Were in the City Ch. 22

A few minutes later another vehicle arrived and was let through the gate. This time there were more people in it. Jacob moved quickly, staying in the shadows, pushing a small piece of wood across the path of the gate so it closed but didn't lock. Jack and Joseph Richard got out of the front seats, Jessie was pulled out of a back door by Peter Richard. Jacob had to push his wolf down hard and swallowed a growl before he made a noise ... she was obviously drugged, unable to stand up, collared and her hands restrained. So much for handling this on your own, you foolish newbie Alpha! Whatever he had to do now, that plane was going nowhere if she was on it.

While he'd waited he'd thought about ways to prevent the aircraft from leaving. One obvious move was to kill the pilot, and in times past Jacob would not have hesitated. Now though he didn't like the possibility that he'd be killing an innocent man, especially when he saw him looking at Jessie and arguing with Joseph. Shaking his head, the pilot turned to walk towards the gate. Jacob wondered if it was going to be that easy ... until Joseph pulled a gun from behind his back and shot the man. Shit. At least one of the remaining four, maybe more than one, was another pilot and at least one, maybe more than one, was armed.

Jacob needed to take them on in smaller groups or he'd end up dead. He watched Joseph walk up the stairs and signal to the others to follow him before stepping through the door. Peter flipped Jessie over his shoulder and started forward but stopped as Jack started to back away from the plane. It was very odd, he looked like he was fighting for control of his legs, each step an enormous effort. Peter yelled something at him, and Frank pushed Jack towards the stairs, looking angry. Jack reached the stairs first and stopped, clinging to the handrail and he wouldn't move.

Whatever was going on, it gave Jacob the distraction he needed. He slipped through the gate and ran up behind the SUV closest to the plane. He could now clearly hear what was being said.

"Jack, what the hell is wrong with you?! Get on the plane or get out of the way!"

Jack looked terrified, frantic, and started yelling, "You fucking witch! ... I will not do it! ... I will not do it! ... I will not do it! ... kill her! ... kill her! ... I will not do it! ..."

Jessie began laughing, kicking Peter and yanking on his jacket. It got too much, and she was dropped none too gently onto the pavement. She pushed herself up on her arms, staring at Jack. "Time to run cousin".

Jacob watched, astonished, as Jack shook violently and his eyes closed briefly before he began to shift.

"Jack what are you doing? ... Jack stop! ... Jack ..."

Jack lifted his head and let out a long loud howl before he ran out onto the runway, headed north.

Peter knelt down and wrapped both hands around Jessie's throat, squeezing tight. "What just happened? What did you do?!"

Frank pulled a gun from under his jacket and Jacob moved out from behind the car, firing several times. Frank staggered forward onto and up the stairs as Peter gasped out his last breath beside Jessie.

Jessie was staring at him. Jacob! How did you get here?

I'll tell you later, you crazy idiot. Get under the plane now!

There was movement by the door and several shots rang out as Jessie crawled under cover and Jacob ran towards the tail. The stairs began to fold up and the engines started. As the plane started to roll forward, he told Jessie Stay down. Don't get up in front or behind the engines. Watch the wheels. He reached her as the tail passed by.

Kneeling beside her he aimed at one wing, firing. Jessie grabbed his arm, pulling the gun down. Let them go Jacob. They won't get far, trust me.

*********************

Joseph Richard's POV

Heading east, altitude 41,000 feet

It was going to take at least 6 more hours to get to Paris. Joseph had done what he could for Frank and if he was lucky he'd live. The wounds were serious but he would have to wait for further treatment, there was no way they were stopping anywhere short of their destination. With all the pain meds in his system he'd sleep all the way to France.

There was a slight leak in one of the wing tanks, but they would still have enough fuel to make the trip. The auto-pilot would do most of the work. He'd just have to keep an eye on things, watch the weather and keep the fuel balanced in both wings as they flew.

Joseph was not looking forward to telling his father and his uncle that Peter was dead, Jack had run off (WTF!?), and they didn't have Jessie Taylor. He delayed using the satellite phone, there was nothing anyone could do at this point so why bother. He'd call an hour before landing so that medical help could be ready for Frank.

He wasn't sure who had helped Jessie escape. He hadn't got a good look at the guy and neither had Frank. It didn't matter in the long run, there wasn't anywhere she could go where they couldn't find her. Their plans for her were just delayed, not ruined.

He gulped down a strong drink from the bar and went to the washroom. Unzipping his pants, he took hold of himself and let out a groan. It was like his hand was a blowtorch. What the fuck?! He touched his arm, his face ... nothing felt bad there. He touched his penis again ... shit! It burned! For the next couple of minutes he tried various things - washing his hands, using a Kleenex, wrapping his hand in a towel, using a toothbrush. No matter what he did, as soon as his penis was touched by anything associated with either hand there was a serious amount of pain involved. The longer he touched the worse it got. He ended up having to lean over and let it dangle to pee. He quickly tucked himself back in place (ouch!), zipped up and everything settled down again.

Holy fucking hell! That was weird. It suddenly occurred to him that Jessie Taylor had made that ridiculous threat, something about his dick never working again and hurting whenever it was touched. He let out a whimpery sort-of laugh ... he was just tired, that was it, a stressful day and his mind had been influenced by her odd pronouncement. Once he'd gotten some sleep it would be fine.

He checked on Frank, then went back to the cockpit and got as comfortable as he could. He set a timer to wake himself up every hour and closed his eyes.

