The two women walked in sync, small carry-ons rolling behind them, their matching brown hair a rare point of similarity. Beth, the taller of the two, held her phone to her ear.
"We're through security, and heading to our gate," Beth said. "We should get there in about an hour."
"It's not that far," Julia protested. "We're leaving out of gate 5. It's just around the corner on the left. Which you would know if you had looked at the airport map."
"You looked at the airport map. What's the point of both of us looking at it. I can just follow you."
"True, and you preserve your ability to complain about everything airport related."
"I complain about everything airport related because I hate everything about airports."
In her defense, Elizabeth Kane had good reason to hate airports. Beth's name still flagged every watchlist imaginable, so security played out as expected: two hours in a windowless room, two searches, two pat-downs. The last one was so intimate, she considered sending the agent flowers. And a thank-you note for the lovely morning date. She was ninety-nine percent certain that the large man walking behind them was either DHS, or FBI, or one of the other agencies that kept tabs on her. They could feel him back there even without looking. Like a large planet pulling small asteroids in with its gravity.
Beth had dressed for efficiency: jog bra, cotton underwear, sweatpants, a hoodie, and Crocs—airport strip search survival gear. The entirety of Julia's ordeal had been sitting and waiting for Beth to emerge from the windowless room. But she had not been idle during that wait. Forty-five seconds to breach airport security. Three minutes to pull up the camera feed. Julia watched as Beth sat, patient, while her luggage was searched for the third time. Most people would have averted their eyes at the sight of someone they loved being stripped searched. Julia's eyes had only focused harder on the image on her phone. She kept the screen angled so that no one but herself could see the live feed that was supposed to have been blanked out to prevent anyone from watching. Her fear that the process would trigger an Alice Incident was almost zero thanks to Aric's healing. Almost zero, but not quite. Julia watched intensely for the tell tale signs that Beth's alter ego was emerging. But Beth had remained relaxed, almost serene during the search. Afterwards as she answered the same questions over and over again she seemed almost bored. The same could not be said for the men and women in the room with Beth. They were scared shitless to be locked in a room with someone with Beth's (technically Alice's) reputation for up close and personal, and very messy, violence.
"Our flight is still showing as on time," Julia said loud enough for Kate to hear. "10:30 departure."
"Great," Kate replied. "So, wheels down right around Noon."
"Yup," Beth answered. "Hey, can you pass something along to Dad?"
The hesitation in Kate's response was slight. Just long enough for her to let out a breath and take in another one. But Beth noticed it. She was well aware that Kate was trying everything she could think of to encourage the nascent relationship between Beth and their father. Not many people got close enough to Kate to see for themselves how much love she had inside her. How she wanted to share that love with those closest to her. Certainly not the people who met her when she was hidden behind a mask and body armor. Those unfortunate individuals, because of circumstance or poor life choices, got to see a completely different side of Katherine Kane. It had been the loving side of her sister that had pulled Beth back from the brink. But not even Kate's boundless love could bring Beth and her father together. That was a gap that Beth had to bridge on her own, and she knew that it hurt Kate that it was taking so long. But Beth also knew that Kate wasn't going to give up the fight completely. So she was not at all surprised by her sister's response.
"You don't want to do that yourself when you see him?"
Beth hesitated. "No. It's going to be weird enough as it is."
Only in the past few months had Beth begun to believe people could love her—despite Alice. Aric had learned everything about her, in an instant, and still, he loved her. Even thinking about it now, four months after it happened, was enough to bring her to the brink of tears. But even with that direct evidence she still hesitated when it came to her father. She wasn't sure exactly why. In Aric's case it wasn't a question of her taking it on faith that he truly loved her. She could feel it for herself in that gray space that their shared consciousness occupied when they were connected. His love for her was like being enveloped in a warm sea, the two of them embracing as the gentle motion of the water moved them in harmony with the universe. But she didn't have that connection with her father. She didn't even have it with Julia. Or Kate. But she knew beyond any doubt that the two of them loved her. She didn't need a connection to convince herself of that.
