Missez (Wild Irish Silence Book 4) Read online

  The next morning, Skyler was up early and went for his run. When he got back, he woke Michael and then went to shower. He was half surprised when he walked out to the kitchen a half hour later to find his son actually awake and dressed and sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee.

  “Wow,” Skyler said, grinning as he walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. “You actually got up.”

  “Isn’t that why you knocked on the door and yelled ‘Get up!’?” Michael replied mildly.

  Skyler laughed, nodding. “That was my intent, yes.”

  Twenty minutes later they were on their way out the door when the phone rang. Skyler picked it up, looking at his watch. It was 7:30 a.m., and they were running late.

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. Kristiani?”

  “Yes, this is he,” Skyler said, thinking it was some salesperson and impatient to be out the door.

  “This is Alan Rothe. I’m the manager for Billy and the Kid,” replied a very officious voice, “and I understand that you have sole access to Billy Montague at this time.” He didn’t sound pleased in the least about that part.

  Skyler was taken aback. He had assumed Billy and the Kid was run by Jerith, knowing little or nothing about the music business and having not heard of this Alan Rothe before. “And?”

  “And,” Rothe sniped back, “I want to speak to my client.”

  “Uh-huh,” Skyler said, purposely obtuse.

  “Dad!” Michael said, hoping to help get his father out of talking to someone he obviously didn’t want to talk to. “Come on, we’re running late, remember?”

  Skyler nodded, grinning at his son.

  “The center said that if I went through you I could talk to her,” Rothe said impatiently.

  “Well, they were half right.”

  “About which part?” Rothe asked, irritated with Skyler’s attitude.

  “You do have to go through me, but you aren’t going to talk to her,” Skyler said calmly.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are? You think because you’re fucking her you have a right to tell me I can’t talk to her? Don’t get too comfortable in those shoes, pal. She fucks a lot of guys, and it doesn’t mean shit to her.”

  “Guys like you, I suppose,” Skyler said coolly.

  “Are you going to tell those assholes at the center to let me talk to Billy, or do I have to get the cops involved?” Rothe snapped, ignoring Skyler’s comment.

  “The cops are involved. I’m one of ’em.”

  “You’re a…” Rothe started to say, then trailed off as he realized he’d insulted a cop.

  “Yeah,” Skyler said, enjoying his moment of triumph. “I’m a—” He hung up the phone and walked out of the house.

  Michael had stood watching his father with a grin on his face. He could see that he’d gotten his sarcastic, “cool” side from his dad. He had seen Skyler’s grin when he’d obviously pissed the person on the other end of the line off.

  “Who was that?” he asked as they got into Skyler’s car.

  Skyler shrugged. “Billy’s manager.”

  Michael glowered at his father’s cavalier attitude. “So what did he want?”

  “He wanted to talk to his client,” Skyler said, grinning as he pulled out onto the quiet road leading from his house.

  “And you aren’t going to let him?” Michael asked, interested now.

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she doesn’t need to listen to shit from him right now.”

  “Think he’ll give up that easy?” Michael said skeptically.

  “No.”

  Michael nodded, and they rode in silence for a while. It was broken by a ringtone, and Michael reached into his backpack to pull out his cell phone. Skyler just shook his head. It was the one thing that Michael took responsibility for and paid for—Skyler had refused to fund a phone for him. Skyler listened as Michael obviously tried to talk one girl out of beating another up for his affections. It was an amusing conversation, and Skyler could hear himself in his son’s voice as he told the girl she was very important to him, and that the other girl was just a friend. Michael did know how to keep them happy.

  When he hung up, Michael saw that his father was grinning at him. “What?”

  “Just keep ’em danglin’, don’t you?” Skyler said chidingly.

  Michael laughed. “Oh, like you’ve got room to talk.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Skyler asked, tilting his head, but he knew exactly what his son was getting at.

  “I mean you and Mom, and Billy and you. Chelsea tells me everything,” Michael said proudly.

