Reciprosity Read online

  Virna said, “Wasn’t that sweet?”

  I said, “What? That he mistook you for a seventy-six year-old actress?”

  She punched me again. “That Uncle Vito is watching out for us.”

  “Don’t be so sure. There are two possible scenarios at play and I don’t think they necessarily mean Vito is watching over us.”

  We circled through the business class galley to the other aisle. Virna asked, “So, what’s the first scenario, Mr. Know-it-all?”

  I placed a hand against the small of her back to guide her past a small gathering of passengers.

  I continued, “Scenario number one. Vittorio arranged our extraditions so he could dole out punishment on his own turf, but Adams coopted the plan and replaced the marshals with his own men so he could do the doling out on Vito. Probably with our help, which explains his description of Vito being this master puppeteer, the man behind all the carnage. A good ploy to enlist our help in eliminating Vittorio.”

  “So, now we’re Adams’ pawns again?”

  “No, because we’re on to him this time. Vito could have used his own people to bring you an me back into his waiting arms, but for some reason he needed us to travel with Adams, so he used the law to extract all three of us—Adams from jail. You and me from our vacation.”

  “Are you suggesting Uncle Vito is using us as a second set of watchdogs on Adams?

  I shrugged. “Don’t know for certain. Maybe it was faster or cheaper—three for the price of one.”

  “And the second scenario?”

  That one was a little more worrying. “Remember in Ray’s office, I asked how Vito or the Feds knew we were in San Francisco. I pointed out that I had only just arrived on a military jet, and you flew in on Adams’ private jet. Also, my presence only became public knowledge a short time before we were served those extradition documents. As far as anyone else was concerned, you were still somewhere on the east coast. The only conclusion I can draw from that is, Adams arranged the extraditions. Same objective as scenario number one—kill Vittorio. That bullshit to have me kill him because he has cancer was just more of his twisted gamesmanship.”

  “And Uncle Vito found out about it, which explains our good looking flight attendant?”

  We were nearing our row of seats. “I think so, Virna. When we were in Ray’s office and you and Della went to the ladies room to freshen up, I asked Ray to contact Vittorio about our extradition. The presence of our good looking flight attendant, Leo, tells me Vittorio knew nothing about the extradition.”

  “So, we play along with Adams,” Virna summed up.

  I agreed, “We play along.”

  13

  The flight attendants had already removed the dinner trays when the latest news popped up on the displays in front of us. The first video showed ex-President Domhnall Christoph boarding Marine One for the very last time. The narrator confirmed what we were watching in very somber tones. President Christoph would be retiring to his ancestral home in Scotland while his legal battles unfold. A picture of his castle-home in Scotland flashed on the screen. A closeup of the main entrance, adorned with family crests followed. The images were accompanied by a voiceover that sounded more like a travelog than the inglorious ending for a president. Three faces of well-known analysts came on to discuss the events. One even stated what most people were probably thinking: “The rich always get away with the crime.”

  Then the program switched to a second location where a female reporter was describing the pandemonium outside the Justice Department. Ex-Attorney General Barnabas Nunnelly had reportedly been arrested by FBI agents. The reporter listed a number of likely charges based on the video evidence the world had witnessed, including something called a misprision of a felony, which is a form of obstruction of justice. Aiding and abetting in a felony. Criminal conspiracy. She was cut short by a new breaking story. Vice President Ellaine Clay had just taken the oath of office and was now the new President of the United States. Her first official announcement was that she had no announcement regarding pardons for former President Domhnall Christoph or ex-Attorney General Barnabas Nunnelly, or any others involved in conspiracies relating to an illegal project called Looking Glass. In other words, she was going to do a little fly-fishing for a back-stabbing informer.

  I stopped listening, switched seats with Virna, and turned to Adams. “Does that satisfy your need for reciprocity? Christoph will probably shoot himself before he allows himself to be arrested and Nunnelly will probably die in prison.”

