Chapter 10
Chapter ten
Hallie wasn’t sure she would ever get used to air travel.
She’d been on quite a few different flying vehicles in the past few weeks, from the matte black helicopter that had taken her and Girard to Paradise, to the commercial airplane that had flown them out of Daydawn and halfway around the world, to smaller planes that had taken them between the Lucien Islands and then to Minamaan.
On all of those flights, she’d been able to look out of the window and watch the world passing by beneath her, marvelling at how small the land masses looked and how vast the oceans seemed.
This time, the air transport was a huge, dull-coloured plane with an entire section of its back underbelly that dropped down to act as a loading ramp.
The extra tac team that had arrived with the plane worked with Frollo and his people to load the bodies onto the plane first, and Hallie stood to one side with Girard, her throat tight and eyes stinging as plain wooden coffins were rolled past them on trolleys.
Oreste. Kasmo. Manju. She was less pained about Manju, but she could still regret his death.
The body of the attacker was in a plain black bag, kept carefully separate from the others.
The two attackers who were still prisoners were shackled at their wrists and ankles, dull grey hoods pulled over their heads.
They were loaded onto the plane to sit near their dead comrade.
From Modron’s brief verbal report to Frollo, the two hadn’t made any further effort to communicate, and she agreed with the assessment that Hallie, Girard and Frollo had made that the two men were drugged and incapable of talking.
Hallie could only hope that the samples that had been taken and the medical facilities in Daydawn would let Leodegan and Isoud and their teams come up with a way of treating the captives, and quickly.
She was quite certain they had plenty of information to provide if they could answer questions.
Hallie would have liked to take another pass through the ruined house where all the attackers had been staying to see if they might find any trace of whatever drug had been used, but they were out of time.
The director wanted them back in Daydawn, and so they were going back to Daydawn.
Tortain was escorted up the ramp, arms resting on the shoulders of two tac team members, his broken leg held straight by a makeshift splint.
There would be better medical attention for him in Daydawn, at least, and perhaps a medic with the requisite magic to heal bones.
Hallie hoped so. She couldn’t imagine that the break was comfortable, or the odd angle of his leg in the makeshift splint.
Hallie had another shock when she got onto the plane to discover that although there were seats, they were lined up against the metal walls of the plane and there were no windows for her to look out of.
As everyone else was busy, stowing the prisoners, making sure the bodies, bags and equipment were secure, she kept quiet, taking her place next to Girard and fitting herself into the harness.
It would keep her secure and mostly upright.
It was the least comfortable flying experience she’d had so far, and in many ways she was glad she managed to sleep for most of the journey.
There had been no sleep the night before.
After trying to question the captive and adding a few comments to Girard’s report, Hallie had tried to make herself useful, helping in the various tasks needed to tidy up the house, making sure that it was cleared of all information that might be useful, and packing up Oreste and Kasmo’s belongings.
After that, Hallie hadn’t been able to sleep, a hard, sore lump in her chest. She’d been glad when the call had come through in the early hours that the plane had landed and they could begin ferrying their equipment and people out to the airport.
The team that had arrived with the plane had hired a bus and a truck, letting them make only one journey to the airport.
All the same, it had taken a while to load everything up.
Hallie had the impression that the extremely capable tac team had let her help in part as a kindness as much as because the extra pair of hands was useful.
Whatever the reason, she’d been grateful as it had kept her occupied.
Being on the plane, strapped in place with nothing to do, her mind wanted to go to dark places, remembering the violence and the death.
It had taken some effort to shut down her brain for a while, then she’d fallen deeply asleep, only waking when the plane banked sharply.
She lifted her head, rubbing her hands across her face, finding that a couple of the tac team members were out of their seats.
She turned to Girard, who was still in his seat beside her, with fine lines of pain around his mouth. “Are we landing?” She had to speak a little louder than normal to be heard over the roar of the plane’s engines.
