Date: Tue, 12 Jul 2011 23:14:27 +0100
From: Micheal Chukwu <michealwitluv@gmail.com>
Subject: The Game 16

                             Act And Run

3 a.m. Time to go. Seven minutes and counting.
   McCall nodded to Irish, Team two commander and Nightshift's doctor,
called in from his honeymoon -- but his wife Songbird, not only understood,
she was right beside him this moment. Heidi lay on the floor outside Jake's
door in a flat sprawl, a broken blood capsule beneath her back, staining
her clothes and skin and the carpet. She lifted an arm; Irish injected her
with the serum. Her eyes closed in seconds. Her delicate frame stopped the
rhythmic life and fall of breath, and he skin took on a sick pallor as her
body, responding to the chemicals injected into her, cooled faster than a
normal death.
   "Go." Irish whispered, and disappeared into the shadows of an open
door. "I'll be here for her."
   McCall opened Jake's door, stepped in silence over Heidi's body and
closed the door. He'd need a moment of privacy with Jake before he sent him
into either operative mode or total shock.
   The sight in front of his eyes almost made him hesitate. Two single
beds, one with a sweet faced child cuddling the puppy against his face and
a teddy bear clutched in his other hand, the other bed held the man of his
dreams -- a decade's worth of dreams. In the soft, unfocused light of the
half moon outside, Jake's sleeping face was perfection of face and form in
shadow and marble, living and warm, cool and remote...
   Six minutes, forty seconds.
   He crossed to the bed and touched Jake's shoulder. "Jake."
   It wasn't hard to inject the name with urgency -- Heidi's life depended
on exact execution of this op. "Jake, wake up."  Jake flipped his body
toward him as by instinct, because it was obvious he still walked in the
land between sleep and waking. "Hmmm... Brendan... my Brendan..."
   McCall almost reeled at the tone, saturated with sensuality and
something deeper and sweeter -- wild and wanton and longing, as if his
eyes, his name was beautiful. If Jake had spoken his name like that two
days ago... hell, if Jake had said his name at all...
   Six minutes twenty seconds.
   He tried to shake Jake, but his rebel hand drank in the sweet warmth of
Jake's half-bar shoulder, and he caressed him instead. He swallowed a groan
as the heated silk of Jake's skin shivered right into his needing
body. "Yes. It's me." The dark huskiness of his voice, hot and urgent with
sexuality, disgusted him. Be an operative. "Wake up, Jake." He growled.
   "Mmmm." An arm hooked around his neck. "I was dreaming of you." Jake
whispered in half-dreaming voice. "I dreamed of you touching me. You are
always with me when I'm alone and afraid. You haunt me even when you're not
there... you stalk my soul, you live and breathe inside me, and I can't
forget you, can't leave you behind... never... You're with me... Touch
me..."
   The man heard the words, the operative understood what they meant for
the mission -- but their power and beauty speared the heart of the child
with too many unhealed wounds, lost and alone and needing. The dark hearted
little boy who'd lost his mommy looked out that stark, lonely window into
empty night, and saw him once more -- not his mom, but the face that
haunted him, the hand that could dry ancient tears, his fears for him, walk
through life holding him. "Jake..." His voice cracked.
   Five minutes fifty seconds.
   Just one kiss.
   Just once. I'd batter my soul for this.
   His mouth moved over Jake's with all the joy of a captive finding from
dark chains. Jake's arms held him with such sweet ferocity... he responded
to his kiss with sweet abandon, his mouth drinking him in, Jake's hands
twining in his hair. Jake's lovely body, his nakedness sheathed only in a
swathe of satin, lifting to touch his; his hands pulling him down, down
until he fell to the bed, drowning in his moment. If he paid with a century
of torture, it was worth the pain, having sweet, lovely Jake in his arms,
being in his arms where he belonged.
   Four minutes thirty-five seconds.
   If Heidi stopped breathing for longer than seven minutes, brain damage
can set in. Heidi's life is in your hands!
