This is it! The last chapter of this 'book' so to speak. This and the two 'books' before it have spanned the course of a number of years personally. It's been interesting trying to figure out where I was going with this story early on. I'm still figuring out details as I progress. Never fear, I've already got some different scenes written for Book 4. Depending on life events, we'll see how soon I can start writing. Let's just say that Book 4 will be much more fast paced and with quite a bit of adventure with a few surprises along the way.
Special thanks to NighShae for helping me get over a few humps and inspiring me to finish this story. Plus she's my beta and she's awesome.
So, enjoy this last chapter. We bring to a close this portion of the story to make way for a new chapter in all the character's lives. Review if you like. I always love hearing from people who found even just a little enjoyment in it.
Chapter 18
December 20, 2011 – 6:45 pm
The ebb and flow inside the halls of The Orpheum Theater had a festive vibe that was hard to explain. It was the type of feeling that everything was perfect and it seemed to lift everyone's mood. Everywhere Red looked, people were dressed in outfits ranging from little black dresses and suites with ties to slacks and matching jackets that bunched groups of people together from similar organizations. People smiled and laughed while surrounded by an entire lobby decked out in holiday décor that sparkled under the crystal chandeliers high above.
"I can't believe you talked me into this," Red grumbled, her arm through Sam's as they worked their way through the crowds of people. "Granted, it's for a good cause, but with all the stuff that's happened in the last few weeks, I don't feel comfortable being away from the hanger too long."
One of her pilots, Marcus, had caught sight of a group of Coyotes and drug runners bringing in a load of illegals and drugs while out scouting a sight for the filming of a commercial. Marcus had done the right thing by alerting border patrol and the police as he kept track of them until they were picked up. That was four days ago. Since then she'd had to deal with the Feds, their questions about why her pilot was out there in the first place and what she did with her flight service.
It had made it impossible for her to fly to Reno yesterday morning as planned to get a chance to see the improvements on Airwolf's new flight systems. Michael's lab had been working non-stop since they got their hands on her almost a month ago. Red longed to be deep into the guts of that machine but her real responsibilities came first, that of her business and her employees. The work load had almost tripled due to the holiday season and she'd had to take over flying several jobs herself. She found herself having to stay a good portion of her week at the hanger, usually sleeping in the cot behind her desk between jobs or repair work. They desperately needed to hire a few more pilots and at least another mechanic, but they seemed to be in very short supply at the moment so everyone was picking up the extra slack where they could.
Her GeeBee sat partially disassembled at the 'BoneYard' and would have to remain so until she could find the time to slip away and indulge in some quiet time. The other factor that had kept her away from her workshop was this year seemed to be colder than usual and the concrete floors of the workshop never seemed to warm up, making her whole body ache. The weather had been strange as well, dumping several feet of snow in the higher elevations that hadn't seen snow in years or several inches of rain in a short period of time down in the valleys causing mudslides, flash flooding and all manner of havoc. This had caused her business to pick up as reporters and government officials needed to be taken up to view the damage caused by the freakish weather.
Sam gave her a little nudge, "Earth to Red, come in Red. Hey, you're a million miles away."
Red gave a sigh. "I'm just stressed about work and everything else going on," she said, giving Sam a look that told him it had more to do than with just the company.
He took her hand in his and lifted it up to his lips, giving it a kiss. "Relax for just one night Red. I think you'll enjoy this," Sam assured her as they entered into the concert hall. He checked their ticket stubs before looking up, spotting the group from the Phoenix Foundation. Like many other groups, they were wearing matching jackets with the Foundation's logo across the shoulders.
Red spotted MacGyver standing amongst the group, talking to Rachelle and Erica who were both wearing the same 'Stars and Stripes Air Service' jackets she was. Rachelle spotted Red and broke into a toothy grin. Red wondered if Mac and Rachelle were ever going to go beyond just 'dating'. She, personally, would have liked to see Mac find someone who accepted him and all his little quirks.
Sam slipped up next to MacGyver and gave him a tap on the shoulder to get his attention.
"Hey kids. I wasn't sure if you'd make it," Mac said as he gave Red his typical lopsided smile in greeting. "If you'd been any later, we might have had to send out the search and rescue party to find you."
Sam snorted at the joke. "It's all her fault. She just had to finish one more thing at the hanger, which of course means it led to something else needing to be done and then this needing to be done, and so on."
Mac let out a little laugh and leaned over to give Red a quick kiss to the cheek. He turned to several of the people from the Phoenix Foundation, "Probably time to find our seats," he suggested and the group began to shift around to get to their designated seats.
Sam, Rachelle and Erica moved to the row behind Mac and several of his executives so that they were within easy speaking distance. Red sat down in the aisle seat then looked around at some of the other groups to either side of the theater before craning her neck to look up into the lower balcony above them.
When she looked back down, one group further down and across the aisle caught her attention. They, unlike several other groups, were not wearing any sort of logo though they obviously were all from the same organization, that of the 'Guardian Angels'. The men wore navy blue, three piece suits with white shirts while the women wore dresses or skirt suits, also with white blouses. The unifying identifier was their ties and scarves that were decorated with bands of blue, white and metallic gold.
Mac caught the focus of her attention, glanced over his shoulder at where she was looking then turned back to her. "Guardian Angels," Mac murmured softly. "They tend to come in mass to this kind of thing. I've seen groups as large as a hundred attending various charity events."
"Looks like they've got close to that number here tonight," Sam responded, then followed Red's gaze to a new group that was coming down the opposite aisle to join up with those already sitting. His eyebrows flickered up as he spotted a familiar face.
