Killer Christmas Tips (22 page)

It’s the dud, which means the live missile is here somewhere, and so is Carl.

“Donna, the SWAT team and I are deploying by helicopter now. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

Arnie, who is monitoring LAX’s air traffic control, breaks in, “A Team, it may be too late. The curtain is up at our theater.”

All morning I’ve dreaded hearing that phrase.

I look up at the distant glittering spec in the sky, which I suspect is Air Force One.

Southern-based Delta Airlines claims its flight attendants don’t sweat. Like all steel magnolias, they glow.

If that’s the case, I should look like a firefly right about now.

Santa’s on the roof, and he can’t get down.

Let’s be fair. It doesn’t look as if he wants to get down off the building. Truth is, he’s drunk.

And this time he’s certainly not Carl.

I hear him laughing, hooting and hollering at me as I walk down the sidewalk, trying to find anything that might have any connection to something called Shaka Pops.

“Ho, ho, ho, gorgeous, up here! Tell me you’re naughty, not nice, because I want some of that Delta sugar.”

I have to duck when he tosses his beer bottles onto the sidewalk. I’m determined to ignore him because life is too short and getting shorter by the second.

Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I look up at him to shoot him a bird—or maybe to just shoot him—and that’s when I grasp what Santa really wants me to see. Smack dab in the middle of the forest of billboards lining Aviation Boulevard is one that reads:

Lick it. Suck it. Bite it. Maui nui style.

Shaka Pops, Hawaii’s Sweet Treat! Coming Soon to a Store Near You

There’s a man on the billboard’s safety ledge, looking through binoculars at the approaching blue and white Boeing 747. 

Yes, it’s Carl. Despite the Fu Manchu mustache and Beatles wig under his billboard company-issued cap, I’d know him anywhere.

Beside him is a golf bag, which, I presume, holds the shoulder launcher with a missile.

Hopefully, not two.

I blow Santa a kiss. He gives me a thumbs-up in return.

Now I pray the drunk bastard gets out of the way, so I can do my job.

“Arnie, Carl is on top of the billboard, on the north side of the runway, where it dead ends onto Aviation Boulevard!” I yell frantically. “I’m going to climb up after him!”

“I’ll get there as soon as I can,” he screams back in my ear.

Carl is too busy getting into position to notice me shimmying up the billboard ladder. By the time I get onto the safety ledge, he’s down on one knee, and he has the missile launcher on his shoulder. In less than a minute, Air Force One will be on top of us.

He hears the click of my Glock. “Put it down, Carl.”

Yes, he recognizes my voice.

I’m happy to say that he’s surprised to see me.

I’m not happy that he waves me away, as if I’m a pest or something.

As if I’m the wife he could simply walk away from.

“Donna, babe, you’re just in time to see me make history.” He doesn’t even turn around.

When will he learn I shouldn’t be ignored?

Maybe the bullet I put between his shoulder blades is the hint he’s needed all along that he should pay more attention to me.

This time, I don’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

I do it for his desertion of me, and our children.

I do it for the betrayal of our country.

I do it because he took Jack from me.

He gets the message. Sort of. When the bullet hits him, he bucks forward.

But he doesn’t fall over.

Instead, he straightens out and turns toward me. “Naughty girl. That would have hurt more, if I hadn’t been wearing this.”

He unzips his overalls to his waist. He’s got a thin vest underneath. He smiles at my shock and awe. “It’s the latest in bullet-proof attire.” He turns sideways. “It’s supposed to be slimming, but I dunno. What do you think? At this angle, does it make me look fat?”

I cock my head to one side. “Just between the ears.”

He shrugs. “Says you. Bottom line, it does the trick. Works like Kryptonite against Batman.”

“Superman,” I correct him.

He shrugs. “Yeah, what ev.” I don’t like the way he’s walking toward me. “Am I your Superman, baby? Huh? Now that your little fanboy, Jack, has bit the dust?”

That’s it. He’s not expecting a kick to the groin.

Or, when he doubles over, I bring home my point with an elbow to the neck.

I’m just about to pick up the missile launcher when I fall to my knees. He’s grabbed me by the ankles and is pulling me toward him. I claw at the floor, but it’s useless. He’s much stronger than me, and soon he’s got me in his arms.

But not for long. As he rolls me off the side of the platform, he murmurs, “Why couldn’t you just get over me?”

Over 
you
?

Screw that!

Okay, yeah, I am 
so
 over you.

I’m not falling and breaking my neck from a sixty-foot drop. While I catch hold of the safety rail and hold on for dear life, Carl grabs the missile launcher, rights himself, and points it toward Air Force One, which is now almost over our heads.

“Carl, please don’t!” I cry. “Think of our children.”

My plea stops him just for a moment.

And then I see Drunk Santa, standing behind Carl.

What the hell is 
he
 doing here?

This one, very slim, very precious moment is all Drunk Santa needs in which to pull out a gun and shoot Carl in the leg.

“Ow! 
Shit
! Ow! What the—” Carl’s howl pierces the air. “Santa Claus? 
Really
?”

Santa shakes his head. “No. Not really.” He pulls off his beard—

Jack
.

Then he shoves Carl off the safety ledge.

The next thing I know, Jack has lifted me over the rail, and into his arms.

I cling to him because I never want to let go.

I guess he understands this, because he whispers, “Don’t worry. I’ll never leave you again.”

