The scent of aircraft oil and fuel fills the air, as the mighty engines of the Hercules, rumble on, carring the assembled operatives towards La Palma. Steve looks down the fuselage at the largest operative force that Nirvana has ever deployed, "Can't believe everyone signed up for this. Usually on this kind of operation, there are at least a few drop outs."
He nods quietly to himself and gets up from his seat.smiling at his wife, sister in law and daughters, shaking his head, "As a father, I wish Sasha was at home. But, I respect her decision."
Steve crouches next to her seat and rests a hand on her knee, "Are you alright?"
With a sense of inner calm, she smiles gently and nods, "I'm good." She takes a deep breath, "Thank you for not making me stay."
Steve winks at her, "As if I could make you do anything you didn't want to. I am surprised you were waiting on the plane, I expected you at the briefing."
"Really? You knew I was going to come." Sasha says, suprised.
"You have been chomping at the bit to get in the field. I think you need this." Steve says, in a fatherly tone.
Sasha looks over at her sisters and tentatively says, "I think we all do."
Nikita leans over and offers, "This can be your baby shower. Or a belated hen party."
Sasha playfully slaps her sisters shoulder, chuckles, "Soppy cow."
Steve's gaze sweeps the anxious faces of the men and women that will be accompanying them. He looks at his daughters and softly says, "I will be right back. There is something, I need to do"
He rises to his feet and approaches the nearest operative, he extends his hand, "I appreciate you coming on this operation, Ellis. How are you holding up?"
The operative seems to relax and he takes Steve's hand, "I am good sir."
Steve makes small talk with the man and moves his way down the fuselage, speaking to every operative, remembering every line of their face and commiting them all to memory.
Sal watches as Steve makes his way down the cabin towards his seat and rests his head on the back of his seat, "I hate the waiting. I just want this to be over."
He gazes at the faces around him and thinks to himself, "They are all so worried about what will face them when they get on the ground, they have no idea that over half of them will be killed by it."
Sal accepts a stick of gum from the man next to him with a gracious, "Cheers mate." He winces at the sound of the word escaping his lips, thinking, "I have stood shoulder to shoulder with some of these people and consider them my friends, what have I done?"
Sal closes his eyes and thinks back to the night that sealed his fate.
Two months ago
Sal pulls his coat tighter around him as a meagre defence against the biting cold and driving rain of a dark December night. He walk against the wind, cursing his luck, "Will you never learn, you fucking moron? Always keep enough in your pocket to get yourself home."
The rain falls in sheets, as he ducks into a shop doorway for a moments respite, "Fuck's sake. I have another five miles of this." He chuckles, to himself bitterly, before a movement out of the corner of his eye draws his attention.
He takes in the street, surveying the rundown, redbrick buildings at odds with the gleaming black limousine, slowly gliding along the street towards the shop doorway in which he shelters. He crouches pretending to tie his laces, while he palms a holdout pistol from his ankle holster. He straightens up and puts his hands in his pockets, stepping out from shelter and walking towards the vehicle.
"Sometimes, you have to face things head on." He thinks, stepping in front of the slow moving vehicle, "Do me a favour and put your foot down." He whispers, daring the vehicle to speed up.
The driver guides the vehicle to a gentle stop six inches from his knees. He sits calmly and implacably behind the wheel watching Sal, as the passenger side, rear door of the vehicle opens crisply.
Sal shrugs to himself and thinks "Well if they arte here to collect they are out of luck." Straightening his coat he approaches the rear door of the vehicle, with a hand on his holdout pistol.
He looks through the open door and notes that the rear seat of the vehicle is empty. He gets in and closes the door, suspiciously sizing up the man sat opposite him.
The sharply dressed man in his forties, smiles without emotion and addresses Sal in his native Italian, "Salvatore Ercole, born in Termoli, Italy, in 1989. Called it home until your eighteenth birthday, when you enlisted in the military. Recruited by the Carabinieri two years later and served with distinction for nine years, before an injury in the line of duty saw you honorably discharged. Joined Nirvana six months later. Family members....."
Sal stops listening, knowing that the man in front of him, already knows his full life story. "Well they are not just chasing a debt. Seems like I have been targetted for some reason."
He snaps back to focus when the man in front of him, straightens his tie and announces, "Which brings us to where we are now. You are in the hole to a number of local bookies for a considerable sum of money and the pay from Nirvana will not cover it alone."
"Wait, I think I have heard this one." Sal says raising a hand "You represent a powerful and wealthy individual or group, who can give me a way out of this hole. You have done your research and I am just the right kind of desperate for your requirements and you want to do a deal. Provided I help you, of course. How am I doing?"
"Very good Mr Ercole. You seem to have a fine grasp of things and let's not forget your sister and her children and how accidents happen." The man says, nonchalantly.
"Ok Captain Cliché what do you want from me?" Sal asks, knowing that he is out of options.
"Ther name is Roberts actually. But nevermind." Roberts says, with a cruel smile, "One day we will ask you for a service, this service you will perform immediately and without question. From that point on, we will present you with other opportunities to help yourself, by helping us."'
Sal shrugs. "Ok Mr Roberts, I guess we have a deal. You keep paying and I will keep working."