Michael had darkened his silver hair and mustache to a sandy brown with silver highlights and was wearing dark sunglasses to hide his missing eye without drawing attention to it. He limped heavily, leaning on a cane and the arm of Aluna, who seemed to be his 'date' for the evening, and he was dressed exactly like any of the other men in the group. When he and his escort joined up with those that were already seated, they were easily absorbed into the group and Michael was shifted to one of the central seats. It was a subtle form of protection that few would even notice unless they were looking for it.
Red watched them for a moment then turned back to look at Sam before settling further into the red upholstered seat. Taking a moment to force her mind to stop running in circles over issues with her business, she exhaled slowly. She was supposed to be here to relax and take a break. Opening the program, she read through the evenings Christmas concert lineup and the information about this years' charities being the Wounded Warrior Project and the Fischer House Foundation. Finally she noticed a notation below the 'cello solos' listed that stated a rare Stradivarius cello was being played tonight.
The lights dimmed twice and those that weren't seated yet began to make their way to their seats. Within moments, the lights lowered completely and the crowd hushed in anticipation.
The orchestra filed out from either side of the stage and took up their assigned seats. Once the brass, winds and percussion sections were seated, the strings section followed and settled in their chairs, two of which were set forward from the others. One was being taken by a violinist, the man's wild, red hair pulled back into a pony tail. The second chair was for a man that came onto the stage carrying a beautiful cello. The cellist was Mike, carrying what Red could only assume to be her father's instrument. He took his seat after nodding to the violinist.
The sounds of tuning instruments made a strange melodic cacophony from the stage and then grew quiet as the conductor appeared. A polite round of applause from the audience welcomed him and the orchestra to the stage.
Mac watched the proceedings before he leaned over his seat a little and murmured to Red. "Sam told me that's your dad's cello?"
Red's eyes flicked downward to look at Mac, giving him a slight nod then looked back up to the stage where the lights seemed to bring out a deep, rich coloring in the wood.
Finally, silence descended as the conductor raised his baton. The pause made Red hold her breath for an instance before he dropped his hand in a forceful down stroke signaling the start of that magical moment when everything was in synch on that first note.
Red shivered as the note was struck and tried to relax back into her seat. The first half of the show included several small ensembles, classical pieces mixed in with a few Christmas songs. Between certain pieces, different organizations were called up to present checks to the hosts of the concert who were individuals from each of the benefiting charities. MacGyver had previously gone up, handing over checks from the Phoenix Foundation for funds that the staff had collected.
Towards the end of the first hour Mike began to play a beautiful tune as a solo, the rest of the musicians joining in after a few minutes. Though she was sure she had never heard it before, the melody seemed achingly familiar in a dim, distant way. The program listed the name of the piece as 'Eagles on the Lake', noting that it had been written by a deceased, local artist with the initials 'SFH'; her father.
As the song ended in another small solo by Mike, her body shivered as the final note died away. She was silent for a moment as she felt Sam's hand give hers a little squeeze. She looked at him, giving him a small, sad smile before she pulled her hand free so she could fish out a business card and a pen from inside her jacket pocket. Flipping the card over, she wrote a short message and addressed it to 'Michael Bridges, Sr.'. Looking back up the aisle, she spotted an usher and motioned for them to come to her. As the usher knelt next to her, she leaned over the arm of her seat to whisper instructions then handed over the card.
The usher nodded and stood, moving further down the aisle towards the section that held the Guardian Angels. He stopped at the back row of the section and bent down by the man on the aisle seat, handing him the card, whispering something before straightening and walking back up the aisle.
Red kept her attention divided between the progression of the card and the stage. She watched as it was passed along until it reached Aluna. Flipping the card over, she leaned in close to Michael to read it aloud. He gave a slight start of surprise at the note. He leaned near Aluna and whispered his response before she turned to look over her shoulder at Red. One shoulder raising slightly, a kind of 'Are you sure?' movement, and Red deliberately lowered her head in a nod.
Aluna nodded in turn then leaned back towards Michael to give him the affirmative. Sure that the message had been received, Red turned her full attention back to the stage to enjoy the music.
Just before the intermission, a woman Red had been introduced to as Lydia, went up and handed each host a check. When each of the hosts opened their envelopes, their stunned silence was finally broken by the presenter speaking up to the audience. "Each check is for three hundred and fifty thousand dollars, one representing funds donated by the employees of the security firm, 'Guardian Angels'. The second check is from the former owner of the Stradivarius cello, who has graciously gifted Wounded Warriors with a portion of its sale price. They wish to remain anonymous."
Before anything else could be said, a loud round of applause went up from the crowd. Red clapped along with the audience but her eyes never left Mike. The look on his face when he realized what the donation of the money meant, was priceless. He didn't look her way and she silently thanked him for being discrete enough to avoid alerting the audience that the former owner was sitting only twelve rows away from the front of the stage.
As the applause died down, the orchestra began its last piece before the scheduled intermission. Red felt Sam's arm wrap around her shoulder and she leaned her head onto his, silently wishing the arm of the seat wasn't between them.
The buzzing inside her jacket pocket suddenly interrupted their private moment, making her jerk a little. She gave a quiet sigh as she pulled away from him, sitting up to fish out the cell phone from inside her breast pocket. She saw the text message was from Lex who was on duty at the hanger tonight. Flipping the phone open, she stiffened as she read the message.
'Emergency – call me NOW.'
She looked over at Sam who had been leaning in to read what was on the phone. "Go," was all he whispered as he gave her hand a squeeze.
As she stood up and moved out into the aisle to leave, she saw there was movement going on amongst the Guardian Angels as Lydia leaned forward between Michael and Aluna's seats, obviously saying something to both.
