Page 30 of The Eagle (Spy Girl 2)
There are two SUVs parked at an angle in front of the bank, their doors still open. I don't see anyone in the trucks as I drive by, so I roll down the window and toss a grenade under each one, then stomp on the accelerator.
We're a block away when the vehicles explode behind us.
"Woah," Chauncey says, looking back. "That was awesome! Just like the movies!"
"And it should keep them busy for awhile," I agree, smiling at him.
Once we are a safe distance away, I pull over, take a deep breath, and pray that Intrepid managed to escape.
"Can we get hot cocoa?" Chauncey asks. "Daddy always makes it for me before bed."
There are no shops open, so I tell him that I will make him some with extra chocolate as soon as we get to London.
He nods, still clutching the backpack tightly to his chest. Although he was calm and collected at the bank, he now looks rattled and scared. I unbuckle myself and take his bag.
"Let's put this on the floor," I say, handing him the stuffed tiger.
He hugs the tiger then promptly falls asleep.
I have one throwaway phone left, but don't want to use it yet.
Instead, I grab the boy's iPad, find free Wi-Fi at a nearby nightclub, and pull up a map of the area, searching for the closest airstrip. There is a military base ten kilometers southeast, a small airport--one that apparently has a good on-site restaurant--six kilometers to the east, and about ten other options within a fifty kilometer radius.
I choose the one I would have chosen if I were in charge of the mission planning.
Thirty minutes later, for what should have been a ten-minute trip, we arrive at the airport--the delay caused by me doubling back twice to make certain we weren't being followed.
As we get close, I spot a plane with the call sign G-MISX. The first letter indicating the plane's home country of Britain, and I pray the rest stands for MI6, the British Intelligence Agency that Intrepid works for.
I pull the car up to airport's gated entrance. A man with an automatic weapon and wearing the uniform of the British Royal Air Force steps out of the guard stand, his gun trained on us.
"This is a secure location. Please move away," he threatens.
"I'm looking for William Gallagher."
"I'm afraid I don't know who you're talking about," the soldier replies. "Please depart the premises or risk arrest."
"What about the MI6 agent whose code name is Intrepid. Do you know him? You're a British soldier on foreign land. We are why you are here. We were just with Intrepid at a Swiss bank. An assault team came in. We managed to escape, but we don't know if he did."
"Please stay here," the soldier says, going back to the guard stand while still keeping his gun trained on us.
A few moments later, soldiers surround the car, their guns drawn.
The good news is that they probably don't know this car is armored. I could hit reverse, flip a cookie, and hightail it out of here.
But then what?
Where would I go?
If I were by myself, I'd go back to the bank to look for Intrepid, but it's too risky with the boy. I can't put him in any more danger.
What if these men are the bad guys? What if their uniforms are a ruse?
"Get buckled, Chauncey. Now," I whisper. "We may have to get out of here fast."
"Are they going to shoot at us?" he cries. "I want my daddy."
"I do, too," I say, putting the car into reverse and readying my foot on the accelerator.
"What is your code name?" one of them asks.
"It's either Bag Girl or X," I reply.
"She's clear," he yells out then turns back to us. "Please, come follow me."
I nod, tears of relief filling my eyes as I put the car in park and turn it off.
"Don't cry," Chauncey says as he gets himself unbuckled. "We're all right now."
When he gets out of the car, he leaps into my arms.
"You're right," I say, giving him a squeeze. "We're safe now."
An airman takes our bags and carries them onto the plane.
"I heard you are very brave," he says, saluting Chauncey.
"I'm going to be a knight someday," the boy tells him.
"What's your name?" the airman asks.
"Chauncey."
"Sir Chauncey, I like it. Would you like to meet the pilots and see the cockpit while we wait for our other passenger?"
The boy leaps out of my arms and follows him, suddenly having a new best friend. He checks out the plane, shakes the hands of the pilots, and comes back with a pair of aviation wings pinned to his shirt.
"I'm hungry," he says, making himself at home in one of the seats. "Are we going to London for bangers and mash now?"
"Yes, we are."
A steward offers the boy some biscuits and jam, which he happily accepts. "Do you have any hot chocolate?"
The steward smiles and makes him a cup of cocoa from a mix.