Best. Christmas. Gift. Ever.

Chapter 20

Christmas Miracles

There is nothing wrong in believing in miracles. In fact, the preferred time of year for witnessing one is Christmas! Otherwise, no need to practice peace on earth, and goodwill toward men.

Especially when clawing your way out of a catfight on Aisle Nine at Wal-Mart, over the last set of Christmas lights.

By their nature, miracles work in mysterious ways. For example, your toaster may burn the image of the three kings on a piece of toast. Or all of a sudden you may notice the birthmark on your inner thigh has taken on the likeness of the Virgin Mary. 

Should you be dumb enough to show it to everyone you know, expect a lot of patronizing remarks from the jaded.

The real miracle is how fast you’re able to change their mind. All it takes: a bang to the head with a blunt instrument. Afterward, they’ll see visions, too!

The sun is now so low in the sky that it seems like twilight, even at two in the afternoon.

When you’re spending the afternoon in bed, does it really matter?

Ryan made it to LAX just as the ambulance was leaving to take Carl to the emergency room. His fall was broken by a row of scrub bushes underneath the billboard. According to the med techs who took him to the emergency room, he’ll be in traction for at least a month.

That’s the least of his worries. He’ll be in prison for the rest of life.

I don’t think I’ll have any further trouble getting him to sign the divorce papers, now that he knows how I really feel.

Jack refused to answer any questions until now, which was fine with me. Once again, my mother’s motto applies: action speaks louder than words.

Jack’s actions began with kisses that started on my lips, but soon roamed down my neck, around my shoulders, down my spine to the small of my back. From there, his hands took over. 

But not for very long. Only until I was moist and aching for him.

There is no greater bliss than feeling him inside me.

“So how did you do it?” I finally ask, raising my head off Jack’s chest to look him in the eye. “And more to the point, why?”

“You mean, why did I play dead?” He pushes himself up, so that he can look down at me, too. The adoration in his eyes still makes me blush. “Ryan couldn’t figure out why the Quorum was always one step ahead of us. As much as we wanted to believe she wasn’t the leak, Ryan felt we needed to test Valentina’s validity as a double.”

“But you didn’t doubt her.”

I’m not asking a question, but making a declaration. We both know it.

Jack nods. “I wasn’t keeping her in the loop on everything, so there had to be another leak. At the same time, Carl was getting suspicious of Valentina’s comings and goings, so that sealed our resolve to keep her on a need-to-know basis, or feed her misinformation.”

“Jack, tell me. How did you get out of the blast?”

He laughs. “I was never in it, in the first place. During Arnie’s tech prep around Unit 121, he noticed a thin wire under the threshold of the door. It tipped him off that it might be a booby trap, and he called Ryan.”

I shake my head in wonder. “Smart boy.”

Jack nods. “You can say that again. Ryan sent me on an errand that afternoon, remember? Well, Arnie went with me. By working out of Unit 123, we were able to get into 121, plant a tracker within the MANPAD case, and replace the missile with a dud. What we weren’t counting on was the backup missile Carl had with him, or the fact that he’d replace the MANPAD case with something less noticeable, like a golf bag.”

“Yeah, well, Carl was once an Eagle Scout. He always comes prepared for emergencies.” I shiver. “So, Houdini, how did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Don’t be such a tease. How did you get into Unit 121?”

“Simple enough. The ceiling tiles are the cheap kind that slide from side to side. I went up and over. Because of what Carl told Valentina, we had to make our move prior to eight o’clock, which was when he was expecting us to try to break in. Arnie rigged the knob so that it could be opened by remote control. At eight o’clock, when I returned with you, I went out the back door. I pulled the trigger from down the block.”

“I still don’t understand why you couldn’t have let me in on the secret, Jack.”

“Believe me, Donna. I hated the fact I had to keep it from you. But I was never too far away.”

“Oh my God! You were the Santa who followed me into the church, weren’t you?”

He nods. “I heard your prayers. Donna, you don’t realize how hard it was for me to keep silent. I wanted so badly to tell you I was fine. That I’d always be here, for you.”

His eyes seek out mine. They are darkened with emotion.

He means what he says. 
Always and forever.

He strokes my hand with his finger. “But if Carl had even an inkling I was still alive and the MANPAD was anything but secure, we would’ve never pulled it off.” He strokes my waist. “We didn’t figure out how he knew so much until it occurred to me that he probably left a gift under the tree for you as well.” 

I think back about my confrontation with Carl. “But he didn’t! The gifts were for the kids.”

He smiles slyly. “Which reminds me. Did you open my Secret Santa present to you?”

I shake my head, ashamed. “I couldn’t. Not yet, anyway. I wouldn’t have been able to hold myself together.”

“Why don’t you do it now?”

Naked, I run to my dresser, where I left his gift. I slide off the ribbon, tear off the paper, and pull off the lid of the box.

My gift is a snow globe holding a tiny version of our house, white picket fence and all.

“It’s…it’s beautiful!”

“I had it custom-made, from a picture of the house. I know you love your snow globe collection, so I thought I was being clever.” He shrugs. “But then Trisha walked in on me wrapping it. She told me ‘Santa’ had also left a new snow globe on the mantel, when Carl came bearing gifts. Suddenly it all made sense. But I had to be sure, without tipping my hand to Carl. That’s where Arnie came in.” 

“Arnie? You mean he broke into our house to check out the snow globe?”