Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
~ waking dragons ~
Back in the jet again…
Ilsa couldn't help but think that according to leading scientists one of the reasons Hurricane Sandy had become such a monster was the global warming… to which the enormous increase in air traffic over the past few decades was significantly contributing. Cars were producing less CO2 nowadays, thanks to better engines and more effective fuel, but all that saving was rendered almost useless because more planes than ever were in the air.
But what were they supposed to do? Take an ecologically compatible sailing ship? There was a woman's soul at risk. They needed to act fast.
Sighing, Ilsa pulled a sleeping mask over her eyes. There were still a couple of hours left before they'd land in Borneo, better to make good use of it. Who knew what would be waiting for them once they'd made it to that strange temple?
She couldn't quite lay a finger on it, but the look on Guerrero's face whenever the place had been mentioned in the planning stage of the job had somehow bode ill… there was something about that temple, about the dragon paintings, that he wasn't telling her. In addition to that neither he nor Chance had bothered to explain yet why they were carrying exactly the same dragon symbols as tattoos on their shoulders.
Figuring that she'd most likely find out the hard way soon enough, Ilsa curled up in her reclining seat, adjusted her ear phones and put on some Tchaikovsky music.
The calm before the storm, she thought.
… … ….
Eva Khan.
Eva Khan…
Ames flipped the name over and over in her head like a coin. She knew it would make a lot more sense to follow Ilsa's example and grab some sleep before they'd be thrown into the next mess. They had done some serious planning this time around, but Ames was working with Chance long enough by now to know eventually it would all go up in smoke and they'd have to get creative. They hopefully had good doctors in Borneo…
Eva Khan…
Chance had told her that he "knew" that woman even before she had had an opportunity to ask. How nice of him.
Really.
She appreciated his honesty.
And seriously, the thing between Eva and him had gone down a year before she had even met him at Ilsa's charity event. An adrenalin-induced one night stand, nothing more. Recreational sex.
She had always known he hadn't lived a life of celibacy before her. Hell, she had even witnessed him getting friendly with that doctor in Syria… not to mention the horrible incident with Ilsa in Scotland, at that damn lake.
But still… she was going to meet a woman who, at one point in Chance's life, had posed an attraction to him. The thing with Ilsa in Scotland… in hindsight Ames understood it a lot better and she had forgiven him. It had been more about desperation than about attraction anyway.
The Eva Khan thing, however, was totally different. Not because she didn't trust Chance… it was just… looking at her and knowing… Gah.
Tired of her windmilling thoughts, Ames switched on the TV.
… … …
Winston watched Guerrero over the rim of his cup of coffee and just knew something was up. It was the way he was looking at the clouds. Guerrero never looked at the clouds when on the jet. He usually checked his notes while flying, reports saved on his smart phone, photos or maps, stuff like that. Guerrero liked to be prepared.
Or he ate. Munched on an apple, a sandwich, take away leftovers he had brought with him – whatever food he could scavenge was his.
Most often, he did both, studied some illegally obtained documents and crumbled all over them 'cause he was having a snack at the same time.
This time around, however, he hadn't touched any of the food in the galley, not even the Tupperware box clearly marked as Winston's.
If that wasn't reason for concern…
… … …
Guerrero thought about the dragon that adorned both Chance's and his shoulder. Why had they gotten those tattoos? They had never talked about this particular decision, not once in all those years. Two matching tattoos, only inverted.
It had to do with Ryuu, yes. But there was more to it.
Joubert had hated them first glance onwards. He had gone through the roof when he found out. Cruel, hard-hearted bastard that he was, he had immediately realized that there was much more behind those tattoos, a story that went a lot deeper than some drunken foolishness they had tried to make him believe it was. Joubert had instinctively sensed what they themselves had understood only much, much later.
And never, since they were guys, had really put into words…
The tattoo had been a seed… a seed that had slowly grown over the years, barely perceptible at first, till it had broken through the soil that night at the cabin with Kathrin Walters, where he hadn't killed – hadn't been able to kill – Junior and instead had risked getting killed by him.
Which he hadn't done. He had had the shot and not taken it.
They were brothers.
… … …
Far down below the jungle of Borneo came into view. The jungle with its 15.000 species of flowering plants, 3000 species of trees and 420 species of birds… with it Orangutans, Asian Elephants, Sumatran Rhinoceroses, Hose's Civets, Dayak Fruit Bats and, most importantly, Bornean Clouded Leopards… It looked less dense than it had been and those Palm oil plantations seemed to be eating through it like cancer. Nevertheless it was still a vast sea of emerald green, with the river running through like a large silvery snake… or the twisted tail of a huge dragon.
As the plane approached further, thick rainclouds closed in, obscuring the landscape in thick gray mist.