"There's no time for arguing, now get in the car." Deckard had seen that little head tilt and the following jaw movement. His sister and mother conspiring together? That couldn't be good for anyone. The second SUV had driven up onto the kerb and nature strip by the time Magdalene retreated inside; its rear door was promptly opened and the fate that awaited them dangled in their faces. "Now."
Owen grabbed the inside roof handle and pulled himself in, taking the corner seat behind the driver without hesitation. He noted the tinted glass barrier separating them and the driver, along with the lack of just about everything a car usually had in the way of comfort and accessibility. With no controls for the blacked out windows and no door handles, it was a veritable death trap if ever he'd seen one.
Deckard climbed in next. There was no point in looking over his shoulder to check for Elizabeth. She wasn't getting in any time soon without a fight, if ever. He could read her like one of those waterproof books you bought a toddler for bathtime; action was prized over words, and loyalty placed alongside it. A willingness to do whatever was necessary to survive, however, ranked first place amongst the aspects of her personality he'd deemed most dangerous.
Owen, unsurprisingly, was predictable in his eyes, and when it came down to it so was she. There were only so many choices a person could make in any given situation. Hers presently came down to two: get in the car, or don't.
Flynn stepped forward and gestured to the open door. If she didn't move, he'd lift her and throw her in himself. Woman or not he'd had it up to here with playing chauffer to Nobody's pals. All he'd ever gotten from it was a growing list of injuries. "You have thirty seconds before I put you in that car myself, Miss Shaw."
"You have five to get out of my face."
"Oh I do? Get—"
She whipped her head forward and struck his nose with her forehead. The cartilage shattered into fragments on impact, leaving his nose looking lopsided and off-centre. "I swear to God himself if they don't make it to wherever the hell you're taking us alive, you'll have more to worry about than a broken nose."
Owen managed to smother a laugh but couldn't hide the amused look on his face. Albeit he earned himself a glare from Deckard, he opted to give her a thumbs up once she was inside the SUV. Perhaps the pickup team hadn't been briefed on how the Shaw family operated. Truthfully, he found that hard to believe. Unless they were working from old files, there was no reason for anyone to think they could begin to try and push his sister around without being on the receiving end of her defiant attitude. And if not for Deckard signalling him to go easy on these bastards, there would've been a pile of bodies ready for burial inside of five minutes.
"You've gotten—" Owen paused and looked Elizabeth over. Where had their chipmunk of a sister gone? Now she was more like a bear: aggressive and headstrong with a touch of impulsiveness to boot. "—better."
She shrugged off the compliment and chose to slide closer to Owen. When the doors shut, she'd need some form of reassurance to quell the anxiety that'd rear its head. The question of whether that door, like the one on her cell, would ever open again couldn't be permitted room in her head, and yet it was already there in the back of her mind, fuelling her instinctual fears. "I had some free time in prison."
She just couldn't stay out of trouble, could she? First Dmitri, then Cipher. Now she was throwing her weight around once more. As amusing as it was, Deckard preferred not to think about the repercussions of them assaulting their escort. A busted nose wasn't much of an injury, however it was as valid an excuse as any to break out the riot gear and flog them.
After a few moments of awkward silence, the reinforced door was slammed shut and the passenger compartment thrown into darkness. Their faces were illuminated only by what little light passed through the glass barrier; it glinted off the thick metal rings they should've been shackled to and splintered into thin lines that faded to nothingness beneath the seats. The SUV bounced as it reversed off the nature strip before proceeding to exit the street and turn right. The nearest airport was just under an hour's drive away.
"Beth?" Owen murmured as she gripped his right hand and squeezed it. More than four years apart and it was like nothing had changed. Either God had done them a favour, or the Devil had plans, because their family was intact and mostly unscathed. "You alright?"
"Yeah, fine." Of course she was. That door would open inside of an hour and they'd be able to breathe fresh air. They weren't going to be taken to a black site and left for dead, right? It was just a bad case of extortion and blackmail, not the preliminary to an execution. "Just tell me she paid you."
"She?"
"I didn't ruin my life only to find out we got ripped off." How could she even show her face in Moscow now? She'd been taken by the Feds and was still alive: what other assumption could they make other than she became a snitch. "Twenty-eighty was the agreed split, remember?"