Red paid no more attention to them as she turned and strode up the aisle. Pushing past the concert hall doors, she was already dialing Lex's number. It rang once before he picked up. Her feet kept walking towards the outer lobby doors, away from the noise of the loitering people in the foyer of the theater.
"Red! We've got trouble. There's a fire in the second hanger." He sounded out of breath and she could hear the sound of sirens in the background.
Her heart rate sped up as the thought of all that was stored in that building and what a fire could do to it. As she opened her mouth to ask him how it started, she felt the presence of someone at her elbow. Stepping to the side, her mind and body on high alert for danger, she spun quickly, startling Lydia. Behind her, Red could see two other Angels were leaving the theater and approaching them.
"Red?" came Lexs' voice through the phone.
"Just a sec," responded Red as she stared at the other woman, her eyes narrowing.
"A helicopter is coming to pick us up. We just got a call there's a fire at your hanger. Fire department and police are on their way," said Lydia as she motioned for Red to continue walking.
Without a word to the woman, Red put the phone up to her ear. "I'll be there in less than ten minutes Lex. You're in charge until I get there." She listened for a moment to something he said. "Just do the best you can and don't let anyone bully you around. You know what's where and make sure the fire department's notified where we store what's left of the gas and the chemicals."
With that, she snapped the phone shut. She gave the woman a cool look, her jaw line visible as she clenched and unclenched her teeth before speaking. "Your people have a strange habit of being in the right place at the right time. But this isn't your problem or your business. It's mine."
The woman motioned for Red to go out the front doors, "The airport is on our flyover list every evening. Our orders come from higher up. It was on that flyover that they spotted smoke and called it in."
"What?" Red demanded.
As they exited into the brisk evening air, the sound of an approaching helicopter could be heard in the distance. Lydia directed her down the block to an open area where the valets turned cars around. "For the time being, just be grateful they were there when they were otherwise your man Lex might not have realized what was going on until it was too late."
With a sigh, Red gave up the argument for a later time and knew this woman wasn't the right person to bring it up to. "Fine. Just get me there and drop me off further down the airport, keeping your distance from the hanger. I don't want you guys around."
Lydia looked a little surprised at that statement but before she could respond, one of the Guardian Angels helicopters came in for a landing, the two members with them moving to block off the area until it could touch down. Nothing more was said until all were on board and headsets were in place.
"May I ask why you don't want us around?" Lydia asked as the helicopter lifted off. She seemed curious more than flustered.
Red stared at her for a few moments as the chopper swung to the southwest, heading towards the airport. "We know the hanger is being monitored either in person or electronically by The Firm. We're not sure how far out into the surrounding airport that monitoring goes. I don't need to have them get suspicious because for some unknown reason out of the blue, I'm suddenly utilizing your equipment and personnel when I've had no previous business contacts with you. You don't need them sniffing around to try and figure out my connection to you guys. I haven't had the time recently to track what kind of monitoring systems they may have slipped in other than what was already there."
Lydia blinked as Red spoke more words at one time than she'd heard the woman utter in the few times she'd been around her. What surprised her most was how calm Red seemed. "You know Michael will want to be involved with this."
Red shook her head, "No. I don't need or want his help. I'm already stretched thin. I don't need the stress of trying to cover the Guardian Angels or his involvement with any of this. I have to keep these two parts of my life completely separated, for everyone's safety."
The other woman frowned, growing quiet as she thought over the ramifications of what Red was trying to get across. "He's not going to like this, but you're right. You may not have realized this but he looks at you as part of his family. He never let your father onto that fact and it still bothers him at times."
Red turned to watch out the window as the lights of the airport could be seen on the horizon. As they drew closer, the spotlight of the airport could be seen along with numerous flashing red and blue lights reflecting off of buildings and equipment. The airport had brought up all the nearby runway and parking lights so the place was well illuminated. She felt her hand gripping the seat under her hard enough to whiten her knuckles.
Triggering the mic to speak to the pilot, Red gave instructions on where to set down so the downdraft of the blades wouldn't cause issues for the firefighters and where they wouldn't be so conspicuous to onlookers. Glancing back at Lydia, she inhaled slowly before speaking. "I appreciate that he thinks of me as such, but you need to make sure he sees reason with this. I have to make sure these two aspects of my life stay separate. Maybe someday it can be different, but for now the less contact I have with Michael in my 'mundane' life and business, the better. He can make me feel as much of his 'family' as he wants when I'm on his turf but on my turf, I don't want any connections with him or his company. It will protect him and your company from notice by The Firm. I've already suffered at their hands, and I don't want to tempt them into making another pass at me for any reason."
Lydia was quiet as the chopper landed with a little bump. She watched as Red's fingers automatically went to her safety harness to release it without thinking. Lydia reached out and touched Red's arm before she could take off the headset. "I'll make him understand. But if you need anything, call us or if you get free, come to Reno and we can see what can be done behind the scenes. We'll keep watching The Firm so we can alert you if anything changes or they become suspicious of something you're doing."
Red gave a curt nod and then pulled off the headset and leapt out the door that was being held open by one of the men that rode with them. She didn't look back as she set off at a jog to get to the hanger. She heard the engines cycle faster as the chopper prepared to lift off. Shoving that aspect out of her mind for the moment, she rounded the corner of a hanger half way down the airport runway. What greeted her made her mind seize for a moment as she tried to fathom the consequences from what she was seeing.
Smoke continued to billow out of the gaping hole in the roof of the second hanger. The fire was obviously under control but the firefighters were pouring copious amounts of foam retardant in through the hanger doors and into the hole of the roof from a ladder truck.
