door.
Once inside, Gadgets wandered around the apartment, looking through doors, locating the fire escape, glancing out at buildings that could possibly house a sniper.
'Don't you trust the man who just searched the place?' Babette asked.
'I stay alive by not totally trusting anyone.'
'With that kind of philosophy, can you ever relax?'
'Sure,' Gadgets replied, feeling kind of embarrassed over the questioning, the concern, shown by Babette. 'Sort of.'
She laughed heartily. 'Tell me, Gadgets, how does a person 'sort of relax?'
'I guess I just make sure I'm in a secure place, then I can take it easy.'
She came over to him and took the gym bag off his shoulder. She set it within easy reach then moved away from him. Babette went and closed all the drapes, both in the living room and the bedroom.
'All is safe, secure. Now you can relax,' she said when she returned.
'I don't know if I can relax,' he said jokingly. 'Somehow I get the feeling I'm under attack.'
'You don't mind being under attack?' she asked, her voice a soft purr.
'No,' he replied. 'It's my job.'
'You're tense,' she said. 'Your body's tight as a drum. Why don't you take off that jacket? You look hot.'
And with that she started to help him out of his clothing. She took off his gaudy sport shirt, then helped him unfasten the shoulder rig. She pulled the Beretta from the rig and carefully placed the modified 93-R within easy reach of the shower stall.
'A nice hot shower will work wonders for your tension,' she said as she continued undressing him. When she was finished with the Able Team warrior, she started on herself, slowly stripping the clothing from her body.
Gadgets watched, somewhat in awe. Her body, revealed to him slowly, piece of clothing by piece of clothing, was awesome. She carried no excess, only the form that had carried her to the top of the gymnastics world.
In the steaming hot shower, they lathered each other, letting their fears and tension run down the drain. Babette's touch was firm, almost harsh, her fingers digging into tense knotted muscles, loosening them, relaxing them. Gadgets performed the same intimate service for her. As the tension drained out of their bodies, as the killing and past events were forgotten, a new, wild feeling crept into their bodies.
After climbing out of the shower, Gadgets wrapped a towel around Babette. Hugging her affectionately, he helped her dry off. Drying himself, he looked again at her magnificent form. It had been ages since he had felt so warmly about a woman. His business was a cold business; to gain warmth was often to commit yourself. He could not commit himself. He had to tell Babetteю
With an impatient, urgent movement, Babette touched her finger to his lips.
'Shhh,' she said. 'No words.'
She led him to the bedroom.
13
A loud beeping broke the stale silence. Gadgets Schwarz, lying in the warm comfort of Babette Pavlovski's bed, refused to answer the summons.
'It's Pol,' he said groggily.
'Well, answer it,' said Babette, who had just opened her eyes, yet already looked bright, cheery.
'Can't,' Gadgets complained. 'Can't move. Complacency's set in.'
Babette giggled, gave Gadgets a playful shove and answered the summons.
'In ten minutes,' she said. 'No, Pol, not alone. Both of us. Please. It's my fight. Okay.'
She signed off then rolled back toward the still-dozing Gadgets. 'It's time. I told him we'd be there in ten minutes.'
'
'I'm coming too, Gadgets. It's me they tried to kill. It was one of my athletes they did kill. It's my fight.'
Gadgets knew better than to argue with the woman; he was smart enough not to get into fights he knew he would never win. With all the effort in the world, he dragged his butt out of bed. Babette beat him to the floorboards. She also beat him in getting dressed.
She wore tan slacks, a brown shirt and a brown patterned scarf over her hair. Gadgets hopped into the clothes he had on earlier, including the life-saving flak jacket.
'Pol says we're going to the desert,' she said as they headed for the door.
'UCLA,' he told the guard as they moved toward the elevator. 'There'll be a chopper waiting.'
When they hit the street, Gadgets looked up at the starry sky. 'God,' he mumbled, 'what time is it?'
'Sixteen minutes after midnight,' one of the Feds answered.
Ten minutes later they arrived at the helicopter. Blancanales stood waiting for them, an Ingram and a bandolier of clips for Babette in hand.
The Sikorsky H-76 was already turning over. The trio crouched as they ran under the forty-four-foot rotors. Pol climbed in a front door to the copilot seat. Gadgets and Babette went through a door farther back to the passenger compartment. The copter was lifting off before Gadgets had the door secured.
Babette took a seat. Gadgets went to the weapons boxes. He pulled off the gaudy sport shirt, electing — like his teammates — to wear a more neutrally colored flak jacket for nighttime desert fighting. He packed both hot and cold thermal packs and crisscrossed two bandoliers over his shoulders, filling the pouches with spare clips and grenades. Then he began the task of setting aside the M-16/M-79 over-and-under hybrid for Lyons. By the time he had added belts of grenades for the launcher and plenty of 5.56mm ammo for the assault rifle part, there was a mound of equipment and a web that weighed close to sixty pounds.
'What's all that for?' Babette shouted over the whine of the two Allison turboshaft engines.
'For Lyons,' he replied. 'He needs a lot of weight to keep his feet on the ground.'
'What are you taking?' Babette asked.
'Ingram, Beretta,' he answered. 'Same as Pol.'
They were already away from the city, surging forward at 150 knots. In an hour and twenty minutes they settled in a swirl of sand beside an identical chopper.
Lyons was in the door as soon as Blancanales opened it.
'Radio off,' Lyons commanded the pilot, 'unless you're wearing headphones. I don't know if the bastards are doing a radio monitor, but sound carries like crazy in the desert. Observe radio silence and noise discipline.'
Lyons then looked in the back.
'What's she doing here?'
Babette came forward carrying Lyons's gear.
'I belong here,' she answered, handing the Able Team warrior his tools. 'They tried to kill me. They killed Tracy. Now they've got Kelly. If they had Pol or Gadgets, would you let yourself be cut out of the action?'
'I know you did a helluva job in that parking complex,' Lyons said, 'but our job is to keep you alive, not put you into a fire zone.'
'Would you let yourself be cut out of the action?' she asked again.
'No,' Lyons snapped.
'Listen,' Babette said, a firmness in her voice. 'I don't expect to lead the charge over the hill, but I can't be left behind either. I've got a big stake in this.'
'Okay,' he growled. 'But your head ain't gonna be on my head. You've been warned.'
Babette smiled. Gadgets and Pol shot her the thumbs-up sign.
Lyons finished arming himself to the teeth.
