Page 45 of Delta (Alpha #12)

A chorus of terrified shouts echoes throughout the cabin as the floor, walls, and ceiling go transparent.

As in, suddenly we're sitting suspended over nothing, like we're in that one superhero's invisible jet, only we're visible and it's not.

Harris is grinning again, getting a kick out of it.

Once the initial shock wears off, it's actually fascinating.

The sense of speed is incredible—the ground falls away and blurs beneath us.

And even as we reach cruising altitude, it's still visibly apparent how incredibly fast we're going.

We level off at cruising altitude, and the pressure slackens. I let out a breath and move to unbuckle.

"Seven minutes until hypersonic acceleration," the same female voice says.

"That wasn't hypersonic acceleration?" I ask.

Harris chuckles. "Nah, son, that was just takeoff. We can't break the sound barrier over cities."

I look down and see that the landscape has changed in the seconds since I last looked. We're passing over a fairly large city. As I watch, the city falls away rapidly. And this isn't even hypersonic? Oi. That's gonna hurt .

Minutes pass, and the landscape changes, becoming the patchwork quilt of farmland. We're also steadily rising, I realize, the sky going darker and darker blue.

"Prepare for hypersonic."

"We can't have reached the Atlantic yet?" I ask.

Harris shakes his head. "No, we went south to the Mediterranean first. It's faster, apparently, to fly subsonic toward the nearest ocean, cross the barrier, and then find your vector. Hypersonic flight is a whole other ballgame."

"Hypersonic in five…four...three…two…one…" A dramatic pause. "Now."

I've been donkey-kicked by The Almighty. The breath wheezes out of me, the immense pressure on my body so intense it feels like I’ve been teleported to the bottom of the Marianas Trench. My vision narrows, darkens, tunnels.

It goes on and on.

For several seconds, at least.

How long?

I flick my eyes down and see the rippling blue water of the sea winking far, far below. As I watch, I make out the distinctive formation of the Strait of Gibraltar—we're going so fast that no sooner have I spotted it than we've passed it.

Jesus, what ?

"Fuck, this is one hell of a long burn," Harris mutters, the strain evident in his voice.

Spain and Africa fall away behind us rapidly, replaced by endless blue ocean. We're banking, now, angling north toward the States.

And then, finally, the pressure slackens as we reach cruising speed, and I can breathe again.

"Hypersonic cruising speed attained."

"No shit, Mercy," Harris mutters. To me, then: "She takes her job very, very seriously. She's the best damn pilot I've ever seen, and generally speaking, I'm the best pilot I’ve ever seen. But even if it's just Val in the cabin, she announces everything."

"I suppose when operating something like this, you want someone who don't cut corners, ey?" I say, unbuckling when I see him do so.

"Damn right."

"Can I ask you a question, mate?" I say.

"Shoot."

"No judgment on this, trust me, but…how can you laugh and joke when Roberto fucking Pugli has your girl?"

He sighs. "It's a coping mechanism I've developed over the years.

In the past, I'd be all broody and pissed off and serious, like you are.

But that doesn't help anyone. I'm in charge.

Everyone is looking to me, watching me. If I panic, they panic.

If I'm angry, they're angry. But if I'm calm and at ease… "

"We will be," I finish.

"Right." He shows me his hand, which is trembling slightly. "See? I'm so angry I'm shaking, Rush. The shakes will pass when it's go time, but for right now, I gotta act cool as a cucumber. We're up against a seriously bad dude, Rush. You know it as well as I do."

"Yeah, I do."

"But what you may not know is that it's not just Pugli we're facing. He's teamed up with someone just as bad as him, if not worse."

I stare, my mind momentarily blank. "Scuse me, sorry, but…it sounded like you said worse than Pugli?"

"I did." "Fuck me. He's nigh on the devil incarnate. Who's this other fella and how the fuck can he be worse?"

Harris growls, his fury showing through his easygoing facade.

"His name is Rafael Sousa, better known as Mercado.

But when I say better known, I mean to the very small handful of people who even know he exists.

He's one of the most powerful and secretive drug lords on the planet.

He makes Escobar and El Chapo look like Sesame Street characters. "

"Fuck that. You're takin the piss, aren't you?"

Harris shakes his head, expression solemn.

