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Fuck it. If I don’t do this, then there really isn’t much point in going along.
“Pressly,” I say into the microphone again. I don’t get a chance to finish my sentence because he comes down the stairs. Jesus Christ, that was fast.
Pressly sees my look of amazement and shrugs. “I figured you wouldn’t be taking no for an answer,” he says to me. “I take it you read this morning’s paper?”
What the fuck? Am I really that predictable? Is the whole story of my life something that can be fit into a nice formula? Well, I’ll fucking show all of them. Predictable my ass.
“Right, let me ask you a question, mate,” I say getting up and walking towards him. “Does Alicia still have the panic key that we gave her when we thought her name was Daphne?”
Pressly considers this for a moment before answering that he believes so. That’s it. I smile.
“Fucking beautiful,” I say with a grin. “Talk to Sam and get the coordinates for where that panic key is at and take the plane into that airspace.”
Pressly is confused by this, but I wave him off. “Just do it,” I tell him. “I’ll explain later.”
He finally nods and goes off into the plane to contact Sam. I go into the aft cargo hold and start rummaging around. There’s got to be something here that I can use. I start going through the various compartments in the cargo hold until I find what I’m looking for.
Perfect!
Sam and Pressly come into the cargo hold and Sam looks at me with a bit of consternation. “You wanted to know if Ms. Bayer is still using her panic key?” he asks me. I nod to him. Most likely it’s at the bottom of her purse and she forgot to take it out. That’s the beauty of the panic keys. They’re unobtrusive and can go pretty much anywhere. You only remember them when you need them and that’s
when you find them exactly where you left them.
Sam fiddles on his tablet and turns it to me. “She is actually using it still,” he responds. He points to a blinking red dot on a transit map of New York City. “She’s actually in transit.”
“Great,” I say again. “I’m fucking going after her.”
“Sire,” Pressly gets in a word. “I’m afraid the plane is still unable to land anywhere near her location. Airports in New York City, Connecticut, and New Jersey are all tied up with severe traffic.”
I grin at Sam and Pressly. That’s when Pressly realizes what I want to do. His face goes white. It takes Sam another minute.
“Sire, I must protest!” Same yells.
“You can’t be fucking serious!” Pressly chimes in.
Whoa. What the fuck. Sam and I both turn towards Pressly, who goes red. “Your Highness,” he adds a bit sheepishly. I smile and give out a laugh. Finally, I feel alive again.
“Tell the plane to turn and get close to the signal,” I say as I walk over and pull out a parachute and body gear. “And get me a tracker to wear on my wrist.”
To his credit, Sam, my bodyguard complies first. Pressly still has massive doubts and lets me know. “Sire, this is the rashest decision you have ever made!” he practically yells.
“More than the Bolivian housewife, Pressly?” I ask, turning around and giving him a grin. He considers for a moment. “She wasn’t a housewife, sire! She was the First Lady of Bolivia, and you could have started a war!”
“As long as the Americans don’t shoot me down, I think I should be okay,” I tell him as I start putting on my gear. I feel the plane tilt in its angle and start to descend.
Good, we’re on our way. Two minutes later Sam comes into the cargo hold and tells me we’ll be in position in five minutes. He also hands me a location tracker I can wear on my watch.
“It’ll tell you exactly what the coordinates are that she’s in, with about a two feet radius.”
I nod, and feel the plane bank even lower. They’re not wasting any time. Before I put my helmet on, there’s one last thing I need to do.
I call my Dad.
It rings three times before he picks up.
“Derrick? Are you okay, son?” he asks.
“Well, I’m not in jail anymore,” I reply back to him. “But okay? Not just yet.”
