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“But I have no clearance,” Cabiri said sarcastically.
“Look, Ben,” Mike said in a tone usually reserved for a little kid. “The kid can’t come.”
“Michael!” It was Abby. “We don’t have time for this. Let him take the boy.”
Mike’s mouth moved a little, but no sound came out. His face grew red.
“Headquarters is going to hear about this in my report,” he said.
“Headquarters is going to hear about many things,” Abby shot back.
Then she nodded to Jeff, who stuffed my head into that black sack again.
As we were going through the door I heard Bennacio say, “No, I shall lead him.” I felt a hand leave my elbow and another take its place.
Bennacio helped me into the backseat of the car and closed the door. After a second it opened again. I heard Cabiri saying, “No, no, no, Natalia . . .”
And I smelled peaches.
“Good-bye, Kropp,” her voice whispered. “Protect my father.”
The hood lifted over my right cheek, and I felt something warm and moist press against my chin. From the front seat, Mike let out a whistle and a loud whoop.
“ ‘Love is in the air!’ ” he sang.
Then my door slammed closed and the gravel crunched beneath the tires as we started down the mountain.
I figured we had been driving for an hour at least before we finally stopped. I could hear the sound of a jet engine warming up. The hood was lifted and I was blinking in the blinding light, getting a sinking feeling when I saw the plane about a hundred feet away. Mike turned to me.
“It’s not too late, Alfred. We can have another plane here in ten minutes.”
I looked at Bennacio, who had come to stand beside me.
“That’s okay,” I said. “I’m coming.”
We walked up the stairs and took our seats. I took the aisle because I didn’t want to look out the window. Mike put on a big pair of headphones. He said something into the microphone and the plane began to taxi toward the runway.
“Well, here we go!” Mike said. His cheeks were flushed. “This reminds me of the time the US Defense Department called us in to help with their little containment problem in Area Fifty-one! Whew, what a mess! But ’nuff said—that’s classified!” He was shouting now as the plane began to accelerate, pushing me back in my chair as I fumbled for the safety belt: I had forgotten to fasten it. “Or the time we were lost for six days in the Bermuda Triangle! Talk about some funky vibes! Saw things in that operation that would turn your hair white!” He laughed in Bennacio’s face. “But yours already is, so what the hey!”
Bennacio didn’t say anything, but he had a disgusted look on his face. I was pretty sure he was going to kill Mike before all this was over. I wondered if Mike knew that and had similar plans for Bennacio. I felt almost sorry for Mike; he didn’t know who he was screwing around with.
Mike explained that we would proceed immediately to the rendezvous point, where we would exchange the cash ransom for the Sword.
He wouldn’t tell us exactly where the rendezvous point was, but he did say we would be met by some agents of OIPEP, or “The Company.” OIPEP agents never called OIPEP “OIPEP.” Maybe it was Officers Investigating Perpetrators of Evil Pranks.
“Let us do the talking,” Mike said. “All you got to do, Benny, is hang back and wait. I’ll let you know when to step up and authenticate we’ve got the real McCoy.”
“And then?” Bennacio asked quietly.
“And then he’s all yours. Have fun with your vengeance.”
“And the Sword?”
“Let’s take it one step at a time, Benny. Let’s get it back first, okay? Then you and my superiors can talk.”
Bennacio nodded, but I could tell he wasn’t happy about it. My stomach was knotting up. I reached for the airsick bag.
After we touched down, I waited for the hood, but Mike just stood at the plane door and smiled at me, smacking his gum, and jerked his head toward the door. The sun had set and a cold, dense fog had rolled in. I wondered what the date was; I had lost track.
