Operation: Austin

Chapter One Part Four - Rescued, and the start of Chapter Two

As Gary approached Portland Metro, he checked his watch after getting off the freeway at 181st and drove over to Halsey. Mentally, he was shifting into the mission, running through the precise timing in his mind. There was an Arco Station right on the corner. Normally, he didn’t like to use Arco gas in the Cadillac, but he was on a specific route, so he fueled up, threw an additive in the tank, and headed south on Halsey to one twenty-second. Turning north, he pulled into the WinCo parking lot at 7:30. Since WinCo is open 24/7, he expected to find people there, and he planned to blend in. It also had fast access to 84 eastbound, so he and Paige wouldn’t waste any time getting out of Portland. Walking inside, he grabbed some food and ice. After returning to the car, he stashed it in a cooler and sent an Uber message. He also had a few items in a separate sack; he wanted the driver to think he had made a quick trip to a*****e from a hotel. Every detail was meticulously planned.

Grabbing a small backpack he had placed in the trunk next to the cooler, he returned to the store entrance to wait for the Uber. The pack contained some random women’s clothing that Layla always kept at the house. Nothing in the pack would raise suspicion if someone checked it at security, not that they would. Still, a couple leaving the airport without any carry-on was a detail that a taxi driver might remember if asked.

Once he picked Paige up, they needed to make a seamless trip out of town with as few people as possible seeing them. When you appear to be in order, people tend to forget you. Gary did not want to stand out in any way.

The Uber trip to the Radisson Hotel took twenty-two minutes, so he was still right on time to catch the flight. He called a taxi at the hotel to pick him up for the quick trip to the Airport. The small bag of food having served its purpose, he left it in a hotel garbage can, jumped in the taxi, and arrived at PDX at 8:45.

Flights were cheap, so he had purchased a ticket on a commuter flight from PDX to SeaTac. That gave him security access to the terminal; besides, he was having fun running up John’s tab. Mobile check-in made the process fast. Having his boarding pass, he cleared himself through security and quickly made his way out to Concourse C.

Paige was going to arrive at Gate C15 at 9:45. At 9:20, Gary went to the bathroom, got a bottle of water from a shop, and settled into a chair at Gate C5, watching the crowd. He was not expecting anything, but he enjoyed watching people, wondering where they were going and who got laid that morning; it surely was not him, he thought. It is said that men think about s*x every seven seconds; Gary thought about that as he watched a beautiful flight attendant strut down the concourse; seven seconds seemed about right.

He found himself watching her walk, dragging a carry-on. She looked like any other example of the corporate uniformed attendant, slim and hair drawn up into a cap. He wondered if she had a lover, whether she waxed, and what her panties looked like. He thought she looked like she would be fun in bed. It was a nice thought, anyway, that at least some of those people got lucky that morning! It was just a game he played to pass the time in airports, trying to figure out, by how they looked or walked, who did and who didn’t. He wondered if women knew what men were thinking and if they thought similarly. He knew at least some women did.

He sat there a while longer, perving on the citizens, mentally blocking out the chatter and noise of a morning airport. When he got bored with his little game, he checked his phone to see if the new client had responded, passing the time like any other idle passenger waiting for a flight.

A bouncing leg betrayed the fact that he was antsy, just a little on edge. He wondered what this girl was like and what he was getting himself into, inviting her to his home. He wasn’t worried, just on the edge of excitement.

He calmed himself as her arrival time got closer, mentally running through every step of the plan, focusing on the details to ensure he’d left nothing out. Repeatedly, he ran through the mission step by step but found no fault. Finally, watching the arrival boards, he saw her flight had landed, and it was time to make his way to Gate C15.

As he approached the gate, he casually surveyed the concourse, looking for anyone out of place or who might be looking for someone. Nothing was amiss, just a bunch of everyday commuters at Portland, PDX.

Chapter Two - A Girl Named Paige

As people began streaming off the plane, Gary leaned against a concrete column, watching carefully. After a few minutes, a girl wearing a T-shirt that said “UNLV” on the front came through the door. She was about 5 feet 8 inches tall and very slim, he guessed, weighing about 115 pounds. Her brown eyes were nervously scanning the crowd. Afraid and alone, she reminded him of a rabbit, ready to bolt in any direction. He imagined that when she was healthy, she walked smoothly and gracefully, like a runway model, but today her movements were slightly constrained. Her posture and furtive glances betrayed her nervousness.

Even damaged, he could tell she was stunning, the kind of woman who made people stop and stare as she entered a room. Today, she was drawing people’s attention for another reason, and it was obvious to Gary what John had left out of the details. She’d been beaten. Not beaten as in getting slapped around a little, Gary thought; some asshole had kicked the s**t out of her. Her face was bruised, and her still partially closed left eye looked like she’d been in an MMA fight. Across her swollen eyebrow, there was a nasty cut that probably should have had stitches. The right side of her mouth was still fat, and her cheek had a deep blue bruise. She also had bruises on her arms, and from the way she walked, more on her legs. Somebody had done this girl bad, and Gary’s visceral reaction, knowing John had shot them, was that death by shooting was far too painless.

The thought instantly crossed his mind: If the fuckers weren’t already dead, I would do it myself, to make sure it was done properly, with an eternity of agony.

The rage was there; he could feel it just below the surface, but for now, it needed to be confined… for now.

It would do no good for her to see it or even feel it, but he knew he would eventually find the rest of them. When he did, he would feed them to his rage like wood to a chipper.

Calming himself, he stepped forward. She was gathering her thoughts, trying to orient herself as she got off the plane. She was not expecting him in the concourse, so she focused on the signage. Following the directions to Baggage Claim and Ground Transportation, she turned in that direction and then saw him. As he stepped closer, she focused on his approach. She paused and tensed up, fear on her face.

Holding his hands up, he tried to calm her. “It’s okay, Paige. I’m Gary Booker. How was your flight?”

Her posture relaxed, and she slurred, “Oh, wow, you startled me. I wasn’t expecting you here! I thought you would be outside.”

He nodded. “I know, but I didn’t want you to have to stumble around trying to find your way out alone. So, your flight was okay then?”

Knowing she had been through a lot at the hands of some asshole, he was trying to slide into some normal conversation to help them both relax, but he was not sure it was working. He let her dictate their interaction. It was understandably slightly awkward; he was not going to initiate physical contact by shaking hands. The stiffness between them passed quickly as he directed her down the concourse to the baggage area.

“Yes, it was okay. Short, which was good.” Her answer implied it was not comfortable to sit in those commuter jet seats for long periods.

He realized she was referring to her bruising, and he thought the reclining leather seats in his sedan would be better for her. “What’s your last name, Paige?”

“Stewart,” she replied. “Paige Stewart.”