Flight 404 Chapter 71

Chapter 71

After reading the New York Times’ story on Saul Abramovitz, I had called the FBI and told them that they might as well have waived a red flag in the face of a bull.  Rebecca Schuster was sure to take the story as a challenge.  They assured me that they had the situation well in hand and that Mr. Abramovitz was in no danger.

Having gotten nowhere with them, I decided to drive up to Ashburn, Virginia an enlist Frank’s help.

As the elevator climbed towards Frank’s floor, I couldn’t help but recall our last time being together.  That had been back in December and I hadn’t been ready for love again, so soon after Sam’s death.  But now my pulse was racing in anticipation.  Hopefully, he still felt the same way.  The elevator bell rang, announcing my floor.  The doors opened and my resolve faded.  Should I get out?  Would he see right through my excuse for being here?  Was this the right thing to do?  As I stood there weighing each course of actions, I realized that a young man was standing there politely holding the elevator doors open waiting for me to exit.  I didn’t want to look stupid, so I stepped out. 

Frank was sitting in his office with his back to the door his head was tracing the path of a plane across the sky.

“Is this your punishment?” I asked.

At the sound of my voice, his head stopped following the plane and he swiveled his office chair around in my direction.  The broad smile that broke out across his face, at the sight of me, sent my emotions soaring.

“It was, until you walked in”, he said rising to his feet.  His arms were around me in an instant.  He smelled of tweed, soap, and Gray Flannel cologne.  He released his hold on me after about a minute and happily began dusting off a spar chair so I could sit down.

“God, I’m glad you’re here”, he said.

“I don’t know whether you’ll continue feeling that way once you know the other reason I’m here.”

“There are two?  What’s the first one?”

I could feel the blood rising to my checks thinking about the second reason.  I handed him a folded copy of the New York Times with the article about Saul Abramovitz highlighted.

“I saw it”, he said.  “Agent Sanchez and the FBI insist that Rebecca is no longer a threat.  And that’s the official line.”

“Is that your official line, too?”

“No.” He leaned forward and looked directly into my eyes and said.  “I think all those people on board that plane with Saul are in danger.  That’s my unofficial line.”

“Are we going to just sit around and let Rebecca kill another two hundred or more people?”

“Well, I do have some vacation time coming.  No reason I can’t take it starting now.”

At that point, he stood up, grabbed his coat from the back of the chair, extended me his arm, and we were out the door.  As we stepped on the elevator, he leaned down and whispered in my ear, “this time I won’t take no for an answer.”

 

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