  “Chelsea has a big mouth,” Skyler said, staring straight ahead. “There’s a pretty big difference here though.”

  “And what would that be?” Michael was sure he had his dad in a corner.

  “Do all your girlfriends know that you sleep with the other ones?”

  “I like my family jewels intact and where they are, thanks. What do you think I am—crazy?”

  “Therein lies the difference.”

  “You’re tellin’ me that Mom and Billy know about the other one? And that you slept with both of them in the span of twenty-four hours, even?” Michael asked disbelievingly.

  Skyler nodded. “Yep.”

  “Bullshit, Dad! No way!” Michael said, shaking his head. “I know Mom—she’d have your head on a platter before that’d happen.”

  Skyler reached up and touched his head. “Nope, still intact.” He looked over at his son. “She knows, and so does Billy.”

  “Shit…” was all Michael could manage for a while. “I guess I could learn a thing or two from you, huh?” he said, giving his father an appraising look.

  “Yeah,” Skyler said, snickering. “You note that I spent the night with you last night, and not one of them.”

  Michael laughed then, nodding.

  They arrived at the Bureau headquarters office a while later. Skyler pulled into a parking space in front, and then looked over at his son. “Okay, this is HQ, so try and behave yourself.”

  “You got it, Pop,” Michael said, giving his father a salute.

  Inside the office, Michael noted the approving stares his father received from some of the women. He also noted that his father spoke rather familiarly with the chiefs of the Bureau and the chiefs responded, laughing and joking with him. Michael realized he’d never been to work with his father. Skyler had said a few times that he could go, but they’d never gotten around to it. Then in his teenage years, Michael had wanted nothing to do with his dad—having a father that was a cop wasn’t really too cool. He watched his father talk smoothly to the secretaries. He was respectful but nice, and it was an interesting side for Michael to see.

  Skyler introduced him to some of the ladies and a couple of the female students. Michael knew exactly what his father meant by behaving himself then. One of the students, a psych major at UC Davis, was a beautiful girl with a lot of charm and personality. Her name was Rosalynn, and she looked up at Michael with the most incredible gold-colored eyes framed with long lashes and set in a perfect heart-shaped face. She had the most perfect skin he’d ever seen. His heart just about stopped, and he found himself tongue-tied for the first time in a very long time.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Michael,” Rosalynn said.

  “I… it’s nice to meet you too,” he stammered.

  Skyler leaned his elbow on the partition that separated his son and Rosalynn. He’d had a feeling Michael might react to the girl that way. She was a very beautiful young woman, with a great deal of intelligence behind that breathtaking face. Skyler had been charmed by her from the very beginning. As such, he’d come to feel very protective of her, although he saw her much less often now. She had been the aviation unit’s “secretary” of sorts for a long while, and he had had many conversations with her then. She’d told him about her studies at school and some of the guys she’d dated; she’d also shared with him som
e of her fears about school, and never reaching her goals. Skyler had done his best to encourage her to go after what she wanted and not let anyone stand in her way. She had a very supportive family and they’d helped her through a lot, and Skyler was glad that she seemed to be doing well again. He looked on her as a young person with a lot going for her. Sometimes he envied her parents at having raised such a level-headed, goal-oriented child, and wondered what they’d done differently from him. He knew the main thing was that they’d stayed together and raised their children; Rosalynn was one of five. Skyler wondered sometimes if he had really messed his kids up by not being there all the time for them. It bothered him.

  “Ros,” Skyler said, giving her a cautionary look. “Don’t trust this guy for a minute.”

  Rosalynn looked over at Skyler and laughed. “He’s your son, Skyler. How can you say that?”

  Skyler shrugged. “’Cause he’s my son.”

  “Dad!” Michael said, smiling.

  “You look just like your father when you smile,” Rosalynn said.

  Michael grimaced then, looking at the girl. “Is that good or bad?” he asked, looking from Rosalynn to his father and then back.

  Skyler grinned as Rosalynn said, “Your father’s a very handsome man, Michael. That would be a compliment.” Her smile was sure as she looked from father to son.