   The jolt brought the operative back to the fore, even as he touched
Jake, caressed him, kissed him, and his body moved with him in a rhythm
that told him he could be inside Jake right this moment, finding release
and long-overdue peace in Jake's welcoming body. And the torture kicked up
a notch. It was physical agony, but he tore his mouth from
Jake's. "Jake..."
   "No." Jake pulled at him to bring him back to him. "Tomorrow will be the
same as today -- it has to be, or you'll die. But they can't see me tonight
and I can have what... I can have you..."
   He kissed a searing path from the base of Jake's throat, and he groaned
in intense satisfaction when he gasped and writhed beneath him. Jake's
words mad e no sense but he didn't care right now. "Baby, you can have me
whenever you want. That's a promise. But now..."
   "Yes, now." He whispered into his mouth. "Now... always. I'll always
want you."
   Four minutes, ten seconds.
   As the man drowned, the operative kept count -- and delivered the RKO to
his needs. "Tonight, baby. I promise." He muttered, hoping to God it would
come true. Battering his soul on that hope. "But now, we have to go. You
and Danny are in danger."
  The one word guaranteed to bring the father forth from the sensual siren
beneath him. Jake's eyes snapped open. "What?"
   He spoke rapidly, submerging his aching desire beneath cold hard
lies. "The safety of this place has been compromised. One of the Nighthawks
has compromised the operation. Someone's here and they are after you and
Danny."
   "How do you know?" Jake's voice was low, half-terrified as he jerked up
in the bed, half lifting McCall off him with the force of his movement. He
was with him already, but needed proof.
   Three minutes forty-five seconds.
   He vaulted over the bed and opened the door to reveal Heidi's sprawling
body, the expert fake blood seeping from beneath her.
   "Oh, dear God... no, not again. Not again..."
   At the first sound of the cracked teary voice, McCall glanced at Jake
and felt sucker-punched. Jake was a stark white as Heidi's chemically
induced comatose body. Jake swayed as he sat, his face taking on a greenish
hue. He clapped a hand over his mouth and ran the other through his hair.
   So He had been right about Jake. No pro in the game could be so shocked
at death or act this well, but justification had never come at so high a
price. He couldn't even take the time to comfort Jake.
   Three minutes ten seconds.
   "Get your things, Jake. We have about ten minutes before they sweep the
hall again. We have to be long gone by then. Two minutes to pack and run,
Jake."
   Did he sound urgent enough? For Heidi's sake... "Follow me out of here."
He added in the imperative, authoritative tone that made people in war
zones follow him in SAR ops. "I know the lay-out of the place. I helped
plan the traps."
   Jake nodded. "I'm sorry." He muttered his voice scratchy and
aching. "I've made a mess..."
   "Just get up, honey," he said quietly, aching to comfort Jake. "I'll get
Danny and the puppy; you get a few things together. Go light. We have about
ninety seconds to get out."
   "But the poor woman... she must have been hurt trying to... to helps
us..." Without waning Jake flew off the bed to Heidi, and felt frantically
for a pulse. "We have to help her! We can't just leave her like this!"
   Confirmed: Jake was no spy. Even Lucy Liu couldn't act like this -- and
she wouldn't have cared enough about Heidi to start an imperfect round of
CPR on her, as Jake was now. "She's gone, Jake. He has lost too much
blood. We have to go -- now."
   Two minutes fifty seconds.
   He could almost feel Nightshift's fury, and Irish and Songbird's frantic
need to take the six steps to Heidi and inject her with the
adrenaline-based antidote. Damage can set in as quickly as seven minutes
after the injection if the subject isn't fit, or has heart or lungs
problems.
   Heidi was a mountaineer and champion gymnast. She was also a former
agent of the Australian Security Intelligence Organization, ASIO. Surely,
she could handle a few more minutes.
   "We can't leave her!" it was as if Jake sensed his urgency for Heidi and
relayed it back to him in a pulsing beat of guilt.
   Two minutes forty seconds.
