John Bradford Horn, once-billionaire and present neo-machiavellian
orchestrator of political upheaval, was through the elevator doors before
they'd fully opened, long legs eating up the length of plush carpet in a
light stride. His skin, as fair as his daughter's, was suffused with
scarlet, his complexion having always been his one weak point in an
otherwise imperturbable exterior. Today, uncontrolled, it betrayed his
elation every bit as much as his glittering, sky blue eyes and the merry
little tune he whistled through his teeth.
He stopped in front of the second suite on the left of the wide corridor, and took a deep breath, visibly composing himself before giving the door a sharp rap. "Angelica?" There was a scuffling sound audible through the thick wood but nothing more. He rapped again, harder this time. "Angelica, are you in there?
This time there was no sound at all. Horn frowned slightly and felt into his back pocket for a small set of master keys, selecting one and inserting it in the deceptively old-fashioned looking lock. It turned easily and the door clicked open. The room was slightly dim, lit only by a single lamp in the corner of the bedroom, but bright enough to see clearly the heavy Mediterranean style furniture and the plush, feminine ruffles decorating the sitting room beyond. "Angelica, are you dressed?" the weapons vender asked, sticking his head around the jamb.
A lithe form swathed in a filmy white negligee uncurled from the bed. Angelica Horn rose slowly to her feet, loose blonde hair falling across her face and plastering itself across her wet cheeks. She palmed it back, uncovering swollen eyes underscored by black circles of smeared mascara, and a red nose. "What do you want?" she asked hoarsely.
Horn crossed the room, taking her by both shoulders. "Tears, Daughter?" he asked, forced sympathy at odds with the continued happiness in his face. "No tears! Not on the day of my long awaited victory!"
She jerked backward, freeing herself from his grip. "I suppose it was everything you expected it to be," she snapped, retreating in the direction of the heavily curtained window. "Was there enough suffering to satisfy you?"
If he even heard the venom in her voice there was no visible effect. He spread both hands palms up, his face raised ceilingward as though seeing a supernatural revelation. "You should have been there, Daughter! Hawke's reaction to Santini's 'death' was every bit as delicious as I'd pictured in my dreams! Every past failure, every humiliation, dealt out to me by that young thorn in my side, was adequately repaid in one all too swift master stroke!"
Expensive white silk ballooned out behind her as the woman spun away from the window. "You killed String's friend?" she gasped, wide blue eyes fixing him with a horrified look. "I thought.... I mean, I knew...."
Horn chuckled, clapping his hands together in glee. "Not his friend, my love, his father! Well, foster father, but why quibble over semantics? And he's not precisely dead."
The unmasked mischief in his face brought her a step closer. "What do you mean, he's not 'precisely' dead? What is the point of all this?"
"I've tried to explain this to you several times, Angelica, but you always refused to listen." He shook his head chidingly. "Have you changed your mind?"
"I still refuse to be a part of this," she spat back, wiping at her eyes with one hand. "But I want to know. What have you done?"
Horn took the girl's wrist. "What I've done," he began, pulling her down until they were both seated on the edge of the bed, "is to make Mr. Stringfellow Hawke believe that he's just seen his foster father, Dominic Santini, die due to his own non-cooperation. Or should I say, die again. I do recall telling you that Hawke and his friends were led to believe that Santini died in that helicopter explosion three months ago."
"An explosion you arranged, I suppose?" the woman asked, ducking her head.
Thin lips parted in a cruel smile. "While simultaneously manipulating certain forces within the Department of National Security to have Archangel transferred to Hong Kong. My plan was to kill Santini and leave Hawke isolated, thus making him a more malleable target for another little trade I had in mind involving an operation in Burma. Without Archangel he would have absolutely no support within the Firm; without Santini, he'd be emotionally vulnerable to any offer I might make." Light brows drew together in a frown. "My plan should have been foolproof."
Angelica Horn drew herself up, donning a scornful smile. "Don't blame yourself, Father. How could you possibly know that old man would survive an explosion like that?"
Ignoring the mockery or perhaps not hearing it, Horn nodded agreement. "Or that Hawke's older brother and his team would become complications. Unforeseen circumstances, you understand. Fortunately, my agent inside the Firm was on top of the situation and contacted me immediately. With his assistance it was child's play to whisk Santini -- still my most valuable weapon -- out of the hospital and cover his disappearance by bribing the funeral director into a substitution of bodies. The funeral director had an ... uh, unfortunate accident soon afterward. Pity."