Red took off at a brisk walk towards the main clutch of police cars where she could see the camo hat that signaled where Lex was standing, a head taller than most. He had obviously been watching for her and pushed past several police officers as she approached.
"Thank god you're here. I don't think I could handle any more questions from the FAA or the cops," he said to her in a gruff whisper. "This whole thing has nearly given me a heart attack as it is."
Giving his arm a squeeze, she nodded. "I'll take it from here. Just show me who I need to deal with and I'll take it from there."
Lex nodded then motioned her towards three individuals standing next to one particular cop car. Two were in suits while another wore an officer uniform. With a sigh, she walked over to the men and held out her hand. "I'm Cheyenne Hawke, owner of Stars and Stripes. What do you need from me and how bad is it?"
December 20, 2011 – 11:32 pm
By the time Sam, MacGyver, Rachelle and Erica arrived after the concert and fighting traffic, the firefighters were finishing up putting their hoses away while others made sure they had sifted through the rest of the second hanger's wreckage to verify that all fires were out. Only a few police cars were left as they continued to keep curiosity seekers away. Two of the three choppers and both planes that were stored in the second hanger now sat outside, away from the burned out building, the little pushback tug used to pull aircraft around, sitting next to them. One plane looked like it would need a complete overhaul while one of the helicopters had blistered and peeling paint, showing how close it came to catching fire. The one missing chopper could barely be seen still sitting in the hanger, nothing left but a burned out husk.
Having permission to cross the police lines, the four of them entered the main hanger. Seeing what appeared to be a police investigator taking pictures in Rachelle's office, they cautiously moved in that direction. Looking inside the door, it was fairly evident that someone had attempted to start a fire in her office using the trash can. Rachelle put her hand over her face with a groan. "Great, now I'm going to have to smell smoke and god knows what else for months." She removed her hand and looked at MacGyver.
He put an arm around her shoulders. "I know of a few ways to get rid of the smell." He looked over at the investigator who was making a few notes. "Any idea where the owner is?"
The man looked up and nodded, pointing towards the second hanger. "She's over there walking Detective Monroe through what's left."
Rachelle gave a louder groan, "This is the last thing we needed with the increased load we've been under lately."
Sam moved over towards the open door that led to the second hanger and watched as Red walked through what was left of the foam retardant in the burned out remains of the building, pad of paper in one hand and a flashlight in the other as she took inventory of the damage. A man walked around with her, taking notes, snapping pictures of equipment and damage. Sam felt the others come up behind him, looking past his shoulder to what remained. He heard Rachelle swear under her breath.
MacGyver was the first to speak after a long moment of silence. "Why don't we see what we can do to get stuff wrapped up in here? She might be busy for some time over there and the last thing she needs is for us to be in her way or distracting her." As he said this, Red looked up and in their direction, giving them a slight shake of her head, then went back to a discussion she was having with Detective Monroe.
Several hours later, Red finally entered the main hanger, her face set in a scowl. Looking around, she realized that the others had been busy since their arrival. Rachelle's office had been emptied, mopped out and was in the process of having the odor of smoke and fire extinguisher chemicals nullified. Sam was on cleanup detail and currently mopping the hanger floor of the multitude of boot prints and soot that had been tracked in. Rachelle had a clipboard in hand and was busy taking inventory of everything inside the main hanger as MacGyver laid out the soaked books and papers from Rachelle's office to help them dry a little faster.
One by one, they noticed her standing in the doorway and stopped what they were doing. Red blinked and moved forward, letting the outside door shut behind her. She gave a slight nod towards the RV that housed their mobile film lab that was parked near the back of the hanger. Thankfully it had been parked in the main hanger earlier that evening so it was ready for an oil change in the morning otherwise it would have been parked in the second hanger until needed.
As Red moved in that direction, the others quickly finished what they were doing and joined her inside the RV. She had started a pot of coffee and was sitting at the table, head cradled on her folded arms. Erica was sound asleep on a bunk in the back, a curtain drawn over the doorway. Once MacGyver shut the door behind him, Red lifted her head to stare tiredly at the three of them, motioning for them to join her at the table.
"I sent Lex home earlier since there was nothing else he could do until daylight," she stated to Rachelle, her tone as calm as if discussing the weather.
Sam gathered up mugs and the pot of coffee, pouring one for Red and set it in front of her before sitting down next to her. "You look exhausted," he whispered to her.
She reached forward and wrapped her hands around the steaming mug, not seeming to care that it might be a little too warm, her eyes focusing on the vapors that were rising from the top. After everyone had settled, Red looked up to find three sets of eyes staring at her.
Mac finally spoke up. "Want to fill us in on what happened? I mean it's obvious there was a fire but it doesn't appear to be an accident."
Inhaling slowly, Red spoke aloud. "It was arson and it appears in retribution from the drug gang that Marcus called the Feds on. They apparently decided they didn't appreciate being tattled on and planned a bit of revenge."
Rachelle groaned at this and rubbed her face in frustration. "I just knew that was going to come back and bite us in the ass. So much for trying to be the good guys."
"How bad is the damage?" asked Sam as he nudged Red to take a sip of her coffee.
Red looked at Sam before doing so then proceeded to give her report. "Both hangers were hit, but a little luck was on our side. Apparently Michael has had the Guardian Angels fly over this area on patrol every night for years to keep an eye on things."
Rachelle blinked, "Guardian Angels? You mean like the people at the concert tonight? Aren't they into providing body guards for diplomats and such? Why would they be monitoring the hanger?"