   If he didn't get Jake out of here, Heidi wouldn't die -- Anson would see
to that -- but they'd have to reveal the ruse to Jake's eyes, and then
they'd never get the tapes or his trust. He had to go through with the
whole charade, or lose everything.
   Do something! He felt every operative in the hallway screaming silently
for him to act.
   "It's her or Danny." He uttered brutally. "A woman you barely know or
your son. Sixty seconds. Take your pick."
   Jake gasped and vaulted to his feet as he had done a minute ago, and ran
to the backpack, leaving the suitcase behind. "This has all we need. Let's
go."
   With lethal efficiency, McCall bound electrical tape around the muzzle
of Danny's pup. "We can't let him bark... and we can't let Danny cry out
either." He put a gentle hand across Danny's mouth before he lifted the
child, startled out of sleep. "It's Brendan, pal." He whispered in the
boy's ear. "We are going on an adventure, me, you, your dad and Bark... but
you have to be real quiet. Okay?"
   Danny's eyes swiveled to Jake's and though he looked startled and still
somewhat, Jake managed a smile and nod for his son. "You missed out on your
fu with Ethan, so we're making it up to you."
   One minute thirty seconds.
   Danny struggled against McCall's hand until he was free; then he smiled
up at McCall with the instant unquestioning love only a secure child can
give. "Can we go camping? Can I see a kangaroo and a koala?"
   "Sure pal, as soon as we can manage it." He made himself smile at the
boy. "We're going to my place first -- but that's the countryside, so there
are wild kangaroos and sometimes koalas. We'll have to go hunting at night
for a koala, okay?"
   Jake's face was rosy with the flush of sweet shyness. Yeah Jake was
thinking about it, about being alone in McCall's place and his words a few
minutes before -- and McCall's.
   Tonight, I promise.
   Long nights alone in his house, loving Jake's body, Jake loving his...
   Fifty-five seconds.
   He cocked his head. "Close your eyes pal." He whispered to Danny, and
the ecstatic kid didn't even question the command. He stepped over Heidi's
sprawled body. "Don't look, Jake. This way."
   But he saw that Jake did look down at Heidi again, a quick helpless
glance, longing to help. Jake shuddered as he stepped over the body. Guilt
speared through McCall as he led the way through the labyrinth of security
measures. No matter how he justified it, some things couldn't be
justified. He was terrorizing an innocent man to prove his innocence when
he had already been through the mill more than once and ranked right up
there.
   His life thus far may not have led to his being able to trust many
people -- not even the woman who had just given him a precious piece of
trust -- but the word lowlife resonated in his mind. A tired reproach for
the man of phantoms lies and shadows... but tonight, it seemed to take on a
whole new meaning.
   "Hurry." He whispered, continually looking left and right to keep up the
pretense of urgency. "I'm on official watch tonight but my relief will come
any minute." They reached the side door that led to the hangar. "I've
disabled the security system, but it has automatic reversion within ten
minutes. We have to be on the plane within two minutes, Jake."
   Jake nodded and increased his pace.
   They made it halfway down the path to the hangar before Panther led the
"attack" on them, swift and stealthy, a sneak attack worthy of his code
name. With military precision, Panther hit the puppy with a...
   Danny cried out "Bark!"
   McCall dropped to the ground, put Danny and the unconscious pup down and
got out his tranquilizer gun, checking that Jake too had dropped out of
range. "Shh, pal. It's okay... it's just a sleeping shot. Bark will wake up
in a few hours, good as new. These aren't bad guys... they don't want us to
go is all. They'll try to put us to sleep and take us back to bed."
   "How do you know what they are?" Jake whispered. Fiercely.
   "These are specialist darts, used when our search teams need to
immobilize witness without killing them." He gave Jake a savage grin. "I
worked with put team doctor to create them. I was his star guinea pig."
   Jake gasped, his lovely eyes running over him as if to check for
damage. A warm shiver ran through him at the intimate look. Had anyone
looked at him like that, with such caring?
