Mando Bk. 02: Good Badass Bitch Ch. 07

"Yes. Remember the dare devil driving will take longer. Ten days to two weeks, I imagine. You've got to get those nerves of steel married to good judgment."

"Oh, I love it." She squeals and dances again and disappears to return with another remote. "This picture looks interesting."

A replay of the butterfly chasing scene is back. Kammy and I witness fear spirited from the room on silk butterfly wings and cheerful songs from happy children. I feel much better. Those butterflies are indeed magic.

An hour after I return home my "Chuck phone" buzzes. I gulp the last of my hot toddy of bourbon, lemon juice, honey, and tea --the quicker picker upper-and snatch the phone off the table, tap the green button and answer.

"Yes, Chuck?"

"Super job, Hawk. Super job. Kyle, from Secret Service requested a conference call for you to brief them in ten minutes."

"That's fine, Chuck. Hawk?"

"A commentator dubbed you the Rescue Hawk and the name stuck like glue."

"Thanks, Chuck. So I am the Hawk for public rescues. At least I'm a bold bird instead of a bald one. How did the Police chief and officers handle the unorthodox approach to ending a hostage situation?"

Chuck cackles. "Hell, girl, you went in one window and tossed the trash out the other one so fast it was over before they knew you were there. But you better believe law officers , agents, and soldiers the world over will fiddle with the Hawk riddle for a long time."

"Excuse me? The Hawk riddle?"

"Yep. What gave that hawk enough confidence to take on a machine gun toting bad guy with water balloons and a paint gun. You gave new meaning to non-lethal force."

"I bet. What a hoot. Sounds like hawk is talk show stuff, doesn't it""

"For sure." His voice softens. " Danny, the winner for the feebees, was your speed, non-lethal means, and your focus upon restoring the hostages. That rescue was under three minutes. From window to window took seventy-nine seconds excluding the bomb, of course. Hell, Danny; that was the smoothest thing I've seen that wasn't choreographed for a show."

"Glad to hear it. I see the main clip and running commentary is me getting shot and fighting a machine gun with water balloons and a paint gun. Over a hundred thirty children and teachers get rescued a second before being slaughtered, and they focus on the silly instead of the serious."

He remains business-like. "This rescue will get a lot of mileage kiddo, count on it. Nonlethal weapons, only two casualties out of a hundred thirty-six, and best of all, sending the children home as if it never happened. Deactivating that bomb so quickly still amazes me. And you know what the top scene was in the field offices?"

"What?"

"Your death blow was so fast and smooth it looks like a knock-out punch. Man, that was picture perfect! Our guys ran that part over and over. It was flawless. The boomer boys wanted to know how you identified an explosive they didn't know existed."

I hack a short laugh. "Life's a mystery."

The hawk business seemed funny. But had I anticipated its impact I would have marveled instead of laughed.

***

The debrief call takes fifteen minutes. We spent five minutes on the rescue and ten on the terrorists change in MO. I disconnected from a worried group of war chiefs.

Gino,'s call followed on the footsteps of this one. "Hi Tiger, feeling better?"

"Much better, Gino. A rib or two got cracked by that assault weapon. I was hurting for certain. Thank you, healer-lover boy."

"Glad to help. That was quite a pressure cooker you were in, wasn't it?"

"No argument there, Dr. Watson. I giggle. "Kammy will be away this evening, so let's play hard. So I can play with your hard.." Chuckles bubble from his lips, and gaggles of giggles chirp from mine. "I'll be eating at the hard rock buffet all night."

His belly laugh is so loud it shakes my phone. "Then I'll have a refillable soup bowl and all I can eat." We laugh and I hang up happy and horny.

An hour later Chuck calls again. " Danny, we have a new wrinkle on the rescue."

"Wrinkle? Chuck, how can a completed rescue get wrinkled? It's over. Past. Gone. Kaput." I frown, not liking what I'm hearing.

"The President wants to meet you. I explained the danger of the exposure and he suggested a compromise."

"I don't compromise, Chuck," I inform him.

He suggested you keep your disguise you wore today."

