Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
Exhausted from all the horrible developments of the past few hours, Emma had asked to be moved to the hotel bed and fallen asleep shortly after.
The team, however, was wide awake. They needed to set a couple of wheels in motion, but Emma under no circumstances was to get wind of that. So…
"No. No sedation. It might harm the baby", Ilsa very firmly stated.
"We KO her. No permanent damage", Guerrero suggested.
"No permanent damage? I had a headache for three days straight after you knocked me out in that kitchen!" Ames shuddered at the memory. Not so much of the blow itself, but of the aftermath. The five phases of fear…
"A punch gone wrong might cause cerebral bleeding, permanent brain damage…", Winston was putting on a serious expression, but his eyes were gleaming. He knew full well that…
"My punches don't go wrong", Guerrero stated in a deceptively even voice, the look on his face, however, indicated that any more hints like that and he'd give Winston the chance to experience first hand just how precise he could hit.
"She's been awake for about twenty hours, she'll be out cold with natural tiredness for quite a while. Enough time for us", Chance pointed out, ignoring his friends' bickering.
Ames was skeptical. "But what if she wakes up? Without sedatives there's no way we can make sure she doesn't. How do you want to get her to the airport and into the plane without her noticing?"
Chance replied with one of his boyish smiles. "Leave that to me."
Okay…
They quietly packed. Ilsa left a check for the bolt damaged floor at the reception, so generous they didn't dare asking questions. Chance put on his jacket and shoes, then walked over to the bed where Emma was still sleeping, but apparently not too deeply. Her subconsciousness had probably picked up on all the movement around her and sent a couple of signals. She was not far from waking up again.
Smooth and silent he sat down next to her curled up form and just waited for a moment. Then he rested his right hand between her shoulder blades, his palm slightly pressing against the thin fabric of her shirt. Emma sighed as soothing warmth spread from her shoulders down the rest of her back and all along her limbs.
Applying soft pressure with his thumb, Chance began to rub the juncture between her neck and shoulders in slow, gentle circles. She visibly relaxed, her limbs stretching out like a cat's on a porch in the sunlight of an early spring day.
"Everything will be alright", he whispered, stroking her hair with his free hand. Again, Emma sighed. She was slipping deeper into the realm of dreams again.
Cautiously Chance removed his hand from its position between her shoulders, went down on his knees and readied himself to pick her up. This was the most tricky moment. If she wasn't gone far enough, she'd wake up now and all their plans would be in danger.
He slipped his arms underneath her body and then, with one fluid movement, got up from his kneeling position. As he cautiously lifted her from the sheets his back protested at the awkward angle and the imbalanced burden. More worrisome, however, was the low grumble of protest Emma produced and the frown on her face. She was on her way back to consciousness again.
"Shh, babe", Chance whispered. "Don't worry about a thing. I got you." He planted the lightest of kisses on her forehead and Emma snuggled against his chest, deeply inhaling his aftershave, the frown on her forehead disappearing.
Ames, on the other hand, looked at Chance and Emma with eyes like burning flames. This was work, she knew, but still… Ilsa put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Chance managed to get Emma in and out of the car and into the plane without any interruptions. They were well in the air for several hours when she finally blinked awake again. Ames brought her breakfast that Emma studied with obvious displeasure. "What is that?", she sniffed at the variety of raw vegetables on her plate.
"Healthy stuff for the baby", Ames replied huffily.
"I'm not planning to give birth to a litter of rabbits." Emma pushed the plate away, as much as her handcuffs allowed.
"I'd be more concerned about hooves and a tail."
"Ames? Need your help here", Chance called from the front of the jet, interrupting the looming conflict.
"Still can't believe you're really planning to set a rat like B. Brax free", Emma called over to them. The past couple of hours of sleep had been exceptionally relaxing. For whatever reason she felt renewed with energy. The battle was not lost yet! She was a witness to all of this, wasn't she? She'd happily give a statement regarding Guerrero's role in the ambush of the ambulance. And testify against Ilsa, too, of course.
"The only thing that'll make G. Brax leave Grunnit alone", Winston replied tersely, walking past her. "You were the one who figured that out in the first place, remember? Nice plan."
"But he's a monster. Are you aware of why he was convicted? He'll probably kill lots of people out of mere revenge, once he's out. What about their lives? I see that Guerrero would promote such a decision, but… where is he, anyway?" Emma looked around and frowned. No munching bastard in sight. Same went for Ilsa…
"Now that you're asking…"
She couldn't see the triumphant smile on Winston's face, but his tone of voice made it very clear that it was there. The monitor on the jet's front wall that separated the passengers' space from the cockpit, flickered to life. A baseball game appeared, some live broadcast.
At first Emma was confused, what the hell…? But then the camera zoomed in on the crowd watching the game and there, right in the middle of hundreds of fans, sat Guerrero, chomping popcorn.
An alibi. They were fabricating an alibi for him.
"I gather you're not a fan of Baseball", Winston chuckled. A second later the program on the screen switched, to some society event. Needless to say who was just walking down the red carpet.
Another waterproof alibi.
Damn. God Damn!
"But maybe action is more your thing…" Winston switched the program for the third time and this time the quality of the video feed changed. Apparently the pictures they were seeing were coming from a hidden camera, showing masked men getting ready for something that involved guns.
"An acquaintance's crew", Chance explained. "They won't have much trouble with the ambulance. And this video proves that neither Winston, Ames nor I were part of the ambush. The faces aren't recognizable, but the men's body shapes are. They differ significantly from ours."
"You outsorced this?" Emma couldn't believe it.
"But what about Brax' crimes?", she asked again, in a desperate outcry. Everything was ashes - what was she supposed to do now?
"We've got a plan – one that's working", Ames told her, smug smile on her face. "They're going to hand the brother over to Brax, but they'll hide a tiny device on him. The device will cause Brax' helicopter to have technical problems so that the pilot will have no choice but to land again – where the police, which we are going to inform now, will pick up both brothers."
Just then the monitor behind Ames sprang to life again. Shaking pictures showed how the crew Guerrero had hired, the very men that had just freed B. Brax, suddenly drew their guns.
Someone was attacking them…
One of the crew members stumbled and fell to the ground, clutching his chest.
Two more collapsed and lay motionless.
The camera's angle changed, at first it seemed to drop, then it showed everything from worm's eye view.
Ames watched with horror as men wearing masks of dead presidents unlocked B. Brax' handcuffs and took him with them, treating him with utmost respect and leaving four dead people behind.
Chance and Winston were just as shocked.
This was not part of the plan.
G. Brax face appeared on the screen, all smiles.