The Book of Fate

45

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Palm Beach International Airport,” the flight attendant announced through the plane’s intercom. “Please remain seated with your seat belts fastened until the aircraft comes to a complete stop and the captain turns off the seat belt sign.”

Flicking the metal clasp, The Roman undid his seat belt, reached under the seat in front of him, and pulled out a thick aluminum photographer’s briefcase with the Secret Service logo on it. He flexed his thumbs, triggering the clasps that opened the case. From inside, tucked into a gray foam protective shell, he pulled out a small receiver that reminded him of the old transistor radios his grandfather used to collect. Unwrapping a black wire from around the receiver, he inserted the earpiece in his right ear and flicked the On switch on the side of the receiver.

“… pin away,” Dreidel said, his voice far more muffled than before. “Those creepy shrunken heads bobbling like that—”

Checking the reception on the square electronic screen, The Roman saw four out of five digital bars. It was no different than a cell phone with a souped-up military battery.

“Hey, fellas,” a new voice interrupted. “Think you might wanna take a glance at this… ”

The Roman put a finger in his free ear and turned a dial to raise the volume. All he got was silence.

Up above, a loud chime sounded in the plane as a metal symphony of unfastened seat belts filled the cabin. Sitting perfectly still, The Roman turned up the volume even higher. Still nothing. For a moment, there was some mumbling, but nothing audible.

“What floor?” Rogo asked, coming through loud and clear.

“Second,” Wes replied.

“Just do me a favor,” Rogo added. “When dealing with Lisbeth, let’s try to be smart about this, okay?”

Closing his suitcase and following his fellow passengers into the aisle, The Roman nodded to himself. Them being smart was exactly what he planned.