Chapter 8
The flight would be short, not even time to grab a beer if Sam would have been so inclined. Drinking was the last thing on his mind after yesterday's harrowing trip in the trunk and almost getting killed. His thoughts wandered to Elsa and her shock when she caught him in the shower that morning, seeing all the bruises. Fortunately his clothes covered up most of them now, and in a few days he would have no reminders of his impetuous act.
It was incredibly foolish. He had a tracker on him, and he should have just stuck it to the underside of the bumper and let Johnson take the car. But trackers don't seat and engage themselves. He had no time, just long enough to decide to take the chance. The corner of his mouth tipped up into a smile. Mike would have done something similar given the same set of circumstances, and Sam and Fiona would have been upset with him. He released a soft sigh, missing his friend.
"I wish Michael was here," Fiona muttered as if she'd read his thoughts. She sat in a seat across the aisle, and Russ sat opposite her with a table between them, a deck of cards laid out for solitaire. He seemed unfazed by the mission. Sam understood that quiet internalizing while to the world one looked calm and oblivious. Fiona was more like a rubber band stretched to its limits, dying to be released.
"Russ," Sam spoke, getting his attention. "You know where Mike is right now?"
Russ glanced up from his game with an incredulous look. "Sam, you know I can't tell you that, even if I wanted to."
Shrugging, Sam replied, "I know. I figured it didn't hurt to ask." He paused and took a different approach. "Have you heard from him?"
"Last night he called, and I gave him an update on our investigation." Russ reported with a smile at Fiona. "He had to be careful about what he said, but he did mention one thing, a clue, I guess." He set down the cards and continued. "Michael said something about a tube being stuck. Does that make sense?"
"What kind of tube? Did he say," Sam asked.
"No. I didn't have time to ask. I'm sorry. I have a feeling it would have made our search a lot easier if he could have."
"No doubt." Sam glanced at Fiona.
She was deep in thought, and a sudden light appeared in her expression. "I think I know what he was talking about." She leaned forward and turned toward Sam. "You remember when I was abducted?"
"A couple of times, at least." Sam nodded, urging her to continue. "Which one?"
"I'm talking about when you bugged that tube of lipstick for me and set it on the tire where I could pick it up." With a smile, she added, "After the job, I was getting something out of my purse and the tube fell out, rolled into the seat crack, and we never saw it again. Michael tried to get it out, but it was as like it disappeared."
"Why so concerned about a tube of lipstick," Sam asked.
"He wanted his bug back," Fiona answered with a smirk. "He didn't care about the lipstick."
"That was my bug, sister, not Mike's."
"Anyway, the point is, I think that Michael is trying to say that we need to search in the nooks and crannies of the seats." Fiona let out a satisfied sigh and grinned. She hadn't looked that pleased in awhile.
"Seems too easy," Sam said. "That would be one of the first places anyone would look."
"Yes, but you know how tough it is to find a quarter that drops in a seat crack," Russ countered. "It's like the thing goes into a black hole." He scooped up the cards and tapped them into a stack as he spoke. "That's it then. We land, get to the Charger, and take out the seats, every one of them."
"Where is it right now," Fiona asked, glancing out the window at the city that seemed to appear out of a mist as the jet descended from the patchy clouds.
"I've got a buddy who's been keeping a really good eye on it. He works at the studios as a transportation wrangler, and he's had the Charger stored in with all the other picture cars." Russ grinned. "Isn't that brilliant? There's a stock of about fifty of them and it's easy to get it lost in that much steel."
"Clever," Fiona remarked. "I just hope that it's really safe there."
"You'll see in a little while." Russ smiled, pleased with his plan. "We'll have full use of the studio garage, and my buddy promised complete privacy. It's a weekend so there aren't likely to be any crews back in that area."
The sleek jet landed and taxied to a private hangar. A tan sporty sedan waited for them, and Russ took the wheel while Fiona climbed in back and Sam took the front passenger seat. The agent drove them to the studios and flashed a special pass to get inside the gate. The guards didn't ask them to sign in, just lifted the gate and let them through it.
"Well, that was easy," Sam muttered. "Considering where we are, that pass must have some magic in it."
Chuckling, Russ replied, "I don't know about that. Del just told me that it would get me to anywhere on the property that I wanted to go."
"Gee, Maddie would have loved that, huh Fi," Sam said with a soft laugh. "She adores Disney World."
Russ nodded. "One of the perks of living in this area is having the park close by, but I think my wife is Disneyed out. She took the kids when they were younger, but now they're grown, and…." He fell silent, the impact of time away from his family taking its toll.
