Chapter 7
Authors Note: Thanks to C.J Davis, Dawnie-7, Kourin, and Rat for all the help and reviewing! C.J- I know what you mean, I don't have a lot of patience myself, although that's actually a good thing because more things get done that way. Lol. Rambling, should be writing. Here we go.
Authors Note 2: What kind of music would Sands be into? Definitely not classical, jazz, techno, or rap. What else is there? Rock music? But then I think Sands and that might be a little too predictable. If anyone can offer any suggestions I'll gladly take them and change whatever I have now. This is just a sketch, the real thing will be the final drawing.
Sitting on the roomy first-class chair on the plane Sable rethought ever taking vacation leave again. This had not been at all relaxing, although nothing ever was and, if anything, it had grated on her nerves worse than being in the States ever had.
First, there was the rental car man who refused to take the car because of its condition. Just as she pointed out that a few extra holes only made for air movement because the damn car had no air-conditioning to start with, the car's fender had fallen off. Perfect timing and she ended up shelling out five hundred dollars for the thing.
Then it was airport security that couldn't just let the badges and big red CIA letters stand. Nope, they had to make sure that their guns were authorized and whether or not Sands really wanted to blow up the plane. He had laughed about that all the way to the terminal lane, it had been pretty funny, but not at the expense of missing the flight and spending another few weeks in Mexico.
No one, thankfully, had asked Sands to remove the shades or there would have been another few bodies to get rid of. Billy Chambers was resting peacefully among fish and who knows what in a river not far from where they stayed. He made a comment about someone having company now, but she was too tired to worry about what that meant.
After throwing a boulder on top of him to make sure he rotted undisturbed, and also so that no picnickers would see body parts floating in the water when they came, they had gone back to the hotel to finish off the liquor and sleep until they woke up and made for the airport.
Now they were headed back to the States where Arnoldo would, no doubt, be waiting with less than open arms over their lack of anonymity.
"Would you like anything," a stewardess asked coming by with a cart.
"Yes, a 7-up and. . . what do you want Sands?"
"A can of Coors, thanks," he replied from where he appeared to be staring out the window.
"That will be six dollars and forty-five cents," she handed them their drinks and the fake airline smile appeared.
"Beg pardon?" Sable glanced up while taking out her wallet, "Did you just say six dollars?"
"And forty-five cents. Would you like anything else?"
"No," she handed the money over and took out her CD player. Now was definitely the time for some hard-rock music. On second thought, "you want an MP3 player to listen to, Sands?"
"Sure, why not. The presets don't have anything, anyway. What's on it?"
"Mix of stuff. Mostly rock music, though," she honestly had no idea what songs were loaded onto it, which was the surprise of picking one randomly.
"Great," he leaned back in the seat and crossed his arms, she noticed that he left one of the headphones out. She did the same, always be aware of what's going on and never be caught sleeping.
"Too bad, you should load some country or disco come the next trip."
"Country and disco," Sable echoed shaking her head, "and I don't plan on there being another trip."
* * *
The rest of the flight passed uneventfully and once the plane touched the ground and they retrieved their bags, it seemed like the end to something that had never really started.
It was a strange feeling she often had, when coming back from a trip or driving long distances by car, nothing seemed to have changed. Things were the same when she got back, there was no sign that she'd ever left.
This time she had proof and as they stepped into a black waiting car it was more evident than ever. Sands could never just be written off, his presence didn't allow it and he definitely wouldn't settle for being ignored.
"Have a good time," the driver asked as he pulled away from the airport.
"Loads," Sable replied tersely.
"I've heard the scenery is beautiful this time of year."
"I wouldn't know. I didn't see much of the scenery," Sands put in.
Sable looked at him in horrified amusement, how could the man joke at a time like this? But then again, maybe joking about it was the only way to stay sane. Shrug it off and push it away before it dragged you down with it. That was the way to survive, otherwise everything would seem like too much and then bridge-jumpers would come out to play.
Her cell phone rang, that's what she loved about the US. No matter where she was, reception was always good and no one gave a damn about her, who she was. In Mexico it had been hard to keep their room number a secret much less a cell-phone conversation. The good old US of A. Her jaw nearly fell to the floor when Dawse's voice came through.
"Bring him to the left ward hospital wing. We've heard of his injuries and he's a threat to the CIA. We'll deal with him immediately." He sounded as he always did when there was trouble for either of them. Gloating, self-righteous, and altogether a pompous asshole. What did he mean by 'deal' with. The last person she had dealt with was locked in a maximum-security prison in solitary confinement never to see the light of day again.
"What did he want?" Sands asked.
"He just wanted to know how you were feeling," Sable replied choosing to think the information over before sharing. Sands would go in, guns loaded, and shoot his way into prison.
"Everything's grand then, eh?"
"As good as it gets when it comes to your health."
As much as Arnoldo had warned her not to get too close to Sands, she couldn't help the rebellious surge of rage that welled up against Dawes and whomever wanted to shut Sands away. She wasn't close to him, per se. . . she was just an agent looking out for another agent. She groaned in her mind when she heard that pathetic excuse. So maybe she didn't want Sands to die, so what? It wasn't as if he had people lining up to lend assistance anyway.
He wouldn't want their help, but she was determined to do something. Twenty-two years of service to the CIA and they were both still alive and kicking. That meant something and Arnoldo at least would be on their side. Why did she care so much? Sands and she had been part of an inner-agency project. People were chosen and they learned high-quality skills in order to bring down and kill as quickly as possible.
They were the assassins, their job was to kill and cover it up or disguise it as something else. That hadn't been hard at all, downright fun in some situations. She and Sands had been the first two to be brought into the project. They had leverage and all the information, Arnoldo had taught them everything he knew.
He was not only their boss, but also someone who understood them. She remembered him once saying, 'If you ever do something to piss off the CIA, they'll come after you. You'll be dead as soon as you start running. That's the key, never run. I've taught you everything I know and if it comes down to it, you have the skill to remain undetected from them. This is it, kids, the grand finale. You're on your own now and remember, you never run.'
They had never really been alone. He had always been there, since he was the leader of the project it made sense that he would stick around to make sure everything turned out all right.
Dawes was the head boss of the CIA branch, for some unknown reason he and Arnoldo never completely got along. As a result, Sands, she, and the rest of the 'guinea pigs' were treated the same by Dawes.
Lower than the CIA and incompetent fools, that's all he saw them as. Sands brought the hatred to a new level when training was complete and he had a permanent place in the assassin league. Dawes had sworn one day Sands would slip up and it would be the end, but so far the end was far in coming.
Ssble hated Dawes because he was a first-class asshole and instead of trying to help them in some of the missions they shared with the CIA, he had done everything in his power to stop them from succeeding.
Why he was still there was a mystery to her. Now that he finally had the means to the end he wanted, it went against everything that she believed to allow him the victory. Dawes would not win this time there was no way.