"Pity," the woman mimicked.
That earned her a scowl. "Why, Angelica, I sense a lack of enthusiasm on your part. Can't you see the beauty in my plans? By forethought I've procured a weapon even the indomitable Stringfellow Hawke can't fight. He will have to obey my every command, and I've had the added pleasure of making him suffer for past humiliations. Little did he realize that what he witnessed was no more than the inevitable stress reaction caused by rousing the patient from induced coma." He opened his right arm wide, encompassing the room and by extension the entire world. "It was a triumph of sheer intelligence over foolhardy stubbornness. Can't you find it in you to relish this as much as I?"
Obviously not, for Angelica again ducked her head, allowing her long platinum hair to shield her expression. "Was it really worth it?" she asked plaintively. "Was revenge worth making a good man suffer like that?"
He snorted, pulling her hand closer and chaffing it in both his own, white teeth bared in a grin. "Suffer he did, too. I've allowed Hawke to believe Santini was dead for three months and played my final stroke for revenge against him tonight." She made to draw away again and Horn tightened his grip. "I realize you don't approve of my methods, Daughter, but what's done is done. Cheap revenge is usually unworthy of a man of my stature, but it's out of my system now and we may progress to the practical -- that means acquiring Airwolf and the means to use her."
"Airwolf." Angelica's voice lowered, growing even sadder. "Everything goes back to one helicopter."
"One absolutely unique weapon," the man corrected, "and the only man presently available who can fly her for me. Had Santini been less critically injured we might have been able to force the information from him." He made a throw-away gesture. "However, he would never survive the procedure and I don't believe in wasting trump cards unnecessarily. That brings us back to Stringfellow Hawke."
Slender shoulders stiffened then came back, bringing her head up. Angelica turned anguished eyes on the man, free hand raising in supplication. "Father, you don't have to do this. It's true we don't have the money we once did, but there's more than enough for us to live comfortably the rest of our lives. Isn't that enough? Can't that be enough for us?"
Horn's fair skin flushed again, this time with anger. "For what purpose? So that we can be fugitives for the rest of our lives? False names, disguises, smoke screens.... Constantly on the move from country to country, always looking over our shoulders for Interpol? Is that the type of life what's left of my money will buy us?"
"It could be enough!"
"No." Horn's handsome features hardened. "I will not live my life like that. As Aristotle once said, 'Happiness seems to require a modicum of external prosperity,' and I wish to be very happy indeed. If it will make you rest any easier, I've already ordered the Yakeyama tube opened and Santini released. I shall be communicating with Hawke very soon. I'll give him a fair opportunity to cooperate. You'll see."
"And if he won't?" She stared wildly at Horn's adamant expression, eyes brimming again. "Don't you see what you're doing to us? What you're doing to me? How can I live knowing what you've done? I...." She choked off, then continued hoarsely, "I can't live knowing what you've done."
Horn took both her hands in his own, turning until they were face to face. "What I'm doing is for us both. I want you to have a safe, secure home -- a place where you can live your life without hiding, and can marry and raise children."
She snatched back her hands and clasped them tightly in her lap. "You're not doing this for me. You're doing this to hurt String."
He looked mildly chagrined at having been discovered so easily, then shrugged. "I'm not used to losing, Angelica. All of what I am as a man is predicated upon my winning. Always. For eighteen months I've striven to make Stringfellow Hawke pay for shaming me, and now I've succeeded. Besides, Airwolf will put me back in the game of international politics, give us both a haven to work from and reestablish my personal fortune."
"We don't have to--"
A raised hand cut off the choked words before they could be finished. "No, Daughter. To accomplish all this, Stringfellow Hawke must be broken to my will in whatever form is necessary. I will not be swayed." He stared at the lamp burning several yards away, refusing to face the huddled woman at his side, avoiding the stunned lost look that entered her eyes at his words. "You're going to have to trust me to do what's necessary, my daughter. You'll understand it all one day. I know you will."
Angelica swallowed and wiped her eyes on the hem of her silk peignoir. Rather than continued distress, a curious calmness smoothed her features, leaving behind a kind of peace. "I understand doing what is necessary, Father. I suppose that makes everything easier, somehow."