Shifting a little, Red realized that Rachelle was clueless about the history of her father, Santini and all that entailed. She wanted to keep her that way for as long as possible. Red sighed softly. "The Guardian Angels do that but they also handle security for people and companies. The owner and founder of the company was a close friend of my father's. After String died, the owner took into possession a few things, one of them being the Stradivarius cello that had belonged to my father. His son is Mike Bridges, who was playing it on stage tonight. At any rate, I guess as a sense of obligation to my father, he apparently gave the order to have the hanger monitored nightly with a flyover on their standard patrols."
Rachelle's eyes widened a little in surprise.
Red continued with her report, her hands beginning to twitch as she clung to her mostly full coffee cup. "Their flyover tonight was just in time to see smoke starting to rise from the second hanger. Their call to the authorities alerted them in time to keep the damage to the main hanger at a minimum. Unfortunately, the gang figured out how to turn the fire suppression system off so the fire was in full force by the time the airport's fire equipment arrived. Lex was alerted by an 'individual' and ran out to the second hanger, trying to get the aircraft pulled out with the help of the guy who alerted him. Apparently, while they were busy, more gang members slipped into the main hanger and were trying to disable the fire suppression system here while another started the fire in Rachelle's office. It seems another 'individual' that was nearby had enough forethought to check out the main hanger and caught the gang members red handed."
MacGyver raised an eyebrow at the stressed comment about the 'individuals'. "Who were these 'individuals' that helped Lex?"
Red gave a little huff of exasperation as she removed her hands from the coffee cup, placing them below the level of the table, "Honestly, I think they were the Guardian Angels pilots that had spotted the fire."
Sam watched her movements from the corner of his eye but tried to keep from looking obvious about it. "What about this hanger?"
"Luckily, the fire was confined to the trash can in the office and easily put out. The only damage was a charred garbage can, some smoke damage and wet papers from the water used to douse the fire."
"Please tell me you know all of this about the drug gang because they caught the little bastards?" asked Rachelle, looking as frustrated as Red felt.
There was a slight grunt from Red, "You could say that. It looks like the guy that caught the three gang members red handed made sure they didn't go anywhere. They apparently looked a little worse for wear by the time they were turned over to the police."
Rachelle blinked looking a little skeptical, "One guy took out three gang members?"
Red shrugged tiredly, her eyes darting towards the door, then to a window before looking back. "If he was with the Guardian Angels, I'm not surprised. Many of them are ex-military special forces, Navy Seals and Rangers."
MacGyver smirked, "Well thank God for small miracles."
Those at the table grew quiet for a few minutes as they digested all of the information Red had given them. Sam watched Red, his gut clenching as he watched the signs of her rising stress level. He frowned a little at seeing the frustration and the increasing look of fear in her eyes. "What about the contents of the second hanger?"
Red reached up and rubbed at her eyes with a hand that trembled. "Almost all of the tools and equipment stored there are a loss. Two of the four aircraft that were saved are going to need major repairs structurally and mechanically. One of those two might be a complete loss if the framework got too hot and warped or was weakened by the heat. The fifth, the Jet Ranger, is a complete loss."
Rachelle slumped down into her seat. "Did you get a chance to call the insurance company yet?"
Red shifted in her seat then nodded. "I called them about four hours ago to report the claim but since it's too dark for them to get any idea on the full extent of the damage tonight, they will be out first thing in the morning. They've started the paperwork on the claim and will get copies of the photos taken by the police tomorrow. That way if we disturb anything tonight or tomorrow morning, there's already documented proof of the full extent of the loss."
Sam noticed as she spoke, her voice began to tremble slightly as what little reserve she had left that had kept her calm and level headed through all of this began to fade. He saw the warning signs of an impending breakdown, having witnessed the fallout of one several times since the accident. He needed to get her somewhere private where he would be the only witness to what was about to happen.
He looked at MacGyver. "Why don't you and Rachelle stay here since Erica is sacked out in the back? Red should grab a shower since she is covered in soot and chemicals then we'll try to get some sleep on the air mattress in the loft. All of us need to at least try to get a few hours of rest. I'll run into town tomorrow morning and get us something for breakfast once we get up and around."
Everyone nodded slightly and Sam got up, tugging on Red's coveralls that she'd put on over her evening attire. She slid out from the table, shoving her trembling hands into her pockets and let Sam hold the door of the RV open for her. Sam looked back to Rachelle and his father after Red had passed him, giving them a slight nod to them as if trying to convey that he'd take care of her.
As they walked across the lit hanger floor, Sam wrapped his arm around her shoulder, gently leaning in a little to kiss her hair. As they headed towards the showers, he whispered soft words of encouragement, keeping his voice low and calm. Once inside the bathroom that held the single shower stall, he locked the door behind them. He knew she didn't like feeling trapped but right now, the last thing she needed was someone walking in on them. He turned her towards him and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead before he tucked her head under his chin.
It was all she needed to signal that she was safe as she clutched his shirt, her face buried against his chest as she broke down and sobbed, her whole body shaking with reaction to the events of the evening.
Michael sat in the back of the limo as it drove down the streets of L.A. towards the Guardian Angels local headquarters. Aluna sat next to him, a hand on his knee to show her support but he also knew it was to monitor his wellbeing after the news had come about the fire, mid-concert. He had stayed through the rest of the concert though he was sure he hadn't heard a single note after he'd returned from the intermission.
He had caught Mike's attention before he'd moved offstage and gave him a quiet signal that something was up and he needed to return back to headquarters as soon as he was able. Mike had responded with a slight tilt of the head to show he'd understood but then was gone as he walked off stage with his cello.
The limo pulled up and Aluna got out, offering Michael a hand. This late at night after a long day, his knee and hip usually ached bad enough to make him rely on his cane more than usual. He took the offered hand and slid out of the limo before situating himself to walk unaided into the building. The ride up to the top floor penthouse seemed to take longer than normal as Michael shifted restlessly. Aluna remained silent knowing nothing she said would ease his need for knowledge and desire to rush to Red's aid.