  Adams didn’t respond. He was still staring at the TV display in front of him. I nudged him with my left elbow to gain his attention. It wasn’t a hard nudge, so I was surprised when his head rolled forward until his chin touched his chest. His upper body followed the head weight displacement and rolled forward. I quickly reached out with both hands, stopped the forward momentum, and gently eased his torso against the seat back. Our seats reclined electronically, like car seats, so I reached over to the switch on his left armrest and reclined his seat just enough to cradle his body.

  John Adams was either a heavy sleeper, just passed out—or he had just died. I place my index and middle fingers on his neck to the side of his windpipe and felt for a pulse in the carotid artery.

  My first thought was the cancer. He’d said earlier that he was on borrowed time, but I’ve seen cancer deaths before and they are rarely painless or silent or sudden, and I didn’t recall ever seeing him take any medication. This was more like a sudden heart attack.

  I gently closed his eyelids and positioned his body to look like he was sleeping. I turned to Virna to tell her that Adams was dead and was shocked when I saw her performing similar ministrations on the marshal seated next to her. When she turned back to me we were nose to nose.

  I whispered, “Adams is dead.”

  She whispered, “Ditto for marshal number one. What’s going on, Luke?”

  I spun around in my seat to see if the other marshal, sitting across the aisle from Adams, had noticed. He was staring at us, eyes wide, trying to stand. Then he slouched back in his seat. He raised his right hand toward his neck. It never made it before the light went out in his eyes. The arm fell into his lap. Marshal number two was also dead. Luckily, the seats next to him were empty.

  Virna and I both craned our necks to see if there were any flight attendants or passengers in the aisles that may have witnessed the murders. We saw none so I undid my seatbelt, stood and walked across the aisle, being careful not to disturb Adams’ body. I sat down in the seat next to marshal number two and quickly reclined his seat and arranged his body into a sleeping pose. There was a blanket tossed on the window seat so I took it and covered the marshal’s waist and legs. I motioned to Virna to keep watch while I rifled the dead man’s pockets. I was just finishing and straightening the blanket when a peanut hit me on the head. I reacted to Virna’s warning just in time to se a female flight attendant walking down the aisle toward me.

  I stood up, moved into the aisle to block her view and said, “Get some sleep, Harry, it’s a long flight.” Then I turned to the attractive brunette and said, “My buddies are sleeping and I’m about to join them.”

  She smiled, reached up and turned off the overhead reading light over Harry and said, “Sweet dreams, sir.” Then she moved on down the aisle.

  I returned to my seat next to Virna and switched off the reading lights above our four seats. I showed her the things I took from Harry. His US Marshal ID and a small device for unlocking our wrist bracelets. I told her his wallet and other belongings must be in his jacket in the overhead storage bin. Virna had searched her marshal and found the exact same two items, agreeing that his other personal belongings were probably in the overhead as well. We ran the devices over each other’s bracelets until we heard a very quiet click. They slid off into our laps. I stuffed everything we had accumulated into my jacket pockets.

  I swiveled in my seat to face Adams and ran my hands over any exposed skin—head, face, neck, wrists
and hands. I discovered a tiny needle-like dart below his left ear. I pulled it out and examined it. Barely a quarter-inch long, the dart was as thin as a cat’s whisker. Virna looked at it, then performed a similar examination of her marshal. It only took a moment to find a twin dart in the right side of his neck.

  Virna had a worried look in her eyes. “Luke?”

  I shook my head to reassure her. “We’d be dead as well if we were targets.”

  I told her to wait a minute while I searched Adams. I found his wallet in an inside breast pocket. His other pockets were empty—except for one of those little devices to release his wrist bracelet. I shoved his wallet in my hip pocket and showed Virna the device.

  “You were right,” she said. “Adams was behind this extradition charade.” She stretched to glance over the seat backs. “What about Leo, our handsome savior-to-be?”

