A PALE HORSE

Maggie put down her pen and rubbed her temples. The pilot of the Airbus A380 she was currently sitting in had announced they had arrived in Miami, and the temperature was a stifling 97 degrees with 87% humidity. She was sweating just thinking about it. She had just put down on paper her newest thoughts and theories on her latest piece, and longed for respite from the plane, her seat, and her thoughts. Although she was flying first class on one of the largest and newest planes available… “a unique experience that introduces you to new standards of in-flight comfort, from first class to economy”. She remembered reading that in the brochure and smiled to herself at her ability to recall the phrase. All her life, she had been told she was smart, she often heard the word “clever” used; Maggie herself had always thought that the various adults she had heard this from, from her parents, to teachers, to bosses, had always indicated, or at least inferred, that her intelligence came with a bent towards cunning, and even deviousness. She had also always been told she was pretty, but that never really mattered to her. She knew that she possessed many traits that men find appealing, and, more importantly, she knew how to bring them to bear to get what she wanted from them. Most useful among her talents, though, was her eidetic memory and her almost total recall- very handy skill for an investigative journalist, she thought to herself. She had been thinking about Susanna.

I’ll have to call her later, thought Maggie. I haven’t talked with her in a while. She missed her a lot, and Maggie caught herself at the thought. She didn’t normally miss much of anything, or anyone for that matter. She thought of a lot of things when she traveled, but home was not one of them. Maggie was not meant for domesticity, and she didn’t miss her family much or her place in Seattle near Green Lake, nor her colleagues. She had no pets, or boyfriends, or ties of any kind, other than a gym membership that she kept forgetting to cancel. No, nothing held her anywhere, and the home she knew had wings and tiny bottles of booze. Despite all of that, she found herself missing her best friend. It was the damn story, she told herself, willing eyes to stay dry. As the pilot taxied, she thought about her assignment- human sex trafficking and its ties to the mafia. Susanna had been the victim of a sex trafficking ring, when they were younger and, although she escaped with her life, the experience had had its way with Susanna. She had been eight days shy of her thirteenth birthday when she was abducted. Maggie remembered vividly sitting at Suse’s kitchen table, planning the festivities with her and her mother over Oreos, applesauce, and vanilla ice cream. When she was tracked down and rescued, the young woman that came back to Klamath Falls wasn’t the girl that had been taken. Susanna today was still working through the negative effects that her time in captivity had created in her psyche, and had become an ultra-cautious, often frightened mouse of a woman. She went from rambunctious, all- American teenager to scared, suicidal victim. Maggie was there for her when all her other friends treated her as damaged goods. Maggie was the one Susanna cried to and she was also the one who found Susanna when she had attempted to end her suffering. She needed help. Maggie wrote to Susanna the whole time she was in the clinic. She would send Susanna stories she made up about non-consequential things like the story about the mouse who stole a remote-control car and used it to torment the neighbor’s cat, or the butterfly who dreamed of becoming a painter. Yes, it had been too long, and Maggie decided she would give Susanna a call after she checked into her hotel room.

Maggie was brought back to the present. She could hear the bustle and mild chaos in the coach cabin as everyone stood en-masse to debark, and she knew that she would be afforded the courtesy of leaving the aircraft before anyone from back there was able to part the curtain. She always travelled lightly, and had only her small attaché, her purse, and her notebook. Having an unlimited expense account worldwide was very liberating, and, at times, quite necessary. As the other passengers on the plane started to gather their things, Maggie wasn’t in a rush to get off the plane, so she watched as the other passengers pushed and crowded each other in an attempt to get off the plane first. She shook her head when the young man in front of her knocked into an elderly lady causing her to fall roughly into the arm of the seat she was trying to vacate and landed on the floor in front of her. Maggie stood and shouldered her way past a couple of people to get to the woman and helped her to her feet. This caused more than a few grumbles because Maggie purposefully stood in the aisle blocking anyone from leaving before the older woman. The woman looked at Maggie a little dazed and rubbing what Maggie could only assume were very sore ribs.

“I’m sorry for getting in everyone’s way,” she said diminutively.