After stepping off the final elevator, he picked up his pace, limping heavily until he pushed past the doors to his office. He stopped short at seeing Lydia standing in front of the large wall mounted monitor, one window open to track police channels, several other windows open showing video streams from different cameras that were set up to monitor the two Stars and Stripes hangers. The camera pointed towards the ruined hanger showed the doors open in the front, the sheet metal sides warped and bowed from the extreme heat. The husk of one of the choppers could barely be seen in what little light was evident from the floodlights off the main hanger.
Michael stood there, staring at the monitor for a moment, silent as he took it all in. If Lydia was here and not at the hanger, there was a reason. He burned to know what that reason was, but he knew that if he started demanding answers, he'd end up on the wrong end of that conversation. He heard Aluna's soft footsteps move towards his desk to set a file on it and then move off towards their private quarters.
Finally he turned away from the monitor and sat down at his old oak desk, watching Lydia for a moment before finally speaking up.
"Is there a reason why you're here and not there?" he asked, his eyes flicking to the videos on the monitor.
Lydia finally turned to look at him. "Yes, and you probably aren't going to like it."
Michael let out a sharp breath, "If you're here and not there, of course I'm not going to like it. I see you still have your head and are standing so she obviously didn't bite it off or cut you off at the knees."
She snorted delicately and shifted to sit down, setting the clipboard she'd been holding down onto the desk. "I was told in no uncertain terms that," she paused slightly, "we weren't to get involved. I believe her exact words were, 'I don't want you guys around.'"
Michael blinked and looked frustrated, "Did you ask her why?"
Lydia rolled her eyes a little bit, "Yes, and to be honest, she has a point. She basically said that she knows she's being monitored by The Firm. However, she's been so busy these last few weeks that she hasn't had a chance to sweep for new surveillance that may have been snuck in since the last time she looked. Her main concern is that she doesn't want The Firm to become suspicious of her sudden utilization of our resources when she's had no previous engagement or contact with us before now. Her concern is that kind of activity could draw undue attention to you and the company."
Michael was quiet as he thought this over. He sighed and rubbed a finger under the lens of his good eye, then turned to look at the monitor. He could make out Red's figure moving through the wreckage with what was most likely a detective, taking pictures from the flash going off occasionally. "Fill me in on what you know so far."
Aluna appeared with a cup of hot coffee, made just the way he liked it, and he wrapped his hands around it as he propped his leg up on a foot rest near his desk. She moved around to the front of the desk and sat in one of the comfortable chairs across from him.
Lydia checked her clipboard and began with the basics of the flyover catching the first hints of the fire. Michael listened quietly as she described how both men from the helicopter that had flown over and spotted the smoke helped save what aircraft they could as well as catching the gang members in the act of trying to burn down the main hanger.
That got Michael's attention, "Gang members?"
Lydia nodded, "According to police records, one of Red's pilots spotted, tracked and reported a gang doing an exchange in the desert. Apparently they took exception to being caught and arrested."
Michael groaned softly in frustration then sat up suddenly. "What about the 'Bone Yard'?"
There was a slightly wicked look to Lydia's features. "I don't think Red has been notified yet but there was an attempt on that property about an hour after the first group had been arrested. Just after I got back to the office, I dispatched a handful of men to keep an eye on the property, and they were in place and waiting when six gang members showed up. Let's just say they are a little worse for wear and now in custody, our men having posed as her employees."
Taking a sip of coffee, Michael finally put down the cup, "Her employees?" he asked cautiously.
Lydia gave a slight shrug, "After Red pointed out that it wouldn't do to have any connection between the Guardian Angels and her businesses, I figured the men should be prepared to become part of her group of employees for the time being, working late on a project for an upcoming film."
Silence filled the office for a few minutes as Michael thought things over. Finally he sighed, "She doesn't need this right now. We need to find some way to help," he stated before he was cut off by Lydia.
"Michael, if she needs your help, she'll come to you. Besides, we do have a way of helping her. You forget that Mike has been around her business often enough in the past couple of weeks that having him stop by in the morning with a bag of necessities and the offer of help from his film company to get them back into the air wouldn't be amiss."
Giving a slight chuckle under his breath, Michael seemed to visibly relax a fraction. "There is that," he said as he shifted to look back at the videos. "I don't like the fact that there's a gang out there looking to get retribution. There has to be some way of discouraging them from attempting anything in the future."
Aluna looked over at Lydia with a raised eyebrow as the other woman chuckled. "It's being handled, Michael."
"Do I want to know what you've arranged?" asked Michael as he pulled his leg off the footrest and turned to look at her fully.
"Let's just say that the less you know the better your plausible deniability will be. You might not approve," she said, shifting to jot something down on her notes.
Michael snorted slightly, "With what was just done to Red, there's very little that I wouldn't approve of."
The office grew quiet for a few minutes as Michael checked something on his computer. His thoughts were on Red and this whole situation. "I wish there was some way to get her closer to Reno and away from LA," he muttered, almost to himself.
Mike stepped through the door he'd just opened that joined the office to his personal suite of rooms. "There might be a way, but if not presented to her right, she might see it as us trying to meddle in her affairs."
Michael turned in his chair, looking at the display case for String's cello in Mike's quarters, the instrument back in its proper place. "Is it too early to say 'Merry Christmas' Mike?" he asked, his eye moving to look back at the beautifully crafted piece of wood and string.