“Almost, yes.” He glanced at her. “It’s good you got some sleep. The director wants us in a briefing room as soon as we’re off the plane.”
“I hope he’s got coffee,” Hallie muttered, scrubbing her hands over her face and through her hair again. Even though she’d slept for several hours, she didn’t feel very alert, her body heavy.
“Jet lag is not fun,” Girard told her.
“Jet lag?” Hallie frowned over the unfamiliar phrase. A moment’s thinking and she remembered it from some of the television shows she and Rosalia had watched. “Ah, yes. Adjusting to the time difference. Well, it will be another new experience.”
Whatever Girard might have said in response was drowned out by the vibration through the wall of the airplane and a grinding sound that had Hallie seizing hold of the armrests, heart in her mouth. A warm, firm grip on her hand brought her attention back to Girard.
“It’s the landing gear going down. There’s not much sound-proofing in military aircraft,” he told her.
“Oh. Right.” Hallie returned the clasp of his hand before she let go, feeling a little foolish at being so startled.
Although the landing gear might have sounded dreadful, the landing itself was so smooth Hallie almost missed it, only realising that they were on the ground when the rest of the tac team unfastened their harnesses and got to their feet - with the exception of Tortain.
The plane kept moving for a little bit. Long enough for Hallie to realise that she was getting cold. She’d put on her sweatshirt when they’d boarded the plane, at Girard’s suggestion, but was now thinking about her jacket and possibly the scarf and gloves tucked into her bag.
Then the airplane came to a stop, the sensation of movement in her ears ceasing, and the back of the enormous vehicle began to open, letting in an icy wind. More black-clad tactical team members swarmed up the ramp before it was even fully on the ground.
A group of four headed for the prisoners, escorting them off and out into flat, grey daylight.
Looking out the back of the plane, Hallie realised with a shock that it was only, at latest, mid-afternoon in Daydawn.
It would have been well into the evening in Minamaan.
She had to fight past a sense of dislocation and displacement.
Girard had mentioned jet lag. This must be part of it.
Another group headed for the coffins, taking Oreste and Kasmo’s coffins out first. Hallie caught sight of Leodegan and the whole forensic team standing on the concrete at the foot of the ramp. Waiting for the bodies and for the evidence that she and the others had collected, she realised.
She got to her feet and stretched, body stiff and sore after sitting for so long, yawning as cold air filled her lungs. The luggage wasn’t that far away and she headed there, getting her jacket out and shrugging it on.
“Someone will get the luggage out,” Girard told her. “The director wants to see us now.”
“One moment,” Hallie said, and dug back into her bag, pulling out her tablet and the notebooks she’d been using. Girard had a messenger bag slung across his body, which was something she might also need to get, she realised, if she was going to need to carry more than her phone and gun.
Then she was back on the ground. She exchanged brief, sober greetings with the forensic team and medical examiner but followed Girard’s cue and walked past them to where the director was standing next to one of the large, black vans that the investigators favoured.
Even though she’d noticed how worn out he’d looked over the video link, seeing the director in person was still a shock.
Peredur Roth seemed to have aged in the two weeks since Hallie had last seen him in person.
There were deep purple shadows under his eyes and fine lines around his eyes and mouth that she was sure hadn’t been there before.
All the same, he managed a warm smile for them.
“I’m glad to see you both back, more or less in one piece,” he said.
“Good to be back, sir,” Girard said.
“I wish there was time to let you have a day or two to rest and recover, but we’re on the clock.” The smile had faded and the director looked deadly serious.
“What’s happened?” Hallie asked, apprehension trailing across her skin along with the chill wind.
“We’ve assessed that there is at least one credible threat against the Conclave for their meeting that’s due to start the day after tomorrow,” the director said.
“That sounds bad, but what does it mean?” Hallie asked.
“It means that someone, or some group, has threatened to kill the whole Conclave if we can’t stop them before then. And, no, the Conclave won’t postpone their meeting. They expect us to deal with the threat and keep them safe,” the director answered.