Generations Beyond

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

California

Aarons looked out the window of the Airbus A319, and watched the runway slide beneath them as the plane taxied to the gate. She played with the naked skin on her left ring finger through her lambskin gloves until the seatbelt light extinguished. It didn’t feel right, not wearing it, but the identity they gave her was single and she didn’t want to risk anything by wearing the ring. Ahead of them, the mass of bodies rushed in their eagerness and waited to empty the plane. She nudged Cross with her elbow.

Somehow he slept for the entire flight, but her sharp poke forced his eyes open. He noticed the passengers departing the plane. He looked at her. “The hell, woman?” he muttered, stretching his legs. “Anything happen while I was asleep?” He yawned in the middle of that last word, but mangled it out all the same.

She shook her head as she smoothed the impossible wrinkles that had settled in to her forest green blouse. “No.” Aarons replied in a quiet tone. “There’s an air marshal three rows back to the right waiting for the plane to empty, that’s it.”

“Good,” he plastered a cheerful smile on his face and stood as the line thinned. He took his phone from his pocket and turned it on, like any other airline passenger would, and tapped out a quick text message before easing himself into the flow of people moving down the aisle.

Aarons waited until five people were between her and Cross before she moved into the pipeline of people moving toward the exits. The movements ebbed and flowed until reaching the ramp to the jetway. Aarons stopped and waited for an older passenger to retrieve his carry on before walking again.

The wait put more distance between them, but Cross adjusted and found an out of the way corner by the gate and called the number he had text before deplaning. He had one eye on the jetway exit for Aarons, and the other roamed the crowds for anything that stood out. He noted nothing unusual inside the secure area of the airport.

“Yeah,” he said with a nod, “landed in LA, think I’m going to get something to eat.”

Aarons walked off the jetway and around the chairs. She scanned the area. She glimpsed him and walked over to a set of chairs near him.

He finished the call. “Fifteen minutes. Sounds great!” And turned to head toward baggage check and ground transportation at a slow pace which he held until Aarons caught up and the two walked together. He didn’t look at her, or talk to her, until they were fifty yards from the gate and the surrounding crowd had changed several times.

“We have a car with welcome gifts on its way.” He smiled and gave a nod to airport security as they walked through the check-point. “Seven minutes, beyond the taxi loop.”

“I hope they know I like blue,” she mentioned as she walked through the security check-point. She gave the TSA agent a flirty smile as she walked by before continuing on, a half-step behind Cross.

“I didn’t ask,” he said with a smirk, “but we can always go get it painted later.” He found a clock, 1600 local time. “Fridays aren’t good for shows here, are they?”

“Some of the best shows are Fridays,” she replied, “the next one’s at 1730.”

“Good,” he said walking through the automatic doors and heading right down the sidewalk, “we still have time.” Cross passed by several taxis and saw their target ahead on the left at the curb. He glanced back and veered around to the driver’s side. Without hesitation, he opened the door and climbed into the car. The keys were in the ignition, the seat was still warm, and the air in the car was cool. The newer model purple BMW M3 convertible purred to life as he turned the key.

Aarons entered the car pulled the seat belt across her body as she looked at him. “Can I give you shit about driving a pimp car in LA?” she asked with a soft laugh. “One of these days, I need to find out how he does it, but we need to hurry, you know how the traffic here is legendary in a bad way.”

He scoffed. “If that makes you my bitch.” He put the car in gear and drove away. “Hurry gets attention, attention is bad.” Cross eased into the traffic leaving the airport and glanced at her. “Plug the address into the GPS.”

Aarons had memorized the address when she first laid eyes on Gabriela’s file. She programed the address into the GPS and waited for it calculate the route. “Now, she will get there around 1730 and stay four to six hours, depending on who’s there and what’s going on at the cafe. If she gets bored she’ll leave early and go back to the house she’s renting until school starts. The house is no good, multiple non-coms there with variables to consider.”

He grunted and wove through traffic as opportunities arose. “Agreed. See if you can get into the trunk from here.” He checked his mirror and switched lanes again. “Z said there were goodies.”

