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ONE MONTH LATER
The Gulfstream G650 landed at the Louis Armstrong International Airport just after 1 A.M. Spectre, Michelle, and Woody’s wife helped Woody down the stairs where Louisiana State Troopers were waiting to escort them home.
“You know we could’ve used a lift instead, right?” Spectre asked as he held onto Woody’s arm to keep him from falling.
“Not my style, brah,” Woody replied. “My legs work and I’m gonna use them.”
Michelle shot Spectre a look and shook her head before he could make a sarcastic comment in reply. They helped Woody down the stairs and stopped at the base.
“Emma, my pimp cane please,” he said to his wife as he stood and stretched, gently swaying as his legs struggled to keep him upright.
Emma rolled her eyes and accepted the cane from the flight attendant that had followed them down. Woody took it and used it to help prop himself up as he turned to Spectre.
“Well, sir, thanks for the magic beans,” Woody said with a grin.
“I’m sorry,” Spectre said. “About everything.”
“Sorry? Well, besides being gimpy, I’m fifteen million dollars richer and still alive. I don’t know why you’d be sorry,” Woody replied. “Not your fault, brah.”
Spectre and Michelle agreed that giving Woody half of their ten-million-dollar share was the right thing to do, given all that had happened. Woody was permanently disabled and would likely never be able to fly again at all. His military flying career was definitely over.
“I talked you into this mess,” Spectre said.
“You did,” Woody said. “But we’re still friends. And look at all the stuff you can write about in your books now! Woody better get a starring role! My face better be on the cover of at least three books.”
Spectre laughed as he shook Woody’s hand. “You got it, buddy.”
“Hey, did you ever hear what happened to Kruger?” Woody asked.
Spectre shook his head. “Tuna said he went to Moscow on his own. That’s the last anyone has ever seen or heard from him.”
Woody frowned. “Do you think they killed him?”
“I’d like to think he’s just off the grid somewhere laying low while he deals with losing Natasha, but it’s definitely not a good sign.”
“What’s going to happen to the teams then?”
“Odin wasn’t much of anything anymore anyway, but with no one to run it, I think it’ll be done. And Tuna’s team is officially disbanded. Cowboy being interrogated by the Chinese put everyone in cover-your-ass mode. Everything related to either group has been burned. They never existed.”
“Poor Cowboy,” Woody said. “I feel like it’s my fault.”
Spectre shook his head. “It was a risk we all knew and accepted when we went into that shithole country. It sucks, but you can’t blame yourself for what happened.”
“Have you heard from Sierra since they all said goodbye?” Woody asked. A week after Kruger’s disappearance, Sierra, Tuna, and the rest of Odin and Project Archangel had all stopped by Woody’s room to check on him and bid farewell. The only connection that remained was the promise that when Woody healed enough to go home, the CIA director would send his personal jet.
“She was reassigned at MI-6. Tuna said she probably went to a desk job.”
“Damn, brah, that sucks. She lost her brother and her job.”
“I think it was voluntary. When the team was disbanded, they gave her a choice and she decided that seeing her brother like that was the last straw. I can’t say I blame her.”
“Alright man, well, mission accomplished, I guess. Don’t be a stranger,” Woody said as Emma and one of the State Troopers assigned to his security detail helped him into the unmarked white SUV with flashing blue lights.
“Get well soon, man. Tell Sparky hello for me when you see him.”
“Will do. He emailed me the other day. He bought a Canadian F-5!”
“I’m glad he’s feeling better,” Spectre said.
They watched Woody and Emma drive off in their motorcade, leaving the second motorcade assigned for them.
Spectre turned and hugged Michelle. “I’m ready to go home,” Spectre said before kissing her.
“No more saving the world?”
“Not unless I’m writing about it in my books. I’m done. I got lucky this time, but one of these days the luck is going to run out. I want to watch our son grow up while I still can.”
“What about Kruger?”
“I would do anything for that man, but if Tuna and Sierra believe he’s dead...well, there’s nothing I can do. They would know better than anyone. And if he’s not dead, then he doesn’t want to be found. Who am I to intervene if that’s the case?”
“I guess,” Michelle said as she got into the back of the unmarked SUV taking them home. “What a shame.”
Spectre got in behind her and put his arm around her, pulling her close.
“When I first met Kruger, one of his favorite quotes was from Patton. ‘It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived.’”