Let There Be Light

Chapter Sixteen

"Flying in style Captain?" Soap teases.

Price lit a cigar and let out a puff of smoke, "Its not everyday we get to go to Paris."

Soap shakes his head and chuckles. The jet was first class. A pillow top couch, several leather reclining chairs, a bar, food and glossed wood grain accents. The pilots helped load up your bags at the bottom of the plane for storage. Soap and Gaz immediately went to the food and poured them something to drink. You shake your head at the thought of them. Boys. You take a spot in one of the chairs towards the back of the plane – in front of where the food and drinks were, by a window.

Price and Ghost load up. You felt something cold touch your arm and look up; Gaz had fixed you a whiskey on the rocks.

"My favorite. How did you know?" you ask in a joking way.

"Lucky guess" he throws back with a laugh.

Ghost takes the chair in front of you. Price takes the one beside the couch while Soap and Gaz take the couch. The chairs swiveled so that way everyone could see each other.

The pilot comes on board, shuts the door and without saying anything, heads to the cockpit and shuts the door.

"Hand me a bottle of whisky and a glass will you Harley?" Price asks you. You swivel in your chair, set your drink down and grab a bottle of Whiskey and two glasses. You hand them to Price, and he looks at you confused.

"Didn't know if he wanted any" you tell him as you nod your head in the direction of Ghost. You pick your glass back up and turn towards everyone.

The takeoff was smooth – like a sharp knife cutting through warm butter. Once in the sky, Price started, "Once we land, we will check into the hotel."

"Hotel?" Gaz asked confused.

"This isn't going to be our regular running and gunning mission." Everyone is looking at each other confused. Price continues, "Theres a Gala that Michael will be at. High members only and I was able to snag one ticket." The plane falls silent, and everyone is looking around at each other wondering who is going on this undercover mission. Everyone but Ghost. His eyes move back from yours to Price.

"Harley, you're going to recon." All eyes fixated on you and your eyes scanned over everyone else. Price's words hadn't registered to you yet until you heard Ghost speak.

"Price"

Anxiety coursed through you and the weight of the world rested on your chest. "I-I'm sorry, what?! Me?!"

"You're the perfect person for this." Price tried to reassure you, but in your mind, this was the worst idea ever.

"I don't see how!" anger builds in your voice, "He knows what I look like, and he could pick me in a room of people a mile away!"

The whistle of the turbos in the jets engine made the silence not so silent. "Harley, look at me" Price tells you. You hesitate and lock eyes with him, "You will be okay. We wont let anything happen to you. This is a masked Gala."

The whiskey in your hand soon vanished as you tossed your head back to finish it – hoping this would ease your body.

"So, what am I supposed to be doing?" The million-dollar question that you felt would either make or break this mission.

Hesitation came over Price and worry came over the anxiety. "We need you to put a tracker on his phone" he says in a low tone and breaking eye contact with you.