Russ took them on a seemingly endless drive through backlots and past sound stages until he reached a large warehouse like building. He parked in a spot near a large sliding door, got out, and with Fiona and Sam following, he approached a smaller entryway. He knocked, and from inside they heard someone invite them in, so he turned the knob and entered.
The three found themselves in a small room with four desks in it. Only one was occupied, and the man sat typing at a keyboard. He looked up. "Russ, hey, you came back. I was beginning to think you were gonna leave me that sweet ride."
"Not in a million years. My friends would string me up if I tried," Russ laughed as he replied. "Del, these are my friends, Sam and Fiona. Sam, Fi, this is Del, my buddy the transportation wrangler."
"Nice to meet you guys," Del said, looking uncomfortable. "I suppose you're going to want the Charger right now."
"Yes. Is the work room ready?" Russ studied him, realizing that something was wrong. His usually cheerful friend paled at the mention of the car. "Del? Did something happen to the car?"
"No, the car is fine!" He jumped and turned toward a door leading outside, a different door from where they came in. Over his shoulder, he said, "Follow me."
Del led the group to a street lined with houses representing a nicely manicured subdivision. A large group of people and equipment blocked the end of a curve, highlighted by a boom camera soaring over the mass. A cry of "Action!" drifted on the slight breeze.
"I thought you said nobody was working today, Del," Russ said with anxiety in his voice.
"They're trying to finish up. Production is behind schedule, and the picture car they had wasn't... acceptable... so..." He stopped at the edge of the group, letting the sight of the Charger do the talking for him.
"Oh great," Sam whispered. "We just have to hope they're done soon so we can get into it."
Russ gave them a quiet sign as they melded into the fringe of the film crew. From where they stood they couldn't hear the actors' dialogue on the set, but they saw their quarry glinting in the sunlight. Sam held up his phone and snuck a picture. There was no way Mike would believe that his car wound up in a movie or a television show. Patience dwindled while they waited for the filming to complete. Afterwards, en masse the crew turned from the set and packed up gear, preparing to move it somewhere else. The only thing that concerned Sam, Fiona and Russ was the Charger and where it was going.
Del moved forward. He spoke with someone on the set before continuing to the vehicle. Catching up to him, Fiona asked, "Who gave you permission to use Michael's car in a movie?"
"It's a TV show," Del corrected. "It's just in this one scene and they won't need it again. I promise." He huffed at Fiona's glare. "What'd you expect me to do when they asked for a car that fit the Charger's description? I couldn't say no, or I'd be out of a job and you'd be out of luck."
"He's got a point, Fi." Sam squinted at the car. It was Mike's, he was certain this time. There was a feeling, like an aura surrounding it. "So, can we get this baby back to the shop or wherever and get to business?"
"I'll drive it over there," Del volunteered.
"I'll go with you," Sam said, giving the guy a slit-eyed glare. He didn't trust him.
"I have no problem with that. We can all go together."
Everyone got into the Charger, and when a path was clear for him to move, Del drove to the back of the warehouse where the other cars were stored. He parked it in the middle of a well-appointed mechanic shop.
As he got out of the car, Del said, "Have at it. If there's anything you need, just let me know."
"Thanks, man," Russ said as he reached for a wrench.
Fiona, Sam, and Russ spent the rest of the morning removing all the seats from the Charger. The front bucket seats were cleared and Fiona took on the task of putting them back together. She didn't want Michael to come home and find things in disarray, so she put a lot of love into restoring the seats. Sam hefted them inside the car and she reattached them.
The three forgot about lunch and kept working as if obsessed with finding that chip. It was late afternoon, they were tired and sweaty in the hot building, but no one wanted to be the one to throw in the towel.
"Oh, hey, I think I found something," Russ exclaimed. "Ow, something pricked me. Help me out here, Sam."
Sam joined Russ at the end of the bench seat. It was turned upside down on a work bench and the two had been inspecting the stuffing between the frame and springs. "What'd you find?"
Russ pulled his fingers from a space between the frame and the stuffing. "I found this." He held up a thin metal box about the size of a stick of gum. His index finger was bleeding. "I must have poked myself on something sharp in there."
Sam took the slim box from Russ. "You better get a bandage for that, pal." He watched as Russ turned pale before his eyes, and his breathing quickened and became shallow. Concerned, he tucked the box into his shirt pocket and asked, "Russ, are you okay?"
"Uh, yeah, I think so." He stared at his finger as if he'd never seen it bleed before. "I just don't like blood, that's all."
"You're in a bad profession then, my friend." Sam smirked, but he also took a step closer to Russ. As Sam closed the distance, he barked, "Fi, call for help."
She stared at Russ as his eyes rolled up and he dropped like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Sam was there to catch him and lower him to the floor.
Looking up at Fiona, Sam noticed she still hadn't done anything. "Fi, call for an ambulance!"