“You have nothing to be sorry for! That boy was careless!” Maggie said with a scowl. “He wasn’t concerned with anything or anyone but himself. Are you alright?” Maggie thought she was more upset about the incident than the older woman, who seemed to take it in stride, almost expectantly, as if this sort of thing happened to her all of the time. How sad!, Maggie thought. Maybe that would be her next piece- the way the youth of the world treated the elderly. With a sigh, Maggie let the elderly woman in front of her and made sure she got off the plane without further incident. Maggie helped the woman, whose name she learned was Ruth, up the ramp to the jetway. She walked next to Ruth inside the hollow, metal tube, and she could feel the temperature shift from the pleasant, albeit stuffy, circulated airplane air to the hammer of near-100 degree misery that was waiting for them once they left the air-conditioned terminal. She knew this sort of heat could be dangerous for people of advanced age or the infirm, and she hoped that Ruth would be taken care of and taken to some comfortable setting to relax. As they reached the door to the terminal, Ruth’s family was waiting for her, and welcomed her with open arms. Maggie trailed a pace or two behind the scene and stepped up to explain what happened on the plane. She was horrified when the man she initially approached, who turned out to be her son, scolded Ruth and admonished her to not be in such a rush, and that she should learn to be more careful. That earned the man Maggie’s ire, but when she stepped forward to say something to him, she found Ruth had reached forward and gently laid her hand on Maggie’s arm. Maggie looked down into the eyes of this very gentle woman and saw forgiveness and maybe a little sadness there.

Ruth just gave a small shake of her head, and with a melancholic smile said to Maggie, “Read Matthew 5:44”. Turning back to her son and family, she announced that she was hungry and tired and asked them to take her home. Her son just shook his head and ushered them all out of the terminal.

“Thanks for your help, lady” the man called weakly over his shoulder. Maggie found herself standing inside the gate. She couldn’t recall the last time anyone had mentioned a Bible verse in her presence, let alone asked her to read one. Maggie had actually written a compelling piece not eighteen months ago about the death of the bible and other religious texts as a source of guidance for society, with most people preferring to live according to their whims and societal norms, with some even fashioning their own moral code based on their own justifications and opinions. Chaos and noise erupted on her senses like Krakatoa, breaking her reverie. Myriad conversations in several languages, shouts, children’s crying and screaming, and terminal intercom announcements- “the music of doing business”, Maggie called them- greeted her. She wound her way through the throng to a small coffee vendor with a spare seat. She placed her attache and purse on an empty chair a few steps from the order counter, and, being late morning on a Tuesday, she didn’t have much competition when it came to getting her coffee right away. She held her notebook in her hand, along with her smartphone, as she waited for her tall Americano. The phone, she paid with. The notebook… never left her sight, or her grasp, if she could help it. She found herself frowning at the little notebook that wove continuously the tale of her life while on assignment.

My life as a reporter, as an agent, my diary, my story as a person… it was all there. Worth its weight in whatever passes for gold these days, she thought. She had considered, more than once, of transferring its contents to some sort of digital storage, but that was a project for another day. She knew she would have to do it eventually, but there was comfort in being able to rub her hands over the old cover, open it and impress upon its pages whatever she had to say to it. It was their secret, and it was worth keeping safe. She amused herself with watching the activity passing her, and she sat sipping her coffee. Her hand went to the pendant around her neck without her thinking about it, a habit she had picked up shortly after she started wearing the small device. Designed for her by her LACE tech team, it appeared to be a teardrop-shaped crystal of aquamarine, flat towards the bottom, but faceted and very sparkly. It was designed to look elegant yet not flashy enough to steal, which was a good thing, because it contained the most sophisticated digital micro recorder ever conceived. Maggie was never without it, and she never stopped recording, another habit. It had saved her more times than she could count, and she smiled, thinking of what it had heard over the years. She patted the crystal, took the last sip of her coffee, to just about halfway- another idiosyncrasy she possessed, never finishing a beverage unless it’s water- and deposited the paper cup into the nearest bin. Maggie gathered her things and made her way to rent a car for the duration of her stay. She reached the outbuilding that served as the rental facility, and decided she would languish in the air-conditioning a moment before approaching the counter.

She pressed a small button on her phone and spoke, “Call Max”. He answered on the second ring, which told Maggie he was not busy and not anywhere near his father. “Max, I’m in Miami!!” Maggie squealed into the phone. She was only faking a little of her glee. While she was excited to be in Miami, she was also worried about her reception. She hadn’t told Max she was coming and hoped that it would be okay with him. It was risky showing up unannounced for her, even if it was Max that would be receiving her. Lately she had pressed her luck a bit more with Max, and she knew it. Maggie had been able to parlay his feelings for her into increased access to the organization and their goings-on, which, she had to hope, would lead ultimately to Max’s deviant father and his associates.