"Fine. For a private meeting with white house photographer and any handlers who want to be there. White house staff writes the press release and take the photos. No press."

"Good approach Danny. That should accomplish his goals."

"Why is it essential for him to meet me? A letter to the Hawk published in the newspaper would accomplish the same thing, wouldn't it?"

"No, Danny, not this time. The President wants to award you the Medal of Honor. That is why he wants to meet you, face to face."

I choke. That's the highest medal the president gives, and the highest honor a military person can receive. "M-medal of H-honor?" My voice is cracking.

"Don't sound so surprised. The enormity of your accomplished is obvious to everyone but you, I imagine. He suggests lunch with you and various agencies. Do you accept?"

"That should be alright, I guess. I want to approve the guest list, though."

"He also suggested you receive the President's freedom award. The Medal of Honor already comes with it, but for the public, the Freedom award implies you are a civilian. A small private ceremony in the Oval Office for that one can be done tomorrow. The Medal of Honor will be the lunch in one week. Is that alright?"

I sigh. "The public knows me as having a Van Dyke, so that hide's my features well enough."

"No problem then. Talk to you later. He hangs up and I release a breath I wasn't even aware I was holding. I know I can count on him but too many public appearances is an exposure overload.

***

The next day Chuck calls again. " Danny, have you seen the papers?"

"No. What should I see or read?"

"The Hawk made front page and international news. Some onlookers had shots of you pole vaulting in and sliding down the pole for your exits. Others filmed the man flying out the window heading toward the ground. Having your back to the camera hid your head cracking and neck snapping. The Hawk tosses out the trash, one newspaper's caption under this picture says. All the major papers are having fun, and the editorial cartoonists have something to draw that interests, everyone."

"What are the papers saying?" My curiosity is taking the better of me.

"The hawk teaches the hostage taker to fly. And, here's a good one: Man escapes the Hawk―but not death," he tells me with pride.

"Another one says: Crook tries to fly like the Hawk and falls short but not for long."

I giggle. " Cute play on words. Or play with words."

"I like this one. Two pictures are side by side. You fly through one window to enter, and the villain flies through the opposite window to exit. The caption reads Falcons fly, but felons fall."

I'm impressed. "These guys are master wordsmiths, aren't they?"

"Sure enough. Here's another with similar pictures. Falling figure fails to fly when fleeing from a falcon hawk."

"That's a marathon of alliteration. A sort of tongue twister. Cute though," I comment.

"Not as cute as the website, RescueHawk.com. Check it out."

"Website? Blimey, Chuck. Who put that site up?"

"Don't know. We don't want to dig as long as it's not exposing you."

"Good call. Does the site have something posted that the newspapers and news crews haven't run into the ground?"

"Check for yourself. Look at the counter, number of blogs, and the Email."

"I've got mail?"

"Sister, you most definitely have mail."

"Right. I'll look."

I end the call and access the website, RescueHawk.com.

When the site pops up on the monitor, I choke on the water I'm drinking as if it had bones in it. "Mother of God and his papa too!"

I call Chuck back. "I see video clips of the rescue from onlookers not in newspapers. I'm guessing a hacker nicked the pictures from the classroom cameras."

"Yes, but check out the counter."

"Holy Hanna at Hogwarts! OVER FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND HITS?" My eyes are wide open in awe.

"Now get a load of the numbers on your email."

I did. "God in a go-cart, Chuck! Over a hundred thousand emails. Who will handle all that?" This is all too much for me.

"You won't believe it. An industrious reporter set up the site and will write a series of articles on the Hawk and trademarked the name," he said as if he thought of it himself.

"Cleaver. He or she?"

"A Betsy somebody. But the growing things are the blogs. Read a couple. You are an American hero, Danny. Any regrets?"

"Only one, Chuck. I regret that a man is being given credit for it. A female Hawk could boost national feminine pride. Pity I must pretend to be male to keep this woman alive." I shake my head. There's a bitter taste in my mouth, reminding me of the cold truth.

"I agree. Someday, maybe." His warm words spark a flame of hope in my chest, warming me from the inside.

"Right, but not today. But it occurred to me that I wasn't alone in the special training project, so I believe someone from there will put the pieces together, eventually."