  Skyler reached over and patted Rosalynn on the head affectionately. “Thank you, honey, and I’ll give you that fifty bucks later.”

  She laughed. “I thought it was a hundred?”

  Skyler laughed then too.

  They left headquarters a while later and headed for the aviation unit’s hangar out at an old Air Force base called Mather Field. Michael looked over at his father as he drove. “You’re a lot different at work than I’ve ever seen you.”

  “Am I?” Skyler asked, surprised.

  “Yeah. But it’s cool, you know. You walk taller, and it’s like people respect you—that’s pretty cool.”

  Skyler gave his son a sidelong glance. “It is, huh?”

  Michael nodded. “Yeah.” Skyler nodded too, and drove on in silence.

  That day, Michael got a chance to see his father in action a few more times. Skyler ended up with a mission the minute he walked in the door to the aviation unit’s offices. He introduced Michael around and checked in with Dilinger, who was very glad Skyler seemed to be back on track. He’d been surprised by Skyler’s absences, but he didn’t begrudge his pilot the time.

  Skyler Kristiani was always reliable and could be counted on in an emergency. Skyler and Dilinger had served in the Middle East together, in the same Medevac unit. When Dilinger had heard that Skyler worked for BNE, he had been adamant about not only bringing him into the aviation unit, but making him a special agent supervisor, so he could be his second-in-command. Dilinger considered Skyler the best pilot he’d ever met, and trusted his instincts above anyone else’s. Skyler James Kristiani wasn’t cocky; he didn’t try to run the unit, but he wasn’t afraid to tell Dilinger when he thought he was wrong either.

  “Your old man is one of the best,” Dilinger said, clapping Skyler on the shoulder. “He’s a damned good pilot, and not the asshole that some of these guys can be,” he said, rolling his eyes. “He never flies with his ego, and best of all, he can fly anything.”

  “Anything?” Michael said.

  “Fixed-wing, rotor—you name it, Sky can fly it,” Dilinger said proudly.

  Michael looked over at his father, his view of him once again changing. He’d always known his father was a cop and a pilot, but he’d never really realized that his dad was particularly accomplished at what he did.

  Later, Michael was thrilled to be able to go on a ride-along with his father. He watched, fascinated, as his dad ran through his checklist, sitting in the pilot’s chair with his headset on. Skyler had given Michael his own headset so he could listen in on the radio. Michael could also talk to his father and ask him questions, which he did, frequently. Once the Cessna 182 was aloft, Michael asked questions about the radios, the navigating equipment, everything that caught his interest. Skyler held up his hand a couple of times as he was called by different control towers telling him which course to stay on. Michael was again impressed with his father’s knowledge of airplanes and the ease with which he flew. A little while later, Skyler let him take the controls for a little bit. Michael was thrilled, feeling the power of the airplane vibrating under his hands.

  “I’m really flying?” Michael said, elated.

  “Yep,” Skyler said, grinning over at his son. He wondered why he hadn’t done this sooner. He was very happy that Michael seemed interested in what everything was, and he was happy to be able to tell him. Looking over at him now, Skyler felt a strong pull at his heart. Here his son was flying a plane, and looking like a big kid doing it. It made him feel good.

  Later, they landed at Stockton Airport and taxied over to Spanos Jet Center to wait for the observer that would join them. Skyler motioned for Michael to follow him out of the aircraft, and then walked toward the center. Michael was surprised when a petite female with blond hair walked out of the building—surprised because she was wearing an agent’s badge like his father’s and carrying a gun. He was further surprised when she greeted Skyler with a warm hug.

  “How are you?” she said.

  “Fine, Sam, just fine.” Skyler glanced back at his son. “Sam, this is my son, Michael. Michael, this is Special Agent Samantha Howard. Be nice—she’s a real good shot,” he said, winking at Samantha.

  Michael stepped forward and extended his hand. Samantha took it and gave it a firm shake, her blue eyes looking directly into his.

