Chapter 8: A dangerous liaison

Face's head was all over the place as they drove up to the airport security checkpoint. Luciano glanced warily at him, worried that the Lieutenant was going to blow the scam.

"Hey, Blondie!" he hissed at him. "Any ideas how we're gonna get through the barrier? I don't exactly look like the picture on Able 9's security pass!"

"Huh!" muttered Face, his eyes losing their glazed look as he suddenly remembered he had a job to do. "Oh, don't worry – this will be a piece of cake! I know the guy on security. It's the airport we use when we have to fly a mission for Stockwell. Just flash the ID quickly and I'll do the rest."

Luciano scowled as he slowed down to stop at the barrier. He wasn't as confident as Face that this was going to work. One of the guards came out of the kiosk and approached the car, as Luciano wound down the dark, tinted window.

"ID?" requested the guard.

Luciano delved into the compartment in his door and quickly flashed the ID in front of the guard. He made sure his thumb covered part of the picture profile. The guard bent forward as if to take a closer look, when Face suddenly piped up from the passenger seat.

"Hi Mr Dansky!" he said in a friendly, up-beat voice. "How's it hanging?"

Mr Dansky immediately looked over at Face.

"Is that you, Temp?" he asked, a big smile on his face.

"The one and only!" beamed back Face. "How's that 30 year old bottle of malt whiskey holding out?"

Mr Dansky leant his arm on the window as he peered over at Face.

"Real smooth, boy!" he replied, with an appreciative whistle. "Real smooth!"

As the guard was now well and truly distracted, Luciano swiftly put the ID back in the door. Face engaged Mr Dansky in further meaningless jibber-jabber and then got back down to business again.

"Well, I can't hang around here all day, Mr D", he quipped. "I've got an appointment with the Old Man!"

Mr Dansky nodded, as if he understood who Face was referring to.

"Better not keep him waiting," he replied. He stepped away from the car and gestured to the other guard in the kiosk to raise the barrier. He waved at Face as Luciano drove the car through the checkpoint.

"Not just a pretty face, are you!" remarked Luciano, in an impressed voice.

"I have my moments!" replied Face.

The General had his own sectioned-off area on the airfield. Face pointed to where his small private jet was situated, just off the main runway. Luciano drove the car over to the jet, pulling up a few yards away. Luciano looked at the clock – it was just a little over 12 o'clock.

"Let's go!" he said to Face.

They both got out of the car. Luciano looked Face up and down for a few bemused seconds.

"You really are dressed to kill!" he joked, as he made his way round to the boot of the car.

Face declined to comment. Before closing his door, he took off his jacket and tie and flung them on the back seat. The Italian, meanwhile, walked round to the boot and took out a Springfield Osprey .45 revolver, together with a silencer. He put them both in his gun holster, which was tucked underneath his jacket.

"After you, Blondie!" he said to Face, as he slammed the boot shut.

Face walked nervously over to the jet. The steps were down and two bodyguards were lurking just inside the door at the top. They beckoned to Face and Luciano to come up. Face went first and Luciano followed him. The bodyguards nodded at them both as they walked past and then resumed their positions at the top of the stairs.

"It's just one big happy family here, ain't it!" whispered Luciano to Face, sarcastically.

Inside, the jet basically looked like an office. There were a couple of passenger seats each side of the aisle by the windows and an office chair and desk tucked away at the back of the aisle. Luciano sat down on one of the passenger seats, which was facing into the jet, in the opposite direction to where the two guards were positioned.

Stockwell was sitting behind his desk, surrounded by a pile of papers, a computer and fax machine.

"What's all this about, Lieutenant?" asked the General, as Face approached the desk.

Before Face had time to answer, Luciano, was up and out of his chair, deftly coupling the gun and silencer together. The two bodyguards, who were immediately alerted by the sudden movement, came hurtling down the aisle, pistols at the ready.

But they were no match for Luciano, who looked as cool as a cucumber as he took them both out with two well-aimed body shots from his gun. They immediately collapsed to the ground. Face looked on in horror as Luciano then pointed his gun at Stockwell.

"Give Peck the diary, General!" he snarled. "Nice 'n' easy now!"

Face held out his hand towards the General.

"You don't want to do this, Lieutenant," warned Stockwell. "It's not too late to …."

Face felt the blast of warm air waft past his ear as Luciano took a pot shot at the General. He took the bullet directly in the chest as he was propelled back in his seat, before flopping forward head first on the desk – straight on top of the diary!

"Are you crazy!" spluttered Face, his eyes open wide in complete disbelief.

"Just get the diary and let's get out of here!" ordered Luciano.

Face reached out across the desk and grabbed the diary, which was still opened on the page that Stockwell was reading. He felt a wave of repulsion well up inside him as he pulled the diary away from under Stockwell's slumped body, slamming it shut. He turned round to face Luciano, pausing for a few seconds, as if he wasn't sure what he was going to do next.

"Lieutenant!" cautioned Luciano, "There's no way back for you now!"

Face knew Luciano was right. Nothing he could do or say could possibly make this nightmare go away. He followed Luciano down the aisle, carefully stepping over the two stricken Ables on the way out.

Luciano was already standing at the top of the stairs, eager to make a quick getaway.

"Give it to me!" snapped Luciano.

Face reluctantly handed over the diary. Luciano stared at Face ominously and for a moment Face thought he was going to shoot him. He braced himself for the worst, but Luciano's attention was suddenly distracted by the sound of an approaching car. Instead, he grabbed Face by the arm and pulled him in front of him.

Before the car stopped, Face saw Hannibal jumping out of the passenger seat. Murdock, BA and Frankie, instantly followed his lead from their positions in the back seat. The last person out of the car was the driver, whom Face presumed must be one of the Ables.

"Friends of yours!" barked Luciano, angrily, in Face's ear. "Have you set me up, Pretty Boy!"

"No, no!" stammered Face, in bewilderment. "They must have followed me!"

"I hope for your sake you're right!" growled back Luciano.

Luciano pushed Face forward, holding the gun to his head as they walked down the jet stairs.

"Stay where you are!" Luciano yelled out to the team. "Not unless you want to see Blondie's brains splattered all over the place!"

Everyone on the ground froze. Luciano and Face came slowly down the stairs and over to the car. Luciano eyed the men up calmly before shooting out the front tyre on the Able's car. They all instinctively dived to the ground for cover. He told Face to open the driver's door.

"Get in and slide over," order Luciano.

Face did as he was told, afraid that Luciano would start shooting at the guys. As he bent down to get in the car, Luciano hit him hard over the head with the butt of his gun, knocking him unconscious. He gave him a shove and jumped in, pushing Face over to the passenger seat. He slammed the door shut, flung his weapon on the back seat and hit the acceleration pedal.

He drove quickly back to the security barrier. He waved at Mr Dansky, who obligingly put the barrier up for him, not realising what had gone on. The kiosk was on the driver's side of the car and because of the dark, tinted windows, he couldn't see that Face was spark out in the front seat. Luciano's evil smirk returned to his face as he sped off.

He was aware that he only had one bullet left in his magazine and that was reserved for Richard Bancroft. The only reason why he hadn't blown him away on the jet, was because he needed him to get away from the airfield.

But he could wait a bit longer. After all, he had already waited over 32 years for this moment – a few more minutes wouldn't make any difference!