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"She's put herself in a trap of her own design," the Black Widow commented.
"Seems like the pilot has other plans, he's pulling out, uh, pulling up," Rusty said and grinned bashfully. Her freckles sparkled in the overhead lighting. "I wouldn't land there. So, where's her search team? They're still on the chopper, what the heck?"
"They're not planning on getting wet," Striffe noted gleefully.
"I'm already wet with anticipation," Rusty added sucked in a breath.
"Uh huh, I bet you are my love. And, the pilot's pulling out, chopperus interruptus," Myla added wickedly. "You naughty lady." She patted Rusty on the back.
"You two, for goodness sakes, the lady's just doing her job," Striffe playfully countered. "Okay, I'll go out and interdict her, while's on the walkway deck."
"Interdict? How nice of you, darling," Myla retorted with a sly grin. "What the hell, you might as well just interdict her and get it over with. Interdict, how cute."
"My dear, we don't have time for either a ménage à trois." He glanced at Rusty. "Or, for that matter, a foursome. Someone's let the cat out of the bag."
"Hmmm, I wouldn't mind seeing her naked," Rusty admitted.
"Well, one of us already has." Myla looked at Striffe. "And, that cat has nine lives," Myla added sinfully. "Let's terminate a few. What do you say?"
"Master Chief," Striffe said to the senior techy, an affectionate nod to Myla. "The captured vessel, has the team finished the makeover for disposal?" The chief met his glance. "We want to use it as a temporary ferry service. We could be in Havana in less than two hours. It's a high speed craft, and we'll leave our chopper here."
"Affirmative on that, sir," the Chief told him. Computers and a vast array of electronic accoutrements whirred relentlessly around them. The command center looked like the bridge of an aircraft carrier. "I calculate an hour to Havana harbor. We could have things set up for your departure and reception at the other end in minutes."
"They love Myla down there." Striffe winked at her. She gave him an amused expression. "Her heritage precedes her, as does her reputation. Not only that, she's our Spanish ambassador of good will to some, but not fun for all. The contessa."
"The contessa can kick your ass, my darling. You're sensing something, I can feel it, see it," Myla interrupted before the tech could respond. "Cuba, huh? Not the somewhere else in the Caribbean, Canada, London?" She cocked her head to one side and let out a long sigh. "Yummy, my dear, I love Cuba, the music, the food, cigars and rum?"
"Cuban women," Striffe continued with a smirk. "Yes, I don't think this day is complete without another incident, it's close," Striffe explained. "In fact, often one does not know how close, until the closer it gets to provoke regrets. Road trip?"
