John was basically panting by the time he got down to Wingate.
"Smith? What's wrong?" She asked while he hopped into the front seat.
"I just got a call. I need your laptop to trace it."
"Oh," she said and then told the guy in the back to turn on her laptop and hand it up to John. She began to drive off to the airstrip. John was tapping his fingers against the side of the laptop willing it to power up faster. God damn piece of shit technology, he thought while it took its sweet time.
Finally it was up and running and John quickly clicked on the link Wingate told him to and he plugged in the number he had gotten on his cell phone. Again, John had to wait while the laptop took its time to give him some feedback.
Wingate felt the nervousness radiating off of John, and asked him is he was okay. John just threw out a "sure" and went back to the laptop. She seemed to understand that John wasn't in the mood for pleasantries.
The laptop popped up a map of Moscow. Just what I thought, but why the hell would Jane be there? Wingate pulled the Hummer right up to the plane and John yanked his bag and fled onto the plane. He needed to think. However, he threw a thanks over his shoulder to Wingate, and she smiled at him as if she understood his situation completely.
Once they were in the air, John began to tap his foot while his mind raced. His questions were redundant, and quickly he grew tired of them and looked out of the window. Thank God he was getting out of the sticks. It was sickening for him to be back there after all these years.
He was staring out of the window when a sudden pang to have Jane in his arms filled his body. He needed her, and she had no idea how painful it was for him to tip toe around her. John wasn't a fool, he had seen the lust in her eyes when he had kissed her only two days ago. She wanted him just as much as he did, and this time he wasn't going to let their love slip through his fingers.
Jane was finally on the plane, away from the Russian beasts called humans. She had never been really scared before of anyone, but those guys sketched her out. There was just something about the way they handled her.
She was in first class and clutching her cell phone, which was dead, but she clutched it anyway as if it would ring any moment. Jane was staring out of the window wondering if John was worried about her or not. What if he knew that the call she had made from the airport's phone was a Russian area code? What if he was suspicious about her being in Russia?
Jane closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. She would deal with that when it came time to turn that stone over. Someone tapped her shoulder. It was the flight attendant.
"Excuse me, ma'am," she said in an impeccable English accent. "Are you comfortable? Would you like a blanket, or possibly some aspirin?"
Jane shook her head. "No thank you, just maybe something to drink, if that would be possible."
"Tough trip?" She asked sounding genuinely sorry for Jane.
"You have no idea," Jane replied.
Someone was tapping John on the shoulder. He was jerked away from his dream and back into the reality of what made up New York City.
"Are you okay, Mr. Smith?"
John nodded his head to the captain and got up slowly. His head was pounding and he needed to get home to try and call Jane. If she was in an airport over in Russia, there was a chance she was in the air right now. John needed to get to the office to do some research.
"Thanks for the ride, Captain," John said while taking his bag and stepping off of the plane.
"Any time, Mr. Smith," he replied and then shut the door to the plane.
John hailed a cab and drove as quickly as he could to his office by the dockyard. There was no one in, thank the Lord. John didn't feel like talking to anyone right now. He needed to hack into the Moscow International Airports records and see if Jane was on one of their planes.
He logged onto his computer at his desk and sipped the God-awful cup of coffee that had been left in the pot.
John groaned aloud after he swallowed the first sip, but forced it down. He needed some caffeine. Once in the system, John clicked in Moscow International Airport and in a flash was in their system. Only a minute later, John was looking at the roster for Flight 245 from Moscow to New York. Jane Smith was in first class, seat 3A, but what the fuck was she doing in Moscow? And when she had called, why did she sound like she was scared?
John logged off and rushed home to make sure he was home when she would come home. Her plane would be landing at about nine PM, and John would be ready for her. He would be there for her, because he knew that she would need him. Her walls couldn't stand for this long.
Jane had finally gotten her stiff drink and was sipping it cautiously. What would she tell her boss? What would happen to Shnigovlf? What the fuck would she tell John when he figured out that he had lied to him about going to California? Jane cleared her head and looked around the large cabin. The plane was booked, to her surprise. Either there were a lot of people traveling to Moscow recently, or loads of people wanted to leave.
She sighed a heavy sigh and looked out of the window again. They were still over the ocean, and Jane suddenly felt a longing to be with John. Not only physically, but mentally. They hadn't been on the same page since they had been married, and even then it had only been for a short while. I need him, she realized and then the tears came.