9. And the award goes to…
Branson was leery, there was nothing about this that sat comfortably with him.
It wasn't just him.
The whole family had just received a crash course on the foul workings of the system and had no time to really work out how to navigate it, but to do nothing was part of the reason the problem was so enormous now.
Chapman could see the unease in the people before him and as if he had read Branson's mind, he said, "You know, when people are faced with the choice between comfort and safety, they by a vast majority will choose safety, just like the freed slaves in Egypt did thousands of years ago. It's a human trait that has stood the test of time and by default so has slavery.
Branson gazed around at the others to gauge their standpoint, this was not his sole decision.
He was both surprised and proud when his niece was the first to speak up.
"I'm in," she said resolutely. "For the kids"
And one by one, even though the idea was not as easily made by some as it was by others, they agreed to push forward.
When the collective agreement was made, Chapman nodded with some relief, he didn't blame their hesitancy in the slightest.
But he had anticipated correctly and took out the necessary paperwork for the crew to look through after he briefed them on the new mission.
"You'll be the public image of a multi-faceted operation we've titled Operation Angel Wings. Your role in the mission is to seek and find where the leads take you from the outside in."
"Any relation to Michael?" Cait asked without really thinking, the thought having just popped into her head.
"I can't say, but it is a coincidence, is it not? Chapman replied without really answering.
"This file," Chapman said before picking up one more file to show the others, "is the one file that was not in the coffin. It came through the internal pony express via Space Force and it is very interesting to say the least.
"It came on the same day that we heard of Michael's… demise," he said, choosing his words carefully. "It didn't make sense at the time, but I think it may shed some light now."
On inspection, the file revealed a map of the world which at first glance looked almost like Airline inflight magazine map, with all the routes they flew except for a couple of things.
The hubs of intersecting and ending lines were not airports. They were either military jurisdictions or completely undisclosed locations.
And…. Not all the lines were direct and some even looked to lead to nowhere.
"So," Dale said, raising an eyebrow, "what are these, a combination of marine and flight routes?"
"Very astute Dale, you're warm, some of those lines are exactly that, they are transport routes, some are by air, some are by water and some. "He stopped to pause for dramatic effect "are under ground.
He raised a finger whilst drawing in a sharp breath to indicate he wasn't yet finished.
"You might note that there are some area's that look conspicuous by their very absence." Chapmen said, prompting a deeper study of the mass of lines and their connections.
"Yeah, there's almost nothing coming from LA," she added, as another puzzle piece was revealed.
"But why?" Cait asked, kicking herself at her childlike question.
But Chapman appreciated the simplicity of her query.
"That's where you guys come into the picture Cait.
"It will be your job to get into the elite LA underground through the purple circle you'll be rubbing shoulders with. Your initial task will be to schmooze with some of the key players within the list of celebrities enclosed in your file and gain their favor and see where it leads.
"We believe that the upcoming movie release on child trafficking will make them twitchy, so if Branson's public clout shows up at the after parties, it won't make them as suspicious as a no name infiltrator…."
And that's what they did.
They went to these events where nothing at all paid any resemblance to what could be called Angelic. In fact it was quite the opposite and it reminded Branson in particular as to why these people were not his people.
The after parties were unsavory as predicted, but short of forming relationships beyond their own and "going home to continue the party" as was suggested by more than one famous face, the Santini Crew didn't come up with anything that stood out.
Either the wind had been put up the interested individuals and they were all much more careful, or they indeed had to delve deeper into what followed the after parties.
And that was where they drew the line.
Chapman also grew frustrated, especially when he learned that the Assembly Public Safety Committee California blocked SB 14 making things so obvious, that it went to show just how powerful the industry was. Even so, he knew that the larger military movement behind the scenes had made a massive impact on the darkness of the elite world. These traffickers had been effectively cut off from most of their suppliers which is why the southern border was such a boil on the butt of the current administration. Hollywood was that last Bastian, and all routes led to, and seemingly disappeared there.
They were cornered and ironically, even though they were more overt than ever before in the eyes of the public, they had effectively gone to ground.
There was the usual lull in major Hollywood award events after the Oscars, before the writers' strike threatened to delay the Emmy's.
And then that indi movie came out, threatening to make the average punter pay attention.
Followed by the political environment teetering on the precipice, further threatening the republic or as some were saying, "their democracy."
At the Lair, Airwolf was getting another checkup.
"Is it a winged woman holding an atom, or is it and Angel holding the world?" Le asked randomly, while tweaking Airwolf's computer after her latest operational test.
Both humans and machine were running almost at peak performance.
"What are you gibbering on about?" Saint John asked, looking over his shoulder from under the rotor engine cowl to the tech guy standing below him with his calibration device in hand.
"The Emmy award trophy, you could argue that it's an angel." Lee shrugged before getting back to the touch screen.
There was no doubt about Le, he always looked at things from a unique perspective.
September came, and at an Emmy's after party, the older couple were going through the motions, acting the part and mingling with the upper hierarchy of society.
Hierarchy…. That was a laugh, for they were not much more than a bunch of drink or drug addled over privileged brats.
"Ah Branson," a man said, catching Branson and Jo's attention and introducing himself as Marshal Kendy.
The man wiped his nose after sniffing unashamedly, "you're not here with your jet setting entourage this time around?" Asked the producer who represented a famous film franchise who had come off second best in the July the Forth box office race.
"No, not this time, being pilots, it's sometimes hard to pin them down." Branson said, trying to remain casual.
"Yes, I can imagine it would be. Well," he said looking around him to gage the room, "perhaps they could fly you to the next event we're holding at the Olde Coastal Museum in Santa Monica next month?"
"Sounds interesting, please do tell us more," Branson said in an overly posh tone, gathering Jo closer to him and squeezing her. This may be the break that they were waiting for.
"It's our Young Spirit Auction, a fundraiser for the children but I can't tell you more, or I'd have to kill you," he said regretfully and only half joking.
The close couple looked at one another with some concern.
"Just kidding!" said Marshal, but they all knew that it likely wasn't the case. "I tell you what, I'll see if can get you an invite, it promises to be quite a treat." He said before sending a message on his phone.
"We certainly like treats don't we sweetheart," Branson said with a suggestive tone.
Jo simply nodded with a wry smile, before raising a glass of red wine she'd been holding to her lips and taking a sip.
Marshal's phone pinged and the man smiled down at the screen. "Welcome to the dark side Branson, your invitation is in the mail," he said with another sniff.
Later at Project Guardian.
"For the children?" Chapman asked rhetorically.
"That's what he said" Branson said with a shrug before handing the agent the conspicuous invitation and the auction catalogue details attached to it.
"I bet," Chapman said cynically before focusing on the booklet and feeling the hair rise on the back of his neck.
The logo was a child kneeling with her hands in her lap looking at the floor.
A contemplative image that was not nefarious on its own without context.
But in the framework of the perceived subject matter, it spoke volumes.
It was a submissive pose and the child had on angel wings.
Foot note 10/7/23: Watch the Sound of Freedom, by Angel Studio's – In US Theaters now!
Our children are not for sale.