I cannot wait to nail that sick son of a bitch!, she thought. Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a voice on the other end of her phone.

“Maggie, why are you in Miami?” Max asked her.

“I missed you! I thought it would be a nice surprise. You aren’t mad, are you? Please say you’re not angry! I couldn’t bear it!” she pouted prettily into the phone.

“I…, I missed you as well, but I might not be in town very long.” Max told her. “For how long are you here?” he asked.

“For how long are you?” Maggie teased. She could hear some muffled, hurried Russian on the other end of the phone.

“Where are you now?” he asked.

“I’m renting a car to take me to the hotel,” she told him with a smile.

“Do not. Boris and I will be there in ten minutes. Go have a drink in the bar. I will meet you there.” Max’s voice took on an authoritative tone that Maggie disliked sometimes, but, in this instance, she found it charming. It was endearing that he wanted to take care of her.

“Okay- I’ll wait for ten minutes, but if you guys aren’t here by then, I’m renting a car,” she told him. She had to let him know that, while she was allowing him to take care of her, it was an allowance she was extending, and she by no means needed him. Also, she wasn’t going to wait forever.

“I’m already on my way, moye serdtse.” He hung up before she could ask what he said and she smiled at her phone. She spoke fluent Russian, in addition to the French, German, Spanish, Greek and Farsi that she knew, but Max didn’t need to know that, and his father definitely didn’t need to know.

...couldn’t know, she thought.. If he ever found out, it would be very bad, very quickly, for a lot of people. People she cared about. She reluctantly exited the outbuilding into the heat, and made her way quickly back across the terminal, wending her way to the bar. As she threaded her way through the crowd, she bit her lip and thought. She was getting way too attached to Max. She could see the bar, but decided to make a small detour to the ladies’ to freshen up her makeup and change into the shorts and top she brought with her. She was smart enough to know that Florida was hot and humid first, beautiful second. She slipped on the cute wedges that showed off her legs and slid her flip flops into her Fendi bag. She fluffed her hair, applied some lip gloss, and slid on her oversized Chanel sunglasses before leaving the bathroom, making a beeline for the bar. On her way, Maggie saw that the kid who had knocked Ruth down earlier was still in the airport. He looked frustrated and was making his way towards the bathrooms. Maggie smiled and turned on the charm, swiveled a bit as she walked, and that was pretty much all it took. The young man, who was watching her instead of where he was going, swiftly found himself sprawled out on the ground as he tripped over the luggage of an elderly man waiting for his wife outside the ladies’ room. Maggie turned her face from the scene, and thought it was only fitting.

Serves you right!, she thought. Maggie sat down at the bar. She looked at the time on her Cartier and, finding that it was after noon, ordered herself a Dewar’s neat and a cosmo. The Dewar’s was for her, a love she and her dad shared, and the cosmo was for the “other Maggie”; the character she was playing to penetrate the Russian mafia. Maggie thought as she downed half the scotch about the various layers, carefully manufactured and applied, that went into the woman that Max thought she was. The clothes, the makeup, the food and drink preferences, the back story and fake occupation. He had been hard to warm up, and the persona acted as an effective ice breaker, once the research into Maxim Avatov’s ideal woman had been done. Painstakingly slow to gather, yet, just like Max, reliable and consistent. The intel her field team had gathered allowed her to slip right into Max’s circle like a sultry movie minx, and she had gained his confidence the old-fashioned way- with her looks and flattery. That was fine, until she realized that she had actually fallen for him, and in a big way. She found herself genuinely enthralled with his stories, engaged in emotional and meaningful conversations instead of letting her reporter’s instincts lead her to finding answers. She cared about his standing with his father and she knew that he lived a tenuous existence, not quite assured of his father’s favor; the reluctant, dutiful scion of a disgusting and illicit legacy. Max didn’t belong in the world in which he found himself. He was good. He was honorable. Lev Avatov didn’t deserve Max for a son, but did Max deserve the hurt and betrayal that Maggie would eventually bestow on him, once she got what she needed?

