Storm Front

CHAPTER 24

QUEENS, New York

The Delta Airlines terminal at LaGuardia Airport had been under construction so long, Storm swore they could have rebuilt it at least three times already. Yet the scaffolding remained, a temporary fixture that had somehow become permanent.

Storm arrived there at 6:45 A.M., looking wrinkled and feeling worse. It had been a long night with the NYPD, who were eventually convinced to let Storm go his own way. It helped that a CIA station agent had vouched for Storm. Naturally, that added a complication for Storm: The station agent would fill out a report that would reach Jedediah Jones’s desk in twenty-four hours or less, which would prompt questions from Jones. But Storm would just have to finesse that.

The final stumbling block had been Laster, the front desk man, who wanted Storm brought up on assault and battery charges; he also hinted at a civil suit, where his pain and suffering would be compensated with tens, if not hundreds, of thousands of dollars. Then Jameson Rook promised that in exchange for letting it drop, he would wrangle the guy an invite to a Fashion Week party that would be crawling with gorgeous models. That turned out to be enough to ease the man’s pain and end his suffering.

Storm had thanked Rook for the assist. The two complimented each other’s rugged good looks one last time, prompting Heat to say something about vomiting in her own mouth. Then Storm went off to grab a few quick hours of sleep at the W, ruing the tragic underuse of the Heavenly Bed the whole time.

He had taken a cab out to the airport, having it stop in the garage where he kept his Mustang Shelby GT500 — and, more importantly, some spare weapons. He thought about having the cab leave him there, but then opted against it. Counting the rental car he had driven out to Cracker’s house, he already had one Mustang out of place that he’d need to deal with later. He didn’t want to have to leave another one scattered somewhere else. He completed the trip to LaGuardia in the taxi.

Now he was waiting in the arrivals area, expecting to see a glimpse of something even more heavenly — Ling Xi Bang — when his satellite phone rang. He recognized the country code of the incoming call, which originated in Romania. That could only mean one person.

“Sister Rose,” he said. “You’ve changed your mind about my proposal.”

“Oh, Derrick Storm,” Sister Rose McAvoy’s brogue poured through the phone. “I only wish the purpose of my call was so happy.”

“What’s the matter?” Storm asked.

“I don’t mean to be troubling you. And if you’re busy saving the world, you just tell this little old nun to get on her way and go.”

“You know I always have time for you, Sister Rose.”

“You’re a blessing, Derrick Storm, a real blessing,” she said. “But I’m afraid what we need right now is not a blessing, but a miracle.”

“What’s going on?”

“The diocese has decided to shut down the orphanage.”

Storm’s mind immediately flashed to the Orphanage of the Holy Name, that small bright spot amid all the grimness of Bacau. He saw the eyes of the children whose lives were saved by it. In particular, he remembered a little girl, Katya Beckescu, clutching a tattered teddy bear and chasing butterflies. Storm’s heart was immediately transported thousands of miles away.

“But why on earth would they do that?” Storm asked. “I can’t pretend to know much about God’s work, but if you’re not doing it, who is?”

“It’s not about that, Derrick. It’s about money. The abbey that houses Holy Name is too valuable. The diocese is fast going bankrupt, and it’s figured out it can get seventeen million leu by selling the abbey and the grounds surrounding it. That’s the equivalent of five million of your dollars. The bishop says selling the abbey can save the diocese, and it’s better to keep the entire diocese going than just one orphanage.”

“But… Okay, can’t they just move you somewhere else?”

“There’s nowhere else for us to go — at least not that will fit all of us. The abbey is the only place big enough. That’s part of what makes it so valuable. What’s more…”

Whatever she said next was cut short by a stifled sob. Storm pressed the phone closer to his ear. “What is it, Sister Rose?”

“The bishop says that once they sell the abbey, it’s time for me to retire,” she said, and Storm could practically hear the tears streaming down her face. “They’re putting me out to pasture, Derrick Storm. Just like a nag that’s no use to anyone anymore. I’ll become one of those old crones doddering around the nuns’ retirement home, bumping into walls and dribbling porridge out of my mouth. Oh, I know I shouldn’t fight it if this is God’s plan for me. Lord knows I’m old enough, but the children… Who’s going to take care of these children?”

“You are, Sister Rose. There’s got to be some way to talk the bishop out of this absurdity.”

Her voice grew hushed. “I’m afraid there’s no talking involved. May God strike me down for talking about one of His servants in this way, but I’ve seen a lot of bishops come and go in my time, and this one, he’s mean as an old donkey. Stubborn as one, too. The only thing he’ll respond to is money.”

“So you need five million dollars,” Storm said. If she had said one million, he could have cut a check right there. But five million was more than he could afford to part with.

“I’m so sorry to bother you with this, Derrick, I just didn’t know where else to turn. I have my little network of generous souls like you who can give us enough money to keep bread in the children’s mouths. But five million dollars? I don’t have any idea where to get that kind of money. But I know you’re a man who… who knows how to make improbable things happen. And I just thought…”

“Say no more. I’ll handle it.”

“But Derrick, how will you…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Storm said as he caught a glimpse of Xi Bang coming through the security area. “I’ll take care of the money, Sister Rose. You just worry about taking care of those children, you hear?”

“God bless you, Derrick Storm. I’ll be saying a prayer for you to night, as I do every night.”

And I’m sure I’ll need it, Storm thought. “You’re always telling me God listens to our prayers,” he said. “Maybe you should say one for yourself, too.”

“Believe me, I’ll be doing that now, too.”

“You take care, Sister Rose. We’ll talk soon.”

He ended the call just as Xi Bang slid up to him and planted an enthusiastic kiss on his lips. She was still dressed in the same outfit, much to the delight of several of the business travelers who had joined her on the 6 A.M. shuttle.

“I have a little present for you,” she said.

“I thought this was my present,” Storm said, eyeing the outfit.

“No, it gets better,” she said, producing a plastic bag from behind her back and ceremoniously presenting it to him. It was festooned with the logo of a novelty shop Storm knew to inhabit Reagan National Airport.

Storm opened the bag. Inside were a pair of SuperSpy EspioTalk Wristwatch Communicators from Cloak and Dagger Enterprises. “Trade Secret Messages Like Real Spies!” read the package. “Variable Frequency Dial Allows Multi-Channel Communication! Effective Range 3,000 Feet!”

“I just thought that in the spirit of international cooperation, we ought to get on the same frequency,” she said. “This way, we can always be in touch.”

Storm tore open the packaging and strapped the watch on his left wrist. He admired it for a moment and said, “It’s the best toy I’ve ever gotten.”