"Have you heard from Gallagher?" I ask. "Do you know if he's okay?"
"He's a little worse for wear, but he's okay," a voice says from behind me.
I turn around and see him. He's a mess. His suit is tattered and covered in dust.
I rush to him, throwing my arms around his neck.
"I was very worried about you two," he says. "Particularly when the explosives were detonated."
"What happened?"
"I was escorted to the room where you would exit from when you had concluded your business. But things got a little dodgy when gunmen came in. The receptionist hit a silent alarm, which then shut off that exit to you, meaning they couldn't get to you, but neither could I. Two men came in back. I took them out."
"Were they bank robbers?" I ask hopefully.
He shakes his head. "They were after one of you. There must have been a message sent out as soon as the fingerprint was scanned, because the response was almost immediate."
"You look like you could use this, sir," the steward says, handing Gallagher a drink.
One of the pilots steps out of the cockpit. "We just got a call from the gate where there is an unidentified, unfriendly vehicle. You may have been followed here. We can fight it out or take off."
"Let's get the hell out of here, now!" Gallagher replies.
We get buckled up, taxi down the runway, and quickly ascend.
I hold my breath, half waiting for the plane to be shot out of the sky.
Once we're safely airborne, I let it out.
Intrepid is sitting next to me. He lays his hand on top of mine and nods toward Chauncey, who is chewing a bit of biscuit with his eyes closed, trying to fight off sleep.
"Cute kid," he says.
"Smart kid. You should have seen him at the bank. He'd been there before. And I think I have been there, too. I had a couple of flashbacks today. My memories have been, um, iffy, I guess you could say, since my mom died. I remember a lot from when I was young but the time around her death, I can't remember."
"You can't remember or you don't want to?"
"I'm not sure there is a difference anymore. Now, I wish I could remember, but it's like my memories are encrypted or something."
"Trauma can cause that."
"So I've heard," I say with an eye roll.
"What was in the safety deposit boxes?"
"I don't know." I tell him all that happened on our end.
Once we reach cruising altitude, the steward gets up and folds out one of the seats, making up a bed. Then he unbuckles the boy and lays him down on it.
The boy wakes up and motions for me, so I sit on the floor next to him, rub his face, and wish him sweet dreams as he falls back to sleep.
"Can I make up a bed for either of you?" the steward asks.
"How long is the flight?"
"Ninety minutes," he replies.
"No, thank you. I'm fine."
I grab my backpack and pull out the safety deposit box.
Inside I find just four things. The first is another key, this one for a safety dep
osit box at the Royal Montrovian Bank. The second is a letter from my mother telling me that she was a covert agent, that she's sorry she couldn't tell me, how much she loves me, and how she hopes that I remember all the fun we had traveling together. The third item is a photo. The one I remembered today. I'm sticking my tongue out at her, peeking around the side of Lorenzo's castle. And lastly, there is a stack of cash. One hundred thousand American dollars.
I stare at the photo and try to replay what I remembered earlier today, but the rest won't come.
"Not much in here," I say.
"What were you hoping for, a bag full of clues?"
"Actually, kind of. Something--anything, that would make sense of all this."
"What about the boy's?"
I pry the backpack out of Chauncey's hands and replace it with his tiger. He sighs, rolls over, and snuggles the tiger up to his chin.
I take the Glock out of the back of my pants. "This was one of the things in his safety deposit box." I pull a pouch out of the backpack and discover six million dollars worth of bearer bonds, photos of a beautiful woman who I assume was his mother, and a baby journal full of musings in a loopy cursive.
I read the first entry.
As I held you in my arms for the first time, you looked up at me with your big, beautiful eyes. I feel so blessed and fortunate to have you that I decided to name you Chauncey, which means fortune and gamble. We took a gamble by bringing you into this world, but sometimes love trumps good judgment. Your father's job means that even now, as you are born, we are in constant danger. But your father promised to do only one final job, then we will move away and live a happy life together. You, Chauncey, were my gamble, and you are my fortune. And I know that God will bless you with intelligence and a heart full of love.
Sleep well, my beautiful baby boy.
I close the book, not wanting to read anymore of her private thoughts. Intrepid brushes tears off my cheek, tears I wasn't even aware had fallen.