   Another shot came whizzing through the darkness. The operative responded
by diving out of range, taking Jake down with him. "We have the advantage
-- they don't want to hurt us." He whispered in Jake's ear. "Use your
backpack as cover and run like hell, keeping low and your arms
swinging. It's harder to hit a moving target and chances are they will hit
the backpack. I'll keep Danny covered." When Jake nodded tensely he
whispered. "Run."
   The terrifying whiz of darts flying past chased them all the way into
the hangar. McCall felt savage gratitude when some darts hit the
backpacks. Jake was too smart -- and given their track record and Jake's
obsessive self-reliance, Jake had been looking for holes in the plan before
long. Any reason to run...
   He swore with a viciousness that wasn't feigned when the hangar door was
locked. "I opened this!" With another curse, he muttered. "Quick, Jake get
my gun from my coat and shoot out the lock. Can you do that?" he dodged
another dart that flew past his ear as he spoke. Oh yeah, he'd have words
with Panther when they meet again. His sense of perfectionism had gone too
far this time.
   Jake didn't hesitate. Even dancing with the need to evade the darts, he
grabbed the Glock, fixed the silencer and took out the lock with one clean
shot. Do you want the big doors done while you put Danny in, do I cover
you?"
   "Cover, then shoot the doors and throw them out fast." He replied,
treating Jake as an operative without even thinking about it. "Can you jump
up into the plane while it's moving?"
   "I can try. Go!" Jake cried turning to where Panther and two other
operatives were still firing darts. They hit the door and wall beside
Jake's crouched form with tiny, sickening thuds. McCall had to physically
squelch the fierce desire to cover Jake with his body. Trusting Panther to
follow procedure as he had always done, McCall tucked Danny into the back
passenger seat of the Partenavia P68 Turbo, which could reach speeds of 322
kilometers an hour. Nothing else in this hangar would catch up fast. He
threw himself into the cockpit.
   "Jake!" he yelled. Jake heard the plane fire up, grabbed a massive
toolbox and pushed it against the door. Jake then ran to the massive double
doors and within seconds, shot the locks one after the other. Blast, blast,
blast. No hesitation, no fear -- not one miss.
   Pilot, speedboat racer, a shot to qualify for the Olympics, and even
burdened with a small child, Jake had eluded capture from both the bad guys
and the best of the best for years.
   Even now, Jake threw the doors open, shooting with steady hand as he did
so, not thrown back by the force of the shots, not fazed by the darts still
coming at him thick and fast. Jake dodged them with the smoothness of a
pro, sprinting for the plane like Cameron Diaz in Charlie's Angels. Using
the handle of the open passenger door as ballast, Jake swung up and into
the cockpit beside him with barely a hitch in his breathing.
   Well damn, if he isn't someone's operative now, Anson will do his best
to recruit him as soon as Jake's free.
   Just as he would have done, if it were anyone nut the man he'd step in
front of a bullet for. And every protective urge screamed at him to stop
that happening.
   Every selfish urge.
   "Brendan!"
   McCall looked at the closing doors and swore. Stupid jerk! Panther was
losing it. Perfection in execution had limits and attacking them when they
needed to get out fast was bordering on insane! With a muttered curse,
McCall snapped. "Can you fly this?"
   Jake ran his gaze over the console. "Doesn't look hard."
   "Then get this out of the hangar and onto the runway any way you
can. Don't run anyone down or shoot unless you have to."
   He dived out of the cockpit and landed on Panther, more than ready to
make this real.
   The man in the ski mask and dark clothes wasn't Panther.
   He'd sparred with panther enough in training sessions to know. The taut,
lean fury that was Panther wasn't fighting him now -- this guy was a wall
of muscle and he wasn't mock-fighting, he was trying to bloody kill
him. Whoever he was, he was a street-fighting expert. Each punch and kick
changed direction into a different method, from karate to kick boxing to
drunken boxing and staring over -- all planned to get him off balance.