Aarons unbuckled her seat belt and climbed between the seats into the back. She eyed a latch between the two back seats that allowed access into the trunk. Aarons pushed the latch, lowered the door, reached into the trunk and felt a bag hit her hand. She grabbed onto it, pulled it through the door and onto her lap. Aarons opened the black canvas duffle bag and pulled out two 9mm weapons, two-dozen loaded magazines, two bricks of cash, and a box of yogurt covered raisins. “Oh, I love that man,” she said with a big smile as she opened the box of raisins and popped a few in her mouth.

“I think he wants to marry you.” Cross half joked as he followed the GPS directions. “Or at least hire you.”

“No,” she put the box down and secured one 9mm at her lower back before pulling her shirt over it and handed Cross the second gun. “He wouldn’t be able to handle me and Alex would kill him first.”

He took the gun and felt the weight of it for a few seconds, below the window line of the car. “We’re an hour out with this traffic,” he commented, tucking the gun away as he went back to picking his way through the LA traffic.

Aarons worked her way back to the passenger seat, box of raisins in hand, and fastened her seatbelt. “You know.” She looked at Cross. “We should think about working with Z after this. Between finding our own assignments, of course.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Would keep us more plugged in to what’s going on, but it’s a risk. Unless we stay away from the DC area until it’s clear.”

“No.” She shook her head. “It’s a prime location. We can’t give that up because of what happened. I won’t hide. I can dye my hair. Hell, I’ll cut my hair. I’ll do whatever it takes. But, I won’t hide. We need to keep our finger on the pulse of what’s going on if we want to make a difference.”

“There’s brave, and then there’s reckless.” He glanced over. “Not saying we hide. But it’s a good idea to not parade around in the open.”

Aarons looked at the traffic and back at the route the GPS suggested before looking back at the driver. “The target will be at a table on the outside patio in front of the cafe. She’ll be working on her laptop, ear buds in, focused. If she’s inside she’ll be among other people, but not socializing. It’ll be easier if she’s alone and outside,” she said, further breaking down the situation.

“We’ll play it by ear.” The traffic was thinner, but still tedious. It was less stop-and-go than the previous street and would end up saving them ten to fifteen minutes off the travel time per the GPS.

“Tech appeals to this girl, it’s what she does. Literally. If she can touch an electronic device, she can get inside it. It’s like her touch is an instant interface with cell phones, computers, you name it.” Aarons explained as she pulled the visor to check her reflection in the mirror. She fixed a few strands of hair here and there.

“She aware of what she can do?” Cross parked a block away, slipped the gun in the waist of his slacks and under his blazer, stepped out of the car and dropped the keys in his pocket.

“Yes,” Aarons said as she stepped out of the car and tucked the box under the seat until later. “From what the file contained she found out in her junior year of high school, but kept it secret from her parents and those around her. Penn tracked her by her activities online. She earned a good living and reputation for changing grades and class schedules for other students while she was in high school and continued her entrepreneurship in college. She’s good,” Aarons said as she walked over near Cross.

“Government?” he suggested, heading down the sidewalk toward their eventual target. “Would she scare enough to come with us for a discussion, or nothing serious enough to raise a flag?”

“That might be the best route to take,” she said, falling into step next to him. “Tell her that her activities have been monitored for some time and we need to have her come with us for questioning. It would get her out of public and somewhere we could talk to her in safety.”

“Those Homeland creds would be useful right about now,” Cross smirked and tilted his head to look around someone walking in front of them. “She’s outside. Fifteen yards, facing us at the nearby table.” He scanned their surroundings for anything suspicious, but refocused his attention on the mark as they closed the gap.

Cross, heard the shot; the unmistakable sound of a rifle, like a bullwhip cracking right next to the ear. The way the body dropped limply to the concrete, it looked as though the shot came from behind. Eyes, agape, looked lifeless as the beige of the sidewalk cement stained crimson from the expanding pool of blood beneath her.