Dammit. Owen pulled his hand free and slid toward the other end of the seat. He'd wound up smeared over the tarmac and comatose before the chip could be delivered! Cipher had made a five percent security deposit, but that billion dollars would never see the light of day. No delivery, no payment: Elizabeth had to know how these types of business deals went down. "No, we didn't get paid," Owen said, "the plane was taken down before I could make delivery."
* * *
"The bad news: I've got an injured team member … she broke his nose."
Luke almost snorted his drink at that. If a broken nose was the worst of their worries, the Shaws had held back. He set his bottle of water and a copy of Sun Tzu's The Art of War down, and waited for the other penny to drop. Seated by a window with his legs stretched out in front of him, Hobbs had been dreading an update since they'd boarded the plane. Cuba had been one giant letdown, but surely grabbing them on their home turf where they felt comfortable and safe would prove beneficial. "Do I get dessert?"
"They're in the back of an SUV right now," Eric said, clutching a manila folder in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. There was no use in hiding the shit-eating grin on his face. Even if he wanted to, it just wouldn't go away. He sat opposite Nobody and crossed one leg over the other then proceeded to open the folder with one hand. Captain Owen G. Shaw,, the inside cover sheet read, British Special Air Service. "The plane leaves in forty minutes, and it's a direct flight from London."
"All three?"
"Deckard, Elizabeth, and Owen." He took a sip of his coffee and set it down in the holder. To hell with sleep, he needed to memorise these files cover to cover and find something — anything — he could use as leverage beyond the obvious. "They'll be on U.S soil in eleven hours."
Hobbs nodded to himself and smiled in anticipation of the looks he'd get when that car door was opened. He imagined the younger two Shaws wouldn't be so happy. They were the ones who'd embraced the criminal lifestyle, unlike Deckard; he'd come looking for revenge, not a paycheck. "I want to be there when they land."
"You will," Mr. Nobody said. He undid his tie and set it aside. His suit jacket was already bagged and hanging in the onboard storage closet, along with his shoes. The lights had been dimmed and the curtains were closed to block out the plane's navigation lights. "Junior here isn't cut out to handle the big game yet."
"I said I wouldn't shit the bed again," Eric protested. They'd been over this numerous times: he was more than ready to sell their plan. "I've worked on my sales pitch for the last three months. You've heard it, right, Hobbs?"
"Maybe once you've gained another hundred pounds," Nobody said, ending the conversation. "It's not a matter of your sales pitch. You just trapped three wolves in a cage and two have over fifteen years military experience."
"And the other one," Luke said, "Well, if she goes for your balls in a fight, you'll know about it."
All those memories from the good days, Luke had clung to them after his team was killed. He remembered well what'd happened in that brothel hallway with Fusco, those weeks spent in Tahiti simultaneously chasing a criminal and relaxing; the day he opened a box of files and handpicked his team. The pain had eased after months of counselling, but the sense of loss and that permanent feeling of now having one hand tied behind his back when doing his job would never go away.
"Fine." Better Hobbs than him in that case. Eric returned his attention to the manila folder on his lap and started rereading it for the third time in the past week. There had to be something in their files, some clue as to how Cipher had found them, or how she'd first approached Deckard.
He was disappointed, Luke noted. Jesus, Reisner was going to get himself killed if he approached them the wrong way. The brothers weren't volatile per se, but they certainly had no problem knocking someone off their pedestal. "If you come to the airfield, you keep your mouth shut," Luke relented, "and I do all the talking."
It was fair enough, Eric supposed. He hadn't had contact with Owen Shaw, and based off what hadn't been redacted in Deckard's file, the two brothers were the antitheses of each other. He also hadn't worked with Hobbs before without Nobody present. This was an opportunity to learn, and to study their not-quite-allies. "Thank you."
"Uh-huh." Luke stood and stretched his upper body then sat and reclined his seat back. Five hours from now, he'd be asleep in a hotel room near the airport while they waited for the Shaws to land. While he sympathised with being stuck in a parked car within the belly of a plane for eleven long hours, no one could argue it wasn't for the sake of solving a problem the Shaws themselves had created. "Have fun reading."