Present Day
A distant voice calls his name, pulling him from his memories back to the present with a thump. Sal looks quickly left and right and realises that he is sat alone at the rear of the plane. He looks up to see Steve staring at him Inscrutably.
Sal begins to reach for his gun, but freezes as soon as Steve speaks, "You aren't that fast."
Steve exhales slowly and rubs his chin, "During the breifing, I looked into everyones eyes. I saw anger, fear, confusion and excitement. Do you know what I saw in your eyes?"
The words catch in Sal's throat and he raises his hands submissively.
"I saw sorrow and regret, mixed with a hint of greed." Steve announces in a matter of fact tone, "Since we got on the plane, you haven't made eye contact with anyone on here and despite countless aerial deployments, you look sick as a dog." He rubs his chin and squints thoughtfully, "I am going to give you one chance to tell me what you have done. I advise you to take it, as you will not like the alternative."
Sal weighs up his options, clasping his hands in front of him, "I owed money to some scary people, I accepted a bribe to get out of trouble and have been in their pocket since. I gave them the transponder frequency for Nikita's car allowing them to track and capture her, I planted the bomb around Kim's neck and I have cut the lines on most of the parachutes. I didn't have enough time to cut them all."
"Thank you for your honesty." Steve says calmly. "If you were me, what would you do with you, right now?"
"If I were you, it would be something really horrible." Sal says, with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Steve nods, thoughtfully, "I wont lie, it is an option. But, I have other things to focus on, so you will be restrained and turned over to the authorities upon landing."
"Thank you." Sal says, bowing his head and removing his weapons and webbing and placing them on the floor before him. He slowly gets to his feet and spreads his arms.
Steve quickly searches the man, before handcuffing his wrists behind his back and taking him by the arm to a storage locker and shoving him inside. He points to the two nearest operatives and orders, "Keep him in there until this crate lands."
He raises his hands and claps loudly, "Listen up. Check your chutes for any signs of damage and report back."
"Get the fuck out of my way. I'm going to fucking kill him." Sasha screams at the men on the door, guarding Sal.
"Sasha, no!" Steve shouts, running to her side.
"He put a bomb around Kim's neck, I want to kill him." Sasha says, angrily punching the metal door, leaving an almost comedic fist sizes dent,in the thick steel.
"I know you do. But you are not a murderer." Steve pleads, wrapping his arms around her.
"Bastard." Sasha spits, angrily, before lowering her tone, "Him, not you dad. Sorry."
"I know, love. I would love nothing more than to tear him limb from limb, but the screams, would unsettle the operatives and we need them calm." Steve says, gently. "I have already asked Garvey to dump him in the Atlantic on their way back."
"I guess you are right. It is one thing to be pregnant and stand up for what you believe in, but something else entirely to become a murderer." Sasha turns to the men guarding Sal, "Sorry gents, that was not directed at you."
Steve leads her away from the cell and sits with his arm around her, as she leans on his shoulder.
Nikita catches Dani's eye and raises her eyebrows, before looking down at her hand, showing the tips of her claws.
Dani returns her gazes and subtly shakes her head. She clenches her fist lightly and begins pumping it up and down, until Nikita catches on. She pauses, then they simultaneously pump three times, before Nikita holds her fist up and Dani extends two fingers.
Dani places her hand on her chest with a smile. Nikita nods, then looks confused, as Dani rests her head on the back of the seat.
"I feel bad for the kid, but at least she is ok. I am glad about that, it never sat right with me." He shakes his head, sighing to himself, "I have no regrets over what I have done, but I am glad they stopped me."
"A half decent lawyer will get me out of this." Sal thinks to himself, sitting on the floor. "They have a confession from me, without witnesses, no real evidence against me. I will walk in a week."
"What the hell?" Sal asks himself, in disbelief, watching the belt to his trousers, undo itself. His face is a mask of fascination, unable to tear his eyes away from the belt as it slithers down his body, wrapping around his ankles and threading itself through the buckle and leaving them tightly secured.
"Steve must have drugged me." He thinks to himself, bending his legs and testing the belt.
He lays on his back, trying to pull his hands past his rump to allow him to get the handcuffs in front of him. "Damn it." He hisses in frustration, "My ass is too big for that. Mind you, when you have a big nail, you need a big hammer."
Sal chuckles to himself, then his eyes widen in horror, as the loose end of the belt around his ankles, snakes up through the chain of his handcuffs and pulls viciously tight, until his heels touch the back of his hands. He grunts in pain and frustration, fighting to separate his hands and feet.
The leather of his shoulder holster creaks, under the strain of being viciously tightened. With the pressure from the straps across his back and chest, the air is forced from his lungs, in a surprised squeak
In the centre of the room, he thrashes in place. Unable to breath in. Not enough air in his lungs to utter a sound. He stares in desperation at the door, knowing help is so close, yet so far.
The dark spots at the corners of his vision, grow and multiple, plunging him into an eternal darkness, heralded by the cracking of his ribs.
Nikita raises her eyebrows, feeling Sal's life pulse blink out.
Dani opens her eyes and meets Nikita's surprised gaze. She gives a thumbs up and closes her eyes again with a knowing smile, creeping across her lips.