Chapter Twenty-Two
Hailey
Sunday
The plane had made it as far as Amsterdam.
While they were refueling and changing to a tactical aviation team that was comfortable going into an orange zone and camp on the plane until the Iniquus protectees were evacuated, Rylee went inside to use the bathroom and buy a salad and some fruit.
It would be a while before she’d have access to fresh produce again.
She jumped out of line when her phone rang, and she saw it was Casey Andrews’s number.
“Where are you?” Rylee asked, scampering away from the crowd to stand in an empty corner.
“I’m not telling you,” he laughed.
“Well, I’m in Amsterdam, and I was told we’re waiting for another passenger. I hoped it would be you. Is it you?”
“I’m sorry, but no,” Casey said. “Langley caught me up on the shit show you and the Secret Service are putting up with. Sorry about that. Listen, until it’s solved, Langley doesn’t want me to wear your logo or connect with your people.”
Rylee gasped. “Are you being serious right now?”
“Operational integrity. I can’t get called into a courtroom. My name can’t go into anyone’s news article.”
“No.” Rylee moved her hand to her throat. “I understand that. I would never knowingly endanger you. But selfishly, I feel like your not being with us is putting my team in danger.”
“Was my showing up part of your risk calculation, Rylee?”
“On paper? No. In my head, absolutely. WorldCares classifies the village we’re heading toward as orange. With the breadth of the quake impact, I’m concerned.”
“Could you reroute to a different assignment?
“We’ve agreed to work in proximity with an Iniquus team, and we’re on their plane with our supplies filling the hold. So sure, we could bail, but that might burn bridges of trust. We go into the orange areas. Everyone knows there’s risk in this job.”
“Look, it’s not up to me. I can’t go. But I can pull the intelligence I have on the area and send it to you to share with your team and Iniquus.
Iniquus goes in contractually, which means they’d crawl under flying bullets to save their protectees.
It won’t change anything for them except an awareness level, and possibly your adrenaline load.
Sorry, they’re calling my plane. I’ve gotta go.
I’ll send that information on. Stay frosty. ”
Rylee blinked at her phone.
Well, shit.
Closing her eyes to compose a text that everyone would understand but wouldn’t reveal anything to those outside the loop, Rylee texted Hailey and Neesa: Refueling in Amsterdam.
Heard from our friend who wears the WC logo.
He can’t deploy with us until this $ issue is solved.
He will share what he knows about the area.
When her phone rang, Rylee expected it to be Neesa. Instead, she saw John Madoc’s name. “Hey John, if you’re calling because your ears were burning the other day, I was thinking about you.”
“Hello, Rylee. You were?” John asked.
“I saw while scrolling that Madoc means fortunate or blessed, and I was very happy for you.”
“I am both a fortunate man and very blessed. And hopefully you will be, too.”
“How is that?” Rylee asked.
“I had someone drop out of our study on Friday, and I’ve entered your name. You should aim to be in London by Wednesday night to acclimate to the time zone.”
The dead air was thick between them.
“Rylee?”
“I’m here. I’m lost.”
“Your doctors from Browning Neurological Group sent your diagnosis and medical files to us. Your profile fits exactly into the parameters of this study. I’m glad I had my computer set up to flag your name so it wouldn’t get missed or shuffled into the pack. You popped right up.”
“Hold on a second,” Rylee’s throat squeezed tightly, barely allowing sound to form. She looked at her recent incoming calls from an unknown number that came through on Friday, when she’d left her phone with Neesa and Hailey so she could rub her thighs on the Iniquus field.
She had to lean forward and pant to find a breath.
Not cancer. Not dying. Just slowly degenerating.
“I have MS, then,” she whispered with the phone back to her ear.
“Wow,” John said. “I’m mystified how I’d get this diagnosis first. Am I the one breaking the news? I’m so sorry, Rylee. Truly. But, of course, you’re not surprised.”
“Good to hear it from you, John. Glad to know. If I were going to pick someone to tell me the news, it would be you. And so, yes. Yes, absolutely, I’ll be where you need me to be when you need me to be there. Right now, I’m in Amsterdam, we’re getting refueled to head to Turkey.”
“Business? This would be an unfortunate time for a vacation there. The news out of the area is devastating.”
“I’m with one of the WorldCares teams responding to the earthquake. But I’ll go and do a few days' work, get on a plane and head your way.”