   Too damn bad for him that he faced a former SEAL and street fighter. The
rhythm was too familiar and McCall blocked each blow and kick with the ease
of coming home.
   The moving plane created a deeper shadow over their wrestling bodies as
Ski Mask pinned him down.
   Counting -- one, two, three... McCall used both feet to launch up,
sending Ski Mask flying behind. The man grunted, collapsed for all of two
seconds, and then came back for more.
   Rough as diamond, smooth as silk. This guy was in the game, not just
some hired mercenary. Not Falcone's man, then.
   The Nighthawk rogue.
   No one else could get through the military precision of the security
arrangements...
   Except that I turned them off.
   Ten minutes. That was all. No way was it enough time to let an outsider
in here, with fifty-acre shield all around. The satellite was still in full
force, tracking every movement -- Wildman's team needed it to follow
them. If this guy had come in from outside, he'd have been seen. Unless
he'd been -- no, how could he have been here the whole time?
   Either this man was one of the team, or he was someone he trained in
breaking through a security system this complete. Someone who knew the way
his mind worked, and waited for his chance. Sliding into McCall's plans,
smooth as silk, to frustrate them.
   Even as his mind worked through the possibilities, he kept fighting. It
was second nature to him, the fight mode. He had been in his first fist
fight at five with his goody goody cousin Stephen, who had started the
thing, yet he, had not only been blamed but forced to apologise by his
mother. She had stood grimly over him as he'd stuttered out the words to
his smirking cousin, and his shocked, self-righteous aunt, who had sworn,
"My Stephen would never stoop to fighting."
   He had done it -- groveled for Mom's sake -- but Stephen hadn't smirked
later. It took him three years, but he had made Stephen swallow that damn
smirk -- and that time, he didn't back down.
   That had been the final straw as far as Mom was concerned. Tired of a
husband who did little but drink and fight, she had wanted better for
herself... and her daughter. She had wanted no traces of Jack McCall in her
life -- and that included his son.
   A bitter life lesson he had never forgotten. He had never apologized
since for self-defense, or even for attack. Never. The only apology he had
ever made since he was five had gotten him nowhere.
   I'm sorry I'm such a bad boy, Mommy. I'll be better. I won't fight
again, I promise -- not with Stephen or anyone. Please take me with you!
Don't leave me with Dad...
   Even as he relived the humiliation, he fought his adversary with
ruthless efficiency and no
emotion. Slam. Cut. Block. Kick. Fall. Roll. Launch onto feet firmly
planted to the ground.
   And finally, the opening -- and an open-palmed hand pushed upward, under
Ski Mask's chin. And since they needed this guy alive to trace him backward
to his source, or identify him, and eliminate him from Nighthawk team, it
was a hit with surgical precision aimed to disable not kill.
   McCall heard Ski Mask's teeth crash together, saw his jaw displace --
yeah, he wouldn't be talking to his boss for a while -- then his eyes
rolled back in his head and crumpled.
   Using Nighthawks standard issue plastic cuffs, he put the guy's feet
together -- panther could finish this job. He could take the mask off,
identify this creep, and even take the kudos, for all he cared. Into the
two-way he snapped.
   "Panther, team attack, collect hostile witness inside hangar, stat!" And
then he bolted from the hangar to catch up the plane, heading steadily
toward the runway to catch the ugly melody of missed shots.
   He had more important things on his mind right now than identifying this
jerk. He had a groom to marry, a sweet and timid six year old son to
reassure. Because if he could make Jake agree to his idea, that's what they
would be from this day forward: his husband and his son. For the first time
in his life, he could become part of a real family and it made his heart
pound and sweat break from his body, far worse than any danger he had ever
faced. What if he blew it? What did he know about making others happy? What
if he went on a mission and didn't come back? Would he leave them to grieve
or worse, would they feel relieved that someone like him wasn't in their
lives anymore?
   And then, what if he asked Jake and he laughed at his presumption? In
his world of constant impossible situations, this was the biggest risk he
had ever taken, because it had the potential to the biggest no-win of them
all.