Is this story worth all of that?, she thought. She shook her head as if to clear the cobwebs. Of course it is!, she told herself Don’t be a damn idiot! You know what’s riding on this… you have to dig, and keep digging, until you can put Lev Avatov and his ilk away forever! Maggie spotted Max entering the bar, and quickly stashed the rocks glass behind the counter, grabbing hold of the cosmo and taking a large gulp. Ugh, she hated these foofy drinks! He spotted her, and made his way through the crowd at the front of the bar. God, he is gorgeous!, she thought. He was wearing a navy blue suit with a crisp white shirt and no tie. The collar of his shirt was open to the third button, revealing just a hint of the tattoo that Maggie knew lay beneath. She sucked in a sharp breath when he smiled in her direction. His features going from granite to welcoming and sexy in the space of a heartbeat. Oh man, thought Maggie, I am in serious trouble! Maggie smiled at Max and when he stopped in front of her, she threw herself into his arms. “Max!” She looked up at him and was pleased to see that he was actually glad to see her and wasn’t angry that she was in Miami at all.

Max leaned down and kissed her on the cheek and said “We do not have much time together but I am glad you are here moye serdtse.”, he told her with a smile.

“What does that mean, Max?” Maggie asked him curiously.

“It means my heart.” Max told her with a smile. Maggie felt herself blushing and took Max’s hand as he grabbed her bags in the other. Max led Maggie out of the bar and through the doors to the airport to a waiting limo. Maggie beamed at Max as the driver opened the door to the limo and bid them enter. “Boris, we need to go to…?”

“The Winfrey,” she told Max.

“What? No, that will not do. You will stay where I am staying,” he told her.

“But Max,” she protested, “I don’t have the money to stay somewhere else.” She pouted and looked dolefully at her boyfriend.

Maggie hated pretending to be so flighty but it was worth it when Max said, “My condo has more than enough rooms. You will stay there.” In Max’s mind it was settled. Maggie feigned gratitude at not having to pay for a hotel, but this could be disastrous or a godsend. She let her mind dream of the dirt that she could uncover on Lev, but was nervous about staying with Max so close in his condo. She was already tempted by Max, so she wasn’t sure what staying at his condo would do to her already-struggling heart. She settled back against the seat and waited for Max to get into the vehicle. Max spoke quickly with the driver then climbed into the back of the limo with Maggie. “We will be taking a quick detour. I have some business to take care of before we can go back to the condo,” Max told her. The sleek black limo pulled away from the curb and had only traveled about a hundred yards before turning onto a side street that would take them to the cargo office.

“Ooh Max, are you getting ready to ship that dusty old stuff you bought in New Orleans?” Maggie asked him. Max scrutinized Maggie for a moment before he replied.

“Yes, there is the matter of payment which I need to discuss with my pilot. He will take the payment to Mr.-”

“McCreepy in New Orleans?” she asked with an innocent expression.

Max regarded Maggie for a moment before he answered, “I like that! It is appropriate!”, Max smiled and patted her leg. “My pilot will pay Mr. McCreepy. Then I will need to arrange for shipment.”

“To Russia? To your father?” She knew she was pressing her luck again, and she tried to sound as innocently curious as possible; just his girlfriend wanting to be involved in his life, nothing more. Might as well play it to the hilt, she thought. “What does your father want with a load of old bones?” Maggie knew she had made a mistake as soon as she asked the question.

“How did you know about the skeletons, myshka?” Max asked her.

Damn! She thought lightning-quick. “I heard you and that geezer talking. I’m sorry, Max, but you were getting pretty loud! I heard that you wanted to buy some bones, and I thought it was weird, but, hey! Who am I to judge what is important to other people?” Maggie finished in a rush, she hoped that Max had bought the story, she was certain he knew she was eavesdropping but was relieved when he finished his silent assessment.

