It was just fifteen minutes later after 8:30 when we passed the roundabout by the public parking lot for a pizza restaurant called Cassamatta. There was a blue street sign standing on our left, announcing five different locations and their distances from here.
Roux's chauffeur took the road that was on our right, going straight from there. The view from there was nothing special in particular except for a couple of hills standing in the background. I wasn't even interested in the view now.
"Not necessary, Wayne. I have it, yes," Silas was talking over the phone, his eyes ahead at the road. "No, Roux was fine. I'll see you, okay."
"What was he saying?" I muttered once he had hung up. His rapt green eyes darted towards me, a smile visible on his face.
"Something about a few men standing in front of the house since last night," he said in a tone that didn't suggest any sort of unease.
Nonetheless, I was anxious in a few seconds.
"Do you think Megan knows? I mean, she had people behind us."
"Wayne told me that Roux is trustworthy and money is the last thing he'd be worried about," Silas shrugged, assuring me with a curve of his lips and held my hand in his.
Of course. Roux was a man from a rich background. He grew up knowing stockbrokers, trust fund kids, bankers, politicians and he knew he was surrounded by criminals. That was when the idea of joining the MI6 swooped in. It wasn't until ten years when he finally met Christie and wanted to settle down.
It brought me back to us. I had replayed how New York would be after so long in my head at least twenty times since I had woken up. It wouldn't be easy, I knew. But it was pretty simple in my head. We could be hiding for a week or so until Silas contacted the right people, telling them he had information vital to the case.
I just wanted to have a life void of difficulties from now. A life where Silas and I would return back to our house, where he would get his company back, where I would have a decent job, where he would be waiting for me while I would walk down the aisle and where we would have our happy ending.
"Dawn." A whisper reached me and Silas's grip on my hand tightened, startling me out of my thoughts.
"What happened?" I turned to him, watching his thick eyebrows knitting ever so slowly in some recognition. He pointed his chin towards the windshield.
A sudden sense of déjà vu crawled at the back of my mind. We had arrived the helipad, but instead of only a jet from the last time, there was a standby chopper and a business jet.
And instead of the FBI agents, there were men in suits.
And instead of my mind failing to understand, everything was crystal clear even while turning to chaos.
"Silas." It was me who strengthened my fingers around his this time. "We have to turn back."
"Sir," the chauffeur spoke immediately as if realizing what exactly was going on here. "We can turn back. Signor Roux would have backups."
"Silas!" I yanked at his arm.
For fuck's sake, look at me.
He did and finally opened his mouth to speak, "It's too late. They'd get us anyway."
"No, we're turning back!" I cried, our eyes locking for a split second and I thought I saw guilt rising in those green eyes. He remained calm when the car came to a halt.
"Please don't do this to me," I whispered, my eyes welling up with scalding tears, blurring the world.
"I'm sorry, Dawn," he sighed and reached for the door.
It was Agent Hart.
Not Megan's men. It was the feds.
Silas had been taken, cuffed and charged. I, however, was going to be held accountable for nothing.
My last memory before the narcotics kicked in was little but still very vivid.
"We need to get him out of here," Hart had said, his gray-blue eyes content at doing the honors of slapping cuffs around Silas's pale wrists.
I had cried back then, my struggles continuing further, my ears barely listening to Hart's words, "Mrs. Dale, we won't be doing any harm to you."
Then the blackness came and my body lost the strength to even stand.
The air around where I lay now was stale. There were male voices from the distance chatting away.
I blinked, the LED lights above my head hurting my eyes. There was a slight bump that felt like an earthquake but not quite. I took my time observing the tiny sleeping compartment. A door stood on my left which I assumed led to the lavatory. A small cooling fan moved with an obnoxious rattle from somewhere above. Yet, it soothed the air.
Suddenly, it dawned on me that when Silas was being escorted to the chopper, there was a standby jet also present. I felt a knot tightening in my stomach.
Footsteps could be heard along with the voices now. Alarmed, I looked around for something handy. A glass of water was perched on the floating shelf by the cramped bed. There was a knock on the door. Instinctively, I took the glass and broke it on the edge of the shelf.
The sound probably caught the attention of whoever it was outside. Hart's blue eyes peeked through the pale green curtain. He slid it far and I could see the rest of the interior from here.
"Where am I?" I gritted out, aiming the broken glass at him as a weapon, knowing that I was in an aircraft.