Before she could dial, Russ's friend Del came into the work area. He saw Russ down and Sam laying him out. "What happened?"
Sam replied. "It doesn't matter what happened. What does matter is that he's going into shock."
"Okay, I'll get help." Del got on his walkie talkie. "This is Del in transpo. Need an ambulance at the warehouse."
'Ten-four. Ambulance on its way."
"We have an on-site medical facility that can handle simple stuff, but they also have an ambulance just in case," Del explained as his attention fixed on Russ.
"Do you think Michael planted a poisonous booby trap," Fiona asked from her position kneeling on the other side of Russ.
"I don't know. I wouldn't advise looking to find out," Sam replied.
"The doctors will start asking questions if it's poison," Fiona retorted.
"We'll figure it out later."
The siren cut off further conversation. That and the fact that Russ had stopped breathing. The paramedics arrived and found Fiona giving him artificial respiration and Sam checking his pulse, so when they took over he was able to tell them what information they knew. Afterwards, they could only stand and watch them work and take Russ to the hospital.
"Where is he going," Fiona asked.
"Orlando General," the paramedic replied before getting into the vehicle and driving away with sirens blaring.
The sound died, and Sam and Fiona found themselves alone. Del was nowhere to be found. Sam stood with hands on hips surveying the mess inside the work shop, assessing and sensing that something wasn't right, but too concerned about Russ to dwell on it long. "I guess we better get that seat installed in the Charger, find the hospital, and go see how Russ is doing before we go back to Miami."
"Agreed. Do you really think we should leave the Charger here with Russ?" Fiona's nose crinkled as if she thought the idea was disgusting. "It doesn't feel right, Sam."
He let out a long sigh before replying. "I think you're right. Let's take the rental car to the airport and tell the flight crew that they can fly Elsa's plane back to Miami. Then we'll drive the Charger home."
The two put the car back together after carefully locating the source of Russ's problem, a small vial with an even smaller hypodermic needle attached. "What was Michael thinking? Either of us could have pricked ourselves on that."
"This list must be pretty hot to risk us falling into his booby trap," Sam said. He patted his pocket, assuring himself that the box was still there. "You know, I never even looked to see if it's in this thing." He pulled it out of his pocket and found a small catch, unfastened it, and opened the lid. A small square piece of flat silicon rested inside the container. "This must be it. Okay Fi, I want you to put this somewhere safe, and I have just the place. Turn around."
"Turn around. What..."
"Just do it, please."
Fiona complied and Sam took out a pen knife. He reached for the collar of her t-shirt and slit the stitches just enough to tuck the chip into the folds where the collar met the top of the fabric shirt back.
"There. It's a tight fit, so the threads should hold until we get back." He scooped her hair in his palm and flipped it over the back of her shirt. "No one will ever suspect it's there." He smiled.
"I have to admit, you have your moments of cleverness, Sam," Fiona said with an impish smile as she rearranged her long locks. "Let's go see Russ and go home."
Finding Orlando General wasn't as easy as they'd hoped, as their first inquiry produced an answer they didn't expect. The woman in the mini-mart said, "We don't have an Orlando General Hospital."
"You're sure," Sam asked, leaning a hand on the counter and giving her a charming but probing expression.
"Positive, mister. I'm sorry."
"Where's the nearest hospital then," Fiona asked.
She pointed them to the hospital, but when they arrived they didn't find Russ. No one matching his description had been brought into the emergency room.
"I'm not liking this, Fi. Either Russ was playing us, or..."
"Someone got to him, thinking he had the chip," Fiona finished, her head shaking. "We need to pay Russ's wife a little visit."
"Is this really a good time? We don't know where he is, or if he's okay, and all you'll do is give her a heap of anxiety," Sam lectured her. "No, we need to get that chip back to Miami, into the Agency's hands, and then we'll look for Russ."
"He could be God knows where by then," Fiona argued. "His trail will have gone cold."
"Considering we have no trail at the moment, it can't get much colder."
Fiona let out a breath of annoyance. "You're right. Fine, we'll go back to Miami first."
"Now you're thinking clearly." Sam grinned, but quickly sobered. "Look, I'm just as worried about Russ as you are. If there's any way, we'll find him. I promise."
"Quit yammering, and let's get a move on." Fiona strode to the Charger, yanked open the passenger door, and got in.
With a sigh, Sam left the hospital and followed her. He fired it up, found the freeway, and made a straight run for Miami with stops for gas and a pee break. It was early evening when they returned and Sam drove to the CIA offices. He called ahead and was told that agents were waiting, and the sooner they got that chip out of their custody and in its rightful place, the better. If Russ was poisoned for his involvement, Sam didn't want Fiona or himself to be the next targets.