So why all the doubts when it comes to my Dad? she wondered. Maybe because we're still mostly strangers? And who's fault is that? Mine.
"What do you want me to pass along?"
"He knows someone in Justice, right?"
The silence before Kate's reply now had nothing to do with Beth's relationship with her father. "Jesus, what is in the fucking water today? That's the second request I've had for Dad to talk to Justice."
Julia could hear Kate's voice, and her face displayed the same confusion as Beth's did when she responded.
"Really? Who else is asking? Does it involve China?"
"Wait...China?"
"Yes, China. Trish had a thing. The PRC has been setting up illegal police stations in the City and arresting Chinese dissidents before dragging them back to Beijing."
"So, they were kidnapping Chinese citizens from US soil."
"Yup. Sound familiar?"
"No. But if you give me a minute I can dig deep and act surprised that they would stoop to underhanded shit like that. No, Babs put in a request from her dad. Guys are turning up dead in the river. Tortured. Strangled. Dumped, but clean as the proverbial whistle as far as IAFIS is concerned. Doesn't make sense unless they were maybe undercover. DEA, FBI, pick your three letter combo of choice. Her Dad wanted to check. We're trying to get him somebody to talk to."
"Definitely does not sound like Trish's thing," Beth said, her head shaking in disagreement, which was mirrored exactly by Julia's.
"Who was Trish asking for?"
"Herself. She was doing a job for Kyle, and you know how Kyle is with information. Need to know basis."
"She needs to know how to tell him to go fuck himself, is what she needs to know."
Beth knew Trish was saving up to cut ties, but she wasn't there yet. Still, Beth nodded in agreement.
"We are in complete agreement, but she also needs to pay rent and eat. It's not an uncommon conundrum."
"Double negative duly noted. I'll add her request to the list. But enough about business. I'm really looking forward to seeing you and spending some time with you. Both of you."
"Us too," Beth replied before holding the phone out towards her friend. "Say hello, Jules."
"Hello, Jules!" Julia Pennyworth shouted in the general direction of the hand that held the phone.
More than one head turned towards the two laughing women.
One thousand miles away, Jacob Kane sat in the back of an armored Audi, listening intently.
"Whenever you can get to it," Jacob said into the ether surrounding the rear seat of the specially designed Audi RS Q8. The two men who road in the front seats, and the four men who followed in a modified Mercedes cargo van were all privy to much more sensitive conversations than the one that was currently playing over the car's sound system. But like everyone who was tasked with protecting Jacob Kane they were sworn to secrecy, both verbally and in iron clad writing.
"The China thing should not be too difficult. We've got a ton of intel on that. They've been at it since 2015. The U.S. Attorney for the Eastern District of New York is building a case right now. I'll ask him to put something together, but it'll be heavily redacted. He can't risk the case he's building."
"Just a summary will be fine. I appreciate it, Harvey."
"No worries. The other one's going to take some digging on the down low. You know how everyone gets about their covert assets. But frankly I would have expected to have heard already if three undercover agents went missing, no matter who they worked for."
"Thanks again. Don't make too much noise about either request. It sounds like the China thing is pretty well in hand, and those three guys aren't going to be any less dead on Boxing Day. The other thing, I'm sorry that all I have to go on is his first name. Whatever you can dig up."
"Got it. Got any plans for the holidays?"
"Beth is coming in for a few days. We're going to spend some time together. You?"
"People keep inviting me over. You'd think I had a terminal disease."
"It's your first Thanksgiving since June died. They just want to make sure you're OK, and they don't want you to be alone."
"I'm not OK. That's exactly why I don't want to be around anybody from work. They don't need Special Agent Buzz Kill moping around, or worse, pretending to be happy. I'll roast a chicken and watch football."
"I understand completely. But you call me if you need anything, capish?"
Jacob could hear his old friend's voice brighten when he spoke. "You know neither one of us is Italian, right?"