* * *
"You wanna grab him?" Letty said, stirring as Marcus's cries reached her ears. She'd finally learnt all the various pitches and tones of his cries over the last two months, and could tell just by the way he tried to flatten his nostrils against his face if she was in need of the diaper bag. Fortunately, this was his regular 'I need a change' cry. "Dom—"
She glanced up and noted Dom's absence before letting her head drop back against the pillow. The clock on the bedside drawer read two a.m. One hour since his last diaper change? If this was a case of diarrhea, Letty was going to need to stock up again on wipes. Letty closed her eyes just as the sound of Dom's voice and footsteps reached her ears; she felt the bed sink when they rejoined her and thought nothing more of it till she woke again.
By then, the early morning sunlight filtered through the thin blue curtains of their room and cast shapes against the far wall. If the sun was up, so were she and Dom; that was how they lived their life now. Give Marcus an opportunity to climb something or hide and they could spend an hour searching for him, only for him to slip out and surprise them.
"Dom?" Letty called out before she found her pants and a shirt and tugged them on. His side of the bed was empty and neatened, leaving her to wonder if he was downstairs or taking a shower. Some mornings, she'd find him on the phone talking to Marcus and Elena, listening as Marcus 'explained' what manner of trouble he'd gotten up to in Elena's apartment or Hobbs' office.
"Momma," Marcus squealed, giggling as he was promptly hidden under a bed sheet by Dom..
"Momma, I think we lost Marcus again!" Dom called out from the spare bedroom. Marcus had spent half the night fussing and left him with little choice but to sleep in the spare bedroom with his son. The past two weeks had been rough for Letty. Some nights he found her asleep with her head on the toilet roll holder, other times she'd be on the sofa downstairs with a set of earphones in and her playlists set to shuffle. She hadn't talked to him about what was keeping her awake, and Dom was hesitant to ask. As much as he wanted to understand and be supportive of his wife, part of him didn't want to hear her answer if it involved Elena and Marcus.
"Again?" Letty said, letting out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Her shoulders sagged in relief and she walked out into the hallway. It was the exaggerated looks on their faces that would set Marcus off once they 'found' where he was hiding. His high pitch laugh that only came out when they were playing a game, that cheeky grin on his face: it was all Dom; even Leon had taken one look at Marcus and instantly fallen in love with him. Marcus just seemed to have that effect on people. "Papa, how'd you lose Marcus this time? Did you leave him in the garage again?"
"I don't think so." He stretched out on the bed and feigned ignorance each time Marcus stuck his head out from beneath the blanket, only to quickly crawl back under moments later.
"Oh. I see we've got a problem with lumpy blankets again." Letty sat beside Dom and gently poked Marcus through the blanket. In a few seconds, he'd sit up and wrestle with the blanket to reveal himself as he always did. And right on schedule, Marcus sat up on his knees and attempted a roar. Letty fell back on the bed in response and gasped. "You scared me!"
"There was a note from Elena in the bag," Dom said. He hadn't wanted to show it to her once he found it, except Letty deserved to know what exactly was going on. It seemed Hobbs was searching for Cipher again, and Elena felt worried enough to ask Dom to help him if the situation went south. He'd never hesitate in coming to Luke's aid, but with Marcus in his life, suddenly every risk he took was assessed and thought over. "I called her earlier and she said she'll come pick Marcus up in a few hours."
"Yeah, I found it too," Letty said, "I just didn't know what to do with it." Would he be angry? She'd seen it and dreaded what would follow if she acted on it. How many times had they risked their lives for Hobbs? Every time he came calling, Dom answered. Letty was tired of the bullets and blood. She wanted to go back to fixing cars and not spend her nights wondering what piece of her — their — past would come back to haunt them.
"If Hobbs gets into trouble, he's gonna need the team, Letty." He reached for Marcus and pulled him onto his chest, grunting quietly when his son began to bounce up and down and kick his legs. Dom had told Letty about Brazil and the heist, being hunted by Hobbs and ending up in the middle of a firefight that didn't end well for the DSS, but he'd never found the words to fully express the horror of it all. "He's gonna need us."