“Not last minute, though, okay, Rylee?” John’s voice was stern. “This is going to sap your energy. I want you here two nights before you do this, so the jet lag isn’t so rough and so you don’t have flight issues and miss this window.”
“I can do all that. Thank you.”
Rylee sent a second text: Neesa, I heard from John Madoc.
Apparently, I missed the diagnosis call.
It’s MS. I need to be in London by Wednesday night to get the prick on Friday.
I’ll let you know if I need help arranging my exfil.
I didn’t ask any questions and don’t have any answers besides that my guinea pig day is set for Friday.
No idea if there’s a recovery time. After all the effort to get to this, I’m still in shock.
Rylee decided to loop Hailey in. If Iniquus was flying out before Wednesday, she’d like to catch a ride to a European hub.
“Rylee, I’m so sorry you’re going through this.” Hailey’s voice was pure sympathetic support. “I had no idea. Listen, I’ll do everything I can from my end. We’ll get you where you need to be in time.”
“I’m not stepping on your op here. I can have my team figure it out. I just wanted to be on your radar.” Yeah, the compassion in Hailey’s voice dug into the squishy, tender part of Rylee’s psyche. She was awash in emotions, and that was no way to deploy.
She needed to get squared away, or she’d be a deficit to her crew.
“I’m sending you all the best wishes.”
“Thank you. I think I see …” Dakota and Tank must be the extra passenger they were expecting on the plane. “Yes, Dakota’s heading this way.” Rylee was glad to leave the conversation and step away from the sympathy Haley showered on her. “He’s huge compared to the other passengers.”
“Good trip. Keep me in the loop.”
“Will do. Bye.” Rylee raised her hand and waved toward Dakota.
A sense of relief washed over her. And her only thought was he’s here.
***
With bags of snacks for the trip, Rylee and Dakota headed out the door onto the tarmac with Tank between them.
Dakota stopped by the baggage cart to see that his supplies had all made it over to McKayla’s plane, then they walked up the steps together to settle on her sleeping bag, where she’d eked out a little private space for herself toward the back of the plane by the toilet.
As the attendant turned off the lights and the teams settled into their sleeping bags, Rylee and Dakota ate in silence so their murmuring wouldn’t disturb anyone as they snuggled down with their pillows.
Soon, every single responder—be they from WorldCares or Cerberus—was sleeping.
“Get while the getting’s good” was the phrase that came to Rylee’s mind.
Once they landed, everyone would be hard at work saving lives.
Rylee was restless with all the changes of direction Amsterdam had revealed.
But now, as snores filled the cabin—K9 and human alike—Dakota took Rylee into his arms to cradle her and whispered into her hair. “I saw your face when you were on the phone in Amsterdam. Would you be comfortable telling me what’s going on?”
How much did she want to say here?
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Dakota to be supportive. It was more that she didn’t trust herself. It wasn’t a safe time to be vulnerable. You don’t go into a battle with your heart on your sleeve.
“I’m feeling emotional. I got some news from various sources. Some very good—a reprieve to be honest. Some things that give me hope. Some that have me on edge concerning this mission.”
He sat still and waited.
“I’m not ready to share yet. I’m still a bit shell-shocked.”
Dakota tightened his arms around her. “Silence? Talking? What could help?”
“We could talk.”
“I’d like to pick up on the conversation we were having over pizza at your house if you’re good with that as a topic.”
“Okay,” Rylee said.
“When I asked you about the wrong person, we dove into game theory, and I’m not sure I heard your answer.”
“The wrong person? Someone who sees me as unequal. Which isn’t quite right.
There are things I do well and things I suck at.
I would hopefully share some of the averages and the strengths with someone, but it would also be nice that where I fall short,” Rylee held out a palm to indicate Dakota, “play on words intended, that someone taller in that domain can you know—”
“Reach that shelf without straining and just hand it to you. Meanwhile, you're closer to the ground—”
“I can grab things from the lower cabinets and pass them up. I am not that short, by the way. I’m taller than the average woman. It’s just that you’re an outlier on the height chart. Bet it sucked when you were three years old, and everyone thought you were seven.”
“Very immature for my age,” Dakota chuckled. “I have a ton of pictures of me up until I was about seven or so, when I was wearing shirts Mom made for me with iron-on decals that said, ‘Big for his age.’ ‘He’s only 3.’”
“Clever woman.”
“She is. I like to think that I got her pragmatic, find-a-problem, find-a-solution kind of thinking.”
“Because your dad?”