"No, son, I'm not. He's that bad. And apparently, his interests and Pugli's intersect.

According to Lear's latest report, Pugli has taken Bryn to Texas, where we happen to know Mercado has been operating. We have a handshake agreement with another security operation known as the Broken Arrows, who have been working to take down Mercado. One of their members also has a vested interest in taking down Pugli.”

"How do those two kingpins intersect, then?" I ask.

A shrug. "Don't know for sure. I think Mercado is having trouble fielding enough of his agents on the US side of the border, whereas Pugli, with his connections through Interpol, can more easily get armed men into the US. I'm just guessing, though."

"So what do we know for sure?" I ask.

"There was a hit not long ago on a safehouse in Austin—someone connected to the Broken Arrows was staying there, hiding from Mercado.

I don't know the particulars, but that much is established fact.

Someone got away, and someone else didn't—again, I don't have a full brief on the details, but we'll know more when we reach the States and rendezvous with the Arrows.

Hopefully by the time we're feet dry over US soil, I’ll have more details.

The other known fact is that one of the people who escaped the hit is a woman named Inez, the estranged wife of Mercado and now his mortal enemy. "

I rub my jaw. "Turnin' into a bit of a soapie, innit?"

When Harris frowns, I roll my eyes. "Soap opera? All drama and shite. His ex-wife is now his mortal enemy, and she leads the daring Broken Arrows in a crusade for justice against her villainous former husband?"

Harris laughs. "Oh. Yeah, I guess, when you put it like that. But my own story is no less dramatic, so I can't talk."

It's my turn to laugh. "Well, yeah, but everyone knows your story. Seen it on the telly, ain't we?" I wave a hand. "Nevermind. Go on."

He shrugs. "That's about it. We're not just rescuing Bryn, is the point. This is an all-out war. Pugli and Mercado against the Broken Arrows and A1S." A rueful laugh. "It is pretty dramatic, I guess."

We’re quiet for a few minutes, and then he looks at me speculatively. "So, you and my daughter."

I sigh, wincing. "Figured this was comin' at some point.

Look, the truth is, I don't know what it is. I know I’ve got real feelings for her, but I also know how things started between us ain't exactly conducive to…

well, anything." I rub the back of my neck.

"It's all been a bit of a whirlwind, and then she's gone, and I couldn't stop it.

" I shake my head. "I just don’t know, sir.

Wish I did, but I don't. A lot depends on her.

On what happens. What she wants. Plus, I've got my girl to think about, and… "

"She's a remarkable child, your Eliza," Harris says. "She never cried. She didn't ask questions, or ask for snacks, nothing. Cool, calm, polite, and sweet."

I sigh. "She's a miracle, alright. But I wish…

I dunno how to put it. She had to grow up too fast, Harris.

She's like that because she's been sick.

Faced death. Surgery. Chemo. Radiation. Watched other sick kids in the beds around her die.

Grows you up, I guess. She knows there ain't no cure for what she's got. Meanin’ she knows she's gonna die.

What's that do to a young mind? Gettin' kidnapped an' all?

Probably not much to be scared of, if you think about what she's already faced.

Look your own death square in the eye, and some ugly blokes cartin' you around ain't much to be afraid of, I guess. "

Harris doesn't reply beyond a nod. His gaze flicks down to the view of the endless azure ocean scudding beneath us, vacant and thoughtful. "She's immensely proud of her dad," he says, eventually, green gaze finding mine. "You're all she could talk about."

My stupid eyes burn at this. "I don't spend near enough time with her.

Fuckin' kills me, having to leave her to go do…

" I flip a hand vaguely. "The shit I've had to do since she got sick.

My little girl is…an' I should be with her every moment, but I…

"Harris leans forward, one strong hand gripping my knee and shaking it.

"Things will be different, now, Rush. You have my word on that.

" I shake my head. "I don't know how to make sense of anything.

What I did to Bryn, tricking her and leading her to Pugli, and then choosing her over my daughter?

I don't know to…fuck me, mate, I ain't even got the words for it all.

And then feeling things for her, when I'm...and my daughter?

It's all gone fucked in my head, Harris. "

To my surprise, Harris laughs. "Son, what you're going through is called falling in love. You've never had any real exposure to love, have you? Never seen it. Never received it."

All I can do is shake my head.