* * *
"Where are we?" she said, sitting on the floor of the car with her legs bent and hair tied up in bun. The drive had been alright, till suddenly the car began driving uphill and a loud rumbling noise surrounded them. Deckard and Owen proceeded to tell her to get comfortable, that the door would be closed for far longer than expected, and so the nightmare had begun. "We haven't moved since the plane landed. D'you think—"
"Go back to sleep, Beth," Owen groaned. If he'd known following Deckard meant spending half a day trapped in a car with someone who couldn't understand the concept of 'getting over it', Owen would've walked back inside the house and told Deckard exactly where to shove his compliance. "We could be anywhere in the world and we won't know where we are till that door opens."
A plane. A goddamn plane. The bastard had driven them into a plane and left them in the SUV without a word. The air-con kept them cool enough, and Deckard found a sealed six-pack of bottled water shoved in a corner, but nothing could stop her mind ticking over, nor could anything stop her nausea.
Given Nobody's involvement, there were only a few places he imagined it would be worth hand-delivering them to. Los Angeles was one of them. Deckard squinted in the dark but couldn't see much more than the shape of Elizabeth, still fighting herself and trying to remain calm. Eleven hours in a car was a long time for anyone, but a car they couldn't leave was far worse.
Once his eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the car and the numbers on his digital wrist watch became visible, Deckard relented in giving it to Elizabeth as a distraction. It allowed her to focus, to tune out her body and the occasional harsh movements of the plane; it also stopped Owen's complaining about her inability to cope in what was a considerably large confined space. The first fight, unfortunately, came three hours into their trip. The second at the seven hour mark. Deckard had all but accepted the third fight would place them at war with one another.
"Wankers," Elizabeth grumbled, easing herself down again and stretching her legs out on the floor. She tucked one arm under her head and clutched the wrist watch in her other hand, curling and stretching her toes against the now warm rubber flooring. "When he opens that door, I'll break more than just his nose."
"Relax, will you?" Deckard said, and thumped his fist repeatedly against his seat. She really was starting to get on his nerves, though he couldn't blame her. As if on cue, he heard the whirr of the plane's ramp being lowered, and heavy footsteps on metal followed two minutes later. It was about time! Please be Hobbs, he prayed, listening to the lock disengage, for God's sake let it be Hobbs.
"Door's unlocked, Shaw. Sorry about the wait. Little Nobody here couldn't pick which dress he wanted to wear this morning."
Deckard slid his way along the seats, lifting his feet when he felt Elizabeth on the floor, and made it to the door quicker than his brother could pick a fight. He pushed against the door and it swung open, revealing Hobbs with Little Nobody standing behind him. "Took your sweet time, didn't you, and what's he want?"
"Sorry."
"We want you to help us find Cipher," Little Nobody interrupted.
"What do you think I've been doing these past few months?" Deckard said, climbing out and stepping to the side, "Sitting on my arse? I told you it would take time."
"Well we're running out of time. Are you in or what?" Luke said. "There's a flight back to London in four hours if you say no."
"Good," Elizabeth said, stepping out of the SUV before Owen could move. She looked past Deckard to the figure he was talking to, and shielded her eyes from the sudden intrusion of light with one hand. "You can book me a seat—"
"Well if it isn't Her Royal Highness." Luke planted his feet firm and rested his hands on his hips, giving her a smug smirk that said if she tried anything he'd bodyslam her into the floor of the plane. "Hi, Princess. Long time no see."
"Hobbs," she growled, stepping sideways so she could glare at him without interference from Deckard's shoulder. "I hoped you'd be dead now."
"I tried it. Nice apartment in Santa Clara, by the way," Luke said, noting when Deckard put his arm out to stop her. "Those tools under the floorboards? It's a shame you had to leave them behind. Anyway, as I was saying: Cipher's on the move and we need to find her soon before she pulls something bigger than kidnapping and nearly killing a federal agent and her child."
"You know this arsehole, Deck?"
Owen sat in the doorway of the SUV and scoffed as he carded his fingers through his short black hair to neaten it. "We all do. He's a two-bit government hack."
"You, take a walk," Deckard said, giving Elizabeth a look. "Owen, shut up and pay attention. Keep talking, Hobbs."