Chapter Eleven
The journey to Venezuela passed by slowly, but steadily. After eventually managing to get a few hours of sleep, Hangman’s voice was in my ear.
“We made good time,” I murmured, feeling the jet beginning its descent.
“Are you surprised?” Hangman retorted, making me smile.
“So long as flying is the only time you arrive early, we’re good,” I teased.
Freddie caught my eye over his oxygen mask, casting me a playfully exasperated expression. Hangman didn’t respond outside of some grumbling beneath his breath. They were both so much fun to tease, it was exhilarating.
Just as it had on takeoff, the blood drained from Freddie’s face, and I ached to comfort him.
The seats weren’t laid out in a way that allowed me to reach to touch him, but he held eye contact, and I did my best to keep him calm.
A crosswind caught the jet’s wing, sending us lurching to the side, and Freddie closed his eyes.
I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.
“Almost there, baby. Just a few minutes longer.”
He couldn’t bring himself to reply but nodded his head in acknowledgement.
“Brace, brace, brace. The runway is a little rougher than I was expecting,” Hangman instructed, his voice tense.
“Oh, God.” I heard Freddie groan as we both reached for our grab handles.
The jet hit the ground with a deafening thud, and the entire cabin shook as the wheels rumbled over the rough surface Hangman had warned us of. We jostled around, thrown this way and that, fighting against the G-force as the jet slammed on its brakes.
“Shit,” Hangman hissed.
It was only a moment, but it felt like a lifetime. Eventually, the jet slowed and though it still bounced and jerked around, it didn’t feel quite so jarring. I glanced across at an exceedingly pale and sweaty Freddie, my brows furrowing with sympathy.
“You alright there?”
“I’m not sure,” he replied, voice shaking.
“Sorry, that was rougher than I wanted it to be. This runway is like the surface of the fucking moon,” Hangman muttered.
As soon as the jet came to a halt, I unclipped myself and leapt for Freddie. Once the straps of his seat were released, he sagged and yanked his oxygen mask off his face.
“Deep breaths,” I whispered, stroking my palms up and down his thighs.
“Is he alright?” Hangman asked, voice in my ear.
Though he was trying to hide it, I could hear the concern behind his words and I smiled, tugging my own mask off.
“He’ll be alright, just feeling a little nauseous, right?”
Freddie just nodded, leaning forward to put his head between his knees. The roar of the jet’s engines died, and I heard banging and thudding as Hangman clambered from the cockpit. A moment later, bright sunshine exploded in the dark cabin as the jet’s doors were heaved open.
“C’mon, some fresh air will help,” Hangman instructed.
I helped Freddie to his feet and guided him to the steps.
As he climbed down, Hangman reached for him, steadying him.
Freddie didn’t refuse his help this time, didn’t freeze up and jerk away as he usually did.
Perhaps he was just out of it, or maybe the conversation we’d had had gone some way to thawing his concerns.
I jumped down, following behind the two men as Hangman led Freddie a short distance away from the plane.
“Sit,” he instructed, pushing Freddie down by the shoulders. In his other hand, he had a bottle of water, and the lid cracked as he twisted it open. Hangman held it out for Freddie, who took it and chugged a mouthful.
“Thanks,” Freddie muttered. He was still pale, but he was already looking a little better.
Hangman clapped his hand against his shoulder. “Don’t mention it. It’s rough when you’re not used to it.” To my surprise, Hangman caught my eye and jerked his head back towards the jet. “Will you be alright here for a minute if Aquarius and I unload?”
“Sure.”
Suspicion prickled at me and I followed Hangman back towards the jet, unspoken words heavy between us. He heaved the cargo door open before glancing at me.
“Was I supposed to overhear that conversation back there? I can’t tell if you clued me in on purpose or if it was a genuine mistake.”
My heart dropped. “You heard…”
Hangman laughed softly. “So, it was an accident. You muted my earpiece, but you forgot the masks are fitted with mics. That’s a separate system to the Infolink. It’s a part of the jet and only the pilot has control of those comms.”
“Shit,” I hissed, taking a step closer. “Do not breathe a fucking word of this, you hear? Relay told me those things in confidence.”
Hangman held up his palms. “I won’t, I swear. I just wanted to thank you.”
“Thank me?” I frowned.