Mike huffed out a laugh as he sat down in the chair next to Aluna, facing Michael. "That was one hell of a Christmas present, dad. After the announcement of the donation, it took me a moment to realize what it meant. I almost forgot what I was to play next." He smiled a little, "So bring me up to speed on what's going on. I caught the news on the way home about the hanger fire at Stars and Stripes."
Michael looked at Lydia who raised an eyebrow and started her report over again.
December 21, 2011 – 5:55 a.m.
Red hadn't slept much after her breakdown in the shower. Sam had taken care of getting her cleaned up and into bed. He held her close through the few hours she'd laid there, her mind racing with all the ramifications of what had just happened and what needed to be done forward from that point. She had dozed off several times, only to start awake at the slightest noise.
Shortly after five, she gave up and she extracted herself from Sam's arms and got dressed, pulling a set of coveralls over her clothes. She made her way down to the coffee pot and set it up to be a little stronger than normal. While she waited for the coffee to brew, she checked on the books and papers that had been set out to dry. Finding them so, she started gathering them up and stacking them on Rachelle's desk. She noted that most of the smell was gone from Rachelle's office which would make her happy.
Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she moved out the back door and leaned against the cold sheet metal wall of the main hanger, staring at the mess in front of her as the sun rose, shedding light on the warped and twisted mess. The building was a complete loss. Without the fire suppression system working the only thing the firefighters were able to do was contain it to the building. The shadowy husk of the Jet Ranger remains seemed to stare back at her from within the burned out building.
She wondered how long it would take the insurance agency to come in and calculate everything so she could have the remains torn down and removed. It cost them to rent that square patch of concrete from the airport no matter what was on it and one hanger wasn't going to be able to hold both their aircraft and repair workshop. She took a sip of coffee as she tried to think past the teardown and what had to be done to rebuild.
Finally, her mind grew tired with that exercise. Thoughts felt like they were rattling around in her brain and she couldn't seem to focus on any one subject for a while. Her thoughts settled after a time and she began to question her motives for continuing the business in the first place. She could sell and take the loss, focus on the 'Bone Yard' exclusively and become a hermit much like her father. Right now, that idea looked very appealing. She honestly hated the day to day business, having to meet with executives, go over numbers, sign contracts, and all the details that went with bringing in business to keep them afloat.
But she felt she had an obligation to her employees. She knew they could find work easily enough in the current industry market but several had been working for the business a long time and this had become Rachelle's baby. Her mind whirled in patterns around these thoughts for a while before she suddenly focused on one point.
Maybe, she could make Rachelle part owner in the business and let Rachelle own and run Stars and Stripes. That might free up Red to focus on the other half of the business and spend her time fixing and flying old or specialty aircraft for films. She paused, the coffee cup half way to her lips as she tried to look the idea from all angles. She didn't even need to have Rachelle pay her for this half. Red already had enough money squirreled away from her military pay plus the money she just made with the sale of the cello.
Her lips curled up in a small smile. The solution seemed perfect and she wondered why she hadn't thought of it before. There might be some other way to arrange things, but Red's heart wasn't in running the day to day. She just wanted to be elbow deep in the guts of a machine or up in the sky, flying.
"Are you going to drink your coffee or just stare off into space, pretending to be a stoic statue? Of course with as cold as it is out here this morning, I wouldn't doubt if you were stuck like that," came a calm voice to her right.
She turned her head a little, lifting the cup to lips, "Funny," she said before taking intended sip. Her face fell back into her typical neutral expression as she watched Mike come to stand next to her, looking at the ruined hanger.
"I heard on the news what happened. Of course, my company immediately sent me out this morning to make sure you would still be able to fill your obligation to them," he said, raising an eyebrow slightly as he looked at her.
She read quite a bit into that look and heard more in the words than were spoken. "We should be able to handle it, but I won't know for certain until we've had the rescued aircraft inspected to see if they are in any condition to fly."
"Why don't we go look at them and we can talk about the upcoming work." Mike shifted and stood straight, a canvas bag he carried swinging from his left hand as he stuffed his right hand in his jacket pocket.
Red looked at the bag then up at Mike, raising an eyebrow.
Mike followed her gaze and then he motioned towards the four rescued aircraft. "I come bearing gifts that will hopefully ease your burdens a little," he explained.
Red gave a slight nod, casually walking towards the aircraft, her eyes shifting to look at Mike, "I see," is all she said. She knew Mike's company hadn't hired them out to do for anything until after the holidays.
As they got farther away from the hanger, Mike relaxed minutely, handing her the bag. "Some from me, some a mutual acquaintance."
Red tossed out the rest of her coffee onto the tarmac then took the bag, opening it to peer inside. At the bottom was a metal box with a couple of blinking lights on it: a scrambler that was currently turned on. "I knew there was no way he could stay out of this," she said with a huff. "Since I haven't seen your father on my doorstep at first light this morning, I assume he got and understood my message last night?"
Mike chuckled, "Yeah, he got the message about your turf and his turf and about how he could be 'family' to you all he wanted when you were on his turf. You might come to regret saying that. After losing so many with things unsaid, he's become somewhat protective of those that are still around, you included."
"So, what other 'goodies' did you bring me?" she asked, changing the subject somewhat as she shifted items around in the bag to get a better look.
Several items littered the bottom of the bag ranging from a box of gourmet muffins, several bars of very good German dark chocolate, to bag of freshly ground coffee from one of the local bistros. The last item was that of a plain white envelope. She reached in and pulled it out, her fingers telling her there was something hard and square inside like a credit card.
Raising an eyebrow, she looked at him as they came to one of the less singed helicopters. "What's this?" she asked as she set the bag down and opened it. A piece of paper was wrapped around a check card inside.
