“I haven’t lost this many operatives since we shut down that concert in the early days of lockdown.” He nudged Connor. “You remember that one? Just you and me left standing at the end of it.”
Connor remembered. “Who would have guessed Post Malone fans would put up that kind of a fight?”
Noecker laughed. It was even worse than the smile. “And the way we snuck you in… to check it out… with all those scribbles on your face… so you could blend in…”
Connor revisited his mental notes. Maybe drop the old man out the helicopter…
Visions of Noecker’s twisted bloody remains splattered across a street or impaled on a lamppost disappeared with the noise and wind that announced the chopper’s arrival.
Noecker, true to his word, left Connor to last. He sat next to the old man and shut the door as the chopper took off.
“Where did you get a military helicopter?” Connor shouted over the noise from the engine.
“From the military,” came the reply, that under different circumstances would have earned Noecker a punch in the nose.
Connor looked out the window, but the dark of the night made it nearly impossible to pick out any landmarks.
“Where are we going?” he yelled at Noecker.
There was no reply. Connor was left alone with his thoughts. Punching Noecker being chief amongst them. But also, why was his former enemy with his ex-girlfriend? If she didn’t deliver the letter then who in the hell did?
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