Reading the reaction as acceptance, Horn again turned toward her. He took his daughter into his arms, hugging her tight, smiling when she returned the hug. "That's my girl. I knew I could count on you!" His face buried in her hair, Horn never saw the bleakness enter her blue eyes nor the new determination that transmuted her pretty features to stone.
***
He stopped in front of the second suite on the left of the wide corridor, and took a deep breath, visibly composing himself before giving the door a sharp rap. "Angelica?" There was a scuffling sound audible through the thick wood but nothing more. He rapped again, harder this time. "Angelica, are you in there?
This time there was no sound at all. Horn frowned slightly and felt into his back pocket for a small set of master keys, selecting one and inserting it in the deceptively old-fashioned looking lock. It turned easily and the door clicked open. The room was slightly dim, lit only by a single lamp in the corner of the bedroom, but bright enough to see clearly the heavy Mediterranean style furniture and the plush, feminine ruffles decorating the sitting room beyond. "Angelica, are you dressed?" the weapons vender asked, sticking his head around the jamb.
A lithe form swathed in a filmy white negligee uncurled from the bed. Angelica Horn rose slowly to her feet, loose blonde hair falling across her face and plastering itself across her wet cheeks. She palmed it back, uncovering swollen eyes underscored by black circles of smeared mascara, and a red nose. "What do you want?" she asked hoarsely.
Horn crossed the room, taking her by both shoulders. "Tears, Daughter?" he asked, forced sympathy at odds with the continued happiness in his face. "No tears! Not on the day of my long awaited victory!"
She jerked backward, freeing herself from his grip. "I suppose it was everything you expected it to be," she snapped, retreating in the direction of the heavily curtained window. "Was there enough suffering to satisfy you?"
If he even heard the venom in her voice there was no visible effect. He spread both hands palms up, his face raised ceilingward as though seeing a supernatural revelation. "You should have been there, Daughter! Hawke's reaction to Santini's 'death' was every bit as delicious as I'd pictured in my dreams! Every past failure, every humiliation, dealt out to me by that young thorn in my side, was adequately repaid in one all too swift master stroke!"
Expensive white silk ballooned out behind her as the woman spun away from the window. "You killed String's friend?" she gasped, wide blue eyes fixing him with a horrified look. "I thought.... I mean, I knew...."
Horn chuckled, clapping his hands together in glee. "Not his friend, my love, his father! Well, foster father, but why quibble over semantics? And he's not precisely dead."
The unmasked mischief in his face brought her a step closer. "What do you mean, he's not 'precisely' dead? What is the point of all this?"
"I've tried to explain this to you several times, Angelica, but you always refused to listen." He shook his head chidingly. "Have you changed your mind?"
"I still refuse to be a part of this," she spat back, wiping at her eyes with one hand. "But I want to know. What have you done?"
Horn took the girl's wrist. "What I've done," he began, pulling her down until they were both seated on the edge of the bed, "is to make Mr. Stringfellow Hawke believe that he's just seen his foster father, Dominic Santini, die due to his own non-cooperation. Or should I say, die again. I do recall telling you that Hawke and his friends were led to believe that Santini died in that helicopter explosion three months ago."
"An explosion you arranged, I suppose?" the woman asked, ducking her head.
Thin lips parted in a cruel smile. "While simultaneously manipulating certain forces within the Department of National Security to have Archangel transferred to Hong Kong. My plan was to kill Santini and leave Hawke isolated, thus making him a more malleable target for another little trade I had in mind involving an operation in Burma. Without Archangel he would have absolutely no support within the Firm; without Santini, he'd be emotionally vulnerable to any offer I might make." Light brows drew together in a frown. "My plan should have been foolproof."
Angelica Horn drew herself up, donning a scornful smile. "Don't blame yourself, Father. How could you possibly know that old man would survive an explosion like that?"
Ignoring the mockery or perhaps not hearing it, Horn nodded agreement. "Or that Hawke's older brother and his team would become complications. Unforeseen circumstances, you understand. Fortunately, my agent inside the Firm was on top of the situation and contacted me immediately. With his assistance it was child's play to whisk Santini -- still my most valuable weapon -- out of the hospital and cover his disappearance by bribing the funeral director into a substitution of bodies. The funeral director had an ... uh, unfortunate accident soon afterward. Pity."
"Pity," the woman mimicked.
