Great. ANOTHER problem. Another twist; another thread added to this yarn ball of a mess. I know, not the best metaphor, but I was never that good that that anyhow.
Stupid. I want to kill whoever invented stage makeup and disguises. Mr. Pres was snatched too. Now we have TWO hostages to find and recover. And they will be in two different places most likely.
But that's just fine, another challenge. We can handle it... or I hope we can. I have a feeling that we'll have to choose between one or the other. We'd really have to give it our all to recover both-- alive.
I think-- no, know we can do it. Especially with that ex-Recondo brother of mine, his old partner and his daughter, and my significant other. One big happy family. Just see if we can channel that "warm and fuzziness" and add it to our already long list of abilities. Yeah, we're a family all right; decking each other just like The Partridge Family.
"Okay, people," a head agent bid us follow him, "We've got to get you guys out of here. The NK's have most likely infiltrated, and you are our priority: you've got to get the president and his daughter." We entered a hidden passageway behind a bookcase and went down an elevator. 1,2,3,4,5,6 levels down, and farther. Through a tunnel, a door, and another hallway lead us to an open room, a compact jet.
The agent turned to my brother. "I assume you know how to pilot aircraft, being a Recondo?"
"Sure, no problem," he replied.
Quickly, everyone suited up, looking like an Air Force squad.
"I wonder what other kinds of transport there are down here," Jagan said.
"Yeah, and other stuff too, I'm sure."
Into the cockpit built for six, and Crow started it up. He was enjoying this, I'm sure. Foster slipped into the co-pilot's seat.
"So, this is where our tax money goes..."