“There’s no way he’d have ever been so candid with me. It was reassuring to know I’m not barking up the wrong tree.” He paused. “I won’t push it. I like the control, but I’m not an arsehole.”
“Fuck,” I sighed. “He’ll kill me if he ever finds out…”
“Freddie,” Hangman murmured. “It’s a cute name. It suits him.”
I grabbed a fistful of Hangman’s t-shirt. “Do not call him by his real name on mission.”
“Alright, alright. Scout’s honour, but you have to admit it’s fucking cute.”
I pursed my lips. “Yeah, it is.”
We both looked over to the man himself. He had flopped onto his back, still sipping at his water bottle, and we both chuckled.
“He’s not got his flight legs. Give him some time,” Hangman said, turning his attention to the cargo hold and dragging out each of the bags. “He’ll be alright.”
My gaze flitted over Hangman, crossing my arms beneath my bust as I watched him. “Say, what’s your name, hm?”
“I thought we weren’t allowed to talk about that on mission?”
I shrugged with a grin. “Call it tit for tat.”
As he continued to unload the jet, Hangman cast me a smirk, his eyes dropping to my chest briefly. I laughed, shaking my head.
“Not that kind of tit, unfortunately.” I paused. “I’m Charlotte.”
“Interesting. Theo.”
“Ugh, that’s even cuter,” I grumbled playfully. “How did I get so lucky, huh?”
“Beats me,” Theo quipped. “Lucky or not, why don’t you make yourself useful and take some of these bags.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied sarcastically, grabbing a holdall by its handles.
Venezuela was hot and sticky, already twenty-seven degrees by the time 10AM hit. It was safe to say after a nearly three-hour trek through the wilderness lugging Relay’s heavy tech, I was exhausted and less than fresh.
Before we’d left London, Freddie had made sure to arrange for a car to be waiting for us.
We’d agreed between ourselves that it would be better to have it left near a main road, several miles from the abandoned airfield where we had landed.
Though the jet was hidden inside a falling down steel hangar, the more secret and secluded the location, the better.
We weren’t about to be risking a civilian stumbling across it by accident.
The hike back to civilisation hadn’t seemed like much of an issue in theory, but in practice?
“Fuck,” Theo groaned as he flopped into the backseat of the car. “Hit the AC, will you?”
“Trying,” Freddie muttered, his once pale complexion now flushed and sweaty. He fiddled with dials on the dashboard and when cool air blustered around the cabin of the car, we all breathed a sigh of relief in unison.
“Get the coordinates of the hotel in the sat nav and let’s get out of here,” I said, tugging my seatbelt and clipping it in. “I’m in desperate need of a shower.”
The car’s engine purred and I pulled us out onto the main road.
The built-in sat nav screen flickered and froze as Freddie plugged his phone into it.
After some furious typing, he overrode the car’s system and the familiar Infolink screen flashed into view.
This connection was sure to be far more secure, and I trusted Freddie to erase our tracks once we were done.
No one would be able to prove where this car had been whilst it had been in our possession.
I followed the map laid out before me, winding amongst the cars as I navigated a busy four-lane highway.
It was as far from dark and rainy London as it was possible to be.
I glanced at Theo in the rear-view mirror, pleased to see he had his eyes shut, getting some well-deserved rest. Freddie and I sat in comfortable silence, decompressing after our stressful landing and hellish hike, only speaking to point out changes in direction on the map.
The hotel we had booked was as simple and run-of-the-mill as it was possible to be.
This part of Venezuela was decidedly rundown and poor.
Even if we’d wanted one, there were no expensive hotels, and as such we were booked into a three-star budget option.
Though I much preferred the idea of holing up in some swanky five-star joint, we couldn’t afford to draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves.
Just past lunchtime, I was pulling into a dusty car park, dry grasses and weeds poking out between cracks in the tarmac where it had softened and split beneath the heat of the sun.
The place wasn’t the most attractive, but it looked structurally sound and clean.
That was the most we could hope for at this point.
Too exhausted to talk, we each heaved ourselves out of the car before gathering our possessions together and making our way to the front desk.
With Theo and I loitering in the shade, hiding from the midday sun, we sent Freddie inside to get the room key and soon enough we were stumbling into the room we would be calling home for the next few weeks.
I prayed it wouldn’t be much longer than that, but I had long since figured out there were no assurances in this line of work.