"Yes, Danny, but as long as they don't know the rescuer is a woman, they'll be chasing their tail." He cleared his throat. "But guess who called?"

"Who?"

"An author, screenwriter, and movie producer contacted the Police Chief trying to find you. They want to make you a star. He referred them to my office. Here's my suggestion."

"I'm listening."

"I'll refer them to the website, and they can make their request to the reporter. Just say if you are interested you will reply in a blog."

"That sounds harmless."

"It's good because we have to dissociate you with the FBI. That could cause trouble and cost you exposure."

"Right. Do the website referral. Oh! Here's an idea! Have the President's letter posted on the Hawk website. "

"Fantastic idea! That'll give everyone what they want. I'll let his press secretary know."

The following day, every major network in America is reading the posted letter from the president on the air. I watch and listen with interest. "So now I'm a politician's pawn ticket. What's next I wonder, action figures and comic books?"

The reporter apparently believes it's a gold mine. She trademarked The Rescue Hawk, and The Hawk within an hour from the rescue. Gino predicts the reporter could make millions on that name. "See, you're rescuing the economy too!"

I am miffed that The Hawk has a dick and isn't called She and Her. The public bought the gender assumption without a question. But hey! What do I expect when I impersonate a man?

Chuck calls again. "Danny, got some depressing news."

"I don't like the sound of this."

"No, and I don't like telling you. The CIA anti-terrorist group say there's a full-scale manhunt out for the Hawk, and a million dollar bounty on your head that will increase every week until you are caught."

"Fuck, Chuck!" That's a lot of motivation for getting me killed.

"There's more. The leaders are so convinced their master plan couldn't have been thwarted so easily unless there was a leak, over forty terrorist involved in the plot have been tortured in search of the loudmouth canary. The Terrorists intended this atrocity to dwarf 911. And it would have for sure, had it not been for you. You robbed Allah of his rightful glory, Danny, and whether he is pissed or not I don't know, but these furious boys are foaming at the mouth."

"You out of bad news yet?" I cringe.

"Almost. The Right Hand of Allah is teaming up with Al Qaeda and ISS to make you and America pay. They declared the next event will make this one look like a child's game. It will expose you by forcing your involvement, and bring the American infidel down so hard they will never recover. That is what they are claiming."

"Now you're the one giving one bad news after another. I'd better lay low for a while."

"Lay low, hell, you best become invisible. Or stay invisible. If the bounty gets high enough your own friends will be tempted to rat you out." He isn't joking.

"Yes, but all who know my identity are government people. Only three civilians know who I am; my doctor, my butler, and my boyfriend."

"Excuse me? Boyfriend? I thought you are the boyfriend."

I laugh despite how depressed his news has made me. "What's the matter, Chuck, have you been getting bogus intel about me?"

He laughs. "Evidently. But I'll wait until I meet this boyfriend before I correct the file."

"Ah, do I sense skepticism?" My laugh is brief, but I do think it's funny.

"Maybe. Or maybe surprise that any man isn't so intimidated by you he'd stick around."

"Good point. I don't tolerate sissies."

"Is this boyfriend man enough not to be threatened by all your strengths?" I know what he's implying.

I laugh. "Buddy boy, this stud is secure and all male. There is no intimidating him. I say yes sir and no sir. Please and thank you."

He's amused. "Only if he's a military officer of higher rank. I'm intrigued, to say the least. Maybe you two can join my wife and me for dinner one evening, so I can meet this man wonder. It'd take Superman to tame you."

"Tame me? Tell your litter box, Tomcat, because no one else will believe that shit." I snort.

Despite the jesting, I end the call depressed.

"Kammy, I'm sticking to getting shot at, blown up, and slashed and stabbed with swords and knives by anyone but the sand crabs and camel jockeys. This hero shit is too risky for me. I'm a hero to one country and a villain to a whole continent. Damn, I hope Chuck gets me a gangster to shoot, soon."

Kammy shakes her head. "No go, hero. Your hope of survival is a low profile. All you get to shoot is pool, targets, and skeet."

End of chapter 7