"Come on, that has to be in public domain by now."
The two men shared a moment of laughter before Harvey Abrams returned to the matter at hand.
"I'll send you something as soon as I have it."
"Take care, Harvey."
"You too Jacob."
Jacob gave a nod to the man riding shotgun in the front who pressed the button on the infotainment display to end the call.
Jacob looked at the Tag Heuer Chronograph on his left wrist.
They should be landing any time now, he thought. His gaze came up again to take in the view of Lake Michigan though the bullet proof window to his right. It was only due to the marvels of modern engineering, and the resources of Kane Industries, that the vehicle he sat in, and the one following close behind, barely weighed more that the standard versions available to the public. Both were able to withstand an attack that would turn most armoured cars into scrap metal. Attempts on his life, or at least his health, or freedom, were part of his life as a high profile defense (and offense) contractor. Vehicles of this type and the men sitting in it were part of that life. So was kidnapping and ransom insurance, which came with a retrieval rider just in case everything else proved insufficient. It was not cheap. But it was a standard piece of the protection puzzle that men and women like Jacob relied on. What no one else could rely on, not to Jacob's knowledge in any case, was a daughter and a nephew that, in the event of Jacob's kidnapping, would suit up and bring down the Wrath of God on whoever was holding him for ransom.
two daughters, Jacob corrected himself.
Jessica sat motionless at her desk while she contemplated the request she had just received. The desktop bore the scars of many years of use and abuse. If she thought long and hard she could call up the memory of how each of them came into being. She could call up the memories of each and every time she had had sex on that marred surface much more easily. The rest of her office bore similar scars. Some of them were hidden behind spackle and paint, or wood putty, courtesy of Malcolm's handiwork. Some were more virtual, broken glass long since replaced, blood soaked carpet ripped up and replaced with fake wood. Gone but still remembered.
"You've been shot at, attacked with a sword, had clients die right in front of you," Malcolm had said on one occasion. "I think it's time you looked for another office."
"This office and I have a history. We've been through a lot. It wouldn't be the same if I moved somewhere else."
"That's exactly my point."
At the moment it wasn't their shared history that had Jessica Jones sitting in her office.
"Let me get this straight. You want me to investigate three dead bodies that have no IDs. No criminal histories, no records of any kind. That were found about a thousand miles from where I am sitting."
Laurel Lance considered her response before answering.
"You know, when you put it like that it sounds kind of stupid."
Jessica was unscrewing the cap from a new bottle of very inexpensive bourbon when she spoke. "OK, so it's not just me that thinks that. Good."
"Commissioner Gordon asked me for help. But all my investigators are busy, and I thought of you. You remember him, right?"
"No, I don't remember him. Because I didn't get to go to Chicago and beat the shit out of some dumbass kidnappers."
"Right, I forgot. You were working on something else at the time. How's that going?"
"Fuck if I know. The feds took over. I got a monstrous check from Kyle, and that was it."
"For some reason I always think of the two of you as a team. You and Trish. I know it was you who figured out who was behind the whole kidnapping thing. The Commissioner was impressed with your work too. When he asked for help you were the obvious choice."
"I'm flattered. Really. But what could I do that his people couldn't? And how would I do it if you have absolutely no information on these guys?"
"We have a bit more than absolutely no information. We have photos of each of them. Not their best sides, them being dead and all. But still not nothing. And one of the detectives grabbed a set of prints on the down low off the last one. Again, not pristine. He'd been in the water a day or two. Jim just wants an air gapped opinion."
"Jim?" Jessica asked playfully.
"Oh, for fuck sake. He's thirty years older than I am. And he's married."
"I'm just fucking with you. So he wants someone totally not connected with Chicago to do some digging. I guess I can do that. How much does it pay?"
There was another moment of silence.
Laurel hesitated. "About that..."
Jessica sighed before drinking bourbon straight out of the bottle. "Of course it doesn't pay. What else is fucking new."