Maggie could tell he must have thought her story had merit because he told her, “They are very important to my father. Do not be concerned with them, though- they will be leaving in a couple of days. Unfortunately, I will be leaving with them.” Maggie saw a look of immense dislike travel across Max’s face before he could turn away. The driver stopped the car in front of a massive hangar. Maggie could see numerous large crates and two huge cargo planes being loaded for transport. There was a small group of people in front of the hanger and two of the people, they looked like pilots to Maggie, had squared off against each other. A big bear of a man was yelling and pointing a meaty finger at the smaller man. The smaller man was trying in vain to placate the bigger pilot, gesticulating in a way that said he didn’t know how to help the big man. The limousine stopped next to the two men, and Max stepped out and extended a hand to Maggie. Maggie alighted from the car and came face to face with the big pilot. Maggie blinked into the strangest eyes she had ever seen before- very pale and green, with flecks of gold; they were quite striking, as was the man. Maggie made him at about six foot three or four, Latin, probably hispanic, with very dark, very thick shoulder length hair that made him look like he belonged in a band, not in a cockpit. Broad shoulders, tanned skin, large hands and feet, but her intuition told her that he was more likely to talk himself out of a fight than start one. She took a step back and bumped into the car. He didn’t intimidate her exactly, but he was very attractive and, from the looks of it, very angry. He didn’t spare a glance for Maggie as he brushed past and put his long index finger in Max’s face.

“I don’t like it when someone messes with my deliveries, Max!” he growled. “I had the flight plan already laid out and submitted. All I required was a payload, and now you have me flying to New Orleans?” The big pilot almost spat the words at Max, who just stood there with a calm expression.

“Are you finished?” He took stock of the man’s expression and continued, “It will be fine, Sam.” The pilot started in again.

“Fine? You said it was important that we get the cargo to your father as soon as possible... something about a deadline, and now you have me flying to that stinking backwater four hours out of my way. It’s going to cost, Max.” he said, “Where EXACTLY is the cargo, oso? Soon as possible does not mean four hours out of my way, or five days from now. I’m fairly certain Lev expects me there in two days. That means as soon as these crates are loaded, I’m outta of here. Original plan, original cargo, no deviations. I DON’T like change, Max!” Max raised an eyebrow at the big pilot.

“Remember, you do not work for my father.” Max told him. “You work for me, and you will go where I tell you or not at all. Understood?” Max eyed the big pilot, “I like you, Samuel…”

“Sam,” the big man butted in, grinding his teeth.

“Sam,” Max corrected, “but you are replaceable. I do not want to replace you, frankly, so let us work past this. You just fly- leave my father and his plans to me, no?” Maggie watched the exchange silently, reading the expressions of both men. She could tell the larger man was getting to Max by the small twitch at the corner of his mouth. Sam was an enigma, and Maggie felt somewhere in her gut that, even had she known the large pilot before that day and that conversation, it would take many lifetimes to plumb his depths. No, she didn’t know him, doubted anyone could, really, but she could tell by his bearing that he was not used to being told what to do. That struck Maggie as odd, considering the two men seemed to do a lot of business together.

“You know what the cargo is, and what needs to happen when you arrive in New Orleans.” Max told him. “We have done business before and I appreciate the way you work. There will be a bonus for you upon completion, provided you keep your decorum and my confidence. Please, consider this as a favor to me, repayable when you wish. I will take care of my father.” Max told him.

“Your cargo,” Sam spat, with a look of disgust, “is precisely my problem. This is the LAST time I do this, you get me, oso?” Sam appeared to be weighing his options. He stalked away, a dark tiger pacing his concrete and tarmac cage. He alternately pounded on his thighs with his fist in agitation and swatted at an imaginary fly doing sorties around his temples. He turned around and walked back to Max, resigned. “Fine.” He told Max, “but you owe me big this time, Max!” The dark man sighed, and looked resigned. “We’ve been through a lot, oso. You know how much I hate this stuff.” Max smiled and took Maggie’s hand.

“No more than I , and, thank you, Sam. I will come and sign the orders for you and we will discuss the terms of our arrangement.” Max slapped Sam on the back and turned to Maggie. “Maggie, I would like to introduce you to the best pilot you will ever meet. This is Samuel Ramos.”

“Sam!” he said with exasperation. Forgetting Max, he turned to Maggie, affixing her with his incredible eyes. He extended a mammoth, and, Maggie noticed, immaculately manicured hand, and smiled.

“Nice to meet you, Magdalene. Sam Ramos, at your FULL service.” Maggie twitched at the mention of her proper first name, but figured Max must have talked about her to his friend in conversations past. She finally got a good look at Sam; he sure was pretty, she thought. Built like a power forward, hair as dark as the night sky, adobe-colored complexion that set off his angular features, and those eyes.