  “Good question. I haven’t seen him since our first encounter. Do you recall which attendants served us dinner?”

  “Why?”

  “Because that was probably how the killer or killers were able to get so close to our aisle buddies to inject the darts. You know how crowded it gets when they’re pushing those carts up and down the aisles. They constantly rub against or bump into passengers in their seats when they serve, or simple brush past. It would be simple for a skilled assassin to accomplish her task, unseen and unheard.”

  “Her? Why her?”

  “Simple math. I only counted two men in the cabin crew when we boarded, and I’m pretty certain we were served by pretty women. In fact, I think the redhead winked at me.” I wasn’t sure how my attempt to lighten the mood would be received until Virna replied.

  “That luscious redhead was winking at me, fella, so hands off.”

  I smiled. “Be back in a few minutes. Make sure no one disturbs our sleeping beauties.”

  “Where you going?”

  “Lion hunting.”

  “Leo?”

  “Yea.”

  I walked to the aft galley first, looking for Leo or the second male flight attendant. There were a handful of passengers on either side of the large galley looking for a vacancy sign on the lavatory doors. Three male passengers were talking up two of the female cabin crew. I circled through to the starboard aisle and headed forward through economy toward business class. I waved at Virna as I passed our row of seats and shook my head, “not back there”. Our row of seats was directly behind the bulkhead where ten lavatory stalls were located. The area was large and a few passengers were exiting or entering a lavatory, or simply stretching their legs. No cabin crew members, so I continued through the forward section of economy toward a small cabin of three rows called Premium Economy. The only thing premium about it was one less seat in the window aisles. The redhead who served our meals was in the opposite aisle talking to a passenger. Her shapely backside was toward me. I kept walking.

  I found the second male attendant preparing drinks in the bar area directly behind business class. He was alone so I thought I would be direct and introduce myself.

  “Ciao. Il mio nome è Lucius Cassine.”

  “Buona sera signore. Il mio nome è Fabio. How may I help you?”

  “Fabio, pleasure to meet you. I’m looking for one of your flight crew. Leo is his name, I believe.”

  “Leonardo, sì. He was taken ill and is resting.”

  Fabio nodded toward the overhead where cabin crews on Boeing 777s have a secret, windowless sleeping area above the business class section and just aft of the cockpit. It is accessible via a hidden stairwell in the forward galley. I knew this because I Googled it. Pilots have a similar arrangement above the cockpit.

  I thought about my chances that he would let me look in on him—close family friend and all that. Then I remembered what I had in my jacket pocket. It was a risk, but one I felt was worth taking. I reached into my right pocket and extracted the leather case containing the US Marshal ID and badge. I knew I’d be sunk if he looked closely at the name and photo, so I held the badge out first so he would recognize it, then I quickly flipped the leather case over to the ID side and just as quickly closed it and placed it back in my pocket.

  “I’m the Air Marshal, and I have reason to believe Leo may have been poisoned. So, please escort me to him without drawing any undue alarm to my presence. If anyone asks, I’m a deadhead and a family friend of Leo’s.” I said all that in fluent Italian so Fabio couldn’t misunderstand me.

  Off-duty pilots or flight crew who board a commercial flight as passengers to be repositioned as part of an on-duty assignment are called “deadheads”. Fabio knew this, and also knew you don’t question the authority of the air marshal. They almost always fly incognito and rarely identify themselves to flight crews. My biggest fear was, what if a real air marshal was on board and decided to question my suspicious actions? What if he was armed? In for a penny and so forth.

  I said, “After you, Fabio.”

  He looked at the drinks he’d been preparing.

  “Okay if I serve these on the way?”

  Probably a good idea not to antagonize thirsty business men and women. I nodded and he lifted the tray and walked down the port-aisle toward the nose. I followed at a respectable distance as he served three passengers. Then we continued on to the forward galley area. It was empty and mostly out of view of the passenger cabin. Fabio nodded toward a wall, assuming I knew where the hidden door was.