That earned her a scowl. "Why, Angelica, I sense a lack of enthusiasm on your part. Can't you see the beauty in my plans? By forethought I've procured a weapon even the indomitable Stringfellow Hawke can't fight. He will have to obey my every command, and I've had the added pleasure of making him suffer for past humiliations. Little did he realize that what he witnessed was no more than the inevitable stress reaction caused by rousing the patient from induced coma." He opened his right arm wide, encompassing the room and by extension the entire world. "It was a triumph of sheer intelligence over foolhardy stubbornness. Can't you find it in you to relish this as much as I?"
Obviously not, for Angelica again ducked her head, allowing her long platinum hair to shield her expression. "Was it really worth it?" she asked plaintively. "Was revenge worth making a good man suffer like that?"
He snorted, pulling her hand closer and chaffing it in both his own, white teeth bared in a grin. "Suffer he did, too. I've allowed Hawke to believe Santini was dead for three months and played my final stroke for revenge against him tonight." She made to draw away again and Horn tightened his grip. "I realize you don't approve of my methods, Daughter, but what's done is done. Cheap revenge is usually unworthy of a man of my stature, but it's out of my system now and we may progress to the practical -- that means acquiring Airwolf and the means to use her."
"Airwolf." Angelica's voice lowered, growing even sadder. "Everything goes back to one helicopter."
"One absolutely unique weapon," the man corrected, "and the only man presently available who can fly her for me. Had Santini been less critically injured we might have been able to force the information from him." He made a throw-away gesture. "However, he would never survive the procedure and I don't believe in wasting trump cards unnecessarily. That brings us back to Stringfellow Hawke."
Slender shoulders stiffened then came back, bringing her head up. Angelica turned anguished eyes on the man, free hand raising in supplication. "Father, you don't have to do this. It's true we don't have the money we once did, but there's more than enough for us to live comfortably the rest of our lives. Isn't that enough? Can't that be enough for us?"
Horn's fair skin flushed again, this time with anger. "For what purpose? So that we can be fugitives for the rest of our lives? False names, disguises, smoke screens.... Constantly on the move from country to country, always looking over our shoulders for Interpol? Is that the type of life what's left of my money will buy us?"
"It could be enough!"
"No." Horn's handsome features hardened. "I will not live my life like that. As Aristotle once said, 'Happiness seems to require a modicum of external prosperity,' and I wish to be very happy indeed. If it will make you rest any easier, I've already ordered the Yakeyama tube opened and Santini released. I shall be communicating with Hawke very soon. I'll give him a fair opportunity to cooperate. You'll see."
"And if he won't?" She stared wildly at Horn's adamant expression, eyes brimming again. "Don't you see what you're doing to us? What you're doing to me? How can I live knowing what you've done? I...." She choked off, then continued hoarsely, "I can't live knowing what you've done."
Horn took both her hands in his own, turning until they were face to face. "What I'm doing is for us both. I want you to have a safe, secure home -- a place where you can live your life without hiding, and can marry and raise children."
She snatched back her hands and clasped them tightly in her lap. "You're not doing this for me. You're doing this to hurt String."
He looked mildly chagrined at having been discovered so easily, then shrugged. "I'm not used to losing, Angelica. All of what I am as a man is predicated upon my winning. Always. For eighteen months I've striven to make Stringfellow Hawke pay for shaming me, and now I've succeeded. Besides, Airwolf will put me back in the game of international politics, give us both a haven to work from and reestablish my personal fortune."
"We don't have to--"
A raised hand cut off the choked words before they could be finished. "No, Daughter. To accomplish all this, Stringfellow Hawke must be broken to my will in whatever form is necessary. I will not be swayed." He stared at the lamp burning several yards away, refusing to face the huddled woman at his side, avoiding the stunned lost look that entered her eyes at his words. "You're going to have to trust me to do what's necessary, my daughter. You'll understand it all one day. I know you will."
Angelica swallowed and wiped her eyes on the hem of her silk peignoir. Rather than continued distress, a curious calmness smoothed her features, leaving behind a kind of peace. "I understand doing what is necessary, Father. I suppose that makes everything easier, somehow."
Reading the reaction as acceptance, Horn again turned toward her. He took his daughter into his arms, hugging her tight, smiling when she returned the hug. "That's my girl. I knew I could count on you!" His face buried in her hair, Horn never saw the bleakness enter her blue eyes nor the new determination that transmuted her pretty features to stone.
***