What a striking man!, thought Maggie. The corners of Sam’s lips turned up in a grin, like he could hear Maggie’s thoughts. Disconcerted, she thrust out her hand and uttered a somewhat embarrassed, “Pleased to meet you” to Sam. Sam’s smile grew bigger as he took her hand and bent low to kiss her knuckles. A different kind of look suddenly crossed his face, and Maggie knew instantly, the way a good journalist does, that at least one of the Sams she was going to meet today was an imposter. She had worn that look early in her career, and it had signaled that a bit of acting was about to take place. Maggie had become quite expert at flipping her switch without giving anyone cause to doubt her, but what she saw from Sam was a fumbling, awkward reset of an entire three-act stage, with no manager helping with the curtain. Someone was getting fooled, but Maggie had yet to determine who- but she had him, and she could probably use this revelation to her advantage at some point.

“What’s a hot dish like you doing rolling around with a bowl of borscht like him?” he asked, jerking his thumb toward the now-perturbed Russian as his lips lingered over Maggie’s hand. Maggie blushed prettily and was about to answer coyly when Max growled.

“Come, kiska,” Max said, stealing her hand away before Sam’s lips could make contact with Maggie’s knuckles. “He has work to attend, and I have you to entertain.’” He took her arm and, without looking back, exited the hangar. While walking to the waiting limo, Maggie got the feeling she was being watched. She looked around, trying to spot the obvious lurker or badly-concealed henchman, and got nothing for her efforts. The only person she saw looking in their direction was their driver and Max’s cousin, Boris.

Nothing unusual there, she thought. He didn’t look happy, but she assumed the look on his face was for the pilot, not Max. They kept walking past the crates being loaded into the cargo planes and Maggie took in as much information as she could without giving away how interested she was with the crates and boxes.

Large crate...three men, two strapped with AKs and one seemingly unarmed. Why would a single crate need triple guarding? Maggie inadvertently tripped over some cords in her path and Max pulled her up by the arms to keep her from tumbling over.

“Careful! This place is full of things that will ruin your shoes,” he told her with concern.

Genuine concern, Maggie thought, as she looked at him. He was acting out of kindness because of the exchange she had had with Peter coming out of The Royal, not knowing that she couldn’t care less about the shoes at all. She was playing a part, and she was getting in deeper than she ever had. She gripped Max’s arm tighter as they made it to the office. Maggie waited as the necessary documents were completed for Sam to travel, and Max took the clipboard from the attendant, ushering Maggie back toward the limo. Boris was waiting to open the door, a smile on his face, and nodded when they approached.

Yep, must have been for Sam, she thought. Boris obviously has something against the big pilot. She smiled at Boris as he opened the door and she took her seat in the back of the black Mercedes.

“Wait here. I will return momentarily.” Max brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, closed her door and said something to Boris. The driver gave a compliant nod and resumed his place in the front. Max walked swiftly to the hangar, exchanged a couple of words with Sam, pulled out a roll of bills, peeling off quite a few to attach to the clipboard along with the papers, and handed the bundle to the tall pilot. As Sam and Max shook hands again, Maggie watched for any other clues to the history between the two men. Her attention had been focused on the handshake, but her eyes drifted up to the faces of the men. Maggie was startled to see that Sam was looking directly at her with a half-smile and a single cocked eyebrow.

I know you. I know your secret. You will know mine when the time is right. Maggie shot back from the window, heart racing.

What the hell was that?!! She had imagined his words, spoken directly into her thoughts. She was very adept at reading people, and she felt for sure Sam was clueless to her and her real intentions. Yeah, you’re just closer to the edge on this one than you have been and it’s making you nervous. Relax, there’s no way he could know anything about you, she thought. The door opened next to her, giving her another start, but she quickly got it together again as Max entered the car.

“Now we can go home, Boris.” This time Maggie was sure that she had seen a flash of hatred pass over Boris’s face after Max had turned away. Boris caught Maggie’s stare and gave her a look so cold she shivered in response. Max looked at Maggie and she managed a small smile for him in return.

Very interesting, Maggie thought to herself. Boris doesn’t like Max, and Max doesn’t know. She made a note to ask Max more about Boris later. They were getting to the end game, and she had to turn up the heat. The girls were secure in that hangar and on their way to New Orleans. Each one of those kids wore Suse’s face. She knew that she couldn’t let anything happen to them. She doubted that she could disrupt things enough to keep them in Miami, so she sat back in the car and tried to think of a reason for Max to take her to Russia.