***********************

Jacob's POV

Parked off the highway about 100 miles west of Timmins Ontario

Jessie was asleep, curled on her side in the middle seat. He was giving her as long as he could to rest but they would have to abandon the SUV soon. It was a rental, and he'd disabled the GPS tracker, but it might be on some search list now if the bodies of Peter Richard and the pilot had been found. He'd pulled off the road and forced the car as far as he could into the bush so it would be hard to find. It wouldn't do to be found in possession of a car rented by any person or group associated with the Richards right now.

After the plane had moved far enough down the taxiway, he'd quickly run through the options for what he and Jessie could do next ... there were not many. Luckily both vehicles still had keys in the ignition and Jacob had helped Jessie get into one and lie down on the floor. He'd pulled his hood back over his head, opened the gate and driven away. He'd found himself moving west out of town and kept going. When he saw a pullout ahead he'd taken a short detour, opened the window and tossed his gun into the creek that ran along side it. It wouldn't do to be found in possession of the weapon that had killed Peter Richard.

With no phone ... and even if they had one, probably no one to call for help who wasn't already too busy looking after themselves ... he and Jessie were on their own. Not the first time he'd been in such circumstances, though having a broken arm was going to make travelling as a wolf a bit more difficult. He would and could endure anything as long as she was free and walking beside him.

*******************************

Joseph Richard's POV

Somewhere over the Atlantic, altitude 41,000 feet

He had been awoken by the timer three times now. He checked the instruments, then went back into the cabin to check on Frank. Everything was still ok. He made himself a sandwich and walked to the cockpit. The weather below was rough but it would get better as they approached Paris.

They'd been racing east towards the dawn as they crossed various time zones. The sky was lightening up now. Joseph had always enjoyed this part of flying, when the sun came up as they cruised along high above the clouds. He checked the clock ... any time now.

The glow of the sun's rim lit up the windows. It was the last thing Joseph ever saw. Suddenly his world went dark and silent. It took a few seconds before panic set in and he tried to scream but he could sense no vibrations in his throat. He tried to call out to Frank in his head but there was no answer. He stood up and flailed around, terrified, unable to regain control and think. He stumbled against the doorframe and staggered down the cabin, groping for Frank. His hands found a leg and he started shaking his son. There was no response.

Joseph slid down onto the floor trying to catch his breath. He felt the plane lurch and became aware that the attitude had shifted ... they were descending. Oh shit, what had he hit during his panic? He stood up and tried to make his way back to the cockpit as the turbulence got worse. They had reached the bad weather.

About ten minutes later the plane hit the water, disintegrating into a million pieces.

*******************************

Mark Richard's POV

Paris, France

They had been waiting for a phone call for hours. Joe had texted a status update before leaving the hotel but that was the last information they had received. Increasingly frustrated, Stephen had contacted the Timmins airport and got confirmation that the jet had taken off after midnight local time. No one was answering the satellite phone they had on board. Joe had better have a damned good excuse for leaving them hanging like this.

Given when they'd taken off, the plane should be arriving in Paris within the hour now. There were men and vehicles at the private hanger waiting to pick everyone up and bring them to the chateau outside the city. Finally, after more than a century of waiting and planning and scheming, the alpha mantle would be back in their hands.

His phone rang. He answered without looking at who was calling, and was surprised when an Algonquin wolf he knew well started speaking.

"Mark, I have some bad news. I'm sorry but ... your grandson Peter is dead."

"What?! ... Where? ... How? ... Are you sure? He's supposed to be on a plane right now."

"I know. They found his body at the Timmins airport, in the area where the jet was parked. He'd been shot. They found Arnie, the pilot, there too -- also shot to death. The security cameras in the area were messed with so there's no video of what happened, but there are images of a rental car driving away with only one person visible, possibly the shooter."

"Mark, where are the rest of your family? The plane took off, the Timmins police confirmed that. Were they not flying to Chicago for a meeting today? They never arrived, I checked."

What the fuck was going on? If Peter didn't make it onto the plane, why the hell hadn't they called? Joe was supposed to redirect the pilot and file an updated flight plan once they were in the air -- if the pilot was dead, Joe had to be flying the plane. Were they headed to Paris as planned?

"Can I call you back? I have to make some calls, find out if I can get in touch with the others. Thanks."

Mark hung up and looked at his brother, "Call the Paris airport, find out if they are tracking our jet. See if a flight plan got filed saying it was coming here. Something is very wrong ... Peter is dead."

By the following day, they knew the jet had been headed to France but had disappeared over the Atlantic. The weather was poor but search aircraft were dispatched and ships were on alert, looking for debris ... not survivors. Was it an accident or something else? There was no way to be certain.

Their sons and almost all their grandsons were gone. Only Tony was still alive, somewhere. He'd run off, God knows why. He was useless, a waste of time, but now he and that daughter of his were all that remained.

Was Jessie Taylor also gone? Did Joe get her onto that plane or not? Mark wasn't sure. Time would tell. She was an Alpha and from the reports they had concerning her she wasn't one for hiding -- not for long anyway. If she was still alive she would show up somewhere and from her they would create at least one new member of the Richard family. Out of the chaos that they'd set in motion they would find a way forward and get what they wanted. Nothing had ever stopped them before and nothing ever would.

He and Stephen were certain of one thing ... and it gnawed at them both, the desire for revenge burning hot and sharp in every breath they now took. They'd been sent copies of all the photos the police had taken at the Timmins airport, and the security camera footage of the man driving away. An image of Peter's body and a close look at the driver told them who to blame for his death, and maybe for the others as well. There were four letters carved into Peter's forehead: L I L Y. At least one of the de Vries brothers was still alive ... but not for long.