  I said, “Open it, please, and stand watch while I’m up there.”

  “Yes sir,” he stuttered. “What if the purser asks me what I’m doing? She’s a real rompi palla.”

  “Grow a pair.” I didn’t really say that out load. “Is there anyone else up there?”

  Fabio shook his head and opened the door, which exposed a half-spiral, very narrow set of steps.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Lilith.”

  If she asks, tell your chief flight attendant you located a doctor and he’s looking in on Leo. Capire?”

  14

  I entered the tight space and climbed the few steps up into a narrow cabin just wide enough for two cabin chairs. Behind them was a drawn curtain. My large frame barely fit between the seats but I muscled my way through and drew the curtains. Leo was lying on the right-hand bed. His eyes were closed and a blanket was pulled up tight under his chin. I squeezed between the two narrow beds, sat down on the left one and nudged Leo’s shoulder. No response. I repeated the nudge and his head rolled to face me. His eyes barely opened. They were yellow. His skin was fallow and damp.

  “Leo, it’s Luke Cassine. What happened?”

  His voice sounded like someone who was trying to talk while gargling water. “Marshals...falso...Don Vittorio...farm...salvalo...car waiting...bottom ramp.” They were his last words.

  His eyes rolled up as he gasped his final breath. I ran my hand along his neck on both sides. I found the tiny needle-like dart on the third pass. Somehow, Leo had resisted the poison long enough to climb up here into bed, he probably thought he was coming down with a flu or something. I pulled the blanket over his head and turned to leave.

  That’s when I heard voices drifting up the stairwell, followed by strands of red hair rising through the opening. I spun around and bent over Leo as if examining him. There was only one redheaded member of the flight crew—the luscious one that served the meals to me, Adams and the marshal across the aisle. I didn’t recall who served Virna or her marshal, and neither did Virna, but whoever it was, she was part of the plot to kill our escorts and poor Leo. It was time to play doctor—time to find out if she was a true redhead. Only kidding on the physical exam.

  “How is he, Doctor?”

  I was surprised to hear the hint of Scottish brogue in her tone, or was it Irish? Two peas from the same pod if you ask me. I didn’t turn around, not that I thought she would try to harm me. If that had been the case, Virna and I would both be dead in our seats beside Adams. I just needed her close enough so I could subdue her without raising alarms
.

  I said, “I think he might pull through if we’re lucky. Take a look.”

  I prayed she didn’t recognize my cloths—or my manly physique—as I slowly backed away from the two beds toward the curtains where she was standing. I motioned for her to pass by for a closer look. She stepped forward. When our shoulders touched I quickly swung my right arm up and around her, clamping my hand over her mouth.

  “Be a good lass and don’t fight, Lilith,” I whispered into her left ear.

  I dragged her between the beds and forced her face down on top of Leo’s body. The action caused the blanket covering his face to pull down so that she was nose-to-nose with her victim.

  “I’m going to remove my hand. One sound and I will snap your neck. Understand?”

  She moved her head in the affirmative. I withdrew my hand and arm and rolled her over to face me.

  “You,” she exclaimed.

  She was quite beautiful. Shoulder-length red hair tied back in a knot. Ivory smooth skin, green eyes, and a shapely body beneath the navy uniform. I had a quick retort in mind but I had little time for word games, so I dove right in.

  “Who do you work for? Why kill Adams and his men? Why spare me and my friend? Why kill Leo? You can answer in any order.”

  “Mind if I move to the other bed? This is very uncomfortable.” She tried to move off of Leo.

  “You made that bed you're laying on,” I began, in tune I might add, “and I'm tired of hearing about it. It's your body, you rock it.” My apologies to Elvis, but these damn songs just pop into my head at the most awkward of times.

  She looked at me like I was crazy. I get that sometimes. Other times, people will pick up the tune and run with it. Not her. I retrieved one of the bracelets from my pocket and snapped it around her left wrist.