He rose both his hands, his blue eyes resembling a deer's caught in the headlights. "Mrs. Dale, we mean no harm to you. You can put the glass down."
"Where am I?!"
"On a jet to your way to New York." He waved his hands to assure me there wasn't anything that could be harmful, his silky black skin glowing brown from the illuminating light.
I eyed him, suspicious as always. "Where is my husband?"
"He's being sent to Metropolitan Correctional Center once again. You'll see him soon. But, first, can you tell me how you got to Florence, Mrs. Dale?"
"I'd rather not."
With that, I walked past him and out towards the corridor, claustrophobic at the lack of outer air all of a sudden. There were other agents I had seen in my parents' house when Silas had run. There was that pale thin agent who gave me a nod. There was that short blond woman with possible lip injection who only stared. Another agent was the pale young man with striking blue eyes who had initiated the search in our houses.
"Mrs. Dale." Hart appeared from inside, gestured to a seat that I took afterward and sat across from me. "It is necessary that you co-operate. We had reasons to believe that your husband was being framed. Although, we came across something disturbing."
"Now you know my husband was being framed?!"
"Mrs. Dale," he said softly. "Agent Osbourne showed us a few things that needed to be clarified. We went forward and got our hands on something vital. We wouldn't act unless we had evidence."
"If you knew he was being framed, why did you arrest him again?" My eyes narrowed at him, clutching at the hem of my tee-shirt grudgingly.
Hart gave me an understanding nod but didn't respond. After a while, he sighed, "Mrs. Dale, I apologize if, in any way, you felt threatened. My team never tried to harm you. They were under direct orders to keep you safe."
"Safe?!" Hadn't they been noticing anything whatsoever? "I was safe when I was with Silas."
"Please, Mrs. Dale, just listen. Considering the fact that you had been on a run, it's completely normal for you to be unsure about whom to trust," he halted, his eyes darting around my face for any clues. "What I'm about to tell you can come as a shock. But we would want you to stay calm after this."
"What is it about?" I inhaled sharply.
He kept his gaze fixed on me. "Your husband. I know you won't believe us but we have evidence that proves that we are on your side."
"Drugs?" Disbelief was evident in my tone. "You think my husband smuggles weapons and drugs? It's old news, Agent Hart."
All the lies and deception had come to an end when I was sitting in the corner of the 'Dale Moon' kitchen, facing Silas. I knew people like Hart would be trying to change my perspective.
Hart only shrugged before arching an eyebrow at the pale officer who stood with a MacBook in his hands.
"That was what we found," Hart said after a few minutes and pushed the Macbook towards me. I stared at the screen as it started to move. It was a deserted building that looked uncannily familiar. Men in denim jumpsuits were loading firearms into caskets. I recognized the navy yard in Brooklyn.
"Is it supposed to be the sequel to the Scarface?" I looked up at Hart with a sardonic smile.
He ignored me and concentrated on the laptop, typing away. "We followed each and every trail which led us to..." He pushed the Macbook forward once again and as I lay my eyes on the screen. It was a picture of the crime scene in Silas's factory. "Have you heard of Michael Clare, Mrs. Dale?"
"Yes," I responded. "I don't know him personally."
"Most people don't. Don't you think it's strange that he doesn't have any pictures we could see to know how our target looks like?"
"Maybe he's just camera-shy," I smiled.
"He is a very private man. Clare had been a client of a private organization for over seven years. For confidentiality reasons, we can't disclose that name. They have helped him disappear many times. Over the past six years, he had smuggled illegal goods worth of almost 3 billion dollars with no interruption."
"I heard he's a hedge fund manager," I interjected sharply.
"He is. With too much-enforced leisure," Hart explained, scratching at the back of his head. "He picked up a hobby of earning money through arms and drugs trafficking. With no face and track, he was only an alleged criminal. However, when he decided to load some of his things in Mr. Dale's factory, we had to get Mr. Dale into our custody as soon as possible," he paused at my scowl.
"Silas's factory?" I squinted, feeling my stomach flip. "Agent Hart, what are you trying to imply?"
"It's very simple, Mrs. Dale. Your husband is Michael Clare."
_____________
Now, what is this game I'm playing? lol
What do you think is happening right now? Suddenly writing 'Here's to Us' feels like watching 'Scarface' all over again. Hahaha.
Tell me if you liked this chapter.
Hope you have a lovely day. ❤