  “You’re Skyler’s son?” She seemed surprised. She looked back at Skyler. “Well, I guess that you’re related is obvious, but you’re old enough to have a son this old?”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere, Sam,” Skyler said, his smile bright.

  “Will it now?” she said suggestively, but her smile was only humorous.

  Skyler wagged a finger at her. “You just want me for my plane.”

  Samantha snapped her finger, clicking her tongue. “Damn, you caught me again!”

  “You ready to go up?”

  “Yep, let’s go. I’ll brief you in pre-flight, okay?”

  A little while later, in the plane, Samantha explained to Skyler and Michael that the person they’d be watching that day was a go-between for the street dealers and the bigger guys. The suspect ran cocaine back and forth constantly, and today they were conducting a buy-walk.

  “What’s that?” Michael asked.

  “That’s when an undercover officer makes a purchase of drugs and then lets the dealer walk away, and then we follow the dealer back—hopefully—to his stash,” Samantha said patiently.

  “So what’s important about the plane?” Michael asked, very interested in all aspects of this work.

  “The plane is used to cover the surveillance on the ground,” Skyler said. When Michael seemed to need more of an answer, he continued. “A lot of the crooks nowadays know that they’re being watched, so they do what’s called countersurveillance. Sometimes they’ll turn down dead-end streets and wait to see how many unmarked police vehicles follow them in. That way they know to call off whatever they’ve got going, and we’ve wasted man hours.”

  “The plane can keep the car in sight and let the ground crew know if the bad guy tries to counter them,” Samantha took up almost excitedly. “That way we can make Mr. Drug Dealer nice and comfy so he’ll go ahead and lead us to his source, or his stash, or his friends…”

  “Plus,” Skyler added, “there is the public safety issue here too. If the plane is tracking the suspect from the air, the ground units can safely hang back. They don’t worry about losing him, so they don’t have to drive at high speeds, run red lights, or drive erratically to keep up. Thereby making us safer.”

  “Wow.” Michael looked awed. “I never thought about it like that before.”

&
nbsp; Skyler shrugged. “Most people think that having aircraft is just for show, but if used properly we can be really effective.”

  “We wouldn’t make half our cases without BNE aircraft,” Samantha said.

  “So what do you do?” Michael asked. “Are you just riding along too?”

  “No.” Samantha laughed. “Like my SAS would let me!”

  “Sam’s an observer, Mike,” Skyler said. He pointed to the extra-large window that went from ceiling to floor in the rear half of the plane. “That’s an observer window, and Sam sits in that seat there.” He pointed to the side-facing seat behind the copilot’s chair. “And with some maneuvering of the seat and the use of gyro-stabilized binoculars, she watches the car we’re following and tells me which way to turn the aircraft so she can keep the bad guy in sight.”

  “Gyro-what?” Michael said.

  “Gyro-stabilized,” Skyler repeated patiently. “They stabilize the field of vision electronically so that Sam can follow the guy while the plane moves all over without getting sick. Most of the time…” He trailed off as he glanced back at Samantha, who started to laugh.

  “Never gonna live that down, am I?” she said.

  “Sam got sick her first time out,” Skyler explained to Michael. “I’ve seen much bigger, stronger, tougher guys lose their cookies on these flights, Sam. I’ve told you that.”

  “Yeah, I know,” she said, grinning.

  Michael sat in stunned silence while they took off. He really hadn’t realized how important his father’s job was. He had figured that his dad flew around picking up stuff and dropping it off, like a cargo plane. He didn’t think he was really law enforcement any more. He saw now that he’d been wrong.

  Michael was careful to be quiet while the surveillance went on. He was so engrossed with the exchanges between his father, Samantha, and the ground crew. He was astounded that his father could listen to everyone at once. At one point the ground crew lost the suspect on the freeway, and with the help of Samantha and Skyler they were able to relocate him. When they got to the stash house, Skyler was cleared to land at a nearby airport. They touched down, and Michael suddenly realized he had to go to the bathroom something fierce. His father looked over at him as he taxied over to the fueling hangar.