It was a text from Jake Adams.
“Check your phone,” Jim said.
Brock looked at his phone and his expression changed from concern to grave in seconds. “My God! He had her and now he doesn’t have her.”
“Let me call him,” Jim said. He punched in the number for Jake Adams and waited.
Finally the phone clicked on the other end and a man said, “Yeah.”
“Jake? This is Jim Halsey.”
“I know who it is,” Jake said. “I never forget a face or voice.”
“What’s going on?” the senator asked.
“Can you put it on speaker?” Brock asked.
Jim fiddled with his phone until it went to speaker.
“Who is that with you, senator?” Jake asked.
“It’s Brock Winthrop. You’re on speaker phone.”
“Great. Why not just broadcast this on FOX News.”
The senator ignored the slight and said, “Listen, we’re in Texas. My father is dying and we need to get Sara home before he dies.”
“I’m sorry about that, senator, but we’ve got a bit of a problem here in Italy. Armed men came and took her from us. There was a shoot out, but Sara, I believe, is all right.”
“What,” Brock chimed in. “She was kidnapped. How is she all right?”
Jim put his hand on his friend’s arm to settle him down. “We’re not questioning your competence,” Jim assured Jake.
“I sure as hell hope not,” Jake said. “Because I took a damn bullet in the gut, and we had to shoot four Sicilian Mafia men.”
“My God,” Jim said. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, the bullet went right through my external oblique muscle, missing the ribs and the pelvis.”
“Did you say Sicilian Mafia? I thought the Greeks were after Sara.”
“They were here also. They took Sara and left the others to kill me and my friend here.”
“I’m sorry. Is your friend all right?”
“Yeah, senator, she’s fine. But you know what the Sicilians do to someone who kills their own?” Jake hesitated. “They hunt you down like a dog until they find you. Then if you’re lucky they just kill you. If you aren’t lucky, they keep you alive for awhile to make your last hours on earth a living hell.” He gave out a little wince.
“You all right?”
“Yeah, I twisted and it hurt a little. You ever been shot senator?”
“No, can’t say I have.”
“It’s not as painful as getting kicked in the nuts, but the pain lasts longer. I gotta go. Losing cell service.”
“Wait. Where do you think the Greeks took Sara?”
Hesitation. “I’d rather not say. But I have a feeling. I’ll let you know when I get her back.”
The line went blank.
Brock Winthrop turned the vehicle from the frontage road into the private hospital parking lot and pulled up to a VIP parking spot. “That man is the most arrogant man I’ve ever met.”
The senator laughed. “I guess you haven’t spent that much time on Capitol Hill.” He knew this wasn’t really true.
“You know what I mean. The man is a gunslinger.”
“Exactly. And that’s precisely who I want on my side under these circumstances.”
“Do you really think he knows where to find Sara?”
“If he says he knows, I’ve gotta believe him. You’ve seen the man’s credentials. I mean, come on. If he can take down an entire Kurdish terrorist group, he can surely handle a Greek kidnapping. Now, let’s go see if Buck Halsey is upstairs smoking a cigar.”
Jim was putting up a good front, but deep down his concern for his sister was coursing through every corpuscle in his body. Soon she would be all he had on this earth. Besides his wife, of course.
The Navy SH-60 Seahawk cruised over the Mediterranean Sea south of the island of Sicily at 60 knots, the bank of clouds ahead becoming more ominous with each turn of the rotors. Lieutenant Max Stevens piped through a medley of Rascal Flatts tunes through the headset, and Toni was just about ready to have him switch to something a little more edgy. She liked the country music group, but too much of a good thing could get monotonous.
“You all right, Toni?” the pilot asked as the helo shook with the wind. They looked to be heading right into a huge thunderstorm.
“Are you sure we can make it through that?” she asked.
“No problemo,” Max said. “Before I joined the Navy, I used to fly roughnecks to oil rigs in the Gulf. Now those were some crazy times.”
Toni glanced behind her into the troop transport area of the Seahawk and noticed the two sailors appeared to be sleeping through the turbulence, their submachine guns cradled over their laps.
“How much farther?” Toni asked the pilot.
“Just ahead.” He aimed the nose down and they broke free from some cloud cover.
She finally saw the large yacht ahead. Jesus, it looked as big as a coast guard cutter. Bigger, perhaps. The yacht rocked in the heavy seas but seemed to be having no problem cutting the waves.
“We can’t land on that, Toni,” Max said. “You’ll have to go down in a harness. You ever do that before.”
She nodded her head. “Unfortunately.”
“Good. Then head back and the guys will strap you in.”
Toni got up to go and tapped the pilot on the shoulder. “Thanks for the ride, Max.”
“Any time. But next time schedule a little better weather.”
Moving into the back, the two sailors had heard the pilot and were preparing the harness. She stepped into it and they tightened it all around her. Then they clicked the harness to the cable and gave her a thumbs up. She smiled at them.
One of the sailors said, “When you hit the deck, make sure you bend your legs and release the cable immediately. Otherwise with the pitching deck and our helo popping up and down in the wind, you could break a leg.”
“Understand,” Toni said. This wasn’t her first time dropping down from a helo, but it was the first time under these conditions to a pitching deck.
Seconds later and she was on her way over the side, the cable reeling down and the wind whipping her body around in circles. Simultaneously the Seahawk descended until it reached a respectable distance above the yacht, its massive rotors keeping pace with the boat. She hoped like hell her Agency had properly coordinated her visit. Otherwise who knew what kind of reception she would get.