Sinners and Saints

Sinners and Saints Chapter 22 - I Don't Poof

“You drive much, ma’am?” Butcher asks me, getting up from the seat. 

“I’m pretty good with cars,” I tell him as my phone goes off. 

We both look at each other as I pull it out of my pocket.  We’re thirty thousand feet over the middle of the Atlantic and my phone has been set to airplane-mode since I stepped into the airport.  I shrug before opening the call and setting it on speaker. 

“Claire?” Darius’ voice comes over, “What the hell did you do now?” 

“Hi Darius,” I answer back chippily, “And say hello to Corporal Butcher of the Australian military.” 

“Butcher,” he answers. 

“Sir,” Butcher answers back. 

“So here’s the long and short of it,” I take over the conversation, mindful that I have an innocent human on one hand and an arch-demon on the other, “You remember Jevaluis?  That jerk who was stalking me after we broke up so badly a couple of months ago?” 

“Yes,” Darius answers, “Jevalius – I remember him,” he says, but I can hear clicking keys in the background, “I take it he found you again?” 

“He – the super computer genius he is,” God, this is hard – trying to feed him information without tipping off the Corporal, “Hijacked the plane I’m on.  There are over four hundred other people on board.  The super-geek has been rendered unconscious and is under guard – thanks to the Aussie military on the flight,” I give a smile to Butcher, “But I have no idea what that imp of a man has wired up to the controls right now.  Could be a bomb.  Could be something else.  No one on board has the skills like Jill to figure it out.” 

“How’s Jevalius’s finger?” Darius asks. 

“Last time I saw it, it was burning the Hell out of him,” I answer.  Darius chuckles. 

“You got a count-down?” Darius asks, more keys clacking. 

“A little over five minutes,” I tell him when Butcher tilts the screen to me, “But I have no idea what that means.” 

“Understood,” Darius says, “Butcher – you listening?” 

“Yes, sir,” Butcher answers. 

“I assume you were volunteered because you had at least a basic understanding of avionics,” Darius tells him, “Keep an eye on the altimeter, speedometer and gyroscope.  Are you still on flight-path?” 

“Um,” Butcher scans the read-outs, “Looks like it.” 

“Good,” Darius tells him, “Hit call-back the moment that changes.  Claire?” 

“Yes?” I ask. 

“What are better than roses on a piano?” he chuckles and ends the call. 

“Shit,” I yell in my head, “He’s right, but – Bastard!” 

“I need to go to the ladies room,” I tell Butcher, “I’ll leave that phone.   You’re welcome to back-trace or research the call.  But I really have to go.” 

“Call me Butch,” he tells me, settling into the pilot seat again, “Everyone does.” 

“You seem pretty trusting,” I test the waters, knowing I can stun him if I need to, “Why?” 

“I saw your face when the call came out,” he says, turning to me, “I was coming out of – well, I was coming back to my seat and I saw you between the curtains.  You looked both terrified and pissed off.  That’s not the look of an accomplice.  Besides, you’re that nun, aren’t you?  The one who saved the Pope?”