Whiplash

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Senator Jeffrey “Zen” Stockard rolled his wheelchair forward as the C-20 taxied up the ramp, lights twinkling in the dim evening haze. The aircraft stopped less than ten yards away; a moment later the forward doorway opened and the stairs popped down.

“Mama, Mama!” cried Teri Stockard, running from her father’s side as Breanna appeared in the doorway.

Teri caught her at the foot of the steps, wrapping her in a bear hug.

“Hey, love, I’m so glad to see you,” Breanna said, returning the hug. “I missed you so much.”

“I’m sorry,” said Teri. Tears were falling from her eyes.

“What are you sorry about?”

“That I yelled at you.”

“It’s OK, baby.” Breanna pulled her closer. “I’m sorry I missed your show. But I promise I’ll be at the next one.”

“It’s OK if you’re not. I understand.”

“Hey there, little girl.”

“Uncle Danny!” Teri hugged him.

“I owe you some bedtime stories, huh?” he said.

“Yes.”

“All right. I’ll see you soon.”

The rest of the Whiplash team smiled as they passed by. None of them were married, and their closest family members lived many miles away.

“So we’re on for lunch Thursday,” Danny told Nuri, catching up to him. “Then we get back to work.”

“Sounds good.” Nuri stretched his back. He’d gotten a kink in the plane ride on the way home. “This place better be good.”

“It is. Or it was two weeks ago. Senator Stockard recommended it,” added Danny, pointing to Zen.

Zen had been hanging back to give his daughter and wife some space for their reunion. He pushed his wheelchair toward them.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Zen told the CIA officer. “I’m Bree’s husband.”

“Senator, it’s an honor.”

“Call me Zen.” Zen looked at Danny. “You guys have fun?”

“Always,” said Danny.

“Up for a baseball game next week? Dodgers are in town.”

“I should be able to work it out. If the boss doesn’t crack the whip too hard.”

“I hear she runs a tight ship,” said Zen.

Danny smiled, and turned back to look at Breanna. They’d given the team the next week off, but he and Nuri were heading back to work on Thursday. They’d already been debriefed by National Security and CIA staffers, but the President had asked for a personal report.

Nuri wanted to get it over with so he could join the team debriefing Tarid, who was currently at an Army base in Germany, bonding with a pair of CIA interrogators. How useful he’d be remained to be seen — with the collapse of the plot to build a secret bomb, the Iranian Revolutionary Guard was in disarray. Information about Bani Aberhadji coursed freely through the Iranian media, which was enjoying a rare period of openness as the newly emboldened president flexed his political muscles. How long this would last was anyone’s guess, but at the moment relations between the U.S. and Iran were at an all-time high.

In fact, Iran was acting like a serious and responsible member of the world community for the first time since the Revolution. The country had not recognized Israel, but it had denounced a recent terror strike in the Gaza strip in unusually strong terms — an unprecedented gesture.

As for Whiplash, a great deal of work lay ahead. The team would have to be expanded. The lines of responsibility would have to be straightened out. They’d have to decide whether Hera was staying or not.

But that was in the future. Right now they’d all earned a rest. Danny was thinking baseball; Nuri was looking forward to catching up on his sleep. Flash had a few movies to catch up on. Hera was headed for a week on the sand and margaritas in Miami.

Even Breanna was going to take a few days off, as she promised her daughter when she finally released her from her hug.

“I thought we could do some girl things,” Breanna told her.

“Like save the world?” said Zen, rolling close.

“That is a girl thing,” she told him, leaning over to kiss him. “But that’s not what I had in mind.”

“Uh-oh,” laughed Zen. “Something tells me the next few days are going to cost me a small fortune.”

“Oh, no, Zen,” said Breanna. “It won’t be a small fortune at all.”

“A big one,” shouted Teri, hugging her father. “A real big one. Right, Mom?”