Dale Brown - Puppet Master

How much would one of these planes cost?

Chelsea stood next to Bozzone as he was helped into his seat. He’d taken two slugs, one in the arm and one at the side of his chest, deflected by the ceramic plate in his bulletproof vest. Both he and Porter had been treated by one of the paras; both were going to be fine.

“More than you bargained for, huh?” Bozzone said as he sat down.

“What do you mean?”

“Guns. You didn’t expect that, right?”

“No. Not at all.”

“They said it would be dangerous. Were you scared?”

She had been scared. Yes.

But…

“I was scared,” she admitted. “But we made it.”

“We did.”

The plane began to taxi.

“I’m ready to go home,” she confessed.

“Me, too,” said Bozzone. “But it’s going to be dull after this. Real dull.”

“Somehow I don’t think so. But I won’t mind if it is.”

Tolevi had the CIA driver drop him off two blocks from the house, claiming it was a security issue, even as the man protested loudly that they were not being followed.

They were being followed, Tolevi knew — by the FBI, whose motives he was sure had far more to do with nabbing American-based mafya connections than protecting him.

How much protection he actually needed, how much the CIA would actually pay him, what he would do next week — these were all unknowable at the moment, and not worth thinking about. What was worth thinking about — though perhaps even harder to contemplate — was what he would say to his daughter.

She needed discipline, that much was clear. If she’d been a boy, he would have sent her — him — to military school straightaway.

But then a boy would never have given him so many problems. A boy…

He knew how to deal with boys. He had been a boy. But girls — he’d raised one and loved one and still she was a mystery, a deep, deep mystery.

Chelsea, the robotics girl (as he thought of her), had sung Borya’s praises to him on the flight back, calling her a hero and a budding genius, puffing his father’s pride. But now that he’d had a little more time to reflect, he’d not only put the young woman’s praise in perspective — clearly the robotics girl saw too much of herself in his child — but he’d also thought about the possible implications of what his daughter had done. If the mobsters found out that Borya had actually been involved, she could easily be targeted; a young girl would be easily picked off, and those animals had no scruples, no scruples at all.

Lose Borya? That will be the end. I will kill myself that day.

No, the next day, the day after I have killed the beasts responsible.

So she had to be kept out of harm’s way. And he had to discipline her for stealing from the banks… as clever as that was. And he had to punish her for breaking curfew and lying. And he had to protect her and nurture, feed this great intellect that apparently she was harboring, because a girl that smart had potential far beyond a normal child, so he owed not just her but probably the race to nurture it properly…

He had to do so many things regarding Borya that he couldn’t settle on exactly what he should do, either in the short or long term, and certainly not in the two blocks that he walked from the car to the house. He thought of walking around the block a few times, but that would be useless — he wasn’t going to get anything settled in his mind out here. He had to go and talk to his daughter, just plunge in, let his gut lead him to where he had to go.

And besides, it was cold.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Tolevi trotted up the steps. He was surprised to find the door unlocked.

The foyer and front rooms were unlit, and only a dim light came through the hallway.

“Borya?” he asked, biting back his fear.

A second passed before there was an answer; in that moment, he felt ten times the anxiety he’d felt at his worst in the Ukraine.

“In the kitchen, Daddy,” she said.

Wary, Tolevi walked to the back of the house, muscles tense. The light flickered — Borya had placed two candles in the middle of the table.

“Ta-dah!” she exclaimed. “Welcome home.” She wrapped herself around him, hugging him tight. “I missed you, Daddy.”

“I missed you, too, baby.”

“Where’s your bags?”

“It’s a long story,” he told her. “But I’m here, safe and sound.”

“So am I. I made chicken Marsala.”

“Really?” Tolevi glanced at the stove. A covered grill pan sat on the top.

“Have a seat,” she insisted. “And there are potatoes.”

“Potatoes?” he joked. “I feel like a king.… Where’s Mary?”

“She went home. I told her I didn’t need her.”

“ Borya .”

“Now that I have a job and everything, I’m ready for responsibility.”

“What job?”

“Smart Metal.”

“I thought that’s an internship.”

“They can call it what they want. But they’re paying. I got you some wine. This is supposed to go with chicken.” Borya retrieved a bottle from the refrigerator. It was unopened — a good thing, thought Tolevi.

“I invited Chelsea,” added Borya, “but she was too tired. Do you like her?”

“Uh—”

“I’m not trying to set you up,” Borya said quickly. “Just, she’s really nice. And smart.”

“That’s good. Not as smart as you,” added Tolevi.

“I’m sure she’s smarter,” said Borya, handing him the wine. “Can you open this?”

In the flickering light, she looked exactly like her mother. Tolevi felt a tear forming at the side of his eye.

“I need a corkscrew,” he said quickly, rising so he could brush it away without his daughter seeing.

“We can talk about business tomorrow,” announced Borya, her back to him as she opened the stove to retrieve the potatoes. “Tonight, we’re celebrating, just me and you.”

“Exactly,” he managed. “Exactly.”

DALE BROWN is the New York Times bestselling author of numerous books, from Flight of the Old Dog (1987) to, most recently, Iron Wolf (2015). A former U.S. Air Force captain, he can often be found flying his own plane over the skies of the United States.

www.dalebrown.info

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Twitter: @AuthorDaleBrown

Target Utopia

Drone Strike

Collateral Damage

Raven Strike

Black Wolf

Whiplash

Revolution

Retribution

End Game

Satan’s Tail

Strike Zone

Razor’s Edge

Nerve Center

Dreamland

Iron Wolf

Starfire

Tiger’s Claw

A Time for Patriots

Executive Intent

Rogue Forces

Shadow Command

Strike Force

Edge of Battle

Act of War

Plan of Attack

Air Battle Force

Wings of Fire

Warrior Class

Battle Born

The Tin Man

Fatal Terrain

Shadow of Steel

Storming Heaven

Chains of Command

Night of the Hawk

Sky Masters

Hammerheads

Day of the Cheetah

Silver Tower

Flight of the Old Dog