"Dad got some legal advice on how to supply you with the remaining funds for the sale of the cello without having such a large amount of money show up suddenly in your bank account. The card connects to an off-shore account that you can draw off of any time you needs the funds." Mike smiled a little. "He didn't want you having to deal with taxes or issues with your insurance company finding out you have a nice little nest egg."
She looked back at him with a slight frown then exhaled. Red looked at the card and then put it back, folded the envelope around the piece of plastic and slipped it into the inside pocket of her coveralls. "From the first part of the concert I got to enjoy, it's evident that you are a very talented musician. Congrats on the acquisition of the cello."
Mike looked at her with a strange expression on his face. "Honestly, if we weren't in the public view right now, I'd probably bow down and kiss your feet." He grew thoughtful for a moment, "Probably not that extreme since Sam might take exception to that. But I'd at least give you a huge hug." His expression softened and a genuine smile slid across his face, "Thank you. It's a lifelong dream come true."
Red smirked slightly, "Yeah, not sure I'm comfortable with feet kissing but maybe I'll take the raincheck on the hug for a later time. And you're welcome. Something that exquisite should never be left to fade away. Someone who values it for what it truly is and what it represents should be the true owner and caretaker of such an item."
Silence filled the few moments between them and he nodded, looking a little stunned the more he thought about the cello finally being his.
Red closed the bag and picked it up, moving towards a second aircraft, keeping up the appearance of going over the singed equipment. As they walked, she observed Mike and saw the sidelong look he gave her, as if not sure how to broach the next subject.
"Spit it out Mike, whatever it is you're going to say," she commented as she set the bag down next to the aircraft they stopped at.
Looking over at her, he smirked and shook his head. "It is so uncanny how you can read people," he said with a sigh. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pamphlet but held onto it for a moment. "After we got the main headquarters settled in Reno a handful of years back, I did a little exploring of the surrounding businesses, museums and so forth." He finally held out the pamphlet to her.
She took it hesitantly and looked it over before opening it up.
"I'm sure you've heard about the Air Races they have every year in Reno. This year, unfortunately, they had a horrible crash that killed eleven people, including the pilot."
Red spread open the pamphlet to see it held information on the Reno Stead Airport, formerly known as the Stead Air Force base. It listed out the average type of traffic in and out of there on any given day and the different kind of facilities available for commercial and private rental and use. Her eyes flicked over the list of aircraft stored there by collectors, commercial use and display.
She looked back up at Mike, the unspoken question between them as to why he was giving this to her.
"A couple of weeks ago I was going over a list of aircraft and equipment for sale, hoping I could spot a few that you might be interested in when I saw one was for sale here," he said pointing to the paper she held. "Then something clicked and I went looking for the pamphlet I had tucked away. I put it with my stuff to bring to you after the holidays."
She re-read a few key points again, her mind going over a few facts as she considered them from different angles. "Ok, I'll bite. Why bring this to me?"
He shrugged, "Thought you might want to check it out when you're back that way. It's pretty cool honestly. Might think about it as some place to open up business in or a workshop for the 'Bone Yard'. Besides, I heard some hangers have heated floors," he whispered almost conspiratorially. "And as a bonus, you wouldn't have to come up with excuses whenever you wanted to go visit dad and his toys."
She blinked and then let a soft chuckle slip past her lips. She looked over the pamphlet a little longer before she looked at him with narrowed eyes. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you had this planned all along."
He shrugged, "I'm being honest when I said I really hadn't thought of it until last week." He went over to stick his head into the cockpit of one of the two rescued choppers. He ducked back out and looked at her. "Not saying you have to do anything with this information. It's there for you to consider and an option if you ever decide on a change of scenery or be closer to those that share a similar passion with yourself. The fact that you're closer to dad and his project is an extra bonus."
She was quiet in thought as Mike poked around for a minute, looking at the charred metal on the back of the chopper. After reading it over one more time, she folded it up and it joined the check card inside her coveralls. "I'll think about it."
Watching him for a moment, she didn't seem to miss the way he held himself. "There's something else, isn't there?" she asked quietly.
Mike was quiet for a minute and then sat down in the open doorway of the least damaged chopper. He unzipped his jacket and pulled out a manila envelope. "You might want to look this over before anyone has a chance to question you on this," he said quietly, holding it out to her.
Her eyes narrowed as she took the large envelope and opened it, sliding several sheets of paper out of it. As she began to read, her eyes grew a little wider before narrowing in anger. "Why didn't someone tell me about this last night?"
Mike held up his hands, "Neither dad or I knew about this until close to midnight when Lydia filled us in. By then dad figured you'd already had your plate full and decided to send me out with the information early this morning. That's the main reason I'm here so freaking early."
She flipped through the pages angrily again, then shoved them back in the envelope. "I honestly don't care what time it was. I should have been notified," she snapped.
He frowned, "And what would that have accomplished other than put more stress on you? The GA took care of things. Nothing was disturbed in the hanger and it's secure again, locked up and left alone. The gang members were turned over to the local sheriff and he was informed about the fire at the hanger here. He was going to coordinate efforts with the Feds and local authorities this morning. There was nothing you could have done and no one locally would have been informed of anything until after his people got into the office this morning."
Red ran a hand down her face, giving a slight groaning sigh. She turned away from Mike for a moment, looking back to the main hanger. She saw Sam, Mac and Rachelle standing outside the big door, all holding coffee cups, watching her with concerned faces. She was quiet for a while longer then looked at Mike. "Tell them 'Thanks'," she said quietly.
She then looked back at Rachelle, how stressed she looked and her thoughts went back to her early idea of offering half the business to Rachelle and smirked, "Know of anyone that wants a job?" she asked. "And can fly?"
