George looked down at the gun in his hands as if he didn’t know how it had gotten there. Ashamed, he held it out to Jenn, who unloaded it and stowed the magazine.
Even if it had achieved the desired effect, Gibson still felt disgusted with himself for losing his temper. No one had treated him that way after his release. But maybe he wouldn’t be in the mess he found himself in if someone had. Then again, who was he kidding? No one had ever talked him out of a bad idea in his life.
George sat down, rubbed his face thoughtfully. “I apologize. My social graces don’t appear to be what they once were. Would one of you be so kind as to catch me up on what I’ve missed?”
Where even to begin? Jenn sketched out their current situation. There would be time later to tell the whole story, but for now she gave him a severely streamlined version of the last couple of years. George took it all in and, to his credit, kept his questions to a minimum.
“I owe you both an apology,” George said. “It is my fault this woman is in our lives. You’re right about that, Gibson. And you’ve both paid a heavy price for my negligence. I hope you can forgive me.” He looked at each of them in turn, searching their faces.
“There’s nothing to forgive, George,” Jenn said. “We all paid.”
“Amen,” Gibson said.
George nodded gratefully. Jenn adjusted the blanket around his shoulders and squeezed his arm. It was a damned touching scene. One they didn’t have time for at the moment. Gibson looked at Jenn and tapped the back of his wrist. She nodded in agreement and slid into the pilot’s seat. Gibson saw her steel herself before dialing Calista Dauplaise. Gibson patched in George’s headset so he could listen along. The phone barely rang before Calista picked up. As if she’d been holding the phone anticipating the call.
“Hello, Jennifer. I had expected to hear from you earlier.”
At the sound of her voice, George stiffened in his seat. His hands went white around the armrests.
“We ran into complications,” Jenn explained.
“I see. And what is the prognosis?”
“We have the plane. We’re in the air now.”
“Tremendous news. And George?”
“We have him.”
Calista waited expectantly, but Jenn didn’t elaborate beyond that. George looked like he had walked into a foreign movie halfway through and was trying to guess the plot.
“When should I expect you?” Calista asked as if planning a late supper.
“I’d estimate a little over three hours. On our way to you now.” In three hours, they’d be on the ground in Florida. By the time Calista figured out she’d been double-crossed, Jenn and George would already have switched aircraft and be on their way to Europe.
“I see,” Calista said.
“Is everything set on your end? I’d like to—”
“Jennifer. Please spare me,” Calista said, the temperature of her voice dropping precipitously. “I am not, when last I checked, in Venezuela.”
Jenn and Gibson traded a look, knowing what it meant. Somehow Calista had gotten access to the plane’s GPS and was tracking their course, the same as Eskridge. They should have anticipated that.
Calista said, “I apologize. Have I interrupted your performance? Would you care to finish?”
“No, I’m good.”
“I suppose it was to be expected, but I will admit to some small disappointment. I held out some hope that, after so long, we understood one another.”
“Oh, I think I understand you,” Jenn said. “Don’t you worry.”
“Yes. As I understand you, Jennifer.”
Something in the tone of Calista’s voice made Gibson alert. She didn’t sound defeated. Or even angry. She practically purred with haughty self-satisfaction. Readying the other shoe for its long drop. Jenn heard it too.
“All right,” Jenn said. “I don’t see any point in belaboring this. Good-bye, Calista.”
“A moment more, if I may?” Calista said.
Jenn’s hand hovered over the button on the console, caught between the desire to hang up and wanting to know why Calista sounded so damned assured. They’d lost a little of their head start, but they should still be all right. Still, her hand hovered.
“What do you want?” Jenn asked.
“Someone would like a word.”
For a moment, Gibson conjured an elaborate conspiracy in which Calista and Eskridge were still partners. It was all a trap designed to get them all together in one place. The plane would explode any moment. It was absurd for any number of reasons, but it felt undeniably true in his head.
Duke whistled. “That’s paranoid even by my standards.”
“Jenn, I’m sorry. I didn’t see them coming.”
It was Dan Hendricks. Calista had him.
Gibson flashed back to his conversation with Eskridge. He hadn’t given it much credence at the time, but Eskridge had been sure that Dan Hendricks wasn’t in California. Looked like he had known better.
“It’s okay,” Jenn said. “What happened? Where are you?”
“I’m in Virginia. They took me yesterday at dawn.”
Jenn looked furious. “Are you okay? Have you been hurt?”
“No, I’m fine. Embarrassed but fine. How’s George?”
“He’s okay. He’s here.”
“Well, that’s something.”
Calista came back on the line. “That’s enough. You will have plenty of time to reminisce later.”
“So you were always planning on betraying me?”
“No, you silly girl. I was always planning on you betraying me. And I mean that as a compliment, Jennifer. You’re far too smart to trust me. This was all foreseeable. We are, in the end, coerced by the choices we have made, repeating them time and time again. Isn’t that right, Gibson? I trust you’re listening in. Perhaps George is as well. Hello, my old friend.”
“You think kidnapping Dan is going to convince me to trust you?” Jenn said.
“I merely flew Daniel out from California to remind you of the importance of honoring your agreements.”
“So what do you want?” Jenn said.
“Only what we agreed. Bring me my aircraft.”
“And what happens then?”
“You take what is yours. I take what is mine. We part ways and never see each other again.”
Jenn covered the headset’s microphone and looked at Gibson for confirmation. He nodded. It wasn’t even a question. Dan and he might never have gotten on like a house on fire, but Hendricks was one of them. They couldn’t leave him behind. Not with Calista. The real question was George. He’d been free for less than an hour, and now they were contemplating taking him back to the woman who had put him there. It was asking a lot. They turned around in their seats to face George.
Gibson didn’t think he’d ever forget it. Even beaten and broken in places, George radiated a noble fury. In another time, he would have been right at home astride a horse addressing his troops. The way he looked each of them in the eyes gave Gibson goose bumps.
“Let’s go get our man,” he said.
And that was that.
“We’re on our way,” Jenn told Calista.
“Three hours, Jennifer. Turn the aircraft around and under no circumstances deviate from my heading. Do not appeal again to my baser instincts.”
“Three hours,” Jenn confirmed and disconnected the call.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE